family

Two Plus One Equals Disaster

family, Hot Chicks, Life Lessons, love No Responses »

Mar 112010

There comes a time in every relationship when the love is strained. Every couple has their way of managing these shaky times. One of my favorites and usually the subject of many daytime television talk shows is when a couple thinks it’s appropriate to add another person. I’m talking about threesomes or menage a trois. Mixing it up a little seems to be a good treatment for an ailing partnership. I’m here to tell you that it is not.

The game of ‘plus one’ is dangerous. Men think that a shaky relationship can only be saved in the bedroom. His mindset is that if he can get her to “Oh face” one more time, things’ll be saved. But that’s the tricky part. Women think outside the box spring. A woman would sacrifice somewhat on the lovemaking side if it meant a man would treat her right.

But, a man thinks the word threesome automatically assumes that the girl he’s been fantasizing about at work is going to magically accept his gracious offer to sleep with him and his girlfriend or wife. Wrong. A man’s best chance at attracting another woman to aid his failing relationship is probably going to begin and end with a hooker. Like picking a puppy from a pet store, this method will most certainly bankrupt your budget and leave many piss stains on your rugs. Once you bring your new friend, Cinnamon, home to meet the fam, I’m sure you’ll find that things have already gone awry.

I must say, that nothing makes a woman feel more special than a spin around the bed with some other chick driving. Psyche. Women hate that. A girl wants to feel like she’s the only one in the world. Sleeping with you and your wife doesn’t accomplish that goal. Sleeping with you and another girl doesn’t do it for your wife either. My advice: don’t do this, you can’t make the bonds of love stronger by adding another person; it will only strain things further.

For women, however, salvaging a union with a threesome takes on another meaning entirely. Similar to men, the conquest begins in the bedroom. When women think threesome, they think baby. As wonderful as a bundle of joy can be, this is disastrous. For women, a baby signifies a milestone in life and shows the world that they’re fertile and responsible. This is a strong message to send to the bitches from high school. For men, however, a baby means extra expense. The man must work harder and more often to provide for his partner and his newly fashioned love child. As a result, he fills all of his time working and seldom sees the family he fights so hard to preserve. My advice: don’t do this either. Once again, adding another person to a strained relationship will only hurt your chances of sanctity.

A threesome in a strained relationship, no matter how you describe it, is tricky. If you’re serious about an open relationship or having a baby, make sure that the lines of communication as well as the bonds that tie are solid. It’s not a tool for fixing or enhancing. Threesomes are meant for ruining lives. That’s why the only threesomes you know of are from the porno you watch. If you’re having difficulties with your relationship, talk it out. Touch and feel and listen. If that doesn’t work, cut your losses. Chances are there’s a couple of baby makers out there looking to mingle.

The Green Machine

family, Story, The Future No Responses »

Mar 052010

What do you call an Irish guy that stays out all night? Patty O’Furniture.

St. Patrick’s Day is quickly approaching. It’s one of those holidays that has special meaning for me and my wife. You see, it’s the “day of her people.” Part of her is Irish…her liver, I think. As a loving and supportive husband, it is my duty, neigh, my privilege to celebrate her heritage with eagerness and joy. Many great St. Patty’s Day parties and memories have been shared and forgotten.

There was the Great Green Gathering of ought seven. The neighbors called the cops because of all the car bombs. Plus, we had a dance party in the apartment until three in the mornin’.

And then there was the Green Machine. Enter Tyler “the Hate/Fuck” Davis, the proud owner of a 2004 green Buick. He parked it right on the bathroom wall and toilet seat of our college apartment. We had the Irish-Korean, Jon O’Leezy, to thank for that incident. He thought it’d be cute to serve Ty warm green beer ’til three in the mornin’. It was a grand old time.

This year is going to live up to the hype. We’re going out, Irish style! (That means without potatoes).

For anyone who’s interested…this is a pre-invitation invitation for a St. Patrick’s Day Pub Crawl.

We’re doing a good old fashioned pub crawl around Lakewood, CO on Wednesday, March 17th. JDubs and I are going to call it Irish Golf or something cute and nonsensical like that. You gotta dress up. We’re going to hit up some local dives that are within walking distance from our old potato factory (that’s Irish-speak for ‘house’). If you’d like to participate, send me a comment or an email or a text or letter via Pony Express or just call. And, as always, if you’d like to hang out but don’t want to get caught up in some drinking and driving malarkey, you can always stay at our place for the night/weekend (standard rates apply)…did someone say dance party? Let’s get “jiggy”.

