The World According to JP

I'm An Idiot...

2008-03-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

...or should I say a fucking idiot?

Once upon a time, yours truly had a truly benevolent notion. I would move from Kissimmee, Florida to Cheboygan, Michigan and eventually to Portland, Oregon and live out my days as a happy, healthy, studly human being. You know what they say about best laid plans, right? Well, if you don't, let me tell you, best laid plans SUCK!!!

It's been over two years since I've posted anything on this site. The stress finally got to yours truly. The well was dry. Dry as a hooker working dollar beer night down at the local tavern. Too much stress. Too many problems. Too much life happening to me all at once. There was a time when I looked up to the heavens and said out loud, "How much more do you expect me to take before I go on a four-state killing spree?" It's been a long road, with many more miles ahead of me.

Anyhow, I digress. Back to the suckiness of laying plans. When I found out "we" were pregnant with G-Doggy, all I could think of was getting the fuck out of Florida and heading West for greener pastures and a better life. After Mozilla came along, I really thought I was set in Portland for life. Then, it happened. I started thinking. Actually, I started over-thinking. I overthought EVERYTHING. I got caught up in the Nation of What If. As in:

What if this is all there ever will be in my life?

What if the waif (what I called the wifeola) and I were only supposed to create two children and call it quits?

What if I wouldn't have met the waif?

What if this is the best you can ever do money-wise and job-wise?

What if there's a better life waiting for you somewhere?

The answers started to come in a flood:

It's not supposed to be like this;

Maybe you should call it quits;

You'd probably be blissfully happy, but you wouldn't have the two human beings that you wouldn't trade for all of the world;

It's not. You're an intelligent, high-functioning, goddamn good looking human being. Surely you can have a better career. (Ok, good looking wasn't in the answer I was looking for).

You should go find a better life. You deserve it, you fucking stud.

Do you see where I went wrong? I wish I would have.

Yes, I pulled up stakes back in July and moved to Utah (where? - EXACTLY). I cannot say that I like it here. Actually, I dislike it a lot. It's too conservative, political and Mormon-ish for me. Now before the haters start, let me say that I don't have anything against Mormons as individuals. But when they assemble in large groups, look the fuck out. Let's just say that shit gets done. Not good shit either. We're talking about a large portion of the population deciding what is right and what is wrong for you, so you don't have to burden yourself with making a decision about anything. I love drinking the 3.2% alcohol here. Of course, now when I go back to Portland or to Vegas and am in the vicinity of a bar I become drunk beyond recognition. I love the fact that I have had 4 friends DUI'd since I moved here. In the 15 years I lived in Florida and the following 11 that I spent in Portland, I only had 2 friends that had been DUI'd...now I know 4 in a shade under 9 months?? What.The.FUCK?!? Yes, they wait outside the bars at night and watch. When someone gets in their car and drives away, they find some bullshit reason to pull them over and guess what? I know they have officially scared me straight. If I go out and the girlfriend orders an alcoholic-type beverage, I drink water. All night. I refuse to be the 5th personally known DUI.

There are some good things about this place also. I love the house I live in. Love the view out of my front window and back yard. Love that I'm 4 blocks from the trailheads so that I can take the 3 dogs hiking whenever the mood strikes (yes, it strikes a lot). My jobs (yes, I have 2, child support be damned) are better than the average bear's jobs here. You can buy a lot of house for fewer dollars than on the West Coast. The house we live in would fetch upwards of $350k in Portland. We paid just shy of $215k.

But it comes down to this - I honestly wish that I never would have moved out of Florida. I have lived all over the place, but Kissimmee, Florida is my home. I get that achy feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I think about what my life was like. Was it utopia? No. Was it perfect? Hell no. But was I one lucky bastard to have been raised in the shadows of Walt Disney World? Hell FUCK yes!! Why wouldn't I have wanted that for my kids? What was I thinking?

Ever since Nanny (my grandmother, not a 21 year-old caregiver) died, it's like I'm incapable of making a correct life decision. I think my brain is short circuited. I'm so indecisive, so unsure of myself, so fucking regretful that I can't even stand myself anymore.

It's a shame. I was in the perfect place for me. I was too stupid to realize it. Now I live in the anti-perfect place for me. And I'm FUCKING miserable.

Yes, I Was Dead...

2006-03-03T20:50:00.000-08:00

As IF it's any business of yours. Dead, buried and no longer around. I planned to stay that way too. However, I decided to raise myself from the ashes and post again.

Holy fuck, how melodramatic was that? No, I wasn't dead. I wasn't even sick. However, it's been awhile since I've felt together enough to post.

The long and short of it is that I got fired. Yes, me. Fired. And the reason? This blog. When I posted my female masturbation list, one of the IT geeks in Seattle just happened to be monitoring what I was doing. Well, he passed this lovely little website on to the senior partner at the big firm in Seattle who called the office manager at my office in Portland and told her that he wanted me gone by the end of the day. Nice.

Never mind that the post took me literally 10 seconds to post, since I had it saved as a draft. Never mind that I was on my break. Never mind that I was on top of my work from day one, never fudged my hours for billing purposes. Never mind that I was there every day from 7:15 to 5. Never mind that I busted my ass for them. Yeah, all that was out the window because of this website. So, as you can imagine I was a little bitter toward this place for awhile.

Yes, they claimed that I violated the "sexual harrassment" policy at their nice little firm. I asked how, exactly, did I do that since I never sent anyone at work my link. Never told anyone at work about this website. Never even hinted about it. She had no answer for that one. She only said, "It's out of my hands."

Then, I pointed out that I had worked the day before, which was MLK day (office was closed), and had I known this, I wouldn't have come in. After that, I said something about this being a supremely bad day all of a sudden to which she said, "Believe me, I didn't imagine my day being like this. I was home doing something and had to come in to do this." I looked her in the face and deadpanned, "Yeah, it's much worse for you considering after this you get to go back to your nice office and your $100,000 a year salary with as many days off as you can get away with." She asked if she'd have to call security.

At that point, I told her that no, you don't need security. See, I'd really have to give a shit about the company in order to go ballistic. Looking back, I really didn't give a shit. Don't get me wrong, I love doing what I do, but the last firm I was at has problems with how they treat their employees. Everyone is just a number. They give you just enough perks to keep you from slashing everyone's tires on the way out the door for the weekend. Also, it's hard to work for a company that is so intent on screwing the little guy out of every last cent they can. I really just didn't care. In that respect, they did me a favor.

So, after I collected belongings, she walked me out the back, watched me get on the elevator (as if I had any inclination about running back into the office and getting naked or something) and walked back to her cushy job and shitty law firm. Scoreboard me for the moment.

The first couple weeks were great. I took my kids to school AND picked them up. I did some projects I've been putting off for a long time now. Surfed the net on my own terms. Thought about what was important to me. Basically, I reconnected with my life.

However, after the first month, when I had seriously started looking for a job, I saw how different the market is this year. I really thought that I'd have a job with a comparable salary within a couple weeks. Well, we're going on Week 7 and I still haven't found it.

My savings account has dwindled to almost non-existent and the pressure is on. I have managed to keep myself afloat for the past couple weeks by doing some temp work and some side work for another attorney. I don't mind the temp work, but something's gotta change soon. I'd prefer to sell my Suburban and/or trade it in, not have the bank come get it. The problem is that if I sold my Suburban, I'd have to go get a new car and I don't know any banks that will loan moolah to a dude with a temp job and no clear definable income. Oh well, I'll just keep making that payment somehow.

So, here I am at ANOTHER cross-road. I found myself in a similar situation last year when I was told I was being laid off. The main diffence being that I had a new job the next week.

It's been a stellar 12 months for JP. Two forced job changes (one still pending), one divorce and no more savings account. A little word of advice, when you save money for a rainy day, make sure you save twice as much as you think you need because it NEVER goes as far as you think it will.

Anyhow, this has degenerated into a long, boring diatribe. I just wanted to let all you guys know what was up. I consider you my friends and wanted to put something here for awhile now, but just didn't feel up to it.

Hopefully soon we'll be back to our regularly scheduled ranting.

The Mid-Season TV Lineup

2006-01-28T21:47:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know it's been a long time since I posted on here. I don't think I'm ready to talk about what's been going on with me, so I have worked on a new post to keep you guys entertained. Hopefully, I will get my thoughts organized enough soon to give you some sort of explanation.

Until then, here are some of the TV shows I expect to come out soon. I mean, network television is getting so redundant, isn't it? I hope that someone from TV land picks up on these.

*THE NEW CREW*

OBJECTION! (ABC, Sundays, 9:00)
When was the last time you experienced a courtroom drama chock full of lawyer jargon? Sure, "The Practice" is up there, but there's all that other stuff going on and that fat bitch. Who cares? "Objection!" promises a higher objections-per-minute ratio than any show in the history of television. With "Objection!", your intake of good courtroom drama will only be overruled by your sustained pleasure. And that's admissable.

Godot's Not Here, Man (FOX, Mondays, 9:00)
Legendary one-joke funnymen Cheech and Chong reunite after twenty years, lighting up your television screen with this minimalist show about two burnouts, Pedro and Estragon, hitchhiking on the side of the interstate of life. This very existential program explores base human relationships, man's eternal struggles, and new ways to incorporate the word "man" into otherwise logical conversation. Some nudity.

JUDGING REINHOLD (NBC, Thursdays, 8:30)
Two parts "Night Court" and one part "The John Larroquette Show," TV's newest and funniest judge, played delightfully by Judge Reinhold (last seen in "The Dumpster in Back of My Apartment Complex"), will surely sentence you to a lethal injection of giggles. It's gavel to gavel comedy as the lawyers and bailiffs are even wackier than the plaintiffs and defendants! "Judging Reinhold" is one jury duty you don't wanna have your friend bloody up your face to get you out of.

BOOBS (WB, Fridays, 9:30)
Those folks over at the WB are looking a little bit like Fox in the early '90s with this candidly titled program. In "Boobs," two brothers (Anthony Michael Hall and Fisher Stevens) co-own a plastic surgery clinic that specializes in breast augmentation. If staring at "Boobs" for half an hour while tickling your funny bone is your idea of a good time, perhaps the WB has your prescription.

*THE GAME SHOW CIRCUIT*

WHO WANTS TO GOOSE A MILLIONAIRE? (ABC, Tuesdays, 8:00)
The geniuses at ABC have done it again, this time giving ordinary Americans the chance to goose past winners of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" Like "Who Wants To Be...," "Who Wants To Goose" is a variation on the British version of the show. The main difference is that host, Regis Philbin, sucks cock for extra cash.

THE GREAT RACE II (CBS, Wednesdays, 9:00)
Neo-Nazis compete for cash and prizes.

SURVIVOR 4: OBSCURITY (CBS, Wednesdays, 8:00)
Members of the band Survivor outwit, outlast, and outdo each other as the last Survivor not to commit suicide gets like a Chia Pet or something. Hosted by Frank Stallone.

*SPINOFF CENTRAL*

THAT 30S SHOW (FOX, Mondays, 8:30)
From the shmucks who brought you "That '70s Show," this hip new show guides us through one of our nation's other beloved decades: those wacky 1930s. A candy bar cost a penny and bread cost a nickel, but laughter? She was free.Watch these kooky kids and their hoky hijinks as they try to catch a buzz on economic failure and stay one step in front of their nosy neighbor, crochety Mr. Hitler (Tom Selleck). "That '30s Show" will certainly cure any great depression.

DHARMA & GRACE (NBC, Thursdays, 9:00)
The peacock network finally struts its stuff with this daisy of a show, called "the best program of the new fall season" by my penis. Free-spirited Dharma and clothing-optional Grace make every schoolboy's dream come true (and quite sticky) with this wonderful show about lesbians and the girls who love them. If you like gals kissing each other, this very well might make up for that teddy bear Santa never got you that one Christmas, that heartless bastard.

SABRINA THE COLLEGE-AGE WITCH (UPN, Who Cares?)
The lovable vixen Sabrina is all grown up now and she's off to college. This time around, Sabrina is no longer played by Melissa Joan Hart, but by my ex-girlfriend, Leann, who went Wiccan before our messy breakup and then put a curse on my transmission to spite me. "Sabrina the College-Age Witch" is a little different than the teenage equivalent because Sabrina dies in the first episode and then the rest of the show pretty much revolves around me and my militia of whores.

MY ACHING WOODY (NBC, Thursdays, 9:30)
After beating Satan in a game of marbles, ex-bartender Woody Boyd (Woody Harrelson) is granted one unconditional wish. That one wish? The power to prescribe medical marijuana. Things get interesting when Robert Downey, Jr., Charlie Sheen and Gary Busey move in next door.

THE QUEEN OF KINGS (CBS, Tuesdays, 8:00)
An obese cardshark, Chloe (Camryn Mannheim), who knows when to hold 'em, knows when to fold 'em, and knows when to roll away will certainly deal her way into your heart with "The Queen of Kings." Even though she's in a wheelchair, she can still have a good time, especially when she gets back home to hubbie, Ace (David Caruso). You'll laugh hysterically at the soon-to-be-famous episode where Chloe enters a lard-eating contest. If you like to hit on 17, then you, sir, are what I call a cradle robber.

The Definitive Female Masterbation Terminology List

2006-01-17T08:51:00.000-08:00

Ok, for all of you out there that are sick of the same ol', same ol' terminology when it comes to female masterbation, here is a whole list of terms to choose from. Feel free to add any I've left off.

Digging a Trench
Doing your Nails
Dousing the Digits
Drilling For Oil
Engaging in Safe Sex
Erasing the Problem
Fanning the Fur
Feeding the Bearded Clam
Feeding your Slot
Fiddling the Bean
Fingerbating
Fingerpainting
Finger Blasting
Flickin' the Bean
Flit your Clit
Fucking Without Complications
Gagging the Clam
Gagging the Lips of Love
Genital Stimulation via Phalangetic Motion
Get a Date with Slick Mittens
Get a Lube Job
Get To Know Yourself
Get a Stinky Pinky
Going Mining
Groping the Grotto
Greasing your Hips
Grissle Rub
Gusset Typing
Having Sex With Someone you Love
Hee-Haw with wrinkled Mee-Maw
Hitchhiking South
Hitchhiking to Heaven
Hitchhiking Under the Big Top
Jillin' Off
Let the Fingers do the Walkin'
Levy Break Limbo
Making Soup
Manual Override
Muffin Buffin'
Nulling the Void
Paddling the Pink Canoe
Pampering the Pussy
Parting the Red Sea
Pearl Fishing
Pet the Petunia
Pet the Pussy Cat
Polishing the Nugget
Polishing the Peanut
Polishing the Pearl
Play Poker
Play the Clitar
Play Couch Hockey for One
Play the Silent Trumbone
Playing With Her Pineapple
Playing with Mrs. Palmer's Five Daughters
Playing With the Man in the Boat
Pushing the Button
Peeling the Asian Pear
Pussy Soccer
Riding the Unicycle
Rolling the Dough
Rubbin' the Nubbin
Rubbing the Donut
Rubbing the Red Pussycat
Scoring the Hoop
Soaking the Whisker Biscuit
Spelunking
Spearing the Bearded Clam
Squeeze the Peach
Strumming
Strumming the Banjo
Surfing the Channel
Teasing the Kitty
Teasing the Tuna Taco
Testing the Plumbing
The Virgin's Release
Tickling the Taco
Tiptoe Through the TwoLips
Toggling the Bit
Tossing Pink Salad
Three Point Shot
Trolling the Bermuda Triangle
Two Finger Taco Tango
Washing your Fingers
Night in With the Girls
Airing the Orchid
Auditioning the Finger Puppets
Beat the Beaver
Beating Around the Bush
Brushing The Beaver
Buff the Weasle
Carpet Bumping
Cat Got Tongue
Checking for Squirrels
Clam Bake for One
Cleaning your Fingers
Clitters
Coming Into Your Own
Creamin'
Coming Into Your Own
Cunt Cuddling
Dialing the Rotary Phone

An Open Letter to Porn

2006-01-12T16:07:00.000-08:00

Dear Porn,

Hi there, how are you doing? It seems to me like you're thriving - you're a multi-billion-dollar worldwide industry and there's more of you out there every day, in new forms, with new perversions, expanding into more markets all the time. Your mother must be so proud.

Don't worry about not recognizing me - you don't know me, but we actually have a long history together. I won't go into the full story, but just let me say that I've done some crazy shit for you, stuff that I'm not entirely proud of...but that's not to say that you didn't reciprocate, of course. I mean, you completely changed my life three times - first, when I discovered masturbation, second, when I got a TV and VCR in my own room, and third, when I discovered that I could find you on the internet. Mind-blowing stuff...and now that I'm living by myself and am currently single, I can see you any time I want for as long as I want. This is like our Golden Age together, except for one slight problem. I didn't notice it at first, but as we spent more and more time together it became pretty obvious.

You suck, dude.

And I'm not trying to make some sort of cute pun here - you really do suck. You're awful, horrible, poorly made, and I can think of a whole list of huge problems that you have.

First off, you don't make any fucking sense. I mean, have you ever sat down and actually tried to watch one of your "features" straight through? If your plot isn't some needlessly complicated, convoluted mishmash of nightmarish editing, it's so utterly simple that non-sex scenes consist of little more than "Hey, we know each other, let's fuck." I realize that creating plausible situations for characters to have sex while only having 5-minute bursts of plot in which to do it in is difficult, but with that in mind, why bother? There are fewer people that watch a movie of you for the plot than read Playboy for the articles (if that's even possible). But I guess I can overlook that since I usually can only watch (read "last") about 11.5 minutes of you at a time.

Next, let's talk direction. Do any of the people who direct you have any clue what in hell they're doing? Here's just a few of the egregious errors most directors make:

1) The Extended Close-up: You know, this may surprise you, but anyone who's watched you for more than five minutes knows exactly what a penis going in and out of a vagina looks like. Especially when it's a close-up shot, where all you can see is pussy, cock, and pubic hair (except when it's a doggy-style shot, where all you can see is pussy, cock, balls, pubic hair, and a pair of asses). And do you know exactly what a close-up shot of a penis going in and out of a vagina looks like?

EVERY OTHER SINGLE FUCKING CLOSE-UP SHOT OF A PENIS GOING IN AND OUT OF A VAGINA THAT HAS EVER BEEN COMMITTED TO FILM IN HUMAN HISTORY, THAT'S WHAT! Okay? Do you get it now? We've seen it, and we've seen it a million times, and it never looks any different! It's not like you can even tell who's actually doing the fucking just by looking at the close-up, like some warped version of "Name That Tune" - so why do you feel the need to spend 45 seconds out of every minute showing it to us? Could we please actually see what's going on in the rest of the scene, and maybe show some breasts or, god forbid, the woman's face, for once?

2) The Guy Shot: Now what the hell is the point of this? Go out on the street and randomly poll people - 99% of them are going to tell you that women are better looking than men, and 100% of them are going to say that female porn stars are better looking than male porn stars (Ron Jeremy is smart and funny and all, but let's admit it, dude is fucking ugly). So why the hell do you randomly, all of a sudden, switch to a shot of either just the guy's face or just the guy's upper body or something for 30 seconds? Most guys in porn don't bother acting while they're fucking anyway, so all you really get is 30 seconds of not showing anything remotely interesting. And do you know how much it sucks to be jerking off, start to come, and then get stuck with a Guy Shot? You know it's too late and there's nothing you can do about it, but you'd rather be doing anything else than coming at that particular moment. (The nearest equivalent I can think of is prepping a launch of a missile, pressing the fire button, and all of a sudden realizing you've just launched it at your own house.)

3) The Acting: Can this get any worse? It's bad enough that the acting during the plot segments is wooden at best, but then when you get to the sex scenes themselves, it stays universally awful. First, there's girls who break the fourth wall and look at the camera when the cameraman isn't part of the scene. Girls, if you're in control enough to look all sultry at the camera, we can tell you're bullshitting. Secondly, girls, don't continue moaning after the guy has pulled out and is jerking off above you. Nobody is stimulating you in any way - who the hell do you think you're fooling? Thirdly, you could replace the guys in porn with pieces of plywood that have strap-ons attached to them, and there wouldn't be much difference.

(And speaking of the guys, what the hell is with most of you needing to jerk off to come? Here you are, having sex with women that most guys would give their non-masturbating arms to fuck, and they can't even get you off? That just seems wrong somehow.)

4) Recycled footage: How fucking dumb do you think we are? If you take the same 90-second loop of footage and use it two, three, or even four times during one scene - news flash! - we can tell, you idiots!

5) Outside shots: Sorry, but your directors need to learn the concept of light and shadow, because when you do a shitty job of dealing with light, all the shadow means that you can't see a damned thing. And I know it's outside and there are billions of insects out there, but seeing those little black flies or gnats flying around while trying to watch some Asian pear tasting is really a turnoff.

6) Anal: Look, porn, if I were into watching the gay version of you, I'd understand this. Guys not only have the nerve endings in the asshole itself, we have the prostate too, so it makes sense. But women? All they have is the nerve endings way down at the end, and with the amount of testimonials I've heard from real women who swear against it, why do you perpetuate this myth that women like taking it up the ass? Not only that, but when a girl sucks a cock after it's been up her ass, I don't feel like jerking off, I feel like cringing. I feel like puking. I feel like stabbing myself in the eyes with a nail file. I feel like doing anything but jerking off. What does one have to do to make that sanitary, give her a pre-fuck bleach enema?

Direction aside, there's all sorts of other stuff that stinks about you, porn. For every decent boob job, there's six girls who have obvious scars and stretch marks or look like they've had a pair of cantaloupe-sized lumps of Silly Putty stuck to their chests. For every Chasey Lain, there's three skanky-looking girls you wouldn't screw even if you were falling-down drunk and had the option of using someone else's dick. For every ten seconds' worth of actually arousing imagery, there's twenty minutes of uninspriring tedium. And worst of all, for every hour that I've spent watching you, downloading you, sneaking around my parents' house looking for you, and thinking about you in general, there's an hour that I could have spent been doing something else a million times more worthwhile, like expanding my knowledge to help me become a multi-millionaire. But, alas, it's not to be.

You suck, porn. See you tonight.

Sincerely,
-Lifetime Porn Watcher #10,495,102,867

Personal Ads

2006-01-10T08:13:00.000-08:00

Even though I'm newly single, I really don't ever see myself having to write or answer a personal ad, but you never know when the need will arise. When I was married, I used to read the personal ads as a source of entertainment. However, now I read them for research. Here is the difference between a personal ad a woman would write and one a man would write.

Women's posting:

You MUST:

- Be over 6'2"
- Be in great shape.
- Be great looking.
- Be educated. I have a masters degree AND a law degree. That means I am really smart. Did I mention I have a masters degree AND a law degree? Even though deep down I know I am not that bright I can hide behind these degrees and pretend I am - phewww!:)
- Have a great job and make lots of money. If you aren't a doctor or lawyer you aren't good enough cuz they are really, really smart but more importantly they will make my best girlfirends jealous (bitches !).
- Be able to impress my friends and make them envious and jealous. Oops I think I mentioned that above. Just want to make sure you know what your main purpose is.
- Not be too domineering but you aren't a momma's boy either. Meaning whatever mood I am in I will tell you how to act.
- Like wine. I like Shiraz cuz it's Australian and I am really worldly and only know Merlot and Shiraz and Shiraz sounds more sophisticated.
- Be well travelled. The bus tour in London was great and staying at the Paris Hilton just screams culture. It means you are smart, attractive and cultured if you travel, cuz getting on a plane and staying at the Hilton takes lots of brains and skill.
- Like jewelry. Tiffany is my very favorite - it is just wonderful. I love wearing a dog tag around my neck that reads someone elses name. Besides only 20 million other women have it. I feel so special wearing the same thing everyone else does.
- Like Starbucks. Even though their coffee really sucks and is way overpriced I must have it. What would someone think if they saw me walking with a plain styrofoam cup ???
- Like fine cars. As with jewelry, I have very unique taste in cars as well - BMW or Mercedes.
- Love Sex and the City because like the girls on the show I have whored around a ton (I will never admit that to you though) but seeing it done on TV makes it OK. Because they aren’t just whores, they are rich women looking for love! They represent sophisticated, educated, tasteful, classy girls like me. If you are a yuppie and spread your legs for lots of guys you aren’t a whore – you are just looking for the right guy. Those uneducated blue collar girls that fuck lots of guys are whores ! But I have a masters degree and a law degree so just because I have had more men than the urinals at Fenway Park I am not a whore damn it !
- Not ever, ever, ever be worse looking than any of my friends boyfriends cuz if you are I will try to fuck him behind your back and my girlfriends back (that bitch!)
- Not ever, ever, ever, mother fucker be less successful than any of my friends boyfriends. If you are I will try to fuck him behind your back and my girlfriends back (I hate her !)
- Never bore me. Yes, you guessed it, if you do see above, cuz I am getting sick of telling your sorry ass how many ways and why I will cheat on you (sigh!)
- Give me the attention I need but not be too clingy. Again, this all depends on my mood of the moment. Good luck figuring that out. Oh and if you aren’t attentive enough or too attentive, see above.
- Have a huge dick. Again, see above, you know by now what will happen if you don't.
- Constantly be amazing in bed and live up to every fantasy I have ever had about a man. If you don't I'll be coming home late from work several times a week.
- Be a Prince or the son of a Prince would be good. I am too stupid to know that the son of a Prince is still a Prince but I know I want to get me one. If not a billionaire, millionaire, singer, actor, athlete, doctor or lawyer (in that order) is acceptable.

Being a psycho or sociopath is OK as long as you meet all the above criteria. I won't let a small thing like that get in the way if you have all these other qualities. Just because it didn't work out for Nicole Simpson or Laci Peterson doesn't mean it won't work for us. And even though Princess Diana was more miserable than George Bush on Jeopardy I am sure I will be quite happy being a Princess. At least until the effect of making my friends really envious and jealous wears off, then I will find something to hate about you and my life !

Also when I do cheat please know that it will NEVER, EVER, EVER be my fault - it will be yours.

Please note this is just a partial listing of things I am looking for in a man. You should know that this list can and will change constantly and if we do get together there will be an ever changing social contract that I will constantly amend without you knowing it and worse never tell you I changed it.

RESPONSES WITHOUT PICS WILL BE IMMEDIATELY DELETED!

I can't wait to hear from you.

--------------------

Men's Posting:

Let's fuck!!

