The World According to JP

As we all know, I love horror movies. As a matter of fact I went and saw Saw II Saturday night and let me just say that even though it wasn't as good as the first one, it was still pretty effing twisted.

Having watched just about every horror movie known to man, let me give you a list of things I've learned from them.

1. If a voice in your house says "Get Out!!" Then get out;
2. Never talk to clowns in sewers;
3. If someone is chasing you outside, and you're wearing high heels...take them off;
4. If someone is chasing after you with a knife, do not run upstairs where you'll be trapped;
5. If a little blonde girl stares into a snowy tv screen and says "they're here...," they are;
6. Never have sex with a girl in the woods;
7. 1...2...Freddie's comin' for you
8. 3...4...Better lock your door
9. 5...6...Grab your crucifix
10. 7...8...Better stay up late
11. 9...10...NEVER SLEEP AGAIN!!!;
12. If you're filming a documentary in the woods and you find an abandoned house...umm..yeah, don't go in;
13. If you're beautiful, have big boobages, and stand around naked looking at yourself, chances are someone else is watching you too...from the closet;
14. If a little boys says to you "I see dead people" - chances are - you are dead;
15. I learned this one this weekend - if the killer leaves you a note telling you not to use a key on a certain lock, take his advice, or at least don't put your eye up to the peephole while turning said key;
16. If someone says they'll be right back...they won't;
17. If you're in a dark room and you hear a noise...run away! Do not go in to investigate;
18. It's not normal to be able to turn your head all the way around;
19. When driving along a dark, long, dirt road and you pass some guy bleeding to death on the side of the road...it's actually ok to pick him up. BUT...When he says "can we turn around and get my buddy, he was right behind me!?" DON'T!!!; and
20. Probably the most important one of all - the killer NEVER dies the first time.

Happy Halloween, all!!

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As you undoubtedly know by now, my wife and I are soon to be divorced. Ever since that has been decided, we have made a very conscious effort to make it as easy and pain-free on the boys as possible. In many ways, it's been better for G-Dogg and Mozilla because they're getting more individual attention from each of us.

Last night, with the soon to be ex going out with her friends, I decided to plan a nice, fun evening for the boys. I decided to take them to Papa's Pizza, which is a kid-friendly establishment. They have a huge play area, which is indoors. Mozilla actually had his 5th birthday party there. After Papa's, I figured it would be fun to take them to see Wallace and Gromit.

So, we get to Papa's, order some food (1/2 cheese, 1/2 pepperoni pizza and some mozzerella sticks) and drinks and head off to find a table. I get situated at the table and then tell the boys that they can go play in the play area.

There is a window looking into the play area from our table, so I don't actually have to go into the room with them (parents are told to supervise children at all times), so I just sit at the table watching through the window, making sure the boys are ok.

About five seconds after they get in there, they start running all over the place like madmen. Almost literally bouncing off the walls. Running top speed from one end of the place to the other, knocking each other down, rough housing, etc.

I have to stop here for a second. My boys know how to act in public. They know how to play in public. They do not get away with much when I'm around. When it comes to behavior in public, I'm not a pushover with them. Actually, I'm the exact opposite of a pushover. Acting up in public isn't something I put up with.

So, I stride in there and put a stop to their antics right then and there. They tell me they understand that if they continue to behave the way they are, we're getting our food to go and they will eat dinner and spend the rest of the night in bed, reading.

Dinner arrives, they boys wash up, sit down and eat. Eating was pretty uneventful. Discussing their day at school, etc.

Afterwards, we have about 45 minutes before we have to leave for the movie, so I tell them they can go play. But this time I gave them very specific instructions. (A) No running in the play area; (B) No rough housing with anyone; (C) Keep your hands to yourself. They told me they understood perfectly and off they go.

So, they get in there and the first thing I see is G-Dogg take off on a dead sprint and knock Mozilla down while trying to bat a balloon up in the air. I sat there dumbfounded. I mean, didn't I just say that was not acceptable behavior? WTH? So I go into the area and have ANOTHER talk with the boys about the rules and their behavior. I never raised my voice, I just sternly told them that they had one more chance before they would be severely disappointed with the rest of their night.

I leave and things are going swimmingly for the next 25 minutes when I see the "lady in charge" go over to Mozilla and tell him something. I go into the area to find out what's up and Mo takes off like a shot for the farthest point in the room that is away from me. I know he did something wrong.

I ask him what's up and he told me the lady told him not to go down the steps of the slide, but to use the slide itself. Ok. That's fine, he didn't know the rule. No biggie. I look at the clock and decide it's time to go to the movie.

When we get out toward the car, I was talking to Mo about what the lady said saying "well, since you didn't know the rule, it's no biggie; just remember it next time." This is when he informed me that it was the THIRD time the lady had told him this. She added that if he didn't listen, he'd be asked to leave.