Gorilla Baby, Maybe

Animal, family, kids, Poop Related, Story No Responses »

Feb 202010

My mother is a big, hairy gorilla. That’s right, stay with me. She’s an ape.

If you ask her about it, she claims to be of a young evolutionary age. Her name is Simeon. She was born in a jungle, she fishes ants out of logs with sticks and she has a hairy back like all the other gorillas.

She talks to me using the monkey sign language that she learned at the institute.

You’re probably wondering where I came from and why I don’t look much like a baby gorilla. First of all, you haven’t seen my hairy back and secondly, my father was a run of the mill banana salesman. Mom was his best customer and paid in full with premium primate lovin’.

Come 'ere, Gorilla Baby...mmmuuah

Thankfully, I only got Dad’s good looks and not his lust for monkey meat.

Dad died when I was just a boy of ape. During one of her sh&t fits, mom accidentally suffocated him with poop. I tried to figure out why she was so mad I got confused when she tried to use her monkey sign language while hurling feces.

I found out later that Dad was cheating on mom with some overgrown chimp named Buttons. After that they sent her to sit behind bars at the zoo.

The zoo keepers try to get her to mate by putting male gorillas in her cage. She mates, but I can’t bear to watch. I can see the pain in her eyes when she’s getting aped from behind.

She told me that she misses Dad and that no other gorilla can take his place. I said, “What about another man?”

A switch flipped. She got so excited that the zoo keepers tazed her. I went to the only place I know to find an ape loving man…the “Miscellaneous Romance” section on Craigslist.

I found my gorilla mom a human man. He is ironically named Evolution. He and my mother, Simeon, have fallen in love. She is going to remarry. I am happy for my monkey mom, but I’m disturbed by Evolution’s motives. It’s a sick thing for a man to lust for a gorilla.

I’m not going to their wedding. My mother went ape shit when she heard this and sent Evolution to come talk to me.

Evolution said to me, “Marriage of man and ape is the natural progression.” To which I replied, “Evolution, you can take your love a step farther, but I won’t have you as a step father.”

Tookie vs. Tippi

Animal, family, Tookie 4 Responses »

Jan 062010

There’s a new sheriff in town. She’s a kitten named Tippi (temporarily). That’s right. We got another cat. JDub’s aunt and uncle were driving along the treacherous back roads of gritty Colorado Springs and heard meowing. There was Tippi, trapped under the hood.

As the story goes, they think Tippi had a brother. Apparently, in addition to Tippi, there were several other cat parts including a kitten penis and balls. It’s sad, but I never had the chance to know him, so I don’t feel all that bad unless I think about it.

So, JDubs and I adopted a new pet. She’s black and white and runs all over.She’s playful and adds a little more life to the house. There’s just one problem. In all her antics and misbehavin’, she tends to take what she wants and keep what she kills. Tookie, our preexisting feline friend, hates Tippi.

Tookie’s not good at sharing. He always has her backed into a corner so he can pee in her food dish. Tookie has turned from a lovable old scalawag into a bitter old coot. Because of his bad attitude, we started calling him Grandpa. My God, does he hate that. He gets extra bitey when he hears “Get Tippi’s head out of your mouth, Grandpa!”

It’s been two weeks since our acquisition and, hopefully, Tookie’s cat-titude turns around soon. Otherwise, we might have to get rid of Tippi the same as her brother by turning her into car parts. Let’s hope not.