New Year, New Rant

2006-01-05T13:02:00.000-08:00

Ok, since Vicki is always ranting about apostrophes, here's something that irks me to no end.

lose - the opposite of win, to misplace something, ONE FUCKING O
loose - the opposite of tight, your mother/wife/sister, TWO FUCKING O's
how can so many people get these two confused? IDIOTS

your - a possessive, similar to mine, his, her as in "your loose slut of a sister loses her mind every time she gets railroaded by your whole inbred, shitbag excuse of a family", NO FUCKING APOSTROPHE
you're - a contraction of "you are", as in "you're a dipshit", A FUCKING APOSTROPHE

its - another possessive, similar to your, NO FUCKING APOSTROPHE
it's - a contraction of "it is", as in 'it's fucking simple', A FUCKING APOSTROPHE

Need a trick? Fine - when using it's or you're, expand the contraction. If "you're head is full of shit" becomes "you are head is full of shit" and doesn't make any sense (maybe it will to you because you're a fucking idiot), then you are using the wrong word.

to - a preposition, as in "turn to the right" or "it's time to go back to school", ONE FUCKING O
too - an adverb (know what that is?), synonymous with "also", "as well" as in "Really? I went to college too. I actually read a FUCKING BOOK." It can also be used to mean "to a regrettable degree" as in "It's too late for you, moron", TWO FUCKING O's
two - a number, it comes after one

there - an adverb, similar to here as in "your tiny bus is over there"
their - yet another possessive, similar to your as in "it's not their fault that you're a fucking retard. It's YOUR fault."
they're - a contraction of "they are" as in "they're not responsible for your complete ignorance of YOUR OWN FUCKING LANGUAGE. READ A BOOK!!"

IT'S NOT FUCKING HARD.

By the way, grammar is spelled with TWO FUCKING A's. So next time you want to flame someone for bad "grammer," at least spell it right.

Happy New Year everyone!!

Happy Holidays!!

2005-12-23T10:10:00.000-08:00

Dear Honda Owners,

2005-12-20T12:32:00.000-08:00

I don't want to race you.

That's right, I'm the exact opposite of interested in trying to challenge you and your faux supercar in a drag race between stoplights downtown. I don't know why you all feel the need to glare at me while the light is red. You don't have to change your grip on the steering wheel like its a pair of motorcycle handlebars, either. You especially don't need to rev your four-cylinder with its loud exhaust system because you might tempt me to want to race you.

I don't.

What really gets me, though, is with the abundance of similarly craptastic Hondas out there, why do you want to race me? The way I figure it, you want to race everything in sight. My Suburban has less than 250 horsepower and the aerodynamics of a barn. However, I suppose the near-verticle air dam which is my windshield isn't neccesarily discouraging to someone who puts a fucking wing on the back of a front wheel drive car. More downforce for the rear wheels then, eh? That way you can accelerate faster, right? Great work, dipshit.

But seriously. I don't get it. I don't ask you to go drive trails with me. I don't wave and say 'lets go haul ass through a mud pit'. Sure, I spend about as much time off pavement as you do on the track, but at least I can tell the difference between a race car and a 4x4. Does my Suburban look like a challenge or something? Do you and your Honda friends get together and say 'Dood! I just beat that Suburban with the 20's, DVD player/TV and low gears! I'm so fast!' And after said conversation, do you all perform a circle-jerk? Are you the pivot man? Or are you just in charge of clean up?

The way I figure it, your car sucks so much, you can't beat any of the other Hondas, and sure as hell don't want to admit defeat. Instead of buying a genuinely fast car, you choose to get your rocks off racing easy vehicles in your piece of shit. Way to go, badass! I'm proud of you! Why don't we get together and beat up some kids later. I'll let you sucker punch a baby. It will be hardcore.

Seriously, though. Please, please, the next time you see me, or any other non-challenging vehicle at a light, don't antagonize them and encourage them to 'race.' Instead, pull your head our of your ass, and realize that your hatchback is probably faster than a minivan, delivery truck, recreational vehicle, bicycle, u-haul, and other similar underpowered non/aerodynamic vehicles. Oh, and don't forget, you're probably faster than me, too. But I wouldn't count on it.

Go play some more Gran Turismo, and quit being a jackass.

Six Easy Steps For An Enjoyable Holiday Office Party

2005-12-15T08:15:00.000-08:00

Yes, the season is upon us, folks. Time for offices everywhere to come together and unite for one single cause - getting absolutely snockered on the company's dime. Yes, some of these parties can be pretentious and boring (like mine promises to be, later today actually). However, if you apply these six things to your party, it will liven things up considerably.

1. Dive right in: Rather than having a glass of wine or a beer, jump riiiight in to the heavy stuff. You should even do it before all the guests get there to ensure that you get maximum exposure to clients and bosses at your absolute drunkest. I choose top-shelf vodka. Bonus: You tell the bartender "not to be shy" as she's pouring it because, after all, this is an open bar.

2. Talk openly about office politics: Tact is cool in the office, but it has no place at the cocktail party. You might want to tell your boss exactly why it is that "everyone hates" her. Bonus: You tell your clients that you're actually writing a book about your company, and that it's going to be the next "The Devil Wears Prada."

3. Talk about sports: For example, when the Vice President of the company that just acquired your office says "I love Steve McNair, he's my favorite QB," You should stand up and say "McNair's a pussy." Don't leave it alone, either, point to people in the bar who you think could kick Steve McNair's ass and mouth the words "pussy" to her for the rest of the evening. Bonus: You form a triangle with your hands and move it towards your crotch as you say "pussy."

4. Be cool: Sure, they hired you to do a job, but goshdarnit you're cool and you should let your coworkers know it. The best thing to do is tell ridiculous stories from your past. Also, you should not censor yourself in any way. If you're telling the story about how you clogged the toilet at a french bistro in Oakland, go ahead and leave no detail unmentioned. By saying things like "my shit was so big, I had to stand up to finish" or "I knew it was going to be a clogger when it broke the water line" you're letting them know that you're cool AND creative. Bonus: as you're making the 'plunging' hand-gestures you knock a glass of wine out of someone's hand.

5. Hit on cocktail waitresses: This is actually a rarely used move, but if you see an attractive waitress HIT ON HER! It's not every day that some guy as charming and hammered as you makes nice with a suggestively dressed waitress, so go ahead and give her your business card! Write something quirky and original on the back, like "Nice skirt, wanna fuck?" before you slip it to her, also. Everyone you work with will be impressed with how suave you are. Bonus: You never bother to get her name, but instead refer to her by the appetizer on her tray. "Hey tuna-tartar my name's JP," or "Chickenballs, you're really cute."

6. Stay late and then call people who have left: Just because the party's over, it doesn't mean it's time to go to bed! Go drink some more and call your colleagues to remind them how funny you are! "Remember when I told everyone that my favorite movie was Humplestiltskin?" And if they've turned off their phones (f'n ass monkeys) don't be afraid to leave mean messages letting them know "how weak it was that you bailed so early" and so forth. Bonus: when the open bar turns to a cash bar you loudly yell "BOOOO!" and ask your boss to "spot you a $20."

Following these six easy tips will ensure a pleasant post-party day at the office.

Dear Secretary

2005-12-13T08:25:00.000-08:00

While I do appreciate everything you do around here, really, there are a few things I need to get off my chest. Yes, I realize that you're not my official secretary but please take a memo. Or something.

1. i can't tell you how fucking irritating it is that you always type your emails in lower case. we all learned in first grade that the first letter of a sentence is always capitalized, names are capitalized, and when referring to yourself, "i" is capitalized. you're a secretary for christ's sake. nobody, especially you, is that fucking busy to make one extra mother-fucking keystroke to properly punctuate.

2. In the same vein: Please, quit using the asshat Smiley Face, Wink Face, Sad Face, or Crying Face characters in your emails. I am going to walk over to your cubicle and Kick You In The Face if you persist with using those stupid little emoticons or whatever the fuck they're called. The last thing I want to see in your email is some retarded yellow blob, bouncing up and down with its eyes bugging out, and its tongue wagging at me. Knock that shit off. We're grown adults. It's embarrassing. Really.

3. I don't care, and really don't want to hear, about your personal health issues. I understand you are getting a little long in the tooth these days, and have scheduled more doctor appointments than that fucking boy in the bubble. Honestly, I don't really care. What bothers me is that you felt compelled to explain how the gynecologist kept you in stirrups for "hours" with your clothes off. I really did not need to visualize your saggy, white cottage cheese-ass and varicose-veined legs pinned up, spread eagle into the air. That was so very, very wrong of you to burn such a vile image into the deep recesses of my ganglia. Shame on you.

4. You are *right outside* my office door. You have a cubicle, which is generally not conducive to keeping conversations private. When you're on the phone, making personal calls, guess what? I can hear you. Again, I'm not a hard ass, and I could give a shit if you make personal calls. But if you're going to talk TO YOUR DAUGHTER about how badly you need "dick" (and I'm not talking about Richard, either) - please do it somewhere else. Although I understand that women over 55 need sex too, the thought of you getting "dick" in any shape or form, honestly, makes me want to become celibate. For all that is good and sacred, please stop.

5. I don't do the hiring or the firing here, and I don't have anything to do with how much money you make. So don't complain to me. I realize you have a car payment and rent. Guess what? So does almost everyone else, sweets. Make it work. Maybe instead of buying out Nordstrom's make-up department and using every known cosmetic cover-up known to mankind, perhaps you could use some of that money for your bills? Hmmmm. Just a thought.

6. You're a short, pudgy woman. God cursed you and holy shit do you hold a grudge. But you don't have to make it up for it by playing Hitler around here to the rest of the staff. In particular, there is the hot little number they just hired in office services, and already, she's complained about the way you've been treating her. God help you if she quits because of you. I have never been happier coming to work these last few weeks, lusting after this particular hottie like a sex-starved teenager. Don't screw it up or I'll take away your computer and force you to use carbon paper and that old manual typewriter in the storage room. Good luck surfing the 'net on that.

7. Last, but certainly not least, BRUSH YOUR TEETH. Oh. My. God. What in the holy fuck do you eat in the morning? Onion and garlic sandwiches with a side of shit? Within 30 seconds of you arriving here each morning, those horrific, hell-sent mutant molecules from your disgusting piehole find their way into my office, mounting a full-on assault. I brace myself, because I know within moments you will step foot into my office, spouting your fog of pure evil into my face, forcing me to internally chant "smells like roses ... smells like roses ... smells like roses" to keep you from wearing my marionberry muffin all over the front of your blouse. All this could be prevented with a $3 Oral B and some fucking Colgate. Please. I beg you. Brush those things.

Okay, that should do it. Thanks.

Men's Room Etiquette - For The Last Time

2005-12-08T11:07:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know my problems with public restrooms have been well-documented on this site, but after having no choice but to use the toilet here at work this morning along with the idiotic fucktards that occupy this floor, I just can't stand it any more. I promise, this will be my last rant on this subject. Well, until something else happens.

I’m a reasonable guy. However, I am repeatedly exposed to some pretty unreasonable things. It’s hard enough to wake up each morning and drag my ass to work, the last thing I need is to deal with a bunch of fucking weirdos that don’t know how to co-exist in a communal restroom.

If I had it my way, there would be a series of private, single-occupancy restrooms instead of the shit corral we are forced to deal with, but that point is moot. I understand the concept of efficiency in a building designed to house many people and that having a shared bathroom is a necessity. Personally, if I wanted to use a trough, I’d be a pig. But hey, we all have our crosses to bear.

So in the meantime, let me help a few of you disgusting guys out with a few rules that you should follow.

#1. Maximize distance - If you are the only one at a line of urinals or stalls, select one at either end, NOT the fucking middle. Choosing the middle forces other men to stand as near to you as possible and pull their dicks out and pee. For Christ’s sake they are peeing right next to you, PEEING!

Even more importantly is the stall selection. Always chose a stall that is as far from another occupied stall as possible. If I’m taking a shit, do NOT come into the stall next to me. Thanks so much you fucking fecalpheliac, now there is half a foot separating me from another man who is taking a shit, one inch of which is some metal. I don’t want to hear you and I don’t want to smell you. I just want to finish up and get back to my job and continue to pretend I don’t hate the lady in the office next to mine.

In addition, please use the sink farthest from the urinals as well to wash your hands. In fact, do me the favor of slightly turning your back to me while I piss.

#2. Get in, Get out - Don’t dawdle in the men’s room. Get in there, do your thing, WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS and go. Who the hell are these guys that seem to be meandering around the restroom. Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to other people, get off your cell phone, don’t have a meeting in there. In fact, don’t have a little chat right outside the restroom door. Not only will you have to hear men inside evacuating their bowels, but the person you stopped to talk to in order bring up that one thing from that meeting yesterday that you just wanted to clarify a few things about, has probably got to piss pretty bad and you are such a self-centered piece of shit that you don’t even realize that the guy in front of you crossing his legs, grabbing his crotch and sweating isn’t even listening to you anymore because his bladder is about to rupture into his body cavity.

Oh hey, Mr. Oral Hygiene. It’s great that you take good care of your teeth, but perhaps after lunchtime, when the men’s room is at maximum occupancy, brushing and flossing for 15 minutes isn’t the best thing. Doesn’t it bother you that people are shitting a few feet from you as you slide your waxed cinnamon floss over your pearly whites? No, I forgot, one of you actually sits on the shitter while brushing. Fucking sick, man. Just gross.

#3 Privacy - While this isn’t the easiest thing to maintain in a room full of people crapping and pissing, there are a few things you can do to at least make the pretense that you are minding your own business.

Close the god damned door! Sometimes I use the stall to pee. It’s more private and I’m good enough to put the seat up, and so should you. However, am I the only guy in the world considerate enough to close the door behind me? I think I’ve crippled a few guys because I walk into the stall with the open door and smash the door into the spine of some moron who decided for some unknown reason that they didn’t need to close the door behind them. Way to go there guy, I hope that leaves a permanent scar to remind you to not do that again.

Eyes forward you fucking pervert. Don’t look over at me. Am I looking at you? No I’m not. I’m minding my own business. I don’t care how big your dick is and you shouldn’t care about mine. Don’t fucking talk to me while I’m peeing. What the fuck? Who would ever even think this is an ok thing to do? It’s one thing if I’m out drinking with my friends and I run into a pal in the john and we comment on how the waitress with the huge tits needs to get the taste fucked out of her mouth, but we aren’t doing that are we? No, we are at work. I don’t even want to talk to you in the lunchroom; the bathroom is out of the question. Go away, drop dead, stop talking to me or I’m going to go Columbine on this whole place I swear.

Look, I’m a nice guy. I just want a quiet, private place to do my business and go. That’s not so much to ask is it?

Office Speak That Needs To Go

2005-12-06T11:30:00.000-08:00

Ok, I’ve worked in enough different offices to where I am qualified to talk about this. In a regular office environment you hear the same stupid-ass phrases over and over again and it just makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs and kill that person.

Here’s JP’s list of Office Phrases That Need To Go:

1)“Clusterfuck” - Why is everything that has the slightest error or problem referred to as a clusterfuck? Can someone tell me? Every time someone fucks up you will hear “oh shit man, Penny got wasted at the client meeting and began calling the CEOs assholes and then took a shit on the conference room table, it was a real clusterfuck.” Yes, Penny is now fired, but I wouldn’t call that a clusterfuck. I’d call that natural selection.

2)“Thrown under the bus” – Apparently, when you get fucked over by your co-workers you get “thrown under the bus,” like the people who got hit by busses are real glad they are associated with these office shitheads. “You hear about John? He fucked his secretary on the break room floor, then she told his wife who quickly took half his shit and left him for dead. She really threw him under the bus!” (Both the secretary and wife could be the ones who threw him under the bus in this example).

3)“Touch base”- This is not baseball, people. There is no need to refer to baseball in the office. “I’ll call you back and we’ll touch bases next week.” Oh yeah? How about I grab a bat, smack you in the solar plexis with it and then we’ll talk?

4)“Shoot me an email”- How about I just shoot you in the face instead?

5)“I’ll see what I can do on my end” – No you won’t. You will wait till that fucker calls you back and bends to your will. You might make a concession or two, but you really want the other asshole to get off his ass and do what he needs to do in order to make your job easier. We don’t need this bullshit phrase to act like we are really doing anything extra after we hang up the phone, because in reality we’re not.

6)“Seeing a lot of potential” – This might just be me, but I hear this phrase all the fucking time. We see a lot of potential for growth, we see a lot of potential for revenue, we see a lot of potential to settle this case,” etc. We see a lot of potential for me to crush your larynx. This is the shit you say to your sister about her retarded kid who finger-paints well, “I see a lot of potential in Billy. If it weren’t for that lazy eye and dent in his forehead, he would be a great artist.”

7)“Come in to work on time.” – Who the fuck are you, my mother? I’ll come into work when I damn well please, bitch. So what if I’m 47 minutes late? At least I came in. I’m hungover as hell and I am not going to do shit but surf the internet and stare at my office wall, but at least I made it in. Shit, I get no appreciation these days.

8)“Stop fucking my wife sir” – Ok, I admit I haven’t heard this but I would give my third testicle to. It would make a great office party story.

9)“With this economy we really have to decrease our profit margins and…..” – Just kill that motherfucker before he finishes. He is bullshitting you to no end. Kill him and take a dump on his chest. He deserves no mercy.

10) “Screw the Pooch” – Bestiality, people, it’s illegal (in most states, anyhow). It is no more appropriate to say “Boy that Dan sure screwed the underage children when he forgot he forgot his brief for the meeting.” We should lock people who use that phrase this like the sick bastards they are (Uncle Eddie, I forgive you) with the real child molesters – that’ll teach ‘em a thing or two.

11)”Brown-noser/Suck-up” – I know some of you will be pissed at me for adding this, but it has to go. This is getting old and we must find something else. Because everyone that gets a raise, does more work, has the slightest authority over you, or just has a hotter wife, is a brown-noser or suck-up. We can do better. How about “Fucktard,” “Shit-Eater,” or “Management-Whorebag?”

12)”The phone is ringing off the hook” – Impossible. Even if you have multiple lines and the phone is “ringing off the hook,” here’s a suggestion: don’t pick it up. Unless you are curing cancer (which many business people like to think they are doing) you do not have to answer the god damn phone every time it rings. If it is an important call, they will leave a message and you can call them back, after you take a shit, nap and have a cup of coffee, of course. So, turn off your ringer and stop using this phrase and telling me “how busy and important you are” or I will rip that phone out of your hand and smash your nuts with it.

13)”Remove from list” – This is more of an email thing, but equally annoying and infuriating. This is especially common occurrence with the office fuckwads who are emailing each other back and forth using the “send to all employees” list and you are forced to read these moronic comebacks and pathetic attempts to be funny to escape there pathetic and shit-filled jobs (unless you’re me because my responses are witty and funny). But even more frustrating is someone, most of the time a manager, will send a simple “remove from list” to be funny and quaint, in a passive-aggressive shit-eating grin way. You know what I like to do after that? I sign them up for every Viagra, Teen/Amateur Sex, Penis enlargement, Tit-enhancement, High-school diploma, Free Sample, G.E.D., Bestiality, and gay spam that I can possibly find (most are already in my mailbox). So for the next few months they are forced to write “Remove from list” over and over again till their fingers bleed.

14) “You’re getting a raise!” – Sorry, never heard it.

15)”Someone has the cases of the Moondays” – Don’t get me wrong, I love Office Space. It is one of the funniest movies ever. But I never heard this phrase until I heard it from that movie, and now every Monday rolls around you can’t walk ten feet with out some assclown saying it. You know what? Every day is the same to me, I’m always hungover and tired in the morning. I do not work at the fireworks, naked women and beer factory so I do not have a “super” time at work everyday. Next time I’ll tell them, “you know what? I’m taking next Monday off so I can go fuck your sister.” I guarantee that will be the last time you hear shit from that person.

16) “These receipts don’t match your expense report” – ‘You know why? Because I was off getting shitfaced at a strip club and buying hookers on the company’s dime.’ Damn I would love to say that to the penny-pinching cunt who works payroll. Does every bitch in the world have to work at this position in every company in the world? I mean seriously, is it a prerequisite? Do you have to be the spawn of everything that is unholy to work in accounting? They all think they are the god of gods too. Next time that power-hungry bitch says this to me, I am going to buy a case of douche rags and put them on her desk anonymously. Then when the month rolls around I will put them on my expense report labeled “Office Supplies” and turn it in to her.

17) “On the fence” – Another phrase common in the business world. “Karl doesn’t know which temp to fuck. He could fuck Jessie, because she has a nice ass, or he could fuck Erica with the huge tits. He is really on the fence with this decision.” It is called hesitation people, people do it when they are thinking or stalling (most of the time stalling). I think you need to “push them over the fence”. “Frank, you need to push these clients over the fence and convince them that our anal lube is the best. The best god dammit!” I would like to push you over the fence sir, and I hope on the other side of that fence is a large, steep and rocky cliff.

18)”Can you get me a cup of coffee?” – Fuck you! Get your own coffee prick! Does it say “office bitch” on my shirt? Oh right it does, sorry sir, I will get your coffee right away…(unzipping fly).

19) “Ramp up”- ‘Ok Jim, we have a lot of child porn to push this quarter, so we have to ramp up at our street flyers for this week.’ Ramp up this, ramp up that, are more fake words for managers to try to sound like they are getting us to do more work. You know what? That isn’t going to happen, I have the same routine everyday no matter what time of the year it is, and 37% effort is as high as I go. When I get told to ramp up for the New Year, I call in sick the next day just to piss the ass monkey off. How about I break your legs and your ugly wife can push your gimp ass up and down the handicap ramps for awhile? Will that, for the love of god, make you not use this phrase again?

20) “Action items” – For people who use this word, everything is a fucking action item to them. What the fuck constitutes an action item? The way this fudge-packer talks at work, my left nut is an action item. The next time this queef tells me to check my action items and have them handled, I’m going to whip out my dick and slap it on his desk and say “I got a new action item for you to handle.” These people should be tied to the back of a bus and dragged for several miles.

21) This is not really a phrase more of a thing you have to do all fucking day long – “Hey/How you doing? /What’s up” or any other form of “hi.” Why must I spend all day saying hello to people I see everyday? “Hey JP, what’s up?”, “Well Jeb, I am actually still drunk from last night and I have no concept of right and wrong anymore. I think I’m going kill a goat then have sex with it. You?” It’s just annoying people. I might be ok with the head nod, but I feel like a goddamn bobble-head doll in work everyday. I saw you in the morning; I do not need to say “hey” at 8:45, 1:17, and 2:55. Does it really do anything? Do people go back to their desk and wonder, “That bitch Janice, didn’t ask me ‘what’s up’ after I got back from lunch. I think the next time I see her I’m going to cut her fingers off.” Let’s just have one “Hi” on Monday and just end it. The only exception is all the hot girls from the office, keeping doing what you’re doing. You know who you are. It’s the only thing I look forward to in the morning. You know it and I know it.

22) “I have a lot on my plate right now”- Bullshit. This is for people who want to sound like they are important and busy and do not have time to do anything else. I will tell you right now, I do not. This is a good phrase to throw to attorneys when they try to give you extra assignments or projects. “Frankly, I have a lot on my plate as it. I can’t handle anything, until I fully clear my plate, run the dishwasher, take a shit, and then take a nap. I’m sorry, your dry cleaning will just have to wait, boss.” I’ll stop using it if you guys stop using it. We can do this together people.

23) “Think outside the box” – This is what insane people do. Don’t you want normal, god-fearing citizens to work for you and not a bunch of crazies? “You know Jim forgot his lunch today, but he ate his own fecal matter to save time and money. I like how he thinks outside the box.” This is just maddening to hear from people who should be thrown in to large cardboard boxes and beaten with golf clubs and thrown into a contaminated river.

24) “Pipeline” – This is often used to give you busy work. “We need to fill the pipeline” or “we have a lot of data in the pipeline” are both common phrases that make you want to beat yourself senseless with a lead pipe in order to escape this office lingo. If it is at all possible I would suggest taking a dump in the person’s desk drawer to silence them.

25) “PO and Invoice”- Why don’t we just use the simple actual words these things refer to? One is a ‘bill’ and the other is a ‘receipt’. There is no reason to make paying a bill anymore complicated than it already is. This is really simple and even Leonard, the slow-witted guy from accounting, with the breath that smells like he ate a shit, garlic and onion sandwich for breakfast, can understand with minimal assistance.

That’s all for now. Feel free to add any you think warrants mentioning as well. I will now go hit myself in the head with a tack hammer.

We All Know You Love The Holidays

2005-12-01T11:35:00.000-08:00

Dear Co-Worker,

You might think that it was when you began decorating your office on the first work day after Thanksgiving. But even then, most of us were thinking "oh...she just wants to brighten up the place" or "early bird gets the worm" or some other stupid-ass cliche.

You might even think that it was when you stepped it up to wearing red and green every day beginning November 28th, or when you sent an email around to get everyone together to pick their "secret santa" that we all of the sudden had a V8 moment and thought "Damn...this woman LOVES THE FUCKING HOLIDAYS!"

But you'd be wrong. And the reason you'd be wrong is this: ALMOST EVERYONE LOVES THE HOLIDAYS. You don't have to prove it to anyone, it's just a fucking fact.

So that's why I personally feel it was unnecessary for you to do the following:

1) Must you play that fucking christmas music all fucking day long? Must it be turned up so loud that you'd be able to hear it over a jet engine. Must I have to knock on your wall when I'm on the phone with a client to get you to turn it down?

2) Is it really necessary to remind me (every single day, no less) how many days are left until Christmas? I do, in fact, own a calendar. And, last time I checked, Christmas was clearly marked as December 25th. Also, I've been a pretty strong "counter" since I was a little boy. Believe me, I can do the math to figure out how many days without your assistance.

3) While I do enjoy chocolates, I don't want to find them on my chair. Especially when the discovery takes place AFTER I SIT DOWN! Do you think Santa will put a new pair of pants under my tree this year? Your ass is mine if people around here take to calling me "skid mark."

All I can think about, though, is your smarmy little worm of a husband and how he must dread this time of year. Seeing that bubbly enthusiasm ripple across your chunky chipmunk-like face must drive that poor man to homicidal ideations. I mean, I only deal with you during the work week and I'm pretty much close to killing you every other Wednesday...but to spend my entire life with you?

Jesus, that poor man.

Maybe Santa will bring him a shotgun.