To top it off, at the exact moment that Mo and I were talking while going to the car, G-Dogg decided it would be funny to trip Mo and make him fall on the wet grass.

Needless to say, I had enough at that point. I nixed the movie idea and told them they were going straight home to bed. I don't remember being that disappointed in them before.

Of course they cried, screamed, begged and pleaded with me for forgiveness. God forgives right away, daddy doesn't. Of course I reassured both of them that I still love them, even though I was severely disappointed with their behavior. I also commended Mo on telling me the truth about what happened.

So, the rest of the night was spent listening to whiny, crying children that were blaming everyone but themselves for their fate.

Of course, after they went to bed and fell asleep, I felt like a heel for putting the kabosh on the fun for the evening, but they need to learn boundaries, right?

I told them that best laid plans don't always work out. You just move on and try to do better next time.

Hopefully, they learned something last night. With all that's going on, it's hard for me to stick to my guns, no matter how well I know that it's for the best.
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Ok, when I first saw this, I couldn't stop laughing. I hope it does the same for you.

Clicky Clicky
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Ah, the crisp winter air and the fresh dusting of powder on the slopes! You can certainly understand my excitement, for now is truly a spectacular time to partake in wintery outdoor recreational delights. As such, permit me to dispense these ten tidbits of advice as you head into your personal winter wonderland.

First, you don't have to be a FAG to gain entry to a ski basin. Sure, at first glance, you might beg to differ after observing the throngs of dumbfucks loafing around in coordinated skiwear (s'up Colorado?), but you can enjoy the hill and keep your manhood by wearing appropriate, non-faggotty clothing - LEATHER. Fleece is for baked, hippie ski fags, not you my friend. Frankly, anything that can be purchased at REI screams, "Poser faggot!" Bust THIS bitch out on the slopes.




Some burned-out Rocky Mountain dipshit may tell you that leather gets wet. The appropriate response to such a statement is "Fuck off, fag." Who fucking cares if leather gets wet? You'll look like a fucking ski stud with a huge slab, and that's considerably more important than being a puss for comfort.

Second, while not all skiers are fags, they are all PUSSIES. You can get whatever the fuck you want at whatever ski basin you hit by showing severe sack at all times. Example. Skiers are borderline retarded because of years at high altitude and the corresponding lack of oxygen; thus, they speak slowly. Don't wait for some pussy to finish his "hey bra..." sentence. You don't have all fucking day to get your bomber downhill on. Grab said pussy by his goggles and bellow, "Where's the goddamn lift, you stuttering retard!" The same decisiveness will serve you well at the lodge when dealing with the notoriously idiotic seasonal employees.

Third, YOU do not have to wait in the goddamn lift lines. This dovetails into the skiers are pussies maxim. Walk straight to the front of the line. If some fag skier complains with a "bro?!", grab his poles, break the first one over your knee, break the second one over his head, and toss the remnants off into the snow with a quick and pointed, "Fuck you, DUDE." If said complainant is a snowboarder, grab his IPod, crush it under your boot, and then call for his fucking Mommy, who is guaranteed to be somewhere nearby dressed as a snow princess.

Fourth, don't let anyone into your chair with you unless you plan on fucking them.

Fifth, don't wait for the lift chairs to reach their destination before exiting. It's a bitch move, lacking in testicular fortitude.

Sixth, the best way to slow a rapid and out-of-control descent is by piling headlong into a group of skiers up ahead of you. Once you are certain that you have lost control, pick your party, clench your fists and direct them at the base of their skulls, and slam into them, letting forth a bloodcurdling scream. When the pileup is finished, make certain you are the first up so you can grab everyone else's gear and throw it into the path of any other folks coming down the hill.

Seventh, ski fags have a communal language all their own - it's pretty fucking annoying. Anytime a ski fag drops some mountain vernacular on your ass, blast 'em in the chops. Rest assured that no response other than a "whoa" will be forthcoming as they are pussies. If you don't get a "whoa," blast them again.

Eighth, ski fags wear hats that make them look like imbeciles. Be a good neighbor and point this out. When you see dude with a hat that has a tassel, ball, deely-bopper thing, or looks like a long Dr. Seuss sock, smack it off dude's head with a "you look like a dumb fag, you dumb fag." If you see a chick with such a hat, ask her, "Hey, are you a whore? 'cause that dude over there (indicate nearest dude sporting deely-boppers) said you were his whore." Chick will then remove dude's headgear in appropriate fashion.

Ninth, when your day of bliss on the hill is done, probably after about an hour and a half, retire to the cozy confines of a lodge and its finest bar to get marinated. While doing so, complain bitterly about every goddamn thing in a voice loud enough for every ski fag in the bar to hear. The formula is simple. "This _______ fucking sucks compared to _________ at anyotherskibasin"

Lastly, don't eat the yellow snow, but more importantly, steer clear of the brown and crimson speckled snow as some ski fag has probably just drug a sore or two over it.