Tookie is not happy

Tippi is an African name. It means "short for tall cat"

10 Reasons I Should Get A Job

10 Reasons, Animal, family, Half-ass, Hate, Life Lessons, The Future, work 4 Responses »

Dec 112009

About three months ago, I decided that quitting my sh*tty job would be a good idea. Even though the action temporarily halted my night terrors and self-mutilation, it has led to a host of other problems. I have since been diagnosed and treated for depression and a disease simply known as the gay. These ailments have caused me a host of other problems that I could not have predicted. Tension is mounting between my wife and me as I sit at home all day. Despite my reluctance, there seems to be only one solution; I should get to f*cking work. Here, then, are 10 reasons that I should get a job:

10. A job provides an opportunity to have money, to give back to society, have a bigger purpose in life, meet new people and be mad at something other than my wife and the house cat

"I've been workforce ready since my conception"

9. There are no more dishes to clean and the floors are as swept as they’ll ever be

8. The fern I planted to provide me with a sense of fruitfulness and hope has died

7. Water cooler talk about Seinfeld reruns is turning me into a schizophrenic

6. I’ve been taking public buses just to see where their routes end

5. Investing money in my home business of cashing in on the Internet has amounted to numerous porn site subscriptions and dozens of pills that combat erectile dysfunction

4. My home office consists of a barcalounger, a box of colored pencils and a guitar I plan on learning

3. Anticipation of checking the mail keeps me up all night

2. Getting drinks “after work” starts at nine in the morning

-and, finally-

1. I spend more money than my wife makes

Hot Shot Cat

Animal, family, Tookie 4 Responses »

Dec 092009

Hotter than a fat chick at a holiday sweater party. Yee Haw!

From Cat Photos

Tookie is my cat. When it gets cold outside (subzero temps and other temperatures ), Tookie hides in the warmest part of the house. Normally, he lays on our guest bed underneath a heat register that rains warmth upon him when the furnace kicks on. That rarely happens.

Because I’m out of work and JDubs and I don’t like wasting money on energy, the furnace is set at a cool 62 degrees F. That invariably means that our house is f-f-f-freezing. I can get by with an extra layer or ten. But even with a thicket of cat fur and a big F.U.P.A., the cat can’t get warm. He is cool to the touch even when balled up in his spot under the heat.

Every once in a while, I’ll cave. ”It’s too cold,” I’ll say. Instead of turning up the furnace, however, I’ll turn on a little space heater that JDubs bought. She got it at an after winter sales event at Target (we’re talking 90% off this heater…what a Jewy kind of deal!). The money saved on the device warrants splurging on electricity. So, that’s what I do.

All of a sudden Tookie has a new favorite spot…where ever the space heater is. It’s really hot but he curls up in front of it anyway. Here’s a video to show how comfortable he is:

Sorry for the sideways filming, porno-style handy cam work and the water mark…I’m only pretty good at this stuff, not really good.

How Fun It Was To Spend Time With The Indians

family 2 Responses »

Oct 262009

My Indian pals invented the game of monkey cruise trash toss

I’ve got a few friends that are Indians; dot Indians, not feather Indians because the department of corrections said they’re nearly extinct. Boy howdy, let me tell you, they are the most fun people in the world. That’s a good thing because they have over eight billion friends in their Now Network. They make me do all sorts of fun sh*t. We watch porn with our friends in them (they seem to know everybody). They are always saying in their thick, Indian accents, “Oh, I could watch this until I got bored then I would wait ten minutes and watch it again, good golly. She is so hot.” And then we watch them again. We eat a shit ton of spicy curry food. They catch their farts in pickle jars and make me smell them. I can’t stress enough how badly these people smell. They make spreadsheet software and I do my taxes. We talk about marketing deodorant in India and we laugh because it would never sell. Good times. No matter how much fun stuff we do, they always get the best deals. The Jews and the Indians always get the best deals and have the best times. I love you, JPa. Come home soon.

10 Reasons I’ve Ever Been Scared

10 Reasons, Animal, family, Food, kids, Life Lessons, Poop Related No Responses »

Sep 152009

I took a picture of my perineum using a mirror. This isn't it.

There are a lot of things out there that keep me indoors and away from windows. My life revolves around avoiding things that scare me and wearing hair nets. As much as I’ve tried to overcome some of my most basic fears, I always find ways to reinforce them. The following is a compilation of the 10 worst times I’ve ever been scared:

10. My poop turned blue for three days after eating TCBY’s Arthur the Aardvark’s Cotton Candy flavored frozen yogurt.

9. After snapping some voyeuristic pictures behind a circus tent, I was mauled by a black bear.

8. I was unable to take back a pair of denim jeans at the Gap. Now I just keep things.

7. I got a bee sting on my boner. (Thank you, Johnny & J-Pa)

6. I cut my perineum (see left; “incision”) on a barbed-wire fence while tobogganing in France. I had to wear a heavy flow maxi-pad for a week. (And that’s the closest I’ve ever been to a woman.)