Ok, I'm Officially Creeped Out

2005-11-29T15:06:00.000-08:00

So, there I was, standing at the sink in the bathroom here at the office after taking a leak. I turned the water on, got it nice and hot (men, seriously, washing your hands in cold water is like washing them with your piss because it doesn't work), and squirted the soap out of the dispenser.

Ok, I have to stop here for a second. The soap in the bathroom here was something I could always count on as being the same. I mean, you go into the bathroom and you never know what you're going to find, especially on this floor. However, the soap was always the one constant. It was pink, thick and smelled very nice. I was really happy with it. In a room of freaks and slobs, it was my one comfort item.

Anyhow, back to the story. So, there I was, hot water running, warming my hands up, ready to put some of that pink velvety soap on my hand, I depress the soap dispenser and out comes (or is it cums)......this white, watery substance that looked like the money shot in a porn movie. I about lost my lunch right there in the sink.

So now, not only do I have this cum-like substance on my hand, but I'm utterly frozen. I don't know what to do. I mean, there's no way in fuck I'm smelling this stuff. I'm afraid to rub my hands together, lest the man goo somehow absorb through my pores. I'm totally terrified to wash it off because I really don't want to watch it stick to the drain as it washes out of the sink. Likewise, I really don't want this spunky substance on my hands anymore. In the end, I ran my hands under the faucet, didn't rub them together (yes, I totally closed my eyes so I didn't see what happened to the baby batter), grabbed a paper towel to open all doors between the bathroom and kitchen, walked inside, washed my hands in the kitchen sink here FOUR FUCKING TIMES and called it good.

Can't someone do a memo when they decide to change the soap from something nice, safe and constant to something that resembles what Peter North excreted all over Jenna Jameson's back in the movie I just watched last night? I mean shit, I'm all for a good gooing, but there's a time and place for that. It shouldn't be something that I wash my hands with.

Thanksgiving Changes

2005-11-23T12:01:00.000-08:00

Since things in my life are changing at an alarming rate, why should Thanksgiving be any different? This year I'll have my kids for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, so it'll be the same as always (sans wife), but I'm sure there will come a time when I'll be alone for one or the other.

Rather than eat a turkey sandwich from Boston Market I've decided to re-create a traditional Holiday meal (without me actually cooking. I do plan to have plenty of alcohol, however).

I invite you to audition for one of the following roles that will be vacated when my divorce is final. You can also feel free to create your own and submit.

1. Father- Must be intoxicated well before the meal begins and begin unbuttoning the pants around meal time. You may be de-panted by dessert. Bonus points if you have your hand tucked into the waistband of your BVDs.

2. Mother- Obsessive-compulsives are encouraged to apply. Ability to cry randomly due to such things as the color of the cranberries or your son being a jackass is a plus. Extreme bonus points if you get slobberknockered on egg nog and tell everyone at the table that I'm not good enough for your daughter.

3. Drunk Uncle- Creepy, jobless, and completely fucked up on various hard liquors and other substances. This is a job for someone on the plump side with the uncanny knack for saying the wrong thing to other family members and then falling asleep by the mailbox. Extra credit if you're facedown in your own puke as well.

4. Cousin #1- Completely silent. Has been since 1996. We're not even sure if he can talk.

5. Cousin #2- Attends Ivy League Medical/Law/Business school. Must be clearly embarassed of family and have important people to call on the cell during dinner. Must wear Abercrombie clothes and refer to all women as "Buffy."

6. Cousin #3- Felon. Just got out of the joint for stealing a pig from a farm. I wish I made that up.

7. Cousin #4- On 3rd Marriage with 2 kids and 2 stepkids. Ok, this one isn't that funny....

8. Cousin #4's Wife- Was a trophy wife. After she squirted out her second kid, Cousin #4 started eye fucking every woman in sight, my mother-in-law included. Yeesh.

9. P.I.G.- Person Invited by Guilt. Could be a lonely office rat or the neighbor who stands outside the window staring inside and looking morose. Very helpful if you look like a loner and have no social skills. Laugh loudly at family jokes and dispense advice to children. Come very overdressed and have a bottle of something disgusting. Must cry in the bathroom.

There you go. I'm now taking applications.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!!

Looks White People Cannot Pull Off

2005-11-17T20:00:00.000-08:00

Here's a dude sporting the "I'm Lily White, But I Roll With East-Siiiiide" look. He can't pull it off, no way in hell.

If you're not African-American, dreads are NEVER a good idea.

Unless your name is Snoop, velvet jumpsuits shouldn't be in your closet.

Finger tats - always classy.

Don't. Ever. Nuff said.

The Top 10 Sports Sex Scandals of All Time

2005-11-14T16:03:00.000-08:00

With the Panthers cheerleaders alleged-sex-in-a-bathroom (which they have denied took place, completely ruining my fantasy) scandal coming hot on the heels of the Vikings SexBoat escapade (which is probably the only sex scandal in the history of Minnesota - I mean isn't it fucking cold there?), perhaps it's time to ponder 10 of the (other) biggest sex scandals in sports history:

1. Kobe Bryant: Nobody but Bryant and the young woman who became his accuser know for sure what happened in that hotel room in Eagle, Colo., on the night of July 1, 2003. What is clear is that Bryant's squeaky-clean image was forever tarnished as he transformed overnight from the Next Jordan to a punchline for late-night comics (or wanna be comics like myself). The woman alleged that Bryant raped her while the player claimed that the (extramarital) sex was consensual. The criminal charges were ultimately dropped before trial and the two reached a sealed settlement on a related civil suit. While the cost to Bryant's reputation is incalculable, the cost to his pocketbook included the $4 million he spent on an eight-carat diamond ring for wife Vanessa.

2. Fritz Peterson and Mike Kekich: The Yankees lefthanders shocked their teammates and the rest of America when they showed up at spring training in 1973 and announced that they had swapped wives over the winter. Peterson traded wife, Marilyn, two kids and a poodle to Kekich for Susanne, the two Kekich kids and a Bedlington terrier. Commissioner Bowie Kuhn (who colored himself "appalled") got more angry mail about the wife swap than he did about the introduction of the DH that season. Looking back, Peterson clearly got the better of the deal; he was still with Susanne the last anyone has heard. Kekich, meanwhile, split with Marilyn three months after the couples went public, and was shipped off to the Indians and started only eight more games in the majors.

3. Gold Club trial: It's not exactly shocking to hear that pro athletes frequent strip clubs. It's another matter to have it aired in open court, which was what happened during the 2001 racketeering trial of Gold Club owner Steve Kaplan in Atlanta. Among the athletes who took the stand were Patrick Ewing (who testified that he had been "comped" sexual favors at the club) and Braves center fielder Andruw Jones (who was treated to a threesome at age 19, and actually used the words "hot girl-on-girl action" during his testimony). When one former stripper was asked under oath who was present during one of Ewing's romps, she answered, "The whole fucking NBA." I wonder if the pun was intended or not.

4. Eugene Robinson: The Falcons free safety made headlines for all the wrong reasons when he was arrested for soliciting a prostitute in Miami the night before Atlanta met the Broncos in Super Bowl XXXIII. He had to be bailed out by the Falcons' GM at 11 p.m., just a few days after Robinson had won the Bart Starr Award for "high moral character" (was that "high" as in "baked"?). The team allowed Robinson to play, but he was burned badly on an 80-yard TD pass to Rod Smith that put Denver ahead 17-3 in a 34-19 win. One Broncos fan held up a sign reading: Eugene Robinson For President.

5. Marv Albert: Up until 1997, Albert was known solely as a popular sports broadcaster who liked to say, "Yes!" That summer, though, Albert, who was accused of sexual assault, gained infamy during a trial filled with sordid details. Albert ultimately pleaded guilty to misdemeanor assault and battery for biting a former lover 18 times during a rendezvous-gone-wrong. Albert was fired by NBC and resigned from MSG Network. Rapper Common boasted in a song lyric that he was "freaky like Marv Albert." Albert's professional career and reputation, though, have largely been restored.

6. Wade Boggs: The chicken-loving singles hitter became known as a ladies' man when Margo Adams claimed in 1988 that she had been his mistress on the road for four years. Adams originally filed a $6 million suit for, well, it's hard to say exactly since one wouldn't think that "road mistress" is that well-paying a job, even in a perfect world. The married Boggs didn't exactly curry public sympathy, though, when he blamed his behavior on being a sex addict, a term he confessed that he learned from a Geraldo Rivera show. Adams sold a tell-all story to Penthouse but her legal claims were largely thrown out. Through it all, Boggs kept hitting singles (with the occasional double off the Green Monster) and eating chicken (among other things).

7. Mike DuBose: The former Alabama football coach admitted in August 1999 that he had had an affair with his executive secretary as the school was forced to pay the woman $350,000 to settle a sexual harassment case. Making matters worse, DuBose had denied the affair just three months earlier, both publicly and to his bosses. The Tide essentially took the settlement out of DuBose's contract, and when Alabama lost 29-28 to Southern Miss early in the 1999 season, DuBose seemed all but gone. Yet when the Tide rallied to win a surprise SEC championship and entered the 2000 season ranked No. 3, many Bama backers were ready to forgive DuBose for the adultery. Alas, he then committed the unpardonable sin of going 3-8 and lost his job. There is truth to the rumor that Bear Bryant repeatedly rolled over in his grave.

8. Dennis Eckersley/Rick Manning: 1978 was a tough year for the Eck. He was traded from the Indians to the Red Sox, his wife, Denise, told him she was in love with another man, and that man turned out to be his best friend, Cleveland centerfielder Manning. Those facts are not in dispute, though much else about this unplanned wife swap (Denise and Manning later married) is murky. Cleveland lore has it that the Indians front office traded Eck because it learned of the affair and needed to ship one of them out, and since Manning had a cracked vertebra in his neck he wouldn't have drawn much in return. For his part, Eck insists the executives knew nothing and that he himself learned that his wife and Manning were together only months after the trade. Regardless, Eckersley fondly mentioned both Denise and Manning by name in a gracious induction speech when he joined the Hall of Fame last summer. I am unsure if he was up for a threesome or not.

9. St. John's basketball players: The Red Storm was already limping through a lousy season when they lost 71-51 at Pittsburgh on Feb. 4, 2004, to fall to 5-14. Things got much worse that night. Five players took a 38-year-old woman they had met in a strip club back to their hotel room. The next morning, the woman alleged that the players had raped her. One of the players, though, had recorded some of the proceedings on his digital camera. When police saw footage of the woman threatening to file rape charges unless they paid her for the sex, the charges were dropped and the woman was instead charged with prostitution and other counts. (That might mark the only time a sex tape has ever helped anyone get out of trouble). The players' respite was short-lived, however, as three were kicked off the team for good and two suspended for the rest of the season.

10. Denny Neagle: The then Rockies pitcher was arrested in December 2004 for speeding. When police say they noticed that Neagle had his belt unbuckled, they questioned the female passenger, who told them that she had performed oral sex on Neagle for $40. (Neagle's trial has been postponed until Jan. 30, 2006; the woman pleaded guilty to prostitution in September.) It proved to be a very costly transaction for Neagle as the Rockies quickly moved to void the $19 million left on his contract, though the team and pitcher reached an undisclosed settlement in May. The 37-year-old was waived by the Devil Rays this spring and has not pitched in the majors since.

Terrell Owens - His Options

2005-11-10T08:30:00.000-08:00

I would hope that by now you all know who Terrell Owens is. He has been suspended for the next 4 games by the Philadelphia Eagles (sup, Vic?) and will be placed on the inactive list thereafter. Dude is a malcontented multi-millionaire wide receiver that has imploded both teams he's played for. His talent is undenyiable. His intelligence, however, is a very different story. So, without further adieu, I present Terrell Owens' options.

Poor Terrell Owens...all that talent but his mouth has overrun his brain. His popularity has generated some interest with the FOX network, and according to my sources, these two pilots are being considered.

In LOOTER, T.O. plays "Cooter the Looter" and it chronicles his adventures as he criscrosses the world looking to take advantage of natural disasters, riots, and the such. He'll steal from you, he'll fo'nicate your sister, and he'll call you a punk and even "make yo wallet dis'pear in thin air."

In Salt n Peppa, Terrell teams up with a random white dude. The plot lines are a little disturbing as this is a story of two men, of different color, who share the same crib. T.O. played football and caught passes and random white dude played catcher in baseball, and well, he caught things too. In this comedy/soap opera, the two men struggle with positioning and the acting is quite hilarious and sick at the same time.

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MTV announces that they are considering a "T.O. and Tina Turner Revue," which could easily make it on any cable network. MTV figures that if Terrell would trade punches with a member from his own team then he could easily fill Ike's battering position.

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Court TV has announced that they are in negotiations with Terrell on a "Roaming Apologist" segment which could air by the fall shows. On the other hand, Terrell states, "Fuck man, I got this shit down. I could apologize right to your face while I'm laughing my ass off inside...dig it." Terrell even apologized to Vanessa Bryant for Kobe's indiscretions some time ago. At the time, T.O. didn't have the crying/tears down the cheek part yet, but according to Owens now, "I can weep like Jimmy Swaggert if ya want, man."

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The BET channel is considering using Owens as Sammy Davis Jr. in a remake of some shows that the infamous RAT PACK did decades ago. We all know that T.O. can do his endzone bullshit, but can he sing Mr. BOJANGLES ?

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ESPN has supposedly offered Terrell millions to replace Don King. The Friday Night Fights might be re-invigorated with his brash commentary regarding today's boxers. You never know, he might just get knocked out hisself. Yeah, dig it.

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A new cable network CCC, (Classic Cable Network) has been conducting numerous opinion polls, both telephone and public, regarding the interest in Terrell playing a man/ape, in the classic remake of Planet of the Apes.

CCC states that Charlton Heston obviously isn't coming back, but rumors have surfaced that Keifer Sutherland (reprising his role of Freddie Lee Cobb from "A Time To Kill") might be interested in playing Heston's part. CCC doesn't want to beeeep out offensive language by either one of them and that right there is the problem. Do you want your child to hear, "Back off (you can figure out the proper N word, or maybe be kind and just tell your kid he said, 'Dumbfuck Idiot'."

Should you have any further suggestions, please contact me as I am representing the moron in this new endeavor.

Things I've Learned From Horror Movies

2005-10-31T08:30:00.000-08:00

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.

If a voice in your house says "Get Out!!" Then get out;
Never talk to clowns in sewers;
If someone is chasing you outside, and you're wearing high heels...take them off;
If someone is chasing after you with a knife, do not run upstairs where you'll be trapped;
If a little blonde girl stares into a snowy tv screen and says "they're here...," they are;
Never have sex with a girl in the woods;
1...2...Freddie's comin' for you
3...4...Better lock your door
5...6...Grab your crucifix
7...8...Better stay up late
9...10...NEVER SLEEP AGAIN!!!;
If you're filming a documentary in the woods and you find an abandoned house...umm..yeah, don't go in;
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;
If a little boys says to you "I see dead people" - chances are - you are dead;
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;
If someone says they'll be right back...they won't;
If you're in a dark room and you hear a noise...run away! Do not go in to investigate;
It's not normal to be able to turn your head all the way around;
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
Probably the most important one of all - the killer NEVER dies the first time.

Happy Halloween, all!!

Best Laid Plans

2005-10-26T13:52:00.000-07:00

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.

Monday Morning Laugh

2005-10-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

Ok, when I first saw this, I couldn't stop laughing. I hope it does the same for you.

Clicky Clicky

Snowboarding Season Is Upon Us

2005-10-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

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.

Gotta Keep My Pimp Hand Strong

2005-10-19T07:45:00.000-07:00

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.

Since I'm 100% Wop

2005-10-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

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.

Quick Link

2005-10-06T08:13:00.000-07:00

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."

I'm So Glad I'm a Dude

2005-09-22T09:29:00.000-07:00

I just received this email. I usually don't post these, but it's so funny I can't resist.

-------------------

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy,
painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play
with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind
for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the
medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It
was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just
rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart
and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right
off.

No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am
mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other
stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I
get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax,"
yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it
tight and pull. It works!

OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this, I
told myself! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of
all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire. With my next
wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the
bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship.

I drop my underwear and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same
procedure, I apply the was strip across the right side of my bikini line,
covering the right half of my who-ha and stretching down to the inside of
my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace
myself....

RRRRIIIPPP!!!! I'm blind!!! Blind from the pain!!!!....

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to
pull off half the strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!!
Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay
conscious...Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to
normal. I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has
caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel
in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!
There's no hair on it.

Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX??? Slowly I ease my head down, foot
still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the
strip. I touch. I am touching wax. CRAP! I run my fingers over the most
sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted
hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake... (remember my foot is still
propped up on the toilet?) I know need to do something. So I put my foot
down. DAMN!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Who-ha? Sealed
shut! Butt?? Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to
figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the
urge to pee. My head may pop off!" What can I do to melt the wax? Hot
water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into
the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt
and I can gently wipe it off, right???

*WRONG!!!!!!!

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture
prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only
thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them
glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot
water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.

So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied
myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few
months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend,
thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me
undone. It's a very good conversation starter: "So, my butt and who-ha are
glued together to the bottom of the tub!" There is a slight pause. She
doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her
laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are
we talking cheeks or what?" She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear
her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side
of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's
night.

While we go through various solutions, I resort to scraping the wax off
with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered
in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then
dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity
has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic
Stress counseling for this event. My friend is still talking with me when I
finally see my saving grace...the lotion they give you to remove the excess
wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and… OH MY
GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of
my friend. It's sooo painful, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!! It
works!!" I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I
successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief
and despair...THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. So I
recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have
amputated my own leg at this point. Next week I'm going to try hair
color......

Heebie Jeebies

2005-09-20T08:07:00.000-07:00

Not many things can give me a case of the shakes. I watch all sorts of twisted shit (like Saw and I will see Saw 2 when it comes out), love haunted houses and have even been to my fair share of Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios in Orlando, but nothing has ever given me the heebie jeebies like this freak.

Click At Your Own Risk

Seriously, it's bad enough to be raped, but imagine being raped by that dude. I'm sure he's had a hard life, but everything feeling I get when I look at this guy tells me to kill it. Just end it. He'll be happier and so will the citizens of Ohio.

He's been dealt a bad hand. He should fold. Seriously.

Yeesh. I have to go take a shower now.

State of the World Address

2005-09-16T09:34:00.000-07:00

Ok, it's really not going to be that severe. I mean, the whole world isn't in peril. Or maybe it is, I don't know anymore. I know my world is changing by the minute.

Here's what's going on:

1. I am experiencing a raging case of writer's block when it comes to this place. I mean, this shit used to flow effortlessly and now it's forced, contrived really. Hopefully whatever's clogging up my brain will extricate itself soon.

2. I am not only ultra-busy at work, but at home and play too. It seems like I've had no time to do anything at all but work, take care of household stuff or play ball. Yes, I know ball is an extra curricular activity, but it keeps me sane. Or some semblance of sane anyhow.

3. I'm going through the big D and I don't mean Dallas. Yes, that's right, I'm about to become an ex-husband and single father. And my wife is about to become an ex-wife and a single mother. I don't want to talk about it any further.

4. I'm looking for a place to live until I buy a permanent residence after it's all over with.

Ok, I thought there were 5 things, but I guess not. Anyhow, that's what's up. I think my once abundant fountain of rage is drying up. I'm not sure. Maybe it's just stress. Whatever it is, I hope it goes the fuck away very soon.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Caption Contest

2005-09-14T16:16:00.000-07:00

Every week the New Yorker has a caption contest. Here's this week's entry. Somehow, I don't think the caption I entered will make the cut. Feel free to add your own in my comments section.

"Sweet Jesus! These bitches make my pink thing stick out."

How Bout Them Eagles?

2005-09-13T09:00:00.000-07:00

I love the smell of freshly baked Eagles in the morning. Love seeing them at the bottom of the standings.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

2005-09-12T13:42:00.000-07:00

The Dallas Cowboys sure were. Rack the everlovin' hell out of them. They came to play. Hopefully with Bledsoe at the helm and Jones in the backfield, it'll be a great season.

Great Weekend

2005-09-07T08:03:00.000-07:00

Yes, it was a great weekend. A well-deserved, nice long weekend. Good 'ol JP has been working his little ass off and needed some time off before he flipped out on his fellow co-workers.

First, it was off to the Mariners-Yankees game. Great game. Actually, any game is great where the Yankums lose handily. In the 6th inning, the starting pitcher for the Yankees was injured. When it happened, we were screened by a beer guy, so I didn't get to see exactly what happened. When he came out of the game, I yelled "You pussy, where are you going? Get back in there." Come to find out the poor guy broke his collarbone. Yeah, I felt bad when I found that out. But then I remembered he plays for the Yankmes, so I stopped feeling bad. Sell your soul to the devil and you deserve whatever you get.

I followed that up by spending the weekend in Long Beach, Washington playing softball. Yes, we kicked a little ass. Won the tournament easily. There was really nobody there to challenge us. Here's a picture of the winning team.

After that, it was back to the campsite to drink a little beer and play a little beach football. Yes, my team kicked a little ass in that game too, not that I'm competitive or anything. Here's a picture of the participants.

After the game, I had sand in places I'd forgotten I had. Chaffing really sucks. But, then it was a drunken late night, followed by an early morning to head back to reality.

On the way back home, we stopped to help a lady that had run her car off the road. Seems she had a faulty insulin pump and had given herself too much. We ended up taking her dog to her husband, who didn't seem all that concerned. Must happen all the time.

When that was over, it was time to get back to reality. The boys started school yesterday and my "inbox" at work was overflowing.

Hopefully, this weekend will be just as fun....if not a little shorter.

Long Weekend

2005-08-31T07:57:00.000-07:00

That's what I'm in for. A long weekend. After work today, I'm heading to Seattle to take in the Yankum-Mariners tilt tomorrow afternoon. Then I'll be heading to Long Beach, WA for a softball tournament Friday. Should be home sometime Sunday night.

I hope each and every one of you have a safe, fun and happy Labor Day Weekend. Hopefully by Tuesday, I'll have something to write about.

Lord knows I've been struggling lately.

Just Call Her a Heiffer Next Time

2005-08-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

File this under "You've Got to be F'ing Kidding Me."

Doctor in trouble for calling patient obese
N.H. woman filed complaint; state attorney general asked to investigate

ROCHESTER, N.H. - As doctors warn more patients that they should lose weight, the advice has backfired on one doctor with a woman filing a complaint with the state saying he was hurtful, not helpful.

And people wonder why our court systems are so overworked? It's stupid crap like this that does it. Hurtful? HURTFUL? Jeezus. Overreact much?

Dr. Terry Bennett says he tells obese patients their weight is bad for their health and their love lives, but the lecture drove one patient to complain to the state.

He should have mentioned to her that if she's obese, she should be thankful that she has a guy that will even be in the same room with her when she's naked, let alone bang her.

“I told a fat woman she was obese,” Bennett says. “I tried to get her attention. I told her, 'You need to get on a program, join a group of like-minded people and peel off the weight that is going to kill you.'"

May I direct your attention to the first part of his quote. He may have just pissed off the rest of the women that consider themselves 'fat' with that first statement. Just think, this dolt went to school for 10 years. Guess we know it wasn't charm school.

He says he wrote a letter of apology to the woman when he found out she was offended.

It should have read something like this: Dear Fatty, I'm sorry I called you obese. I meant to say you're only a McGriddle short of a Grimace. Sincerely, Dr. Terry "Skinny" Bennett

The New Hampshire board’s Web site says disciplinary sanctions may range from a reprimand to the revocation of all rights to practice in the state.

For telling someone she's obese? Revocation to practice medicine in the state? Good God! What's the penalty for telling someone they need a vasectomy - castration?

“Physicians have to be professional with patients and remember everyone is an individual. You should not be inflammatory or degrading to anyone,” said board member Kevin Costin.

Note to idiot - the word obese isn't inflammatory or degrading. But what do I know? I'm not obese.

Other overweight patients have come to Bennett’s defense.

“What really makes me angry is he told the truth,” Mindy Haney told WMUR-TV on Tuesday. “How can you punish somebody for that?”

Haney said Bennett has helped her lose more than 150 pounds, but acknowledged that she initially didn’t want to listen.

“I have been in this lady’s shoes. I’ve been angry and left his practice. I mean, in-my-car-taking-off angry,” Haney said. “But once you think about it, you’re angry at yourself, not Doctor Bennett. He’s the messenger. He’s telling you what you already know.”

See, people like this actually give me hope for the future of our country. But for every one of these level-headed people, there are 1,000 dolts like the obese idiot that filed the complaint.

I'm A Little Bit Country

2005-08-23T15:52:00.000-07:00

Yes, that's right, JP is a hick at heart. Growing up in Central Florida (before it became North Cuba), you had no choice but to listen to Country music and chew tobacco when you played ball. It's just what you did.

As Central Florida changed in the '90s, I changed along with it. I severed my country roots and decided to see what it was like on the rock and roll side of town. I stopped listening to any music with a hint of Southern twang in it and ditched my Skoal can. So there I was a country bumpkin in the middle of a mosh pit at my first rock concert - Van Halen and had a blast. And that's how it's been for the better part of 15 years.

However, now that I seem to be mellowing out in my old age, I'm back into Country. Don't know how it happened, but it doesn't matter. I dusted off my Skoal Mint Long Cut tin and even picked up a new brand to add to my repitoire. Yes, save the lectures, I've heard them all. Lancaster is f'ing awesome stuff. It's dipped in molasses and tastes like candy. So, so good. Besides, I only chew it when I play ball. I don't do it otherwise. So shut up.

So I was sitting here trying to figure out how the hell I got back into Country music and it hit me. It has to be the women. I mean they're so much hotter than rocker chicks. I mean who would you rather do, Terri Clark or Lita Ford? Faith Hill? Or Courtney Love?

Yes, there's no contest. And I haven't even mentioned Shania Twain or Chely Wright.

I mean, my GOD!! There's no contest.

Ok, since most of you that read this drivel are women I'll give you one just so you can see where I'm coming from - Tim McGraw or David Lee Roth.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Because I Need A Laugh

2005-08-19T13:35:00.000-07:00

Yes, the last couple days have sucked in JP's world. So, in an order to make myself laugh I will post another 10 of my favorite comments from The Family Guy, aka the funniest show of all time.