If you simply follow these 10 simple rules, the slopes will be yours for the taking.
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Hey all. Well, all three of you that actually read this site now. Yes, JP has effectively r-u-n-n-o-f-t his whole readership with the shit he’s been posting lately. I don’t blame you, really. It’s been not only few and far between posts, but the crap I’ve put up here doesn’t belong on a 2 year old’s blog, let alone mine.

Let me say that I’m sorry. It’s been a rough summer. The Summer of Discontent we’ll call it. No, not much has gone according to plan. From marriage woes to softball suckiness, it’s been bad all around.

There has been one WONDERFUL thing that has come out of all of this, but I’m not at liberty to divulge what that is at this point. Maybe in the future.

In all honesty, I’m really f’n pissed off at myself for letting this site suffer. When I look back at why I started this site and what I had hoped it to become, I just laugh. It has degenerated from a place where my funny experiences and really abnormal look at life was on display to a place where I cut and paste funny (or not so funny) emails I received because I’m too idiotic to post something original. I mean what the fuck is going on here? I’d stop reading me too.

What I need to do is get back to basics. I need to quit serving up a watered-down version of shit. I need to smack someone in the face (figuratively, not literally). I need to be me again…not whatever I have been the past 6 months or so. I mean, seriously, it’s was July when I posted something original here. How the hell you people didn’t hunt me down and kick me square in the package, I’ll never know. So I’m blaming you. So there.

There will be a new installment tomorrow. Hopefully, it'll capture the spirit of this joint. Hell, it couldn't be any worse than the shit I've been posting lately.
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I saw this and thought it was very appropriate. It's funny how true all of this is too.

40 Things in the Life of an Italian Child

01. You have at least one relative who wore a black dress every day for an entire year after a funeral.
02. You spent your entire childhood thinking what you ate for lunch was pronounced "sangwich."
03. Your family dog understood Italian.
04. Every Sunday afternoon of your childhood was spent visiting your grandparents and extended family.
05. You've experienced the phenomena of 150 people fitting into 50 square feet of yard during a family cookout.
06. You were surprised to discover the FDA recommends you eat three meals a day, not seven.
07. You thought killing the pig each year and having salami, capacollo, pancetta and prosciutto hanging out to dry from your shed ceiling was absolutely normal.
08. You ate pasta for dinner at least three times a week, and every Sunday.
09. You grew up thinking no fruit or vegetable had a fixed price and that the price of everything was negotiable through haggling.
10. You were as tall as your grandmother by the age of seven.
11. You thought everyone's last name ended in a vowel.
12. You thought nylons were supposed to be worn rolled to the ankles.
13. Your mom's main hobby is cleaning.
14. You were surprised to find out that wine was actually sold in stores.
15. You thought that everyone made their own tomato sauce.
16. You never ate meat on Christmas Eve or any Friday for that matter.
17. You ate your salad after the main course.
18. You thought Catholic was the only religion in the world.
19. Your were beaten at least once with a wooden spoon or broom.
20. You thought every meal had to be eaten with a hunk of bread in your left hand.
21. You can understand Italian but you can't speak it.
22. You have at least one relative who came over on the boat.
23. All of your uncles fought in a World War.
24. You have at least six male relatives named Tony, Frank, Joe or Louie.
25. You have relatives who aren't really your relatives.
26. You have relatives you don't speak to.
27. You drank wine before you were a teenager.
28. You relate on some level, admit it, to the Godfather and the Sopranos.
29. You grew up in a house with a yard that didn't have one patch of dirt that didn't have a flower or a vegetable growing out of it.
30. Your grandparent's furniture was as comfortable as sitting on plastic. Wait!!!! You were sitting on plastic.
31. You thought that talking loud was normal.
32. You thought sugared almonds and the Tarantella were common at all weddings.
33. You thought everyone got pinched on the cheeks and money stuffed in their pockets by their relatives.
34. Your mother is overly protective of the males in the family no matter what their age.
35. There was a crucifix in every room of the house,
36. You couldn't date a boy without getting approval from your father. (oh, and he has to be Italian)
37. You called pasta "macaroni".
38. You dreaded taking out your lunch at school ????????
39. Going out for a cup of coffee usually meant going out for a cup of coffee over Zia's house.
40 Every condition, ailment, misfortune, memory loss and accident was attributed to the fact that you didn't eat something.
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Ok, I've wasted a bunch of time today looking at this site. Some of the funniest and most un-PC t-shirts I've ever seen reside right here.

WARNING: This is not work-safe. But enjoy it anyhow.

T-Shirt Hell

The first t-shirt you will see says it all - "Bring our troops home. Our hookers are starving."
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