5. I was held at knife point at a McDonald’s drive-thru for sarcastically ordering a “Crappy Meal”.

4. I held a pee in so long playing the drinking game Edward Forty Hands that urine sprayed out of my nipples.

3. My mother adopted me from my grandmother.

2. Thinking I had found the last morsel of food in my house, I once ate a lot of cat food.

-And Finally-

1. A maniacal and murderous clown named Adam who lives in a brightly colored school bus parked in a mountain meadow is stalking me via MySpace. (My real name is Liz)

Dead Rabbits

Animal, Ball Sport, family, Food, Injury, Life Lessons, Story, Tookie 2 Responses »

Aug 252009

Tookie is my cat and we live on the third story of a condominium building. He is extraordinary in every way. He is cute and fun like a small human. He bites hard and sleeps well. Even the way his huge craps stink is immaculate. Unfortunately for him, he is an outdoor cat trapped inside a indoor cat’s house. Sometimes, however, he is allowed out when I leave the house and the neighbors are gone. And this is where one of his best features kicks in. In order to get back into the condo after I let him outside, he doesn’t just wait at the front door making a scene for no one to hear like all the other idiot cats out there. No, he’s better than that. Using pure prowess and power, grace and skill, he scales the back side of our building with his cat-like claws and incredible strength. He jumps on our back porch and comes in through a dog door I paid for with my mother’s retirement money. This morning, I let Tookie outside a little earlier than usual so that he could exercise his handsome feline features. Which he did.

Tookie sometimes reminds me just how close to nature we actually live. We are a mere 20 yards from open space and, because of this Tookie and I have an agreement: He may only take memories and leave only footprints. Today he violated that agreement. He caught, maimed, killed, carried up the building, sat down on my kitchen floor with, and devoured the head of a baby rabbit (otherwise known as a cutie or a babbit). It’s pretty incredible what my cat is capable of. It’s even more incredible how much he can just kill an innocent creature with no remorse only minutes after I fed him. But I’m not even mad; I’m actually a little proud. Look what he can do! Commit murder? The thing is I just don’t want to clean up his pukes. Maybe if I leave it, my lover, JDubs, will clean it up with a trash sack and spare me the trouble.

Tookie eats rabbits like a man juggles; with balls

Versus:Good Relationship vs. Bad Relationship

Animal, family, Life Lessons, love, The Future, Versus No Responses »

Aug 162009

Communication is the key to a healthy relationship. It's what separates dogs from other animals.

I am no expert in the area, but I’ve been around the block once…if you know what I mean;) I’m talking about commitment. Sure, weird things happen in that “honeymoon” phase, but once you’ve moved on, you have to decide whether or not your partner(s)/animal/fetish is going to make it the long haul. Do you think you’re ready to take the plunge? See how your relationship habits stack up. The following list pits the signs of a good relationship versus the signs of a bad relationship against each other to determine why all your relationships fail miserably.

Know Thy Self:

Knowing what kind of person you are will determine what kind of person you are looking for in a relationship. Do have goals and ambitions? Are you happy being a flake? If you haven’t the faintest clue who you are or who you want to be, may God have mercy on us all. Solid understanding of yourself provides you with the confidence and wherewithal to make healthy decisions that might otherwise demise your partnership.

Signs of a Good Relationship

Signs of a Bad Relationship

Listen for phrases like:-“I want to grow with you”

-“Let’s compromise”

-“I love you for who you are”

-“Yeah, I’m ticklish”

Look for insincere and extremely repetitive use of these generic phrases:-“I’m sorry”

- “You complete me/You are my rock”

- “Let’s never fight”

- “I don’t care. What do you want to do?”

Opposites Attract:

Differences in personalities, likes, and dislikes all provide fuel for your love fire. Part of a good relationship is the ability to grow together, not apart. When people have competing ideas and meet challenges together, compromise is born.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship

-Your partner has inspired you to try new things-You and your partner work through problems together

-You are open to your partner’s ideas
-You hate morning breath and long toe nails-You love drugs, your partner is sober umpteen years

-You’re a cat person, your partner eats cats

Shared Responsibility:

Understanding that a relationship is a reciprocal cycle of give and take will help you navigate your way into a happy future. If you’re unable to get your share of the work done because you’re bending over backwards to pick up his/her slack, you’re going to have issues.