10. (Walt Disney drawing Minnie Mouse and gives her a dirty look)
Minnie Mouse: Do I--do I have to?
(starts pulling dress off)
Walt Disney: You wanna be a star, don't you baby?!
Minnie Mouse: (Whimpers and dress falls to the floor.)
Walt Disney: Yeah, that's it! (Draws.)

9. Peter: You know that whole Vietnam thing? Never happened.
Brian: Oh yeah, but don't mention it around the Veterans Hospital. Those guys are really committed to the lie.

8. Counselor: I'd like to put video cameras in every room of your house so that I can observe your uncensored behavior.
Peter: Wow, just like that show Big Brother ... except somebody'll be watching.

7. Tom Tucker: Stay tuned for our special investigative report on the clitoris, "Nature's Rubik's Cube".

6. Miss Ironbox: The filing is done Mr. Griffin.
Peter: Thank you Miss Ironbox. You are a valued
member of our business team and I will give you a
raise tomorrow if you come to work without a shirt on.
Miss Ironbox: Mr. Griffin!
Peter: I'm sor...I'm sorry, that came out wrong.
Lemme' try again. Nice ass.

5. Peter: It doesn't matter if your family doesn't think I'm good enough for you.
Lois: That's right, because all that's important is that I love you.
Peter: No, because your ancestors were nothing but a bunch of pimps and whores.

4. Stewie: Duck, duck, (slaps Janet on the head) GOOSE!
Janet cries.
Stewie: Oh come on I barely hit you! See this is why people don't respect the WNBA!

3. Cleveland: If you're this desperate about Chris's weight, why don't you just suck the fat out?
Peter: Look, if you can find a hole on the boy that you want to put your lips on, be my guest.

2. Peter: Lois, I cant find my favorite pair of underwear.
Lois: Which one? The one where you ripped hole in it from when you got stuck in that airplane bathroom from when you got the trots?
Peter: No, I'm looking for the pair from when I had to hold it in because it was that extra long Palm Sunday service and I thought blowing gas would offend God so I let it rip in the vestibule after service.
Lois: Top drawer.

1. Brian: Oh my god! They're eating Asian reporter Tricia Takanawa!
Peter: That's crazy...they'll just be hungry again in an hour.

Have a great weekend, everyone!!

Sean John Name Change

2005-08-18T07:46:00.000-07:00

See, my way of thinking of Mr. Combs is easier. I've just always called him "No Talent Ass Clown."

--------------------

Diddy Drops the P.

R. Kelly must be ecstatic right now.

"It's the era of Diddy."

I'll be more interested when he becomes Dead-y.

So proclaimed the hip-hop impresario formerly known as Sean Combs, Puffy, Puff Daddy and now P. Diddy on Tuesday's Today Show, as he explained that he was changing his name once again.

Next up "The Diddler - Jus' Keepin' It Rizzeal"

The rap mogul last switched it up--from Puff Daddy to P. Diddy--in 2001, while seeking a "fresh start" after being acquitted on gun charges.

Must have been how he got off in the first place. I know I was successfully confused. Reasonable doubt really isn't all that hard to establish.

As for what brought about the latest change in moniker, the entertainer admitted that his previous name change left his fans uncertain of how to address him. "I felt like the 'P' was getting between me and my fans and now we're closer," Diddy said.

Insert golden shower joke here

"During concerts, half the crowd is saying 'P. Diddy'--half the crowd is chanting 'Diddy'--now everybody can just chant 'Diddy.' "

What are the odds J-Lo will come out and say his name should be "Little Diddy?"

He confessed that his unwieldy name was even starting to befuddle him. "I even started to get confused myself--and when I'd called someone on the telephone it took me a long time to explain who I was. Too long," Diddy told the New York Post. "One word. Five letters. Period," he added.

Sucks - one word. Five letters. Period. Sums up his music.

Of course, just talking about his new name isn't enough for the scene-making mogul, who's planning to throw his latest title a coming-out party of sorts when he hosts the MTV Video Music Awards on Aug. 28. "To be honest, the unveiling of Diddy, you gonna see that at the [Video Music Awards]," he told MTV News. "You gonna see that in the entrance. You gonna see that swagger. You gonna see how I'm gonna navigate you through the journey. I'm gonna play my position, my role. The artists are gonna play their role. We're gonna have an incredible, incredible party."

Someone please tell Diddy, or whatever the hell his name is today, that Ebonics is so 1995.

As usual, it's been a busy year for Diddy. In April, he announced a deal with Warner Music that gave the company a 50 percent interest in his Bad Boy Records label. Though exact figures were not released, it's estimated that Warner shelled out a cool $30 million in the deal.

Meanwhile, the multi-monikered one has also been dealing with various legal issues.

Last month, he settled a lawsuit with Random House over a $300,000 advance he received to pen his memoirs, which he never completed.

Diddy has also been battling his ex, Misa Hylton-Brim, over child support payments for their 11-year-old son, Justin.

After he was ordered by a judge in April to dole out more than $21,000 a month for the care of his son, the rap mogul vowed to appeal the ruling, claiming that Hylton-Brim was acting out of greed, rather than in the interest of their child.

Read about his legal troubles again. He made $30 million by selling 50% of his Bad Boy Record label and ONLY has to shell out $21k a month for child support? And he's bitching about that? What the hell? Sean Combs, Puffy, Puff Daddy, P. Diddy, Diddy, dickhead, asswipe, whatever, pay your child support.

And the next time you change your name, please think up a better excuse. This way the rest of us won't think you're a total imbecile.

Shall We Play A Game?

2005-08-11T07:55:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know this post will be in stark contrast to my last post, but I simply could not believe this story when I read it.

What happened to egging houses, cow tipping and playing "chicken" with a girl your age? A "choking game?" You've gotta be f'ing kidding me.

I mean, even though I have so much to add to this, I'll refrain from doing so because this is so unbelievable. This would have never occurred to my friends and I when we were growing up. Does that make us idiots or geniuses?

--------------------------------

Mother missed signs of 'choking game'
California teen died seeking high with rope around neck

Wednesday, August 10, 2005; Posted: 6:18 a.m. EDT (10:18 GMT)

PARADISE, California (CNN) -- Looking back, Sarah Pacatte realizes she missed the warning signs.

But at the time, the mother of four thought maybe her 13-year-old son, Gabriel Mordecai, was smoking marijuana. She never imagined he was putting a rope around his neck and choking himself for a rush.

"A couple of months before he died, he became very hostile, very angry, and he complained of horrible headaches," Pacatte said. "Then I started seeing bloodshot eyes."

What killed him in May was the "choking game," one of the names for a practice in which children use their hands, arms, ropes or belts to cut oxygen to their brains and pass out.

Pacatte says she wants to warn other parents about the risks before it's too late for them.

"I feel a little bit of anger, but mostly I feel desperation and urgency," she says.

It's already too late for 13-year-old Chelsea Dunn of Idaho and 14-year-old Jason Linkins of North Carolina, whose deaths in recent years were among those thought to be the result of similar suffocation games.

Details of how the "game" is played, once passed among schoolmates, now spread on the Internet.

Gabriel's twin brother and best friend, Sam, says they learned of it from an older boy, who showed them how to hyperventilate and apply pressure to their necks.

"You kind of like pass out for a few seconds," Sam explains.

"It's a sensation ... like we've never experienced before," he said, calling it "weird."

But Gabriel's initial response was more enthusiastic, Sam says.

"It's awesome," he recalls his brother exclaiming.

"I really didn't like it that much," he says, adding that he did it out of peer pressure.

When Sarah found out her sons were playing, she told them to stop.

"Gabriel was argumentative about this game," Pacatte said. She recalls him saying, "What's the big deal? I'm not taking any drugs; I'm not drinking or anything."

"I said, 'The big deal is that every time you cut your oxygen off to your brain, you're causing brain damage little by little.'"

Children have likely been playing the "choking game" for a long time, Connecticut-based child psychologist Dr. Lawrence Shapiro told The Associated Press.

Shapiro, author of "The Secret Language of Children," told the AP that parents should discuss such dangerous behavior with their children, in addition to talking about drugs and alcohol.

"Younger kids don't know that they can die from this, that it's a very dangerous activity," Shapiro told the news agency.

But Gabriel loved the sensation, his mother said.

"It was almost like a drug," she said. "They crave it; they crave the high that they get from the lack of oxygen."

Gabriel began to play alone.

"One day he was doing it to himself," his brother says. "He stopped because I told him I was going to tell Mom."

Despite Pacatte's numerous warnings, Sam says Gabriel kept doing it -- often while their mother was at work.

The day before Gabriel died, she asked him about a mark on his neck.

"He looked at me kind of funny and he said, 'Don't worry mom, it's not a hickey,'" Pacatte says.

The next evening, while Pacatte was preparing dinner, Sam went into his room and found his brother with a rope around his neck. When his brother didn't respond, he yelled, "Gabe!"

"When I got to the bedroom door, Samuel was across the room behind his brother," Pacatte says. "He was holding his brother up under his arms."

Gabriel was airlifted to a hospital in Sacramento. Sarah and Sam made the gut-wrenching, two-hour journey by car.

They prayed at Gabriel's side, but 15 hours later, Pacatte says, "He died on life support. His body shut down."

Pacatte says their apartment is too quiet now.

"It's very hard to watch Sam be without his brother," she says. "We miss him so much."

She even misses the bickering.

"I miss the fighting," she says. "I'd gladly give up my life just to see those two kids fight."

The family takes some comfort in their memories of Gabriel and from the words in his journal.

"I plan to go to college for four years," Sam reads from his brother's writings. "I plan to send my mom about $500 a month to help support her."

Wiping away tears, Pacatte says that months later she remains angry and hurt.

"I have guilt, so much guilt, because I didn't save my baby," she says. "What a beautiful child; what a beautiful gift. And he's gone."

"In the blink of an eye, my boy is gone," she says.

Family Guy

2005-08-09T08:33:00.000-07:00

Ok, if you're not watching this show, you should be. It absolutely blows The Simpsons away in terms of pure hilarity. Each character has its own quirks and habits. Here are my top 10 favorite Family Guy quotes.

10. Peter: Oh my god, Brian, there's a message in my Alphabits. It says, 'Oooooo.'
Brian: Peter, those are Cheerios.

9. Peter (after Lois tells him he's childish): "If I'm a child that means you're a pedophile, and I'll be damned if i'm going stand here and take this from a pervert."

8. Stewie (to one of the prostitutes at Cleveland's house): So, is there any tread left on the tires? Or at this point would it be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway?

7. Auctioner: Our first item is a pair of panties confiscated from a prostitute.
Quagmire: Fifty bucks.
Auctioner: She had nine STDs.
Quagmire: Forty-five bucks.
Auctioner: And when we caught her she wet herself.
Quagmire: Fifty bucks.

6. Peter: Well, I'm gettin' something really special too. And by special I don't mean special like that Kleinaman boy down the street. More special like... like Special K, the cereal. Hey, what do they do with the regular K? And for that matter, what ever happend to K. Ballard? You know, if you said mallard and you had a cold, it would sound like ballard.
Brian: Do you listen to yourself when you talk?
Peter: I drift in and out.

5. Lois: Oh, I haven't been on a college campus in years. Everything seems so different.
Stewie: Really? Perhaps if you laid on your back with your ankels behind your ears that would ring a few bells.

4. God: Here, let me light that for you, babe.
(Zap with Thunderbolt to the cigarette)
Girl: Hey, thanks!
God: Yep, magic fingers (chuckles).
(Zap with Thunderbolt to the girl incinerating her.)
God: Jesus Christ!
Jesus: What?
God: Get the Escalade! We're outta here!

3. Peter: (Walks out of the bathroom and wanders into another room. He walks into the room and walks behind the bed. We find out that this is Chris' room.) Hey, you still awake, Lois honey? (Peter lays down into Chris' bed.)
Chris: Dad?
Peter: That's right, I'm your daddy. Shh, Shh, Shh, Shh. Don't talk, Lois, don't talk. Just let me do all the work. Yeah...now feel my warm breath on the nape of your neck. My hands on your big soft boobs...running down your big man-like chest. (Peter jumps up.) Holy crap, It's Chris!! Uhh...Uhh...So, uhh...How ya doin'? You do all your homework?
Chris: (nods his head.)
Peter: Finish all your subjects?
Chris: Yes, sir.
Peter: Good, just uhh, just checkin'. (Backs towards the door.) Have a good night son. (Walks down the hall.)
Peter: You still awake honey?
Stewie: What the deuce?

2. Lois: I guarantee you a man made that commercial.
Peter: Of course a man made it. It's a commercial Lois, not a delicious thanksgiving dinner.

1. Chris: Dad, what's the blow-hole for?
Peter: I'll tell you what it's not for, son. And when I do, you'll understand why I can never go back to Sea World.

Here's an added bonus video. Shows the brilliance in the writing and animation on this show. Click Me

I'm telling you, watch this show. You won't be disappointed.

He Needed The Scores

2005-08-04T13:34:00.000-07:00

Holy crap. Can you get more effed in the head than this guy? She probably should have let him find out the score of the Yankees game (because no way in Hell does a Sox fan do this).

PANAMA CITY, Fla. -- A man who got angry with his wife because she wanted to cuddle after sex when what he really wanted to do was watch sports on television was sentenced to death for killing her with a claw hammer.

A claw hammer? What, was the chain saw just out of reach? Who kills someone with a claw hammer?

Christopher Offord, 30, was sentenced Wednesday by Circuit Judge Dedee Costello, who said the brutality of the crime outweighed any mental problems Offord may have had.

We're going to call this judge "Judge Duh." I mean, c'mon she had to go to law school and kiss major political ass to sit on the bench and make that ruling? I don't care if you're the most insane person in the world, you don't take a claw hammer to someone you just used your own personal tool on.

"The defendant struck his wife approximately 70 individual blows after spending a happy interlude with her," the judge said. "Her desire to cuddle after sex does not justify the extremely violent, brutal response of the defendant."

Yes, after sex most guys (present company excluded, of course) have these thoughts, but who the hell acts on them? I want to have this guy's energy. He just had sex, presumably showed her the O face and STILL had enough energy to hit her 70 times with a claw hammer? What is this guy, superhuman?

Offord pleaded guilty to first-degree murder in the 2004 slaying of Dana Noser, 40, at his apartment.

Looks like he got some solid legal advice there. I mean there's really no other way to plead in this case. You screw some chick then you crack her head open because she wants to cuddle instead of watching sports, you're guilty as the sin you just committed.

He confessed to a bartender at a sports bar before his arrest. He told investigators that his wife had been nagging him to come back to bed.

Reason #154 why I'd never become a bartender.

Offord did not speak in court but said in a jailhouse interview in June: "I figured I killed her so I deserve to die."

Boy is he off. He doesn't deserve to die. He deserves to be smacked in the package with a claw hammer, then castrated AND violently gang raped in the prison showers daily. But that's just me.

Hot for Teacher

2005-08-03T10:07:00.000-07:00

N.Y. Teacher Accused of Raping Boy
Tuesday, August 02, 2005

ALBANY, N.Y. — A 42-year-old teacher at a Catholic school who was charged with rape for allegedly having sex with an underage male student posted a $20,000 bond Tuesday and was released from jail.

Authorities said Sandra Beth Geisel had sex with four students from the Christian Brothers Academy in Colonie, N.Y., but in three of the cases the boys were 17-years-old and therefore were legally able to give their consent. Geisel faces sexual assault charges for allegedly having sex with a 16-year-old boy.

John Aretakis, who has represented alleged victims of clerical sexual abuse (search) and is now the lawyer for a 17-year-old CBA student who allegedly had sex with Geisel, said the school ignored her "bizarre and irresponsible behavior" for months.

Geisel, a mother of four, was fired from the school in June. She was on the school's payroll first as an English teacher and then as a volunteer in the school's writing lab.

Police in Cohoes, a town adjacent to Colonie, responded to a resident's call June 11 about a suspicious parked car. Police said they found Geisel and a 17-year-old student inside the car.

About a week later, the school sent a letter to parents about the alleged affair, though officials didn't identify the teacher. Officials said they'd found the conduct inappropriate.

For more on the story from Albany's local paper, The Times Union, click here.

After reports of Geisel's dismissal spread, a 16-year-old student, at the urging of his parents, reported to Colonie police that he'd had two sexual encounters with her, according to the Troy Record.

"If [Geisel] were a man, she'd likely be referred to as a predator," said Colonie Police Chief Steven Heider.

Geisel faces 16 years in prison.

Heider said Geisel first had sex with the 16-year-old the night of May 15 in her Latham home, and then again on the night of May 28 in the press box at the school's football field.

Signed statements by the boy and others describe a number of sexual encounters involving the former teacher.

On the online RateMyTeachers.com, Geisel won lascivious praise from one — and real admiration from others.

For example, one student went online in March to pant, "down boy down — get what I'm saying guys." Another, last November, declared her "much more" than "just a pretty face." Another, in February, called her an "amazing writer."
-------------------------------

I have to ask - where the hell were all these horny female teachers when I was 16-17? I couldn't even get a freshman to slow dance with me back then, let alone get someone who knew what they were doing to touch my pee-pee.

I'm not saying that what she did was right, but 16 years in prison for having consentual sex with a 16 year old boy? That's a little harsh in my book.

No, it's not right for this woman to have sex with 4 kids (especially when she has 4 of her own). But 16 years for performing a probably much-needed service for a 16 year old? Please. Show me a 16 or 17 year old that's going to turn down some freaky freaky from an older woman and I'll show you a closet homosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that).

Ban her from teaching. But don't lock her up until she's almost 60. That's just wrong.

The Shitter's Full

2005-07-29T12:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, there's another line from one of my favorite all time movies. Anyone have an idea who said it and in what movie? No cash prizes, only brownie points awarded.

Working in a public, professional office building (sorry no photo of my building readily available), is quite different from working at my last gig (same firm as Miss Vicki) which was in a big, beautiful house. The major difference is having to share a restroom with not only your co-workers and clients but the other law firm that is on our floor and their clients.

Now, when I say there's another law firm on our floor, I use that term loosely. They're not a law firm in the traditional sense of the word. They don't have a "firm name," which leads me to believe that they're just office "mates" kind of like roommates. They lease this office space (which probably costs them upwards of $5500/month, but they split the rent). They are not affiliated with one another. Most likely, they're all solo practitioners who split everything - overhead, office staff, etc.

On the surface, that's a pretty good arrangement. Especially if you get 5 or 6 attorneys in the same space. However, looking closer at this firm makes one believe that they were all found on some weird fetish personals ad in Willamette Week or some shit like that. If that's true, I'd imagine the ad would have read something like this:

Masculine female attorney who loves to wear bowties and no underwear seeks similar freakish attorneys with in-fucking-sane bathroom habits to share life, laughter and office space.

Seriously, these people all look like they were born out of an incestuous relationship. What makes it worse is their collective bathroom demeanor. The guys in this office ALL do weird things in the bathroom.

Now, I'm pretty shy when it comes to using the work restroom. I mean, I absolutely try not to go #2 in there...if at all possible. Yes, I'm the original "Shit Break". However, these guys not only use the toilets, but announce their presence with authority.

Now the way the men's restroom is set up is there's 3 stalls right next to each other, with the last one being a handicapped stall (read bigger and cleaner). Next to the first stall is the glorious urinal. However, when someone's in the first stall and you're trying to use the urinal, your foot is literally INCHES away from the dude in the stall. That's just too freaking weird for me, so I'll wait.

Now that you get the basic layout of the joint, let me tell you about the men in that "firm" across the hall. One of them comes in brushing his teeth everyday after lunch. Now, it's bad enough that this guy has been walking down the hallway brushing his teeth, but he'll proceed into the first stall and sit down to do his business WHILE STILL BRUSHING HIS TEETH. This is why I stopped using the restroom right after lunch. I mean that's just a waste of my lunch money. Am I the only one that sees anything wrong with this? You don't brush your teeth while you're sitting on the pot. You just don't. There is no room for argument here. None whatsoever.

I venture in there to use the restroom the yesterday and another one of the guys from the other office comes in right after me, proceeds to the second stall, sits down and immediately lets out the biggest, loudest fart I've ever heard in my life. As if that wasn't enough, he then starts straining loudly. After it was apparent that this dude was actively trying to blow out an O-ring, I left. I couldn't stomach it any longer.

As I leave the restroom, I run into our receptionist and relay the story to her. She then tells me that the women from the other office are no better. Seems that one of them sings at the top of her lungs while dropping a deuce. Just yesterday I was informed that her song o' the day was "The 12 Days of Christmas." WTF? I'm chalking that one up to her celebrating Christmas in July.

Yet another one of the women from the other office will talk on her cell phone in Russian while she's bombing Australia (you know, down under) from her perch. I thought guys were the only creatures that would talk on the phone while doing that. And by "guys," I mean guys other than me. I have had conversations with my guy friends where I have heard a *whoosh* about half-way through the conversation. Mortifies me every single time. Our receptionist was joking that they either need a set of "Bathroom Etiquette" rules or bumper stickers to explain the proper way to act in a public restroom. I think one of the bumper stickers should read "While you crap, please shut your yap." But that's just me.

So, if you are an unemployed freakish-looking bathroom weirdo, please email me and I will direct you to a place that you can't help but get a job. They'll love you.

My Favorite Movie Quotes

2005-07-27T08:32:00.000-07:00

Ok, keeping with the whole "movie" theme (since I watch movies every chance I get and all), here are my favorite all time movie quotes.

First from Pulp Fiction - Probably my number one all time favorite movie:

Jules: What country you from!
Brett: What?
Jules: "What" ain't no country I know! Do they speak English in "What?"
Brett: What?
Jules: English-motherfucker-can-you-speak-it?
Brett: Yes.
Jules: Then you understand what I'm sayin'?
Brett: Yes.
Jules: Now describe what Marsellus Wallace looks like!
Brett: What?
Jules: Say "What" again! C'mon, say "What" again! I dare ya, I double dare ya motherfucker, say "What" one more goddamn time! Now describe to me what Marsellus Wallace looks like!

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Lance: But she's got breast plates. So what you got to do, you got to bring the needle down in a stabbing motion. [Makes three stabbing motions with hand.]
Vincent: I gotta stab her three times?
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One of the funniest movies of all time - Office Space:

Peter Gibbons: Our high school guidance counselor used to ask us what you'd do if you had a million dollars and you didn't have to work. And invariably what you'd say was supposed to be your career. So, if you wanted to fix old cars you're supposed to be an auto mechanic.
Samir: So what did you say?
Peter Gibbons: I never had an answer. I guess that's why I'm working at Initech.
Michael Bolton: No, you're working at Initech because that question is bullshit to begin with. If everyone listened to her, there'd be no janitors, because no one would clean shit up if they had a million dollars.
Samir: You know what I would do if I had a million dollars? I would invest half of it in glorious mutual funds and take the other half over to my friend Asadulah who works in securities and
Michael Bolton: Samir, you're missing the point. The point is you're supposed to work out what you [printer starts beeping]
Michael Bolton: "PC Load Letter"? What the fuck does that mean?

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Peter Gibbons: What would you do if you had a million dollars?
Lawrence: I'll tell you what I'd do, man, two chicks at the same time, man.
Peter Gibbons: That's it? If you had a million dollars, you'd do two chicks at the same time?
Lawrence: Damn straight. I always wanted to do that, man. And I think if I had a million dollars I could hook that up, cause chicks dig a dude with money.
Peter Gibbons: Well, not all chicks.
Lawrence: Well the kind of chicks that'd double up on a dude like me do.
Peter Gibbons: Good point.

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Samir: No one in this country can ever pronounce my name right. It's not that hard: Samir Na-gheen-an-a-jar. Nagheenanajar.
Michael Bolton: Yeah, well at least your name isn't Michael Bolton.
Samir: You know there's nothing wrong with that name.
Michael Bolton: There was nothing wrong with it... until I was about 12 years old and that no-talent ass clown became famous and started winning Grammys.
Samir: Hmm... well why don't you just go by Mike instead of Michael?
Michael Bolton: No way. Why should I change? He's the one who sucks.

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Michael Bolton: If we get caught, we're not going to white-collar resort prison. No, no, no. We're going to federal POUND ME IN THE ASS prison.
Samir: I don't want to go to ANY prison!

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Another laugh right out loud movie - There's Something About Mary:

[after telling Mary that he's an architect]
Pat Healy: Really, it's only a side thing for my true passion.
Mary: And what's that?
Pat Healy: I work with retards.
Mary: Isn't that a little politically incorrect?
Pat Healy: Yeah, maybe, but hell, no one's gonna tell me who I can and can't work with.

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Mary's Step-Dad: How'd you get the beans above the frank?
Warren: Franks and beans, franks and beans, franks and beans.

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American Pie - one of the truly new classics:

Michelle: Ohh, and this one time, at band camp, I stuck a flute in my pussy.
Jim: [Choking on his beer.] Excuse me?
Michelle: What, you don't think I know how to get myself off? Hell, that's what half of band camp is... sex-ed! So, are we gonna screw soon? 'Cause I'm getting kinda antsy.

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Fast Times at Ridgemont High - one of the truly old classics:

Mike Damone: First of all Rat, you never let on how much you like a girl. "Oh, Debbie. Hi." Two, you always call the shots. "Kiss me. You won't regret it." Now three, act like wherever you are, that's the place to be. "Isn't this great?" Four, when ordering food, you find out what she wants, then order for the both of you. It's a classy move. "Now, the lady will have the linguini and white clam sauce, and a Coke with no ice." And five, now this is the most important, Rat. When it comes down to making out, whenever possible, put on side one of Led Zeppelin IV.

[NOTE: I've actually repeated this whole passage a time or two in my day]

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[After Spicoli wrecks Jefferson's car.]
Jefferson's Brother: My brother's gonna kill us! He's gonna kill us! He's gonna kill you and he's gonna kill me, he's gonna kill us!
Jeff Spicoli: Hey man, just be glad I had fast reflexes!
Jefferson's Brother: My brother's gonna shit!
Jeff Spicoli: Make up your mind, dude, is he gonna shit or is he gonna kill us?
Jefferson's Brother: First he's gonna shit, then he's gonna kill us!
Jeff Spicoli: Relax, alright? My old man is a television repairman, he's got this ultimate set of tools. I can fix it.

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Stacy Hamilton: When a guy has an orgasm, how much comes out?
Linda Barrett: A quart or so.

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Major League - Always good to quote this stuff on the ballfield.

Harry Doyle: Heywood leads the league in most offensive categories, including nose hair. When this guy sneezes, he looks like a party favor.

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Harry Doyle: Vaughn's first pitch. Juuuuuuuuuuuuuust a bit outside. Tried the corner and missed. Ball four. Ball eight. Ball and Vaughn has walked the bases loaded on twelve straight pitches. How can these hitters lay off pitches that close?

[NOTE: My pitchers hate it when I use this line when they walk a hitter. Doesn't stop me, however]

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Pepper Leach: [Vaughn has just given up a grand slam after walking three straight batter] You want me to go get him?
Lou Brown: Nah, leave him out there. I want to see how he handles this.
Lou Brown: [Vaughn hits the next batter causing a benches clearing brawl] I think you can go get him now.

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Old School. There isn't a funnier movie for the first 45 minutes.

Mitch Martin: ...all of these fucking people!
Beanie: Whoa! Whoa! Why the F-ing? Why in front of the kid? All ya gotta do is say "earmuffs" to him, and you can say "Fuck, shit, bitch."
Frank: Cock. Balls.

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Frank: I told my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. Besides, I got a big day tomorrow. You guys have a great time.
College Student: A big day? Doing what?
Frank: Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.

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The Waterboy - I'm not a huge Adam Sandler guy, but this movie makes me laugh so hard.

Bobby Boucher: "Well I like school... and I like football... and I'm gonna keep doin' 'em both because they make me feel good.
[Slams door, then comes back]
Bobby Boucher: And by the way, Mama... alligators are ornery because of their medulla oblongata.
[Slams door, then comes back]
Bobby Boucher: And I like Vicki and she likes me back. And she showed me her boobies and I like them too."

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These next two are the grandaddies of all comedy movies. First Animal House:

D-Day: War's over, man. Wormer dropped the big one.
Bluto: Over? Did you say "over"? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Otter: Germans?
Boon: Forget it, he's rolling.

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Last but not least - Airplane:

Who doesn't love Airplane?

Young Boy with Coffee: Cream?
Little Girl: No thanks, I take it black, like my men.

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Ted Striker: Surely you can't be serious.
Dr. Rumack: I am serious, and don't call me Shirley.

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Of course, this is just a sampling of my favorites. There are way too many others to list. If you'll excuse me, I have to go home and have a movie marathon.

Most Disturbing Movie Scenes

2005-07-22T09:13:00.000-07:00

Anyone that knows me has heard me recite a movie line or two (or 100). I love movies. Furthermore, if I find a movie I like, I'll watch it every time it's on TV. 99.9% of the time when I use a line from a movie, it'll be to make a joke. Next week I'll tell you my all time favorite movie lines (although most of them will probably be from Pulp Fiction - that movie was pure effing genius).

So, counting backwards, here are my top 10 most disturbing movie scenes of all time:

10. Misery - Kathy Bates playing the psycho #1 fan taking a sledgehammer to James Caan's feet. The book description was much, much worse. In the book, she took an axe, cut his feet off and cauterized it with a blow torch. Thank God that didn't happen on screen.

9. Blair Witch Project - There's actually two scenes here that are equally disturbing - Heather Donahue's close-up, desperate, teary-eyed, videoed goodbye to her family and friends in the Maryland backwoods, and the closing scene with the chase through the abandoned house and into the cellar. I actually stopped the DVD at the very end to see what happened to them. All you see is one of the guys catatonic staring into the corner of the cellar. Creeped me out for days.

8. Full Metal Jacket - Another great movie. The bloody suicidal death of tormented, overweight misfit and psychopathic Marine Private 'Pyle' during boot camp training, by shooting himself in the mouth and blowing his head off in the bathroom just after murdering Gunnery Sargent Hartman.

7. Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (original) - Yes, it's a kids film, but it's the first time I can ever remember feeling uneasy after watching a movie. Willy (Gene Wilder) offers a boat ride down the Chocolate River to the kids and their parents - while hallucinatory, colorful, hellish and surreal images (a kaleidoscope of insects, a beheading of a chicken, a slimy worm on a face, etc.) are back-projected behind them while Willy provides strange commentary

6. Kill Bill Vol. 2 - Scene in which Beatrix Kiddo (Uma) plucks out Elle Driver's one remaining good eye (Daryl Hannah), drops it on the carpet and squishes it between her toes. She then leaves Elle in the house to suffer, with a black mamba snake running loose. Nothing like vitriolic fluid between your tosies to make you feel like a woman.

5. Saw - What a messed up movie. But a great movie nonetheless. The final scene where Dr. Lawrence Gordon (Cary Elwes) is finally driven insane by thoughts of torture being done to his wife and little girl, cuts his own foot off with a hacksaw and hobbles out of the room after the demented killer. Movie over after that. Tremendous ending.

4. Se7en - Final scene. Doe (Kevin Spacey) has the head of Mills' (Brad Pitt) wife delivered to him in a box by a delivery driver, only seconds after telling Mills that she was pregnant when he killed her. Chilling scene.

3. Goodfellas - This whole movie disturbed me to no end. Mainly because I have ancestors that were in the mafia. The most disturbing scene to me was when Joe Pesci shoots Spider (Michael Imperioli), killing him after shooting him in the foot weeks beforehand. Pesci's character was terrifying for me to watch, as I can totally envision my great-grandfather being like that.

2. American History X - The curb scene. Norton tells the black guy to bite the curb and then kicks him in the back of the head. I can't even go on here. Too shocking for me.

1. Saving Private Ryan - The opening scene shows how horrific war is. When I saw this in the movies, I was truly unprepared for it. When the deck of the first U-boat was lowered and the first 3 rows of soldiers took it in the noodle, was bad enough. However, the most disturbing thing for me during that scene was watching the soldier that had his arm blown off searching for it. After he found it, he picked it up, looked around in amazement and limped away. Yikes.

Well, there they are - JP's Top 10 Most Disturbing Movie Scenes. Sleep well folks.

Parking Lot Woes

2005-07-19T08:40:00.000-07:00

Ok, what is it with me and parking lots? Yesterday, I had to go visit a client in BF, Oregon. This meant that I was driving into the office afterward. Normally not a problem. I go to the client's house (which is about 40 miles South of here), meet with him, take some pictures and make my way back to the office. Working downtown means you pretty much park only one place after 10:00 a.m. - a parking garage.

Sounds simple enough, right? Well, not for me. I should say not for my Suburban. Yes, this is not the most parking garage-friendly vehicle in the universe. All of us that have been in a parking garage before know that the spots are slightly bigger than a Yugo, allowing for maximum monetary rapeage of the fellow consumer. So, I'm driving and find my spot, next to a concrete column (meaning that there will only potentially be 1 car that can cause damage to my vehicle instead of 2). So, I pull in there and call it good.

Fast-forward to 4:30. I have a softball game at 6:30, but I have to go all the way home, change, pick up the kids and high-tail it back to the field (which is only about 10 minutes away from my office - total opposite direction from my house). I walk my happy little ass to my vehicle to find that some total arsewipe has parked his Toyota Tacoma about 6" from my oversized vehicle. I also look behind me to find that there's another concrete post, along with 2 cars that won't allow me enough room to back out. Seriously, I was stuck. I tried everything short of "moving" the Tacoma out of my way. I pulled forward, backward, side-ward, nothing worked. All I managed to do was wedge myself in tighter and tighter. So, what could I do but wait for one of the 4 cars owners around me to come and pull out, allowing me enough wiggle room to get my vehicle un-wedged. So I wait….and wait….AND FUCKING WAIT!! The minutes are ticking off….10, 15, 20. When it gets to 30, I decide to head down to talk to the attendants to see if maybe someone could help direct me out of the spot.

As I get to the elevator, I notice some skinny little dude (and when I say little, I mean this guy is like 5'7" 135 lbs) making a beeline for the Tacoma. So, I hustle back to my rig, figuring I'll be out in the next 30 seconds. I go over to watch this guy get in his truck. Amazingly, he's so skinny that he can open the door and wriggle into his truck without touching the side of my Suburban. So, I go to the driver's side, get in and start it up…and then….proceed to wait some more. Dude got in his truck, rolled down his window and proceeded to make a phone call. You're fucking kidding me, right? A phone call? Ok, enough is enough. I roll down my passenger window (which means the guy is about 4 feet from me) and say to him "Excuse me. Um, excuse me, sir." Then something amazing happens…..the dude "shoos" me away with the wave of his hand. I mean dismisses me like I'm one of his loyal subjects or some shit like that.

Well, by this time I'd had about 10 times the normal amount of undue stress that I usually can handle, so I get out of my vehicle, wander to the front of it, so he can see me and I say "You didn't just SHOO me, did you? Please tell me you didn't just shoo me."

Well, skinny mini hangs up his phone, sizes me up and says, "If I did, I didn't mean to."

I said, "I've been here 30 minutes waiting for someone to come so I can get out of this spot, since you decided to park so damn close to me. You're lucky I didn't push it out of the way."

"That's what you get for driving such a big vehicle. And besides, I've only been away from my vehicle for 15 minutes."

Any other day and I yank this dolt out of his car and wax my hood with him. However, I'm in a hurry (really don't have time for a trip to the pokey, either). So, in my nicest tone, I say, "I don’t care how long you've been gone, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you move your car so I can get to where I need to be on time. If you need to make a phone call, how bout you just let me pull out and you pull into another spot. Thanks in advance." I also lay on my dazzling smile as a sort of a peace offering.

No further words are exchanged, dude backs out and leaves, allowing me to do the same. Fucking A.

I did make it to my game with 15 minutes to spare (which means I didn't really have time to warm up, but oh well), but I was frazzled beyond repair. I did, however, take out some of my frustrations on the ball. I went 3-4 with 2 HRs and a triple. The one out I made was a scorcher that caught the secondbaseman. Maybe I should stress before every game.

Is it too early for a drink?

Fun Things To Do

2005-07-15T09:55:00.000-07:00

1. At lunch time, sit in Your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.

2. Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice.

3. Every time someone asks you to do something, ask if they want fries with that.

4. Put your garbage can on your desk and label it "In".

5. Put decaf in the coffeemaker for 3 weeks. Once everyone has gotten over their caffeine addictions, switch to espresso.

6. In the memo field of all your checks, write "For Smuggling Diamonds"

7. Finish all your sentences with "In Accordance With The Prophecy."

8. Dont use any punctuation

9. As often as possible, skip rather than walk.

10. Order a diet water with a serious face whenever you go out to eat.

11. Specify that your drive-through order is "To Go."

12. Sing along at the Opera.

13. Go to a poetry recital and ask why the poems don't rhyme.

14. Put mosquito netting around your work area and play tropical sounds all day.

15. Five days in advance, tell your friends you can't attend their party because you're not in the mood.

16. Have your co-workers address you by your wrestling name, Rock Bottom.

17. When the money comes out of the ATM, scream "I Won! I Won!"

18. When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot, yelling "Run For Your Lives, They're Loose!!"

19. Tell your children over dinner, "Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go."

20. If you're a guy, shave your pubic hair in the shape of an "O" before you go for a physical and when you drop your drawers, ask the doctor "Does this look like a Q?" Then adjust position and say "How bout now?"

He'll Die A Lonely Man

2005-07-12T13:10:00.000-07:00

Gary Sheffield. What an idiot. He embodies everything that's wrong with sports. He and Rasheed Wallace should get together to destroy what little fan base baseball and basketball have left. Mr. Sheffield, please accept this as the official voice of the "little people" who pay money to see your unappreciative ass play ball. Take a long walk off a short pier. Congrats, New York. You're about to learn why Gary's been passed around the league more than the groupies he's slept with.

Read for yourself.

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Gary Sheffield wants nothing to do with the World Baseball Classic.

Several major league players spoke of the honor they would feel to represent their countries in baseball's first World Cup-style tournament when the groups for the event were unveiled Monday.

Sheffield was not among them.

The Yankees right fielder told reporters at the All-Star festivities in Detroit on Monday there was no chance he would participate in the event scheduled for March.

"My season is when I get paid," Sheffield told the New York Daily News. "I'm not doing that. ... I'm not sacrificing my body or taking a chance on an injury for something that's made up."

"A lot of guys feel that way. They won't say it like I will, though," he added.

Unlike Sheffield, Miguel Tejada (Dominican Republic) and Dontrelle Willis (United States) were among several players to come out in support of the tournament at press conferences Monday.

"I just hope I make the team," Willis said jokingly.

Tejada said fans back home would look forward to the event, which baseball hopes will be played a second time in 2009.

"They're going to be really excited to see all the players on one team," he said.

The 16-nation, 18-day event opens March 3 in Tokyo or Taiwan, where Group A will include Japan, South Korea, Taiwan and China.

The United States will be in Group B, which starts play March 8 along with the other groups and will be based in the United States.

Cuba, Puerto Rico, Panama and the Netherlands are in Group C, which will be in Latin America, and the Dominican Republic, Venezuela, Australia and Italy are in Group D, which will be based in Florida.

Major League Baseball has spent more than a decade discussing the tournament and hopes the event will gain in prestige, such as soccer's World Cup.

Sheffield didn't hold playing in the World Baseball Classic in the same high esteem as playing in the Olympics.

"This isn't the Olympics," he told the Daily News. "That's a big difference. This is something you made up."

The International Olympic Committee voted last week to kick baseball out of the Olympics following the 2008 Beijing Games.

Sheffield, who has been outspoken this season on other topics as well, including deferred money in his contract and the possibility of being traded, attributed some of his negative feelings about the Classic to the risk of being injured during the event -- which would take players away from their MLB teams during spring training.

"A lot of guys say, 'Give it a shot, give it a try,'" Sheffield told the Daily News. "But I don't think so."

----------------

I especially love this part - "This isn't the Olympics," he told the Daily News. "That's a big difference. This is something you made up." He can't be that stupid, right? Did he think the Olympics were preordained by the Gods? No, they're made up.

Stay at home, Mr. Sheffield. Nobody wants to see an overpaid, overhyped crybaby play for "free." They'd much rather watch those who respect the game and are thankful to play it.

Mini-Vacation

2005-07-07T07:37:00.000-07:00

I had all these plans for posts when I returned from my 3-day weekend, but they've all gone up in flames. I'm going to take the rest of the week off and return Monday with a brand spankin' new post.

Try not to miss me too much. And yes, I'm talking to the 3 of you that actually read this drivel.

Stupid Sayings Heard Around The Office

2005-06-30T08:25:00.000-07:00

As much as I love my job, working in a bigger office means having to work with all kinds of people with all kinds of personalities. There's nothing worse than having to interact with an office full of people that think they're akin to Bill Lumbergh.

Having been here for awhile now, I've figured out who I can talk with before I've had my coffee and who I cannot. Granted, there's only two or three people here that can get under my skin, but that's two or three more than I need.

Here's a list of stupid-ass sayings you'd be apt to hear around my office if you work here for any amount of time. Mind you, I'm the type of person that doesn't give or accept excuses on why something cannot be done. Get it done. It's your job. If you don't like your job, please feel free to go find a new one.

"This square peg doesn't fit in this round hole." I don't care. You make it work. If it's all that we have and we need something to be done with them, just do it and quit yer bitchin. All you're doing is wasting time

"Glass houses...rocks...you know the rest." Yes, I do know the rest. And if you say it again, we're going to find out if your head is made of glass, dumbass.

When talking about a material possession (like a car, boat, house, etc.) with some of these guys, you get the "mine's better than the one down the street because..." Why the hell does everyone think that theirs is better just because the own it?

"Did you get the memo?" You know what? If I got the fucking memo, we wouldn't be having this conversation.

There's one guy here that uses all of these sayings - "run it up a flag pole"; "pick your brain"; "get your ducks in a row"; "that's neither here nor there."
My gut reaction is to punch this dude straight in the mouth. Good thing I run it up the flag pole while picking my brain before doing so. I really need to get my ducks in a row before I go Jackie Chan on his ass. But that's neither here nor there.

In response to "how's it going?" some dolt here actually tells me every single day "You know, just another day at the salt mine." Dude, you work in a freaking law office. You are wearing a $1,200 Armani suit. I've never met anyone that worked in a salt mine, but I'm pretty sure they don't dress like you.

"It's not my cup of tea." Really? Well FUCK you and FUCK your tea!!

Some dude told me the other day "I'm busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest." I deadpanned, without even hesitating, "1993 just called. They want their joke back." He didn't get it.

"....irregardless of what you say..." Note to dumbass, irregardless IS NOT A WORD. Regardless is. Irrespective is. Irregardless is not.

Any sports metaphor is pretty tired stuff...

"Hit a home run..."
"Go all the way..."
"We're a team..."
"We need you to be an MVP..."

If you need to be motivated by sports cliches, just end it now.

As a matter of fact, if you need anything to motivate your ass, find a job you love doing. Otherwise, you're just stealing money.

If you'll excuse me now, I need to finish my cup of coffee so I can venture out of my office.

The Land of the Timeshares

2005-06-28T09:40:00.000-07:00

It's a lot like the Land of the Lost, the part where Marshall, Will, and Holly scream while going over the waterfall.

Back when I first moved to Portland, my wife signed up for a contest at a baseball game and we got a call telling us we'd won four free airline tickets. I was hoping for cash and a new long-distance plan, but no such luck.

So anyhoo, we're told we have to attend a 90-minute presentation to get the free airline tickets. I give my wife the "Let me do the talking" look, (because I'm better at thinking up movie lines) and we're seated in a makeshift auditorium inside a non-descript office park.

We're sitting there with a bunch of other nervous suckers, watching Johnny Carson take the axe to the package for the millionth time on an old "Best of Carson" video. The door flies open and a team of lively used car salesmen knock-offs in Hawaiian shirts come in and grab us, one couple at a time, leading us into a giant room full of tables. We're offered free popcorn in a 5 oz bag and a Dixie cup full of soda, both of which I politely decline. A $60.00 Target boombox is blaring pop music, which makes it difficult for me to concentrate on anything other than the Manson Family and the best way to gut a room full of salespeople with a Swiss Army knife.

Our guy is named Derek or Dean or Dudley -- I don't remember which -- and he's wearing a black Men's Warehouse suit and sporting a surfer-spiky hairdo. He's got a silver dollar-sized bald spot budding on his dome, which for some reason I find more interesting than his introductory patter.

He starts off by establishing a "personal" relationship with us. We hear about his wife who left on a vacation and never came back, his custody battle for his daughter, his job at the injun casino, his subsequent gambling problem, his bouts with depression, his mother, who took off on his father, and his old man who could never afford to take him on vacation. This has significance somehow, so I pretend to take notice.

Apparently, he and his dad spent their free time watching haircuts down at the barbershop or the bacon slicing over at the nearby Safeway. Once a year, they'd go down to the river and take Poloroids of the barge traffic. It was all very sad. My wife is a much better actress than I; she lends a solemn look of motherly concern his way. I am busy glancing around looking for the obligatory bottle of Prozac and small metal flask of cheap whiskey he's undoubtedly got hidden somewhere. It was a game to keep me from slapping him, and I was sure as hell not going to leave without finding them.

He notices my attention drifting by the fact that I'm doing a crossword puzzle and humming a Coors Light beer jingle, so he turns on my wife to establish the all-important personal rapport, a tactic that was no doubt drilled into his head during his five days of employee training.

[If anyone is getting tired, grab a pillow and sit back, go 'head and grab that second cup of coffee, I'm almost finished.]

We find out the company is called Bluegreen Vacations, that they own about 30-odd properties, and that to get our airline tickets we have to listen to his presentation. The company sells "points" that can be used at various properties at various times, which doesn't sound half-bad. We tour a makeshift model condo and he reads placards about things we can do -- horseback riding, jet skiing, mini-tobogganing, etc. Most of the properties are in Florida, and he looks puzzled when I ask if the yearly "maintenance fees" include cleaning up properties that are blown out on the Interstate during the annual hurricane season.

We finally get down to brass tacks, and the dream package of 9,000 points is available to us for only $550 a month for the next 60 months. This allows us to stay at a beautiful condo for only $150 a week. After I stop laughing, he calls over his boss, who makes the special trial package available to us for only $200 per month, plus maintenance fees, because we seem like such nice people. Ain't he just swell? He looks like he's ready to bear my children right then and there. It's all got to be done today, signed, sealed, etc., OR we can come back at a later time and pay more if we so desire.

We thank them both for the slick presentation and the free popcorn, declining repeatedly as they add more freebies to the deal. Darren or Dagwood -- whatever, grabs my leg and sits on my shoe as I make my way to the door, and pleads with us to at least give him the names of people he can call on so that he won't get in trouble with the head mounty.

So we give him the names of the biggest freakin' jerkoff neighbors we can think of and go off to collect our airline tickets. They're good anywhere in the USA as long as you stay 10 days in a hotel that costs $300 dollars-per-night.

It was my first experience with timeshare people, and after I checked my wrist to make sure my watch was still there, I drove home with my wife. I grabbed the kids, and with visions of Disney World, Aspen, and Myrtle Beach playing in my head, took them all down to the river to watch the barge traffic.

Theeeee Yankees Suck (Or Is That Jeter?)

2005-06-24T07:45:00.000-07:00

The caption for this would be:

Sheff: So, I've seen the T-Shirt and is it true that A-Rod only sucks but you swallow?
Derek: I wanna kish you.

Yes, you may have 26 World Championships but you are the owners of the biggest choke of all time. Nice job with the Devil Rays, by the way. Bwahahahahahaa.

I Ain't As Good As I Once Was

2005-06-22T08:22:00.000-07:00

That's just the cold, hard truth. I still throw a few back, talk a little smack. When I'm feeling bulletproof.

Ok, thanks to Toby Keith to writing my new anthem. Yes, this suits me to a tee. I'm nowhere near what I was in my 20's physically, mentally or emotionally.

Case in point, I remember being 23 and playing in a softball tournament in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The tournament started on a Friday night. I believe our first game was at 9:00 p.m. and it was still 96° with 90% humidity out. We played that game, 4 on Saturday in 97° weather and 3 on Sunday in the same conditions. I don't remember being tired for the 12-hour drive home. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember getting home around 2:00 a.m. Sunday night and getting up at 6:00 a.m. and going to work on Monday. Then I had a game Monday night. If I ever did that now, I'd need a minimum of a month to recover.

The thing that's frustrating to me is the fact that I can be as good as I ever was, but only for short periods of time. I wish I could put my finger on what happens to trigger these periods of short-lived youthfulness. I mean, in order for me to perform at my former youthful level, does the moon have to be held in Venus or some shit like that? Is it the exact combination of Advil, Neurontin and Vicodin? Maybe it's chasing quaaludes with beer. I'm not quite certain, but I'd be willing to sell one of my testicles to find out (hey, it's not like I use them anyhow).

Drinking like I did in my youth is a thing of the past too. I used to be able to drink enough alcohol to incapacitate an obese hippo and still go to work on 3 hours of sleep the next day. Now, if I drink enough to make a kitten slightly tipsy, I need a minimum of a day to recover. Note to you PETA freaks out there, I have never gotten either a hippo or a kitten drunk. Well, that's not entirely true. But the kitten thing was purely an accident. Let's just say I mixed up my "beer" hand with my "water" hand and leave it at that.

It's just not fair for life to throw this crap in your backseat. There should be some kind of warning for those of us that are getting older. Yes, I have gray hairs and no, I didn't consider that fair warning.

Personally, I'm waiting for the medical industry to come up with a pill to halt or even reverse the aging process. Hell, if they can invent a pill that gives a 95 year old man rock hard wood for 3 straight days, they should be able to invent something that enables me to run around like a teenager for 5 hours at a time, don't you think?

People That Need To Be Punched In The Face

2005-06-16T08:04:00.000-07:00

Vicki made the comment to me that I want to punch everyone in the face. This is not true. To show you this is not true, I have compiled a list of people that I would like to clock in the grill.

1. Anyone who goes food shopping, pays with a check, and doesn't start filling in any part of the check until the whole bill is tallied up. You knew damned well where you were shopping, what store you're in, what day it is and how to sign your name....you could've easily filled at least THOSE facts in while the cashier was ringing up your $200 grocery tab!

2. Senior citizens who insist on driving as though EVERY day is a good day for a "Sunday drive." For the love of God, drive the damned speed limit and stop hitting your brakes as you APPROACH a light or flea market or yard sale or VFW lodge!

3. Senior citizens who feel that their age or veteran status somehow makes them exempt from traffic regulations, especially in parking lots.

4. Jackasses that can't manage to use a cell phone while driving. I'm coming home last night and in the center lane of a very busy street the dickhead in front of me is going 30 mph while yakking away on his phone. Dude needed to be jacked up.

5. The lady in starbucks that is always in front of you and can't make up her mind. Lady, it's 6:30 a.m. and you're making me late for work, get a frickin' cup of coffee or get the hell out of the way.

6. Anyone driving on a HIGHWAY that insists on driving no faster than the the maximum limit in the fast lane, yet doesn't get out of the way of the cars that wish to go faster. I'd love to dot their eye.

7. Anyone who actually still pays for and/or still wants to watch Mike Tyson fight.

8. Anyone who doesn't use a turn signal.

9. Pedestrians who just mosey on across the crosswalk when they see cars are waiting.

10. Every Oregon DOT planner/worker who plans/performs road work at 5pm on a Friday afternoon.

11. Assholes who think they deserve a refund after renting a movie they thought sucked. I was at a Blockbuster last week and some guy made a scene with the girl at the counter making $7/hr because he didn't enjoy "Life Aquatic". She ended up calling upon the manager to talk to the guy, and he said something like, "We can't be held responsible for your displeasure of the movie". I would have drilled him in the teeth and called it even.

12. Any bluehair/"pilot whale in a whitetrash mother of 7 disguise" who disputes the validity of their $0.25 coupon with the cashier while the line has grown to Star Wars geek proportions.

13. Parasites, otherwise known as lazy assed bums. You know the ones that get their rent paid for by the government. They get $500 worth of food stamps, money for school, etc. All they do is sit on their ass, spit out kids and smoke crack. Jab to the nose.

14. The asshole who is in such a hurry to make it to their destination 8 minutes faster. He weaves in and out of traffic, riding everyones ass all while never using a turn signal. Congrats dickweed you made it there 8 minutes faster. Overhand left to the temple, bitch.

15. Any guy wearing those prefaded jeans that cost $90 with a pink shirt and a seashell necklace. Not to mention the gallon of dried up population paste in their hair. Rabbit punch bitch.