Signs of a Good Relationship

Signs of a Bad Relationship

-Your relationship feels like a team-When you come home from work and your partner has been home all day, the house is clean and vice versa

-You ask if you can help the other person and vice versa

-You think work is for suckers-You’re exhausted from getting too much sleep

-You don’t mind a dirty house

-You’re chiropractor says bending over backwards all of the time is taking a toll on your lumbar (also, You do all of the work)

Same Page:

Sometimes opposites attract, but you’d better like at least some of the same things as your best gal/beau otherwise your relation-ship is sunk. You might sit on opposite sides of the political aisle, but if his/her dream is to be a senator, then you’d better be heading up the campaign.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship

-You are interested with your partner’s life outside of your relationship-You ask questions

-You actively listen
-You like VH1 and s/he hates TV-You like to get faded at da’ club and s/he likes reading the poetry at the café

-You like butt sex and s/he has hemorrhoids (rectum, damn near killed ‘em).

Future Plans:

S/he sees kids your future, but you see a boat? Yeah, maybe it’s time to talk. If your partner isn’t visible in your five-year-plan, maybe it’s time to rethink who your future includes.

Signs of a Good Relationship

Signs of a Bad Relationship

-You’ve talked with your partner about the future-You have similar goals for the future (own a house in a year, own a dog in two years, add a 2^nd dog in two and a half years)

-You can see yourself growing old with your partner

-You squander away your money and your partner’s money-Your partner is nonexistent in your future plans

-Marriage is not for you

-You’re in prison

Communication:

Some people fight to win and others fight to

share information. The ability to effectively exchange ideas with each other while maintaining respect is paramount to a relationship.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship

-You feel like you’re with your best friend-You talk

-You listen
-You eat dinner in front of the TV-You’d rather your partner keep it down then you listen up

-When you talk, you can’t get a word in edge wise

There’s someone Else:

You talk until all hours of the night. You think about him/her all of the time. His/her d*ck is so young and thick. You long to be together day and night. If these are sentiments you hold for someone other than your partner, it’s time to break it off.

Signs of a Good Relationship

Signs of a Bad Relationship

-There is no one else but your partner-You are seriously considering marriage

-Soul mate is an understatement

-There’s someone else-You stare at anything in tight jeans that walks by

-You love him/her, but you’re not in love

Sexy Time:

Sex is not the most important thing in a relationship but it is significant. If you’re coming back for more after all this time, chances are things are looking bright.

Signs of a Good Relationship Signs of a Bad Relationship

-You and your partner have sex at least once every week or so-You love to give and receive

-You and your partner talk about and sometimes act out fantasies and turn-ons
-You don’t know what your partner looks like naked-Your pubic area is overgrown and overwhelmingly odoriferous

-Masturbation is better for you

-Your safe word is “rape”

Recognizing and implementing some of these good signs in your relationship is sure to give you the boost you’ll need to make it with that special someone. If something’s wrong, however, chances are it’s you. Get yourself in shape and try again. There’s no sense in ruining somebody else’s life (and credit) because you’re a selfish jerk. That’s not what a good relationship is about.

Consistently Inconsistent

family, kids, Life Lessons, Story 1 Response »

Aug 072009

If you want to live life right, you gotta let the bullsh*t fly!

Recently it was brought to my attention that the periodic reporting I’ve been doing on my life is highly inconsistent from what is actually happening in my life. I’m talking about fact checking, folks. It’s happening. And I’ve been called out. In a big way. I’m not going to lie to you; I’m a liar. Big time. I one time took an ice cream sandwich from a little kid because it looked delicious and he looked like a fart smeller. Did I mention I’m also a jerk? But, I don’t want to talk about that really. What I want to address is a life philosophy that I hold high above the rest. It’s based on consistency. You know, consistency? The art of speaking and doing and acting similarly in every occasion of your life because Jesus or God or Elvis told you so? Guess what? That sh*t is totally bunk. Bunked up beyond belief, sucker.