16. People who act all friendly to you only to start talking smack the second you walk away. Hook to the ear.

17. I'd like to give a solid right hand to the bridge of the nose to Starbucks, The Coffee People and any other chain that would actually serve the dregs of a pot of coffee that has cooked down for a half hour and is now stronger than 12 molar Hydrochloric Acid. If you work there an wouldn't drink that swill for free, why in the fuck do you think I want to pay $2 for it? Jesus, you make 570 jugs of fucking coffee per day, I think you've got a pretty good idea that the last two cups taste like you put a handful of I-84 Gresham asphalt in August into a juicer and called it a beverage. How about pouring it down the drain instead of trying to pass it off to me in the drive-thru because you know I'm on my way to work and won't turn around after I taste it.

18. The Jury in the Jackson Trial

19. Dickheads who think the world is their ashtray. Kick square in the package.

20. Those people with stick figures on their rear window that represents their family.

I mean, seriously, when you see one of these:

don't you want to crush their skull with a right hook?

Or is it just me?

This Just In

2005-06-14T08:17:00.000-07:00

Apparently, it's ok to teach kids to cheat.

A little background first, however. Over the weekend, my boys played in a Little League tournament. Actually, it wasn't a real tournament, it was just two games against teams they haven't played before. First game was scheduled for Friday night at 6. At 5:58, the skies opened up. At 6:02, the field was completely under water. Game canceled. Rescheduled for Sunday at 4. But there was a game to be played Saturday at 2.

We get to the field at 1:15, and the game before ours was rained out. They're all busy working to get the field in shape for the 2:00 game. They get it playable. I'm watching the other team warm up and thinking "Oh, we'll beat this team easily." They couldn't catch or throw. Our kids can do that. Well, we're the home team, so they come up to bat first. All of a sudden, they put 5 runs on us in the first inning. One of which was a kid who launched a bomb over Reese's head in Centerfield. Totally didn't see that coming at all.

Our kids were sleepwalking, so we went 1-2-3 in the bottom of the first. Next inning, same thing, they put 5 runs on us. 10-0 after 1 1/2 innings. We came back and scored 2 runs, thanks to Garrett's RBI double and Reese's RBI single.

The top of the third rolls around and they went 1-2-3. I was thinking that it was just the bottom of their lineup. However, they stopped hitting for the rest of the game. They were done. Not even 1 hit from the 2nd inning on. They were striking out or hitting easy ground balls back to the pitcher or first baseman. Incredible. It was the weirdest turn of events I'd ever seen. I've never seen a team that was so hot to start a game stop hitting so quickly in all my life.

Well, our kids rallied and made it close, but ended up losing 10-8. It was fun to watch them battle. They never gave up. We were pround of them.

So, Sunday morning rolls around and my wife said to me, "So, what did you think about the umpire throwing the other team's illegal bat out of the game yesterday?"

*blank stare*

"You mean you didn't know they were using a softball bat the first 2 innnings of the game?"

*blank stare, complete with blinking*

"Yeah, the umpire threw the bat out of the game in the bottom of the 2nd. He didn't tell you?"

To say I was flabbergasted is a gross understatement. Shocked isn't adequate either. No, the umpire didn't alert us to the fact that they were using an illegal bat. No fucking wonder they hit the shit out of the ball for 2 innings. A softball bat has a larger barrel and bigger sweet spot than a baseball bat, especially at their age.

Anywho, I decided to give that team the benefit of the doubt and decided that maybe the coach didn't know any better. When we got to the field Sunday, I bumped into the umpire and had a little chat with him about the incident.

Turns out that this "coach" has had that bat thrown out of no less than 3 games. He fucking KNOWS it's an illegal bat. He just doesn't care. I asked the umpire why he didn't inform us and he gave me some bullshit excuse that he thought our team would come back and win anyhow. Whatever. They were the host team. Can't have them embarrassed on their home turf. That's the real reason.

So far, my calls to the Mt. Hood Little League "headquarters" leaving messages to have this coach banned from coaching ever again has fallen on deaf ears. I mean, honestly, is it necessary to cheat in a 6-8 year old baseball game that doesn't mean dick? What's that teach the kids? That it's ok to cheat if you don't get in trouble? There's no repercussions for your actions? That's not the message I want our young people to get. I swear, if I ever see that coach, I'll fight him. Punch him dead in the face. Dumbass.

We won the game on Sunday 16-5. And you bet your sweet ass I personally checked ever one of the bats that their kids were using.

The Joys Of Working Downtown

2005-06-10T08:10:00.000-07:00

So, there I was...tied up to her bed. I had motor oil smeared all over my body. She came in with a set of jumper cables in one hand and a saddle in the other.

Ok, do I have your attention? That top paragraph is all bullshit. Anyone that knows me realizes that I'd never let anyone smear motor oil on my body. Ever. Not ever. Not even if Angelina Jolie and Elisha Cuthbert were wanting to tag-team me with it. Ok, I'm getting off track here. You people are so distracting.

We have a big trial going on here and I have been placed in charge of the computer aspect (i.e. PowerPoint presentations, legal software, getting it all to the courtroom and hooked up, etc.). Well, somehow I've also been put in charge of lugging shit back and forth from here to the courtroom and vice versa. On Wednesday, I got a call from the attorney in charge telling me to come get the TV/VCR combo that I took over to the courtroom earlier in the day. I oblige.

Now, in order to do this, I have to take our huge push cart, go down the freight elevator and head off to the courthouse, which is a block and a half away. Me and the cart make our way to the crosswalk and start to cross the street. We get halfway across when the person in front of me suddenly turns around and screams "YOU'VE BEEN FOLLOWING ME ALL DAY, BACK THE FUCK OFF!!"

Now, to say I was a little taken aback is an understatement. Not scared. Not worried. Just surprised. Then I got to looking at this "guy." It was obvious there was something amiss with him. The skirt gave it away. Yes, dude was wearing a skirt (with unshaven legs), blouse top and a jean jacket. All of which had seen better days.

What do you do in that situation? I have no idea. However, I can tell you that laughing right out loud doesn't help the situation. Neither does offering to give him a ride on the push cart. He was not amused. Not even a little bit.

Now, I really didn't intend to laugh at him, but the whole absurdity of the situation was too much for my cynical mind to take. He kept yelling incoherently at me, which caused me to laugh even harder at this guy. In order to diffuse the situation (since a crowd was gathering), I offered him a ride on the cart. Well, that did the exact opposite. Now, he was threatening to kick my ass. Guess what that did. Yep. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. As I was laughing, this guy takes an aggressive, boxing-like stance and starts hiking up his skirt. Honestly, I really couldn't stop laughing. I was trying.

At that point, I thought the best thing for me to do was to continue my trek to the courthouse. As I turned to walk away, the dude yelled at me "Come back here, you pussy!" Sadly, I didn't take the bait.

I've been wondering ever since what would have happened if I had. Ah, I probably would have gotten my ass kicked by some dude in mini-skirt. Either that or I would have gotten my ass kicked by some passer-by that thought I was beating up a hairy woman.

He's Baaaaaaaack

2005-06-08T07:55:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess I'm done with whatever affliction befell me on Saturday and Sunday. Played the last 2 nights and went 4-4 with a walk, sac, double, triple and 2 HRs. Handled 8 or 9 ground balls without an error. Had fun, which is the most important thing that was missing from my game.

On another note, I bought a new bat on Monday, but it hasn't arrived yet.

If this bat's as good as my current bat,

I'll be one happy camper come October when we win a national tournament.

It feels great to be me again when I step out on a ballfield. I think the weekend really served as a reminder that confidence can be fleeting. You have to work to keep it up. Wait, was that confidence or an erection? Hell, at my age, it's both.

Confidence

2005-06-06T11:36:00.000-07:00

Today, on a very special episode of The World According to JP, we focus on JP's dwindling self esteem. Where did it go? Will he ever get it back? What is that smell? Stay tuned. No, really, what IS that smell?

Of all the people that know me, I don't think anyone would ever classify me as not being confident. Actually, those that know me would call me very confident. Not over confident. Not arrogant. Not conceited. Not far from any of those, but I'm usually a very confident person. Further, if there's one place I'm more confident than anywhere, it's the softball diamond. I've never been intimidated on a ball field. As a matter of fact, in most circumstances I honestly believe that I'm the best player on the field. However, my streak of confidence was shattered this weekend, and I can't put my finger on why that is.

The tournament started out like it always does. We won the first two games pretty handily and I was doing my thing, both offensively and defensively. No errors, a couple spectacular plays and was 6-7 at the plate with 4 home runs. Maybe slightly above average for me. I was even doing my thing in the third game, until the 4th inning. Then, out of nowhere, the wheels not only fell off, but high-tailed it for the border without me.

It was a routine play. One I've made a million times. One I've made sober, drunk, asleep, eyes at half mast, while ogling half-nekkid strippers, etc. I mean a routine fucking ground ball. One that I didn't have to move for. A fucking one hopper that I gloved flawlessly and promptly threw about 10' wide of first base. Not even close. Ok, now I've made errors before. As a matter of fact, I probably make one or two a tournament but never, EVER, on a ground ball like that. The next guy came up and hit me another routine ground ball, which I promptly kicked into left field. WHAT THE FUCK?!? The other team proceeded to score 8 runs that inning, taking the lead. The next inning, same thing, routine ground ball, JP picks it up and promptly fires it wide of first. Ground ball to 2nd baseman, he flips it to JP for one out, and JP promptly fires the ball 10' wide of first again. Ok, now this is 4 errors in a row. It's seriously fucking with my head. We manage to get out of the inning with minimal damage. I'm up 4th this inning. First girl walks, next guy gets a hit, next girl walks, bringing me to the plate with bases loaded and nobody out. A fly ball is all I really need in this situation, although there's no outs, so I can try to hit a line drive. Well, the first pitch is my pitch, out over the plate and about cock high. I normally absolutely t-off on that ball. I took my swing and promptly popped it up to the 3rd baseman. No runs score. We manage 1 run out of all that. Ok, now not only am I giving the other team runs left and right, but I'm not driving in any either? Confidence gone. Just like that. Pop goes the weasel.

We lost that game thanks to me. I had no more hits and managed another error in the 7th inning. We had no business losing to that team ever, they sucked. The 4th and 5th games of the day were pretty much the same. If you hit it to me, you were pretty much on base. I think I made 9 errors in a row at one point. I have never been on a field praying that the ball wasn't hit to me, until Saturday. At least we battled through and won those games. My hitting went due south as well. After starting 6-7, I went 5-11, ending up at 11-18 for Saturday. Not good. Not good at all.

Yesterday was a little better, I only made 1 error in 2 games, but my hitting was still all jacked up. I went 2-7 in the 2 games, with no HRs. They were both singles. We won the tournament, but it cost me my confidence for the time being. I tried everything, getting down on myself, remaining upbeat, cracking jokes, isolation, a quick hand job in the bathroom (ok, not really but would have considered it), and nothing worked. Nothing at all.

I have another game tonight (assuming it doesn't rain). Am I washed up at 36? Can I still play? Who the hell knows, because, at this point, it sure as shit isn't me.

Screwing Mom? Yes. Hurting Mom? No. This Time

2005-06-01T08:15:00.000-07:00

I really hate to post two news stories in a row, but this is just too good to pass up.

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Official: Son Mistakes Parents' Sex For Domestic Abuse Boy, 16, Charged With Assault With Deadly Weapon

HOUSTON -- A 16-year-old boy was charged with shooting his father in their southwest Harris County home Friday, Local 2 reported. The shooting was originally reported as a case of domestic abuse, but deputies said the boy apparently witnessed a sexual act between his parents and thought the father was abusing the mother.

Sheriff's deputies charged the boy with aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, a first-degree felony.

Detectives told Local 2 the mother and father were engaged in consensual sex when the shooting occurred at about 3:30 a.m. inside the family's home on Mira Monte near Corta.

Investigators said the couple's 11-year-old son woke up to his mother making loud noises.

"During the course of love making, the wife was evidently being somewhat loud … loud enough to where it woke the children up," Harris County Sheriff's Department Sgt. Mike Smith told Local 2.

The boy woke his brother, who then walked into his parent's bedroom and told his father, 43-year-old Jacob Hughes, to leave his mother alone.

Officials said that is when the teen shot his father in the arm.

Detectives originally told Local 2 that the son said he fired the gun as a way of defending his mother during an argument he thought she was having with his father.

"The children interpreted the noise as their mother being in danger," Smith said. "The 11-year-old went into the room, forcibly went into the room, to protect his mother. (The child) observed his parents making love and got the 16-year-old. The 16-year-old came back in and fired the shot."

After investigating previous problems at the home, officials said there have been previous reports of abuse in the family and that father had been charged and convicted of domestic violence.

Officials said the children feared their mother was being hurt due to their father's previous convictions for abuse and that is the reason the oldest son shot his father.

Authorities said they have not determined whether the mother was screaming for help.

"That is a very important question. I can see why you are asking that. We are trying to work that out right now. We are trying to decide if it was a passionate scream or was it a cry for help," Smith said.

Hughes was transported to a hospital to be treated for his injuries. He was released late Friday morning.

Officials said the couple has been married for 20 years.

-----------

First of all, shouldn't a 16 year old kid know what sex is? Isn't the pervert gene installed into the male brain (or somewhere in the vicinity) in the womb? When I was 16, not only did I know what sex was, I couldn't get that shit out of my head. If the average teenage boy thinks about sex once every 35 seconds, I'd say I was way above average back then.

The second thing that bothers me is that the kid gave his old man a warning to cease and desist. I know you're getting your swerve on, but I think your kid holding a gun to your grill takes precedence over getting a nut. But that's just me.

Also, the dad has prior convictions for abusing the mother. Now, I can see how the kids would be a little fearful, but why didn't the mother speak up "yea or nay" like? Seriously. I mean, I know it would be hard not to notice my two boys standing in my bedroom (especially if they entered "forcibly" for God's sake)if I was in the act with their mom (or anyone else for that matter - make that ESPECIALLY anyone else). Mom and dad couldn't have been so into it that they failed to recognize the two rather large spectators in their room, could they?

I guess, all in all, daddy's lucky all he took was a slug to the arm. It could have been a lot worse. And let this be a lesson to all you loud screwers out there - if your kids wake up, stop (or at least think to lock the door and put the "do not disturb" sign on the doorknob). I don't see how you can keep pounding away with them watching anyhow.

And believe me, my two boys will know what sex is come their teenage years. I'll just do for them what my mom did for me - buy them porn. I'll be the coolest dad EVER!!

No Need For Personal Responsibility

2005-05-26T08:55:00.000-07:00

Apparently, the United States isn't the only place that aids and abets childish stupidity. This story comes straight from The Sun, a British rag. I'm going to do a running commentary along with the story.

--------
SISTERS Jemma, Natasha and Jade Williams proudly pose with their tots after getting pregnant aged 12, 16 and 14. The three girls and their children share a council home in Derby with their twice-divorced mum Julie, 38.

Sorry, I couldn't lift the pictures off the site. Let's just say that the girls all look very young and the mom looks 58.

None of the toddlers' dads is supporting their children so the Williams family rakes in £31,000-a-year benefits. Moaning mum Julie last night insisted their school was to blame for them getting pregnant. Grandma Julie said teachers had failed her girls by not explaining about the perils of sex early enough.

She added: People are saying I'm a bad mum for letting this happen but I blame the schools' sex education for young girls should be better. I do feel responsible, because they're my children. But I do think sex education should be started earlier.
Times have changed since I was young. Girls are becoming sexually active in their early teens. They don't realise how hard bringing up a child is.

Yeah you stupid bitch, it's the school system's fault for not teaching your girls to leave their clothes on and their legs crossed. Shit like that shouldn't be taught in the home. Hell, while you're at it, let's blame Canada too. Maybe you should have told them that it's not ok to fuck every boy they meet. However, personal responsibility is highly overrated.

Julie, who had her first child at 20, said she was stunned when she learned Jemma was expecting at 12. She added: I was so shocked. She didn't tell me for seven months because she thought I'd hit the roof. I only found out when I took her to buy a new bra and as she was being measured I saw her huge bump.

I see the powers of observation are strong in you, mum. Seven fucking months? Did you think she was just putting on weight and that her tits were getting bigger?

Just weeks later she discovered Jade, then aged 14, and 16-year-old Natasha were also expecting. Natasha had previously had two miscarriages and an abortion.

Natasha needs to be neutered if she can't keep her legs from wrapping around every man she sees. Horny much?

Julie said: It still doesn't seem possible. They are still little girls and now they have babies of their own. But I don't care what people say. I love my kids and I'm here to help them. If I could turn back the clock, I would prefer them not to have children. Their education is so important.

You mean the education system that you blame for knocking up your girls in the first place? Make up your fucking mind.

Julie also insisted the £600 a week she and the girls get in benefits is not nearly enough to care for the tots. She said: It's a real struggle to survive on what we get. The average shopping bill is about £90 a week and then there's all the extra stuff like toys, nappies and medicine.

Newsflash, dumbass - it takes MONEY to raise children. If you aren't going to make your children do something to mitigate the monthly damage, you may want to think about getting a job yourself.

Julie, who shares a three-bedroom council house in Derby with her three daughters and their children, added: This house is far too small. I have to share a bedroom with Natasha and her baby. It's very cramped. Hopefully we may be able to get a bigger house, but who knows?

Wow. Kids take up room? I had no Earthly idea. Someone hit this lady in the head with a hammer please.

Jemma, now 14, gave birth to son T-Jay in February last year. Natasha had little Amani in November and Jade gave birth to daughter Lita in December.

Ok, Lita's an ok name, but T-Jay and Amani? What were D-Money and Gucci already taken?

The sisters get nothing from the fathers of their babies - relying on a string of state handouts instead.

Where are the fathers' parents? These guys should be given a choice - either man up and take responsibility or have your nuts chopped off so you're not reproducing again. Would ANYONE be against that?

Julie gets £250 a week, made up of £57 in income support, £51 in family allowance and the rest in tax credits.

Natasha, who is now 18, gets £120 a week in family tax credits. Neither of her sisters receives anything directly.

But no one in the family pays rent or council tax and they receive free nursery care taking their total benefits to more than £31,000 a year.

Ok, I don't pretend to know how much a £ is, but if you're not paying rent and you're getting government handouts, shouldn't it be pretty easy to make ends meet? What the fuck?

Both Jemma and Jade are still at school. Jade, now 15, is about to take four GCSEs. Jemma told last night how Jade introduced her to the lad who became T-Jay's father. She said: I didn't tell anyone I was pregnant because I was too scared. I only told my boyfriend David, who was 14 at the time, but I didn't want to have an abortion. He was my first love but now I'm gutted because he doesn't want to have anything to do with me or T-Jay. He was great to start with but he's got a new girlfriend.

Let this be a lesson to all the teenage girls out there. Boys will tell you anything to get in your panties. If they really love you, they'll wait. They're they horniest creatures on Earth. They have all these hormones raging through their bodies. They will fuck anything that moves. They don't love you. Furthermore, David will never be a father. He's a sperm donor. His dick should meet the end of a blunt instrument. Heaven forbid one of my kids should knock someone up, they'll be working all the damn time to provide for it. But that's just me and my antiquated personal responsibility views talking.

Jade said she became pregnant with Lita after a one-night stand. She said: It was just one of those things really. I wasn't using contraception and I suppose I just thought it wouldn't happen to me. I didn't tell anyone for ages as I initially wanted an abortion, but I couldn't go through with it. Her dad knows about her but doesn't want to have anything to do with her and doesn't contribute anything. We've put the Child Support Agency on to him. But we don't need their dads as we give them all the love and support they need. Jade hopes to go on to sixth form and eventually to get a job involving computers.

At least someone's thinking ahead here. Also, I didn't know 14 year olds had one night stands. Where the hell were these 14 year olds when I was a 14 year old looking to screw anything that moved? The best I could do was my tube socks.

Natasha is still with Amani's dad, who she describes as a 38-year-old gambler. She added: He comes to see her from time to time. But he's Asian and still lives with his parents and they don't know about me or Amani.

HOLY SHIT!!! Natasha's 16 and is with a 38 year old Asian gambler that still lives with his parents? This just keeps getting better. I'll lay you 100-1 odds that Amani grows up to be a non-productive member of society, sponging off the system just like mommy and daddy. Add to the fact that she's 16 and a 38 year old dude is boning her...where the fuck are the police in Britain that don't carry guns? Where the fuck is her mother telling this POS pedophile to leave her little girl alone? And they say we're fucked up here in the States.

Hopefully I'm going to get a house of my own. I'm on the council waiting list.

Good for you, honey. Just keep taking handouts as long as you can. I'm sure you can manage to live off the system for another 70 years until you die. What the fuck is wrong with people nowadays?

Holy shit. Where's the Tylenol?

Strip Club Horror Stories

2005-05-24T08:41:00.000-07:00

Yes, I realize this post will be a little raw, but we make no apologies here at The World According to JP. Besides, it's nowhere near as graphic as Deadwood on HBO (which, if you haven't seen, stop what you're doing and go rent the first season IMMEDIATELY!!).

First. Rock Hill, SC...circa 1989...a strip club called "Emerson's." The strippers were kinda fat, loose, and sweaty. One of 'em was even pregnant and showing. (Her man had apparently neglected to blast her in the gut so she could get back to pulling down the scratch.) We were busting on preggie a little because the idea of fucking some kid's eye socket is pretty gross...still...her tits were huge. She was whoring around us for a few bills, but none of us were about to waste any on her stretched-out flab. Thus, she was getting kinda pissed at our table. Anyway, I was getting pretty drunk, but had another couple minis of Beam in my buddy's car. So I went outside to get 'em, and while rooting around on the floorboard, I found a roll of duct tape. I'm kind of a jackass, and I got a jackass idea, so I grabbed the duct tape, put it in my coat, and went back inside. The talent cycle revolves around again, and before you know it, the sow is back up on the stage jiggling around and bouncing her unborn's head on her thong. She gets a bill from some old blind fuck, then hits the floor to spread 'em for our table and beg some cash. Fucking nasty...I could tell she was having a girl. None of us budged (thankfully, no one puked). She gets up in a huff and moves to the other side of the stage. Plan in action. I ripped off a piece of duct tape, pushed a quarter on it, cupped it in my hand, and headed to the stage with one hand behind my back. She sees me, smiles, and dances over. She's getting ready to pull her thong out so I can slide what she thinks is a dollar bill in between the sweaty polyester and her hamhock. Instead, I motion for and ask her to turn around. She smiles and obliges, bending over a little and shimmying her big ol' ass in my face. I wound up like Nolan Ryan and smacked that duct taped quarter right on her fat ass cheek. She yelped, shoved me, and peeled the tape (which peeled some reddish hair) off her ass. A couple of good old boys took me outside and beat the shit out of me, but not too bad. I coulda sworn I heard Three Dog Night on the way to the parking lot. This was before Rob Zombie took over the sound system of every strip club in the country.

Second. Orlando, FL...circa 1994...a strip club called "Baby Doll's." The strippers are hot O-town hardbodies with perfectly round tits and sweet, seemingly steaming pussies like warm cornbread right from the oven. Drinks are pretty pricey, but the talent is so nice that I don't care. I've got my eye on this scorchingly hot blonde skank - the kind with a body that looks so tight and fuckable that you just ache to treat her like shit. I watch her dance, and decide that a table dance is worth it. She heads off the stage, and is followed by a fairly hot Middle Eastern-looking-chick. They start making the rounds, and I see they are heading my way, but the fucking blonde cuts left instead of right around a chair, and ends up on the other side of my table, where one of my buddies instantly gulps "yes" and forks over some cash when asked if he wants a dance. I stare over at him, my wood already subsiding, thinking I'm fucking next on that shit... Suddenly, a hand turns my chin to look up. It's the Middle-Eastern chick asking if I want a dance. Since I'm sporting a semi with a twenty in my hand, it's pretty hard to say no...besides she's got a nice body. She starts talking while waiting for the next song to start up, and she's got this annoying fucking accent. Turns out she's Iranian and from Texas. What the fuck ever...fine by me because she's kinda gropey. She's patting my thigh and brushing against my now full-on stiffie. I'm fine. Song starts...some White Zombie remix. She gets up and starts into the routine...massaging the knobs...squeezing 'em together...off comes the top, etc. Now, we're getting to the part where she's showing off her nice ass, and putting a foot on my chair so she can angle her love hole a little closer to my face. Very cool...but wait...then I notice it...the unmistakable stench of rotting crab meat. HOLY SHIT. Where is that fucking smell coming from? Is that from...her...pussy? She dances away, and the putrid air fades a little. She turns her ass to me, and bends over to smile at me from between her ankles (a fucking stupid stripper move, by the way...). Naturally, I ignore her face and stare right at her gash, which I cannot help but notice looks like a handful of earthworms are trying to get out of her thong. FUCK. This lady's junk is nasty. She spins around and comes in for another cunt swoop...and her comes the smell. Dude. I can't take it...my eyes are starting to water. But she keeps getting closer. Her cunt cheese is now only a few inches from my face so I start leaning backwards AWAY from it. I'm about to pass out. She leans further in and I think I see some kind of mealyworm. I lean back even further, and my chair is about to go over. She notices, stands back a foot, puts her hands on her hips, and says in a Texan drawl, "Go on honey, it won't bite you..." And like a dumbfuck, I reply,"No, but the smell is about to kill me..." She slaps my face, dumps my drink on my head, and heads straight over to the bouncers. They come get me, escort me outside, and slap me around a little, but not too bad. I took a cab to Thee Doll House and kept drinking.

I guess the morals of these stories from my point of view are as follows:
1 - Don't slap duct tape on a stripper's ass, not even a fat one.
2 - Don't tell a stripper that her pussy smells like rotten crab or looks like worms.

The Revenge Of The What?

2005-05-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

Ok, I have to say that one thing that really, really, REALLY bugs me is when members of society obsess over something. What’s the latest obsession, you ask? It’s this

Yes, the Revenge of the Sith. It cracks me the hell up to watch news report, after news report, after fucking news report interview people that have been waiting in line for this movie since like January. Don’t these people have jobs? Honestly. How does one make a decision to give up a month or two of their lives to wait in a fucking movie line. Did someone not give these people all the information that they needed to make an informed decision? Like the fact that this movie is coming out FOREVER. No, it’s not a limited engagement. They’re not going to put a moratorium on it after the first week. It will be out from now until you die. After it gets done playing in the movie theaters, it’ll come out on DVD and you can watch it again and again.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Star Wars. I’m more partial to the three episodes I saw as a kid, but it’s one of the last of a dying breed – the epic saga. Think about it, what epic sagas are left? There’s basically Harry Potter (which I don’t know if you’d consider epic), The Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. I’ve never seen LOTR, but I’ve heard enough good things about it to have a vague interest. It’s just who has three fucking hours to sit down and watch a movie (I mean besides the crazies that spend months in line to see a movie that they’d be able to see anytime from now until the end of time)? Of the three left, Star Wars has to be the biggest, wouldn’t you say? It’s made billions upon billions of dollars, not only in movie sales, but in merchandising as well. It’s a huge brand name. I know that anything that has the Star Wars logo, picture or characters on it is automatically wanted by my kids. Actually, they bug the shit out of me over this, which is fine. They bug the shit out of me over a lot of stuff they see on TV.