You can have a strict set of guidelines and abide by the rules set in place. You can play your game of life on a black and white polarized line of yes and no, right or wrong. You can also poke you own eyeballs out with a big wet wiener. If that’s what looks good to you, you are absolutely fooling yourself, dude. Sure, there’s instances in life of complete clarity where in which the outcome of some action is absolutely determinable as good or bad, right or wrong, yes or no, wet or dry. For example, do you want to go to the movies tomorrow with me? Obviously yes (HP6 guy or ma lady). Can I borrow a pair of your panties for a science project..P.S. I need to smell them? Clearly huh? You’ll never make fast friends that way. What you’ve neglected to observe in the past is that the world is not always as easy as black and white.

The world is grey and bleak and red and bleu cheese dressings and ambiguous and confusing. All at the same time and sometimes, all the time. Wrap your little mind around that! If you’re playing the Game of Life and your little car filled with all of your peg headed children fall out before you finish college and become a veterinarian, there is no clear answer for you. There is no rule for that (actually there is, it’s on the inside of the box lid about halfway down on the right, but pay no mind to that). You should pick yourself up and dust off your peg kids and finish the game, broken and bent. Things are not going to be the same for you any more.

Given the circumstances life hands you, you’d better figure it out and quick. No ones waiting for you. If you want to make it as a decent human being, you have to put all of that Bible thumping, Good vs. Evil, hogwash to bed. Think about this…Terrorist tucks her son into bed. Hmmm? Why is she a terrorist? Easy. Love. So she kills and maims and rapes. Her son is safe…for now: Look out! It’s gonna blow! KABLOOEY! But that’s her life. That should be your life, too. Pure instinct and devotion. Inconsistent at best.

Let your emotions get the best of you and set your self free. Don’t be a wiener. Be a man. Be an emotional person. Not a dirty Christian. The people that run an inconsistent operation are liberated from facts and their incessant checkability. It’s that easy. I can lie and steal. I can love and help. Let the bullsh*t fly. I’m accountable for me and you’re accountable for you. Now, let’s blow this place and go to the movies.

Mixed Couples

family, Hate, kids, Life Lessons No Responses »

Aug 042009

Most couples bearly even talk after awhile

I took a class in college. Just one. It was a sociology class entitled Society through Sexuality or something like that. Tons of hot chicks and their stupid, idiot, jock boyfriends. It was a cool class because there was a statistic that was taught. Just one. It said 95% of people will marry at least once in their life times. Now, I’m a firm believer in the idiom that 92% of all statistics are made up on the spot, but WoW! Getting 95% of everyone to do one thing? That’s a boat load. Someone should be making a ton of money. What if 95% of your friends showed up to your party on Friday? That would be like half a dozen or so of your friends that had wished they were somewhere else! Similarly, what a relief for most of those loser dorks out there that didn’t think they’d ever get laid. You can almost guarantee sexy relations when you’re married! Well, actually marriage does not entail sex. Just ask any one of the 95% that got suckered in. (BTW, no one has sex…no one. It’s too risky. Don’t be daft.)

The funny thing is that somewhere between nearly half to more than half of those marriages will end tragically in magnificently wonderful divorce. The tie that bonds often breaks and splinters and sends stabbing pains into your back. However, as good as it may sound, divorce has a serious down side. Forget what it does to your emotions, credit and therapy bills. The real frightening aspect is that some of those divorcees will marry again with an even lower success rate than the first time. I call it the trash principle. If one person doesn’t like something, then no one will. Just look at that stinking heap of unwanted trash at the junk dump. People just passed stuff right on down the line thinking someone else could benefit and the stuff just piled up. If you’ve ever seen a sitcom, then you’ll know what I’m talking about. Sitcoms have always sucked but somehow they all wind up on DVDs which no one wants and they go directly to the dump. If you’re like me, and there is no doubt in my mind that you are, then you’re probably asking yourself: “If the trash principle is true and no person would ever find love with someone that was tossed away by a first husband/wife and 2nd marriages happen, who in their right mind is taking the wild chance to pair up with those losers in a second marriage?” The answer may surprise you because of it’s deceptive plurality: single parents. That’s right, single parents. There is another unwanted breed out there that is just as used and spit out as “the divorced” and it’s not a bunch of little bastard kids. It’s the little bastards’ mothers and fathers.

If you really stop to think about them, single mothers would terrorize your dreams. To me, a single parent is a person that got to the abortion clinic a day late (not surprising, they’re irresponsible freaks). A single parent will claim that s/he was “in love”. Their brain power appears limited as they live selfishly without consequence. Don’t get me wrong, living without consequence can be a fine quality in a person, if s/he knows how to use a condom. The only redeeming quality of single parents is that once they hit rock bottom (an absolute certainty), they often figure out they cannot survive without help from other people (often their parents). A humbling experience, I’m sure. The usual outcome of this fall from grace, of course, is that they will cling to whatever life form shows interest. Sorry USA Network, characters need not apply. Qualities that appeal to normal people are lost on single parents. You drink and have a history of violence on your ex-wife but appear to have a stable income and can tolerate other people’s kids, you’re hired!

So, desperate and eager to live another day in loving arms, singles parents and divorcees say their “I dos”. Who could make a better pair? No one, apparently. And no one will. Like I said, the success rate of these marriages is so low that its basement floods when it rains. The unfortunate twist to this love story is that this behavior stands to become more common. As more people live this way, it stands to reason that they will more frequently miss their appointments at the abortion clinic. As the children pile up and the loveless marriages contribute two halves a time, the giant trash heap will continue to grow. It will grow until one day, when I decide to come down off of my high horse, I kick stomp it back into the receptacle where it belongs.

My Life

Ball Sport, family, Life Lessons, Story, work No Responses »

Jul 312009

Guess what, friends. You’re hired! Not really, though. I want to tell you a little about my life. It all started at the beginning when I was born. I was a twin then and still am today. My wombmate, Milhouse, as he is referred to by no one is one of the largest men that an ant has ever seen. During my youth I grew up. I marked all of my belongings with urine and shared everything I had including bath water. My mother was an earth science teacher on the moon and my father was half lemur and three-quarters poet. We climbed great heights together. I went to school in reverse order and Milhouse attended in normal sequence. We met once in 6th grade. Elementary school was a breeze. That’s the time when we lived on an island.

I became very strong playing ball sports under coach Lifton. I was younger then. It was then I learned a sad story; my best friend died before I knew him. He was a quadriplegic. He had no arms or legs and but he played in the grass. His name was Russell. I had a dog with fleas and a hamster with thumbs. After graduating kindergarten, I joined the Peruvian circus in Brazil. I was a flutist and I made delicious crepes. That was a long time ago. I met people like Biz, the singing ninja. Almost everyone heard him coming. He was married to a deaf princess from Albany named Sheila. I met her too. We used to take pictures of each other and watch them age. It took forever.

After the circus I lived on an escalator for a short stint. At the top I met a girl. We were wed. She grew into an ogre and ate all of our house plants. She had a way with squirrels. She would eat them, too. We grew older every day. We had children. A boy and his sister. She died shortly after the kids in a salt water bath I had given them. I learned that ogres can’t breathe under heavy rocks. It was her anniversary. I didn’t celebrate holidays then.

I lived alone after that. I liked short stories and to pass the time I read a lot of booklets. I briefly took up smoking and then stopped. It was one of the hardest things I ever did. I got older and my breath got worse. I bought a boat and sailed around a buoy for a year. It turned out that my anchor was stuck. I ate a lot of fish then.

I am sick now. I’m getting older and my bones are getting shorter. I’ve grown as much as I have shrunk and I think that I’ve learned more than I’ll ever know. I’m in a bed and the sheets are wet. I guess that makes it my bed. Would you like to join me? You’re hired. Not really, though. I already said that.

You Kissed Your Step-Brother’s Sister?

family, Half-ass, Injury No Responses »

Jul 202009

It's Complicated. You wouldn't understand.

You’re 15. You’re horny. Your life is complicated. Your mom says, “Hey, I know your father left because he loves his cheap trick whores better than this family, but I’m over it! Liberated! This is your new step-father Rick or Tom or Gary or something similar sounding! and this is his son and daughter, the twins.” This is what your mom says.

So you’re forced to move in with these douche bags. You get the bedroom in the over sized laundry room near the water heater and cat litter box. Your mom always barges in to do half a load of Rick’s softball uniform right when you’re about to jerk off. That effin cat always ass dumps two pounds of poopy Friskies in the litter box at two in the morning and it smells like death. You hate it.