The upshot is this, if you’re able to take a couple months of your life and stand in line waiting for a movie (most of the time in full Darth Maul garb), you should re-evaluate your life choices. Rest assured that when you are interviewed on TV looking like a Stormtrooper in a hockey mask, I am sitting at home pointing at the television and laughing my ass off at you.

It's A Sad Bat-Day

2005-05-19T09:10:00.000-07:00

'The Riddler' Frank Gorshin Dies at 72

BURBANK, Calif. - Frank Gorshin, the impressionist with 100 faces best known for his Emmy-nominated role as the Riddler on the "Batman" TV series, has died. He was 72.

Gorshin's wife of 48 years, Christina, was at his side when he died Tuesday at Providence Saint Joseph Medical Center, his agent and longtime friend, Fred Wostbrock, said Wednesday.

"He put up a valiant fight with lung cancer, emphysema and pneumonia," Mrs. Gorshin said in a statement.

Despite dozens of TV and movie credits, Gorshin will be forever remembered for his role as the Riddler, Adam West's villainous foil in the question mark-pocked green suit and bowler hat on "Batman" from 1966 to '69.

"It really was a catalyst for me," Gorshin recalled in a 2002 Associated Press interview. "I was nobody. I had done some guest shots here and there. But after I did that, I became a headliner in Vegas, so I can't put it down."

West said the death of his longtime friend was a big loss.

"Frank will be missed," West said in a statement. "He was a friend and fascinating character."

Gorshin earned another Emmy nomination for one for a guest shot on "Star Trek," a 1969 episode called "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield."

In 2002, Gorshin portrayed George Burns on Broadway in the one-man show "Say Goodnight Gracie." He used only a little makeup and no prosthetics.

"I don't know how to explain it. It just comes," he said. "I wish I could say, `This is step A, B and C.' But I can't do that. I do it, you know. The ironic thing is I've done impressions all my life I never did George Burns."

Gorshin's final performance will be broadcast on Thursday's CBS series "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation."

Born in Pittsburgh, Gorshin broke into show business in New York. He did more than 40 impressions, including Al Jolson, Kirk Douglas, Bobby Darin, Dean Martin and James Cagney.

Later, he took his impressions to "The Ed Sullivan Show" on a memorable evening the same night the Beatles were featured. He did impressions in Las Vegas showrooms, opening for Darin and paving the way for other impressionists like Rich Little.

Sammy Davis Jr. said it was Gorshin who taught him to do impressions, Wostbrock said.

"He said you had to look like them and walk like them. Once you get that down, the voice comes easy," he said.

Gorshin's movie roles included "Bells are Ringing" (1960) with his idol Dean Martin and a batch of fun B-movies such as "Hot Rod Girl" (1956), "Dragstrip Girl" (1957) and "Invasion of the Saucer Men" (1957).

"He was fun, fascinating, wild and always a class act," Wostbrock said. "Here's a guy who always wore great clothes, stood up when a woman walked into the room he was a gentleman. We did all our deals with a handshake. There was never a signed contract."

His other TV credits included roles on "General Hospital, "The Edge of Night" and "The Munsters" as well as guest appearances on "Donny & Marie," "The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson," "Late Night with Conan O'Brien," "Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman," "Murder, She Wrote," "The Fall Guy," "Buck Rogers in the 25th Century," "Wonder Woman," "Charlie's Angels" and "Police Woman."

Besides his wife, Gorshin leaves his son Mitchell Gorshin of Orlando, Fla., and sister Dottie Roland of Pittsburgh.

Wostbrock said the funeral would be private and Gorshin would be buried in the family plot in Pittsburgh.

-----------------------------

I don't know how many of you used to watch the old, campy Batman show on TV, but I was a certified Batman freak when I was a young boy (and I refuse to discuss the time when, as a teenager, I was watching a soft core porn flick and saw Adam West (the ORIGINAL Batman) screwing some ugly chick. I refuse to discuss it because it didn't happen dammit). Now that I'm in my mid-30's, it seems that all the villains are dying off, proof positive that, as Batman always said, crime doesn't pay. Here's a list of all of the villains throughout the years and whether they're alive or dead. There's only a few left. RIP Riddler.

The Archer - Art Carney (dead)
The Black Widow - Tallulah Bankhead (dead)
The Bookworm - Roddy McDowall (dead)
If you were either Catwoman, it looks like you picked a great role.
Catwoman I - Julie Newmar (alive)
Catwoman II - Eartha Kitt (alive)
Chandell - Liberace (dead)
The Clock King - Walter Slezak (dead)
Colonel Gumm - Roger Carmel (dead)
Dr. Cassandra - Ida Lupino (dead)
Egghead - Vincent Price (dead)
False Face - Malachi Throne (alive)
The Joker - Caesar Romero (dead)
King Tut - Victor Buono (dead)
Louie the Lilac - Milton Berle (dead)
Lord Fogg - Rudy Vallee (dead)
Ma Parker - Shelly Winters (alive)
Marsha Queen of Diamonds - Carolyn Jones (dead)
Mad Hatter - David Wayne (dead)
The Minstrel - Van Johnson (dead)
Minerva - Zsa Zsa Gabor (alive)
Mr. Freeze I - George Sanders (dead)
Mr. Freeze II - Otto Preminger (dead)
Mr. Freeze III - Eli Wallach (alive)
Nora Clavicle - Barbara Rush (alive)
Olga Queen of the Cossacks - Anne Baxter (dead)
The Penguin - Burgess Meredith (dead)
The Puzzler - Maurice Evans (dead)
The Riddler I - Frank Gorshin (dead)
The Riddler II - John Astin (alive)
The Sandman - Michael Rennie (dead)
Shame - Cliff Robertson (alive)
The Siren - Joan Collins (alive)
Zelda the Great - Anne Baxter (dead)
The Webmaster - David Sutton (dead)

There you have it, 34 villains with 24 of them gone to the Bat Cave in the sky. That's a 71% mortality rate, if you were a villain. It sucks to get old, but I've come to realize it's better than the alternative.

Sorry for the gargantuan post, but I thought The Riddler deserved it.

Monday Morning Quickie

2005-05-16T07:59:00.000-07:00

Hopefully, this will be as good for you as it is for me. And if not, I don't care. I got mine. Get yours.

I totally wouldn't be surprised if sometime in the near future we all found out that Starbucks laces their drinks with crack. Actually, it would explain a lot; like my 3:00 everyday habit and the urge I have to whore myself out in order to afford it.

You know you need to get laid when you walk by the Victoria's Secret store and say out loud to nobody in particular, "Wow, those manniquins are HOT!" It's amazing how quickly people around you disburse.

You know you're getting old when you're walking around the mall and see a mother-daughter tandem shopping and think to yourself, "Oooh, mommy's sexy as hell...and she puts out!" and never give the daughter a second glance.

I've been studying people for almost 15 years now, just observing them, and I've come to the conclusion that there is no way to look cool when you're smoking a cigarette. None at all.

I hope you all had a great weekend and have a great week as well.

1 Year Ago Today

2005-05-12T07:36:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's been a year already. A wild, crazy year to say the least. Happy anniversary to The World According to JP.

Why I Worry As A Parent

2005-05-11T08:15:00.000-07:00

I've been told so many times that my little Reesey Monster is exactly like I was as a kid. Let's hope that he doesn't do the dumb shit I did when I was growing up. I mean, look at this stupid shit...

I tossed what I thought was an empty propane cylinder into a camp fire. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!! + shrapnel. Luckily, only some tents were damaged.

A buddy and I started throwing darts at each other. I threw one at his head, he ducked, but the dart struck the bottom of a can of red spray paint, causing it to explode, this time sending shrapnel into his scalp.

I climbed a tree to try to lower a hornets nest down to a friend, who was waiting below with a Rubbermaid trash can and lid. I slipped, shook the fuck out of the hornets nest, causing them to attack him and me. I fell out of the tree while getting stung, repeatedly.

A few friends and I built a cool pill-box type underground fort at a construction site using some old scraps of wood and realty signs as roof planks. It caved in on us, nearly killing us. Thank god a beer truck driver saw it happen and came over and dug us out.

The year I lived on Cape Cod, my friends and I used to hide in the bushes during the winter and chuck snowballs at passing cars. It was all fun and games until I threw one in the darkness and nailed a State Trooper in the side of the head. Seems he rolled his window down to spit out of it. Dude chased us for a good mile. I managed to run eye-first into a tree branch, scratching the shit out of my cornea. It was much fun to be called "one eye" and "patch" for the next month by the kids at my school.

I jumped off the peak of my grandparent's two story home holding a golf umbrella, which promptly turned inside out. Causing me to fall, hard, into some shrubs. Fuck Mary Poppins.

I once tried to "surf" on a moving VW Beetle. Fell off and rolled into a ditch.

On a drunken dare, I did a backflip off the side of a speed boat that was doing about 45-50 mph. I thought I broke my fucking neck at the moment of impact, but it only turned out to be a very bad case of whiplash.

I climbed on top of some giant ass boulders the State had just dumped off a cliff to for the purpose of shoring up a river bank. I planned to fish off one, when the entire goddamned bank came loose, boulders and all, dumping me and all my shit into the water. Luckily I didn't get pinned or anything.

No, this isn't the complete list, but it is a collection of the dumbest things I've done. Let's hope that both my boys got their sense from someone else. It's also the reason why I plan to keep these guys busy all the time. Idle hands are truly the Devil's workshop.

Jenn, You Suck!!!

2005-05-03T07:48:00.000-07:00

Dammit, what the hell? Tag me? Fuck.

The object of this exercise is simple. Pick five from the list and complete the phrase. Feel free to add additional occupations after you've done yours. Pass it on to others.

The List

If I could be a scientist
If I could be a farmer
If I could be a musician
If I could be a doctor
If I could be a painter
If I could be a gardener
If I could be a missionary
If I could be a chef
If I could be an architect
If I could be a linguist
If I could be a librarian
If I could be an athlete
If I could be a lawyer
If I could be an innkeeper
If I could be a professor
If I could be a writer
If I could be a llama-rider(by Ogre)
If I could be a bonnie pirate(By Teach)
If I could be a servicemember(By Jeremy)
If I could be a business owner(By Blue 944)
If I could be an actor(By Blue 944)
If I could be an agent(By KelBel)
If I could be video game designer(By KelBel)
If I could be a comic book artist(By Stoli)
If I could be a hooker(By Pollo Loco)
If I could be a crack addict(by Elizabeth)
If I could be a porn star(by Elizabeth)
If I could be a mime(by Garrison)
If I could be a domestic engineer(by Rick)
If I could be a chimney sweep(by laine)
If I could be a masseuse(by laine)
If I could be a taxi driver(by Brian)
If I could be a priest(by Brian)
If I could be the Sherrif Of Nottingham(Karen)
If I could be a dancer(Karen)
If I could be Santa Claus(Karen)
If I could be on a reality TV show(Dawn)
If I could be a magician(Dawn)

1. If I could be a missionary, I'd give whole new meaning to the term "missionary position."

2. If I could be a masseuse, all my female clients would get a happy ending at no extra charge.

3. If I could be an architect, I'd change my name to Art Vandelay. The name of my company would be Vandelay Industries.

4. If I could be a porn star, unlike Jenn, I would need an implant.

5. If I could be a lawyer, I'd sue Jenn for tagging me. Assault with a deadly weapon should stick.

I'm going to tag Vicki. That's all.

No Post For A Couple Days

2005-04-25T14:45:00.000-07:00

Sorry, but I played in a softball tourney yesterday (which we won), but am recouperating. I collided with our right center fielder and limped away with a bruised ribcage. Also, I took a line drive in the palm of my glove hand and it's turned a pretty purple color. It hurts to type. Since I type quite a bit for my job, I don't want to exacerbate the condition any more than I have to.

Hopefully, I'll be on my way to recovering by Wednesday or Thursday.

Day 1 - Yak-O-Rama

2005-04-22T08:54:00.000-07:00

The day finally arrived. All the anticipation, all the planning, all the scrimping and saving was all for April 9-17. It's been four years since we've all taken a vacation together like this.

Our flight was at 10:55 a.m. from Portland International Airport. Our first leg was from Portland to Denver. Let me say that Frontier Airlines does a pretty nice job. First of all, you have your own personal TV in the headrest of the seat in front of you. Costs $5 per TV, per leg, but they have Direct TV, so at least you have a choice of 30-some odd channels. You also have your choice of three mainstream movies at $5 each. Better than going to the theater. The only drawback to Frontier is that their planes, although they're new, are extremely small. We're talking 20 rows of seats. What this means is that they bounce around in the air with the slightest bit of turbulence. Everything was going along swimmingly UNTIL we made our descent into Denver. We started bouncing around like stripper with a set of DDs on a trampoline. Garrett was totally freaking out. My stepdad, who was sitting in between both boys, was being real attentive to Garrett to make sure he didn't have a heart attack. The problem was that nobody was paying attention to Reesey (who wasn't freaking out, but wasn't saying anything either). I looked over at Reese just in time to see him hork up all three bags of Fritos he just ate into his lap. Just fucking great. Here we had both boys looking very nice this morning and my little Mozilla is now bespeckled in corn chips. We didn't pack a change of clothes either. We land without further incident. We have a 45 minute layover and our gate turns out to be right next door to the one we landed at. I leave Kim, the boys and my mom at the gate (with Reesey draped in my stepdad's pull-over jacket, sans pants) and go literally running down the corridor in search of pants for him. I'll cut to the chase and say that there were no kids pants anywhere. As a last ditch effort, I ran into a news shop right by our gate. Turns out they have kids clothes, but only up to size 4T. I bought Reese a sweatsuit and when we put it on him, it looked like he was wearing his little brother's clothes. Oh well. What are you gonna do? I mean, so what if my kid now looks like he should be riding the short bus? We take off from Denver (just in the nick of time, I might add - a freak snowstorm hit a couple hours after we left and they shut the airport down for the rest of the day) and land in Orlando without further incident.

After retrieving our luggage and standing in the world's longest rental car line, we load up and head off to the Shades of Green Hotel at Walt Disney World. We arrive at 10:00 p.m., just in time to see the fireworks go off over Cinderella's Castle. Very cool stuff. That's one thing I love about Disney, everyday is magical for the people that are there. Even though it's the same stuff day after day, it's new for those arriving, and it's special. We get checked into our room and are all STARVING. Off to the hotel sports bar for wings and beer at 11:00 p.m. We meet up with my dad, his girlfriend, and my brother. We have a great time. Dad even pays. I love it when they feel obligated. Then it's off to bed.

All in all, our first day was a solid C. Highs and lows all around, but in the end everyone was happy to finally be on vacation.

Monday - "Tired But Happy At Magic Kingdom"

The Top 10 Things I Learned on Vacation

2005-04-19T08:21:00.000-07:00

Hello all. I hope everyone out there in blogland is doing well. I'd say it's great to be back but, you know. On to the list...

10. If you are on a turbulent airplane, Reesey will spew like a can of beer after about 15 minutes of bumping around.
9. There are no clothing stores in the Denver airport.
8. Getting to Disney at 10:00 p.m. is great because the nightly firework show is just starting.
7. If you're on a cruise and the boat is rocking to and 'fro, Reesey wil spew like a can of beer after about 2 hours of swaying back and forth.
6. Coco Cay is absolutely beautiful. See for yourself.

5. Whereas Atlantis is very nice, Nassau sucks.
4. If you put more than three of my family members in the same room, nobody can make a decision.
3. If Reesey would have went on Space Mountain, I bet he would have spewed like a can of beer.
2. The weather in Florida this time of the year is absolutely perfect.
1. You will spend about three times more than you budgeted on a trip like this (which is the ONLY reason I'm back at work and not sipping a Mojito in the Bahamas again this week).

There you have it. I will do a trip recap starting tomorrow. It really was a fun time. Hell, it was even great to see my family.

Brittany Is Pregnant....

2005-04-13T06:45:00.000-07:00

Now, there's a shocker. Shocking!! A bun in the oven! Ms. Spears... Mrs. Federline. GREAT! As if having to hear ad nauseum how Michael Jackson fits the profile of a pedophile, now we're going to have to hear forever about Brittany's Growing Bump and how Brittany Got Fit following birth... blah, blah, blah.

I look at how young she is, 23 for cripes sake. That's young peeps. I'm 34 and looking to get with making more babies. I was 25 when my first was born and you know what? I was too young! No one should have a child before the age of 30. It just shouldn't be allowed.

Brittany, Brittany, Brittany, why are you in such a rush to widen your hips and your shoulders? Why are you in such a rush to take on such responsibility. Do peeps like you really have responsibilities? Do you really get up in the middle of the night? Do your babies throw up on you and have food allergies?

What's the rush?

I guess when you've done as much as she has in such a short period of time... maybe a simpler life is what she wants, while the rest of us want fame and fortune. Hmmmm... maybe she has the right idea after all.

You Know...

2005-04-11T10:27:00.000-07:00

I was wondering why that lazy dawg JP hadn't blogged and then I remembered it was because he's on vacay and I'm supposed to be guest/mystery blogging. Whatever.

Like we all don't have more important things to worry about. Like... who the fuck told Cammy Parker Bowles Windsor I'm Fucking The Future King of England that the headdress she wore for the blessing by the Archbishop of Canterbury was in anyway attractive. She looked like she stuck a big patch of wheat on her head and then got stuck in a stiff wind. Gag.

The other hat, eh, I could have parked a Rolls under it but... for real, not bad. What I really liked is how the Archbishop made them say some sort of sin atonement. They should have turned it into some kind of Clue game. I did it with the Prince in the hunting lodge in doggy style. That would have been worth watching.

Yeah, I was one of those dumbasses who got up at the butt fucking crack of dawn to watch Jug Ears marry Princess Diana. Isn't it nice to know that someone loves you enough to ruin your fucking life??? Or was she just the only virgin left in England who found him somewhat attractive? You have to wonder about these things. I think he's improved with age actually. But... let's be honest, he and Cammy appear to be better matched, not just in looks, but also personality. And explain this shit to me... he didn't marry Cammy to start with because she wasn't a virgin???

But he married her this time!!! What the fuck? See, I learned from this. Marry who you're compatible with, marry who you love, marry that someone you can see yourself fucking in a hunting lodge, doggy style 35 years from now. I think its sad that Princess Diana was hounded the way she was, I think its sad that she had a faithless husband who married her for the wrong reasons (regardless of the hot hunky heir and spare) and I think the world lost a wonderful woman and humanitarian when she died.

However, its just as sad to see two people, Charlie and Cammy, who so obviously love one another, so obviously are well matched or complimentary in their attitudes and personality, waste 35 years of their lives due to some cock and bullshit about virginity, divorce, and atonement.

True love and happiness are so rare peeps. If you got it, don't let anything stand in your way. Reach out and take it.

Rock on royal newlyweds. Rock on.

Ok, Here's the Sitch-e-a-shun

2005-04-08T10:33:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow around 11 a.m. yours truly is off on a jet plane bound for Orlando and, ultimately, the Bahamas. I will be gone 8 days. Consequently, I will not be blogging. Drinking? You bet your muthafuckin ass. Blogging? Not so much.

There is good news, however. I have invited someone(?) to be a "guest blogger" here on my humble little website all next week. This person will remain anonymous until I return (unless one of you impatient assholes pries it out of whomever it is). I'm absolutely certain of two things: 1. My blog is in good hands; and 2. You will be disappointed when I come back because this person writes way better shit than I do.

So, everyone have a great week. I'll have a couple dozen Red Stripes and Mai Tais for each one of you. Hopefully, I don't fall (or get pushed by my cousin Steve - you call someone a fat, incestuous bastard ONE TIME and you never hear the end of it!) overboard in my drunken state that I plan to stay in for 99.9% of the trip.

Godspeed!

The Dumbest Thing I've Ever Done?

2005-04-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

Way back in high school, I lived a few doors down from this marching band tweedle named Herman. Herman played the clarinet. Rack his stones for being such an honest goddamn fag in those days of mulletized beatdowns if you so much as hummed a bit of the Thompson Twins. Herman was also pretty heavy into radio-controlled planes. Naturally, Herman was a friendless, spineless, post-pubescent pimple on the ass of the world. He always said "Hey" to me, even though the last time we had really exchanged any words was when I drilled him in the head with a rock and knocked him off his older sister's bike. I'm not proud of that now, but, as cool as I was then, well I have a reputation to maintain, which luckily included 'geek radar.' I suppose, looking back on it now, that Herman knew of this technology and the "hey" was his attempt to neutralize my attack.

So, it's fall. Herman gets a new radio-controlled plane. It's fucking HUGE - like a goddamn condor or some shit. More fuel to the fire. So he's taxiing it around the second parking lot of our apartments one day, and a friend who shall remain nameless (okay, Joey) and I decide to get in on the action. Why not? We know we can, and he can't do a damn thing about it. Posing as would-be friend, we hang out with Herman (who seems pretty psyched - he was probably making a mental note to run out and get new "best friends" wristbands), and learn all about his stupid fucking planes. Hell , he even lets us fly his new big one (what a sucker) once he gets it in the air. Fucking thing has a fully-operational bomb chute and about a six feet wingspan.

That Friday, I ask Herman if Joey and I can tool around with his new plane. He's pretty leery about giving up control of his dork crown, and asks why we aren't going to the football game. I tell him that I have to watch my younger bro at home since my Mom is out looking for dick, and since he (big Herm) has to go march at the halftime show, I thought I could practice up on his remote control thingie. Hell, maybe we could hang out over the weekend and fly his stupid fucking planes like...together? This was the cherry on top - the temptation of actually having friends was just too great. Well, this brings a smile to Herm's seeping, zit-addled face. "You betcha, fellas!" So Herm gives us another quick lesson in the parking lot before he heads down to school to put on his band costume.

We get in Joey's Camaro, cruise to the store, and buy some balloons and a two liter bottle of Coke. One at a time, we snap balloons onto the lip of the Coke bottle, and tip it up to fill 'em with Coke before we knot the fuckers. We make about eight little cola bombs, then take the wings off the plane, load the whole shebang into the Camaro, and cruise down to field. Turns out the "bomb chute" is so fucking small that it only holds one cola bomb at a time. At halftime, we load her up and take off from the soccer fields across the street. Our band takes the field and we start walking across the street and up the hill behind the bleachers, flying the stupid fucking plane overhead in big-ass circles. I'm doing the flying, and Joey's carrying a few spare cola bombs (such a good helper, that Joey). Right in the middle of Whitney Houston's version of the Greatest Love of All, I circle the plane over the football field, intending to bring it in low over the clarinet section. Not surprisingly, people start shitting (some literally, some figuratively), what with the plane and the high-pitched wwhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeee. A few teachers notice Joey and I at the top of the hill, and start heading our way through the bleachers. No time to lose. The time is now! I divebomb that fucker right over the woodwinds, heading towards Big Herm, and drop my payload, baby.

But, heartbreakingly, I miss him ... completely. I do, however, nail another clarinetist named Janice with an 8 oz. cola bomb. It explodes right onto her shoulder in a caramel halo of Coke droplets and mist that was truly breathtaking under the lights of the football field. (Janice would forever hate me, but I would fuck her sister the next year, so it made up for the bitch's ill humor.) The band stops butchering an already horrible fucking tune, starts freaking and looking around, and lovely little Janice starts crying. Meanwhile, Mr. Darnell, a PE teacher, is getting dangerously close to exiting the bleachers and reaching Joey. Ever the gallant combatant, Joey lobs a few cola bombs in Mr. Darnell's direction. Unfortunately, they are wide of the mark, exploding instead onto the heads and shoulders of nearby spectators.

At this point, we wisely decide to exit the field. I drop the radio-controller on the ground, and turn to catch up with Joey on our flight to the Camaro. Big Herm's Enola Gay touches down into the side of the Weiner Shed, the portable concession panel truck. We made it to the Camaro, but I ended up with a week's free pass on Monday. Herm got the nerve to ask about his stupid fucking plane the next weekend, and I told him it was an accident.

Ah, the innocence of youth.

Going out of Business

2005-04-01T08:51:00.000-08:00

When I started my blog, I set a goal of one year. Looks like my writing resevoir has run dry just short of 11 months.

Fuck.

Ciao.

Have Sex, Will Travel

2005-03-29T08:45:00.000-08:00

Cheating Wife Awarded More Than $40 Million BRIDGEPORT, Conn. (March 25) - A judge has awarded the former wife of a multimillionaire businessman a divorce settlement worth more than $40 million even though she admitted having affairs with her rock-climbing guide and a man she met on a flight to China.

In addition to a $24 million payment, Susan Sosin will keep the couple's
$3.6 million Manhattan apartment, $2 million Utah ski house and $800,000 home in Wallkill, N.Y. But she has to vacate the couple's two mansions in Connecticut and three desert properties in Arizona. (Poor baby!) In the divorce granted Wednesday, she also gets to keep $6 million in her brokerage accounts, eight cars and $2.9 million in jewelry, including a ruby piece her husband had bought for her but hadn't given to her prior to their divorce.

Richard Albrecht, attorney for Sosin's husband, Howard, estimated the total value of the award at $43 million, or 27 percent of the estate.

She wanted half, he said. (You've got to be fucking kidding me. All that shit isn't enough? He could have had her killed for a lot cheaper, and gotten a sweet book deal out of it!)

"My opinion is her conduct in this matter affected the award," Albrecht said.

Susan Sosin's lawyer, Frederick Siegel of Stamford, couldn't be reached for comment Friday. A telephone message was left at his office. Howard Sosin, 54, who founded AIG Financial Products in 1987, filed for divorce after discovering his wife's relationships in February 2003. During an upgrade of their computer system, he found hundreds of e-mails between his wife and her lover, according to testimony.