Your mom doesn’t understand. It’s complicated. And that’s when you realize there are two other people your age living in the house. “Finally,” you say, “someone to relate to.” So you try to work it out with the twins, Skyler and Sophia. It must also be complicated for them.

Skyler is cold. Sophia is hot. Smokin’ hot. If only she weren’t your sister. But technically, she’s not. Physically, she’s developing nicely and evenly like a loaf of delicious 15 year old bread. You learn over several short encounters she’s actually quite charismatic. You start to fall for her.

You make every effort to talk to her and assist her and watch her shower. You’re 15. And in her young charming naivety, she begins to watch you and talk to you and fall for you, too. Things are awkward for a while but she’s just as curious as you.

Then one night, after the cat dumps, she sneaks down to your room and confesses her confusion. Your pants get tight. She leans in and kisses you, hard.

It’s the seductive sh*t that the one porn you’ve ever seen that you stole out of Rick’s closet is made of. Your relationship blossoms secretively as do Sophia’s young tender boobs (which you’ve touched).

You kids are hanging out and laughing and loving and touching and tonguing. Everyone is getting along. Mom and Rick seem to think everything is so healthy and the focus turns away from you to why Skyler is not bonding.

Rick thinks he’s gay. Your mom thinks he’s a nice boy. Unbeknown to you Skyler has been covertly watching your love charade. He’s jealous. That’s his sister your kissing…he wants that.

He tells your Mom. Mom tells Rick. Rick hits you. Mom freaks out. Restraining order. Divorce. With your pants still tight, it ends. No more Sophia. No more love. Wow.

A Little Secret About Tookie

Animal, family, Hate, Tookie 2 Responses »

Jul 132009

The blood in his heart was taken from another living creature

I have a cat which is a fact that I have mentioned before. He has aptly been nicknamed Tookie (and sometimes Tookus) after the late (sometimes great) founder and leader of the Hebrew Crips, Tookie Williams. My Tookie has the personality of a wolf and the lips of a gator. Tookie is a pack creature and loves to sharpen his teeth. He’s not your everyday house cat. He’d just as soon tear you limb from limb as he would buy you a greeting card with his feelings written neatly in feline calligraphy (a dying art form). He’s a complicated mess and it’s tempting to pet him, but don’t. You’ll get hurt and you might possibly fall in love.

I have also mentioned one of the neighbors that I live near. She dons a large ass and walks an old fat dog. The dog, a war torn golden retriever named Daisy, is an ok dog because she never talks. My neighbor on the other hand, won’t shut up. Her life seems to be a teetering balance of treats and gossip. She bought/adopted Daisy immediately (like 2 days) after her other, aging retriever died. She’s always calls the dog quirky names like ol’ fart, goof butt, and, my personal favorite, Chelsea (it was her old dog’s name, she blurted it out once by mistake). Needless to say, they’re quite the pair; always breathing heavily and gnoshing snacks.

Well, the cat sees the dog coming to and from the apartment daily as the gastropod neighbor and Daisy waddle by my front door to use the stairs. Being the intellectual, prison-mentality cat that he is, Tookie stares Daisy down through our screen door every day looking smug and contrite as if to say, “I am going to claw your heart out you dirty old mutt.” Sometimes Daisy ignores it. Sometimes Daisy barks. But one of these days, whether Daisy reacts or not, Tookus is going to tear ass through that screen door, open up that old dog with his claws, and chomp down on her tired soul. And I imagine that no sooner will that day come than my neighbor will have bought a new/used retriever to mistakenly name goof butt.

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
« Jan
			1	2	3	4
5	6	7	8	9	10	11
12	13	14	15	16	17	18
19	20	21	22	23	24	25
26	27	28	29

Wolsamnoraa's Blog

family

Two Plus One Equals Disaster

The Green Machine

Tookie vs. Tippi

10 Reasons I Should Get A Job

Hot Shot Cat

How Fun It Was To Spend Time With The Indians

Dead Rabbits

Versus:Good Relationship vs. Bad Relationship

Consistently Inconsistent

Mixed Couples

My Life

You Kissed Your Step-Brother’s Sister?

A Little Secret About Tookie

What Day Is It?

Blogroll

Categories

Recent Comments

Archives

Wolsamnoraa RSS Feed

Here’s a Sweet Tweet for You

Recent Posts