Susan Sosin, 51, admitted in testimony that she had become intimate with a guide while rock climbing in 1996, though she said it was a spontaneous and isolated occurrence. During a flight to China in 2000, she met a married man, and that led to a lengthy affair, according to testimony.

"The parties' marriage has been undeniably marred by the defendant's infidelity," Superior Court Judge Howard Owens stated in his verdict. "Although her sexual relationship was not the sole cause of the breakdown, it did effectively terminate the marriage."

Howard Sosin's wealth was estimated at $168 million. Among the assets he gets to keep are $89 million in bank accounts, 10 of the couple's 18 cars, $960,000 worth of private club memberships and $22 million in fine art.

The couple met in 1978 when Howard Sosin was an assistant professor at Columbia University. At the time, she was married to another man and working in retail.
Howard Sosin served as the president and chief operating officer of AIG Financial Products until 1993 when he left the company. Following litigation, he received $182 million from AIG.
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Ok, let me get this straight - not only was she cheating on him, but she hits the lottery for effectively terminating the marriage? Sure, she was around when he started amassing his fortune, but hell, was she the founder of AIG Financial services? Ummm, nope. What did she do besides suck him off every once in a while? Nada. Hell, I'll give an occasional BJ if I knew I'd end up with $39.7 million and 8 cars when all was said and done.

To me, the most telling thing about their story is this - "The couple met in 1978 when Howard Sosin was an assistant professor at Columbia University. At the time, she was married to another man and working in retail." Mainly because this effectively equals "Once upon a time, a woman was picking up firewood. She came upon a poisonous snake frozen in the snow. She took the snake home and nursed it back to health. One day the snake bit her on the cheek. As she lay dying, she asked the snake, "Why have you done this to me?" And the snake answered, "Look, bitch, you knew I was a snake." "

It was just a matter of time before this ho-bag did this to him. She was with someone else when she met him. I'm of the belief that these two "admitted" affairs are just the tip of the iceberg with this woman. I'm sure someone like this guy was away on business a lot. I'm not calling him a saint, because who knows? I'm sure he had his slice of angel food cake now and again too. However, she's the one that got busted, not him. Scoreboard him.

Maybe in 1978 he didn't need a prenup, but her affairs cost him not only his marriage but $40 mil as well? Damn, I hope she was a great lay. As a matter of fact, I hope she was fucking pornstar-like in the sack. Sheeeit, for $40 mil, I'd expect on command BJs and anal twice every Sunday.

The other side of the coin is the fact that she was only awarded 27% of the total estate. Let's face it, he's not going to starve any time soon. I mean, if my wife was awarded 27% of my estate, she'd walk away with a ham sandwich (granted, it'd be on really, REALLY good bread, but I digress). I'd just make another sandwich. But still, $40 mil after screwing your rock climbing guide and falling in love with some guy you met on a plane to China?

I just don't get it. But that's not surprising, really.

Make War, Not Porn

2005-03-24T08:37:00.000-08:00

Utah Internet Porn Bill

Utah's governor signed a bill on Monday that would require Internet providers to block Web sites deemed pornographic and could also target e-mail providers and search engines.

The controversial legislation will create an official list of Web sites with publicly available material deemed "harmful to minors." Internet providers in Utah must provide their customers with a way to disable access to sites on the list or face felony charges.

Technology companies had urged Republican Gov. Jon Huntsman not to sign the bill (click for PDF), saying it was constitutionally suspect and worded so vaguely its full impact is still unclear.

The measure, SB 260, says: "Upon request by a consumer, a service provider may not transmit material from a content provider site listed on the adult content registry." A service provider is defined as any person or company who "provides an Internet access service to a consumer," which could include everything from cable companies to universities, coffee shops, and homes with open 802.11 wireless connections.

"I am having a hard time seeing how this law will survive a constitutional challenge, given the track record of state anti-Internet porn laws--which are routinely struck down as violating the First Amendment and the dormant Commerce Clause," Eric Goldman, a professor at the Marquette University Law School in Milwaukee, Wis., wrote in a critique of the law.

Spokesman Tammy Kikuchi said Monday that Huntsman "doesn't have a concern about the constitutional challenge."

Supporters of the Utah bill, such as advocacy group Citizens Against Pornography, had pressed for the measure as a way to give parents more control of their home Internet connections.

Also targeted are content providers, defined as any company that "creates, collects, acquires or organizes electronic data" for profit. Any content provider that the Utah attorney general claims hosts material that's harmful to minors must rate it or face third-degree felony charges.

Lobbying group NetCoalition, whose members include Google, Yahoo and News.com publisher CNET Networks, had written a letter to the Utah Senate saying the legislation could affect search engines, e-mail providers and Web hosting companies. "A search engine that links to a Web site in Utah might be required...to 'properly rate' the Web site," the letter warned.

A federal judge struck down a similar law in Pennsylvania last year.
---------------------------

I agree parents need ways to keep their kids from Internet porn, but there's this thing called firewalls and parental filters already on the market that does this very thing. Hell, since they're wanting to do some parenting for us parents, how bout they come over to my house and ya know, help them with their homework or something. That would free up some time for me to go have a few drinks & wings at Hooters!! So could a customer sue their ISP for something their kid accessed that was non-porn like FHM or Maxim? This law is a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Next they'll try and find a way to get in boys' brains and block any indecent thoughts, normally raging in teenage boys. Good luck with that one.

Although, on public computers (such as library computers), I'd like to see that a policy like that applied to the public entity. It's very disconcerting to be at the local library with my kids and see some guy a few computers down streaming graphic porn. Because I then start to wonder how long it's been since he last had a girl (if at all) because, let's face it, these guys aren't Brad Pitt types - if they were, they'd be starring in the porn, not cutting & pasting. Hopefully he at least waits to go home to finish the job rather than soil the bathroom for everyone else.

Some interesting things in the bill.

It provides $100,000 for PSAs for people in Utah telling them the dangers of porn (after all sex is evil and bad, now let's go shoot something instead!), how to find out if your family members are accessing the sites and what to do about it. $50,000 to research the adult sites (can I sign up to do the research? I'm sure my brother would be willing to research the gay sites for them.). $100,000 to create and maintain the adult site list (hell, I'd be willing to do this too).

The attorney general will send the content provider warning them that their site is going to be put on the list unless the content is blocked for minors. That's going to be one busy attorney general! What else is he going to be able to work on? Hell, what else would he WANT to work on?

Ass, Meet Switch

2005-03-22T20:15:00.000-08:00

5-Year-Old Cuffed, Arrested in Florida
5-Year-Old Girl Cuffed, Taken Away in Police Cruiser in Florida After School Outburst
The Associated Press

ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. Mar 18, 2005 — A 5-year-old girl was arrested, cuffed and put in back of a police cruiser after an outburst at school where she threw books and boxes, kicked a teacher in the shins, smashed a candy dish, hit an assistant principal in the stomach and drew on the walls.

The students were counting jelly beans as part of a math exercise at Fairmount Park Elementary School when the little girl began acting silly. That's when her teacher took away her jelly beans, outraging the child.

Minutes later, the 40-pound girl was in the back of a police cruiser, under arrest for battery. Her hands were bound with plastic ties, her ankles in handcuffs.

"I don't want to go to jail," she said moments after her arrest Monday.

No charges were filed and the girl went home with her mother.

While police say their actions were proper, school officials were not pleased with the outcome.

"We never want to have 5-year-old children arrested," said Michael Bessette, the district's Area III superintendent.

The district's campus police should have been called to help and not local police, he said.

Bessette said campus police routinely deal with children and are trained to calm them in such situations.

Under the district's code of student conduct, students are to be suspended for 10 days and recommended for expulsion for unprovoked attacks, even if they don't result in serious injury. But district spokesman Ron Stone said that rule wouldn't apply to kindergartners.

"She's been appropriately disciplined under the circumstances," he said.

The girl's mother, Inda Akins, said she is consulting an attorney.

"She's never going back to that school," Akins said. "They set my baby up."

--------------------------

My favorite part of that story is where the mother said "They set my baby up." I realize calling the police may have been overkill, but when in God's name are people going to take responsibility for their children in this country? If I had done that at five years old, I'd have been afraid to go home for fear of the spanking my father would lay on me.

As a matter of fact, if one of my children would have done this, they'd be begging the police to keep them in Juvenille Detention for fear of what they have awaiting them at home.

To all you fucking idiots out there that don't take responsibility for your own actions and think it would be a grand idea to impart your views onto an innocent child, get a dog instead. Yeah, you have to have a license, but at least we'll only have to deal with your ignorance instead of your ignorance squared.

Quick Friday Random Post

2005-03-18T10:44:00.000-08:00

Here I am, sitting at my desk working on a medical records summary. I have the Red Hot Chili Peppers Blood, Sugar, Sex, Majik playing in the background and it occurs to me that I am listening to the best album in the history of music, bar none. Every freaking song is funkalicious.

Yes, I know this doesn't count as a real post, but it'll have to do for this week. So fuck you. Or, better yet, fuck me.

Please???

Now Taking Requests

2005-03-17T08:10:00.000-08:00

Ok guys, here's your homework assignment, if you choose to accept it: I need stuff to write about. I'm in serious writers' block mode. I'm not sure if it's because my work is so all-consuming right now or if it's just because I have no more creativity. So, anything you guys want to know or want me to write about, ask away. If I can come up with something, I'll oblige. If not, you all can stand there and throw tomatoes or rocks or some shit at me.

Deal?

New Ink

2005-03-14T07:52:00.000-08:00

Yes, that is my left arm. Further, that is brand spankin new ink. Had it done Saturday. I absolutely LOVE it. For the longest time, I've wanted to do something that would honor my kids forever. Now I have. It's a little bigger than I thought it would be when I designed it, but I think it came out great.

Happy Monday to all!!

Week 1

2005-03-02T10:43:00.000-08:00

Guess who's back. Back again? JP's back. Tell a friend.

Sorry for neglecting you guys for so long. It's been a tough week. Yes, as of yesterday, I have officially worked here for one solid week. To say that it's been challenging would be a colossal understatement. First of all, I've never done defense work in my life. It's so totally different that I can't even begin to 'splain it here, so I won't even try. Suffice it to say that when you're assigned 50 cases on your first day and they keep giving you more as the days progress, it's tough enough. But, when you don't know what the hell you're doing, it's downright discouraging. However, every day I feel a little more comfortable as I learn their system.

There are some advantages and disadvantages of working here. So, rather than boring you with details of my job and the method in which they prefer things to be done, I will give you my Week 1 list of pros and cons.

Pros:

1. Office Building is downtown. I had forgotten how nice it is to be downtown. Yes, I have to be more 'dressy' than I was (I'll hit that con later), but being downtown is so nice. I mean, everything's so convenient. My bank is a block away, unlike the half mile trek I had to do at my old firm. There are roughly 5,000 places to choose from for lunch within a 3 block radius. The women down here are fucking gorgeous, for the most part (a little eye candy NEVER hurts). The max line is about a block from my office and about 3 blocks from my house, so I can ride it in (takes about a half hour) if I need to - which I have needed to since Vicki has been house-sitting in Southwest Portland and will be doing so for the next week and a half.

2. Money flows like wine. This is a good thing in a firm. They're not tight-assed. They have money and they're not afraid to spend it. The computers are all new. The phone systems look like they took them right off the set of 24. I asked for a headset for my phone and the IT dude brought it to me about 5 minutes later (fuck you, Chip!!!! - if he saw these phones he'd cream his panties in about 2 minutes). If you need something, you just order it. It appears in your office within a day. Just yesterday, we had a case settle during trial. Our exhibits included $1000 worth of toys. We all split them up and took them home. I ended up with about $100 worth of stuff for my kids. Very cool. This brings me to...

3. My salary is wonderful! I can't stress this enough - I totally underbid myself at my last job. I thought I had a handle on the market. I clearly did not. As of right now, I don't think I'm worth what they're paying me, but as soon as I get everything under control, I will be a veritable bargain.

4. Having an office is very nice. I don't think I could ever go back to a cubicle. If I have a phone call I need to make (and by "phone call" I mean calling my favorite Asian phone sex operator), I just close my door and nobody can hear what I'm doing. Likewise, it gives me a respite from people walking by my office and doing the "one-eyed peek" to see what I'm working on.

5. I have "people" that do stuff. After I get done working on a file, I place it in my outbox and it magically makes its way back to central filing. Everything goes in my outbox - mail, interoffice memos, filing, notebook requests, etc., and they all make their way to where they belong. I really don't ever have to get up, if I don't want to. The notebook request thing is cool. There are "litigation support" people here that take care of putting together notebooks, making up labels for stuff, you name it, they do it (haven't asked for a hand job yet, however). Hell, they'd copy stuff if I asked them to. Of course, I'm too nice of a guy to bury them, so I do a lot of stuff myself. I'm sure that'll change in the next month.

Cons:

1. Jeans are a thing of the past. I'm a casual guy. I feel most comfortable in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Then why, you ask, am I sitting at my desk wearing a pair of Gap khakis and a black CK button-up collared shirt? See "Pro #3," above. It's funny, they have a section in the "handbook" about what they call "Casual Friday," and it says "no member of the Firm may wear denim of any sort, except as a shirt." Ok, I don't know about you, but that defeats the whole purpose of Casual Friday. The purpose is to dress down a day and not get so burnt out on looking so "professional." But as long as they keep paying me, I'll keep dressing up.

2. Beer in the fridge and wine in the cellar are things of the past. One of the best perks at my last job is now gone. If they don't let you wear jeans, do you actually think they'll let you drink on the job? Not so much. I bet that more that one attorney/partner has a bottle stashed somewhere (attorneys do drink a lot), but I don't think they'd be very sympathetic if I got caught doing the same and yelled "I learned it by watching YOU!") Dammit!

3. Lots of rules and regulations. My "office manual" came in a 3" binder and was packed to the rim with procedures, guidelines and regulations. I'm not much for any of that stuff, so I'll just act my version of professional and hope for the best. I don't think I'll be reading all 3" of that shit anytime soon.

4. I have to bill my time. Every second of my time here at the firm has to be accounted for. Not used to that either. So far, I've been doing pretty well, but I can see myself forgetting from time to time. It's the ADHD in me. However, I figure if I get in the habit of doing it, it'll become easier as time goes on. I'm billing an insurance company as we speak. I'm not kidding. Really.

5. It's more stuffy here. For the most part, my co-workers are very nice. However, there are some stuffy old timers here. I'm not the best person to be around these people, as I tend to instigate stuff (hard to believe, I know). I don't mind professionalism, just don't walk around like you got a stick up your ass or something. Be nice to me and I'll be more than nice back. Be not so nice to me, or snub me, and I'll probably tease you at some point. Guess I better keep my resume handy.

There you have it. Week one in a nutshell. So far, the pros outweigh the cons. That could change at any moment. The good news is that they wait until after your 90-day probationary period to have the stick surgically implanted in your ass. It's not an elective surgery, but the Firm does pay for it.

Overwhelmed

2005-02-25T10:03:00.000-08:00

Well, let me just say that this new job stuff is going well, even though I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. Defending a case is TOTALLY different than being on the plaintiff's side. It's been a busy week. I really wish I had time to delve into this subject wholeheartedly, but I do not.

When I arrived here, we had a nice 'get acquainted' meeting and all of us paralegals went out to lunch on the firm's dollar. Not bad. However, when we got back from lunch, I was assigned about 53 cases. None of which I know ANYTHING about. I've been kind of feeling my way through them ever since.

Also, this has been a basketball kind of week. Wednesday, Vicki gave me her other floor seat to the Blazer-Lakers game. Very nice. Got some nice pics of Kobe and Damon Stoudamire. Now, if I could just figure out how to get them off my camera phone, I could post them. I'll try to do that over the weekend.

Last night, I took my boys to the Univ. of Portland-Gonzaga game. Lots of fun. Gonzaga won in a rout, but the boys had a blast and that's all that matters.

Tomorrow, I'm going with Ben to the Univ. of Oregon-Stanford game in Eugene. It's the Ducks' last home game of the season. Boo hoo. I may just have to buy season tickets next year.

That's about all from this end. I'll try to post something more substantive on Monday. Until then, have a great weekend!!

Identity, Work and Cell Phone Rage Part Deux

2005-02-16T09:32:00.000-08:00

Last night, after I got home from the gym, drank my whey protein shake and finished watching the train wreck known as “American Idol” (gawd, I fucking hate that show), I moseyed upstairs in search of something other than “House” to watch as I can’t seem to keep a straight face because of all the promos Fox ran during the playoffs (“YOU’RE RISKING A PATIENT’S LIFE!!!”). Anyhow, since I have every station known to man (half of which I never even check to see what’s on them), I hit the HBO channels - all 900 of them. On HBO2 West, “Identity” came on. Now, John Cusack is one of my favorite actors (musta been his great work in “Better Off Dead” and “One Crazy Summer”), so I decide to give it a look-see. What a great fucking movie. Suspenseful, gory, taut and it even had a semi-plausible story when they finally brought it all together at the end of the movie. It also had an all-star cast that did a great job of acting. I mean, along with Cusack there was Amanda Peet (looking hotter than hell), Ray Liotta (always plays a good psycho), Jake Busey (looks like the bastard child of Gary Busey and Anthony Michael Hall), John C. McGinley (miscast in his role of mealy-mouthed step-dad instead of his usual role of playing an asshole), and whoever the dude was that played the psycho was excellent....I mean anyone that can get his eyes to flitter back and forth like he did without coming away with a massive migraine deserves an Oscar. I won’t give away the movie, in case you haven’t seen it. Just suffice it to say that the Hitchcockian twist it takes at the end I didn’t see coming, even if I did figure out who the killer was long before it was revealed. It’s definitely worth watching. Except for you, Jay. Pussy.

Well, my last day here at my current firm is rapidly approaching. I have been pretty diligent in getting work off my desk in an effort to make the transition go smoothly for Vicki and everyone else here. When I left my last firm, I already had this gig lined up and gave them a month’s notice. I forgot how nice it was not to have to look over your shoulder every second of the day. I mean, I adopted the attitude of “What are they gonna do, fire me?” I’ve been getting my work done, but I haven’t been killing myself to do so. It’s also nice to be able to fuck with whomever you want without fear of getting fired. Having a sexual harassment suit brought against me is a totally different story, but getting fired? Pshaw! Too bad it’s back to looking over my shoulder next week at my new firm.

Since this is my last week here, I’ve been skipping my mid-morning workout in favor of going to my favorite lunchtime-type places, since I won’t be in this area for work anymore. Instead, I’ve been going to the gym around 7:30 in the p.m. The gym by my house is smaller and infinitely more crowded than the one by my office. It’s a younger set than the gym I used to belong to, which is pretty cool. The only thing that isn’t cool about it is that the majority of them just loooooooove to talk on their cell phones whilst working out. What the fuck is this all about? Are you there to work out? Or are you there to talk on your cell? Not only do they talk on their cells, they do so while laying on whichever apparatus they’re going to use if/when they ever decide to shut the fuck up and work out. The least they could do is stand off to the side and make their calls. My cell phone goes in my gym bag and gets left in my locker. Sorry, I would like to get my work out in and be home before dawn. Of course, the majority of the people doing this are frickin HUGE, so it’s not like you can say anything to them lest you get pummeled by a dumbbell with a dumbbell. But to all you dolts out there reading this that feel the need to talk on your phone at the gym, DON’T. It’s not only incredibly tacky, but rude and disrespectful to all the people there that are on a schedule. I only have so much time to stretch, lift, do cardio, stretch and get home so I can unwind and fall asleep at a reasonable hour. Just hang up your damn phones and work out. Or talk on them AWAY from the machines. Thanks in advance.

Joey

2005-02-14T10:24:00.000-08:00

Bicyclist dies in Osceola -- another hurt
The man who died was a volunteer coach for the Osceola High School baseball team.

A volunteer for Osceola High School's baseball team is dead and another man critically injured after they were hit by a car three miles south of St. Cloud on Tuesday evening.

Volunteer coach Jose Santiago, 43, and Gabriel Declet, 22, both of St. Cloud, were bicycling south on Canoe Creek Road near Old Canoe Creek Road when they were struck by a car, said Trooper Kim Miller of the Florida Highway Patrol.

A Chevrolet sedan that was driving in the same direction was found stopped on Santiago's bicycle, Miller said. Investigators are trying to determine if another car was involved in the accident.

The bicyclists did not know each other. Santiago was pronounced dead on the scene. Declet was transported by air to Orlando Regional Medical Center. Neither was wearing a helmet, Miller said.

The driver of the car, Adam Weaver, 18, of St. Cloud, was not injured.

Santiago was one of three volunteers for the Osceola team and spent every day working with team members, Osceola baseball coach Jim Murphy said. He rode his bicycle from his job as a caddy at the Ritz-Carlton Orlando, Grande Lakes, to the high school.

"He was the kind of guy that when you met him, you liked him," Murphy said.

Both bicyclists had their driving privileges revoked because of their driving records, Miller said.

----------

I got the call from my friend John Saturday. John was my best friend when I lived in Florida. Joey Santiago was his roommate when we all used to hang out together in the mid-1990s. Joey was everything that John wasn't. John is tall (6'3"), Joey was short (5'8"). John carried his 240 pounds great on his frame. Joey didn't carry his 180 pounds well at all. John was handsome. Joey was not. So on and so forth. Joey wanted what John ended up with - a beautiful wife and two gorgeous kids. Joey was a confirmed bachelor. Whenever I visited Florida, there were three "absolutes" - death, taxes and the fact that Joey was single.

However, one thing that Joey was - a great, great friend. He never got upset when we'd joke about his last sexual escapade being in the late 80s (self-gratification did NOT count). He'd always join right in when we were going somewhere like a baseball game, titty bar or out on the town, even though he didn't have as much money as the rest of us. He had a great sense of humor, almost Seinfeld-esque. He loved sports. Another thing you could count on was Joey ALWAYS having the sports section of the Orlando Sentinel tucked neatly underneath his left arm. He'd read box scores of every sport for hours. We used to talk to him about the most outlandish shit while he was reading and he'd give us the polite head nod or the occasional, "yeah, that's great," never knowing he just agreed that he should go out and blow an alien or some shit like that.

Joey fell on hard times recently. He had lost his long time job as a computer analyst and had no luck finding work in that field. He had to take a job as a caddy at a very reputable golf course. He also got pulled over for a DUI a year and a half ago - his second offense - and lost his license and had his car impounded. This is why he was riding his bicycle home from his job last Tuesday night. I honestly hope he didn't see it coming. I also hope he felt nothing as he left this world.

I'll never forget the last time I saw him last April - he was leaving John's house, headed for home on his bicycle (even though I offered to give him a ride). He said, "Thanks, JP, but no thanks. I fucked up and this is my penance. It'll be over soon." We then shook hands, did the manly hug thing and I said I'd see him next year when I came back. I guess I won't.

Joey - I love you like a brother. I'll miss you.

The Art Of Crank Calling

2005-02-11T08:33:00.000-08:00

I’ve had this one on the shelf for awhile.

So I’m at home alone the other night. I'm supposed to meet up with some people at a show, but I decide to bag it because I'm kinda tired. I leave work at a decent hour to maximize the nightly pleasure, and grab some Thai grub and a sixer on the way home to watch the Mariners game in cock-fondling peace. Some of the women who read this may shudder at the thought of a man at the height of happiness, watching baseball, drinking and fondling himself - trust me when I say this: aside from having two hot models ravage you (at the same time, now), it just doesn't get much better than that.

After watching said game (epic walk-off grand salami), downing said sixer, and fondling said cock (did I mention it was MY cock? Hey, I don't go that way and fuck you for thinking it), I'm feeling pretty fucking idiotic whilst cruising the channels. I hit the home-shopping network and pause for awhile during an advertisement for a "stunning" cubic zirconia bracelet. Ahh ... the memories of me and my old college roommate crank calling those fuckers while two-fisting PBRs and anything alcohol-ish. Good times. So, "what the fuck?" I figure...I’m home alone, I'm drunk, got nothing else to do except go to bed.

I pick up the phone. Dial. Prepare Frog Lick, Arkansas accent.

chick: "Home shopping network. What product are you admiring this evening?"

Me: "Hey, I been watching yer program an I seen that there bracelet y'all got on that there screen, an its muh girlfriend Maxine's birthday uh comin soon, an I been thinkin bout gettin her sumpin reeeeeeel fine like that there bracelet!!"

chick: "Are you talking about item #blah, blah, blah, the stunning 3 carat cubic zirconia bracelet with cabochons?"

Me: "Uhm...yeah...I reckon that is THE one. Say, is that there a diamond? cuz my baybee says she wants a diamond, and she gets reeeeeeeel happy when she gets jeeeeeewlreeee!"

chick: "It's 3 carats of sparkling cubic zirconiums set in stainless steel with dangling cabochons."

Me: Uhm... "Pubic merconeeeyum?"

chick: "Cubic zirconium, sir."

Me: Oh. (pause) "But......Is that a diamond?"

chick: "It's a semi-precious gemstone that's created and cut in a laboratory, sir, but just as beautiful as a real diamond."

Me: "Shee peepers! In a lavertorie? You mean like a scrubbin' room?"

chick: "LabORratory sir." (with emphasis even)

Me: "So it's a plastic thing?"

chick: "No sir, it's a synthetic diamond."

Me: "Synthetic?"

chick: "Yes sir." (You can almost see the steam coming out her ears)

Me: Gol durn. "You mean like a robot?"

chick: "Uhm... well... it is a synthetic diamond, sir."

Me: "Does it change into a building, like them transfermer thingamabobs?"

~Click. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz~

Dammit! Oh well, at least I gave her a good story to go home with.

Wash Your Ass!

2005-02-09T08:22:00.000-08:00

Ok, I've been debating for quite some time about whether or not to print this story or not. It is quite gross. However, I think it's pretty funny. It's also 100% true. If you have a strong stomach, read on!!

I ran into one of my old buds a while back hanging out at Gator's Dockside in Kissimmee, Florida.

Dude's name was Todd. We called him Fat Todd back in the day for reasons that you can figure out I'm sure. He had lost quite a bit of weight over the years, so now he was just "Todd" again.

I hadn't seen him for quite some time and we're going along catching up on things that have happenend in our lives the past few years. I asked him how his wife and kids were doing and he tells me that he had gotten a divorce.

I was a little bit shocked over this, since this dude had married his high school sweetheart and they had always seemed to get along pretty well. They were one of "those" couples. You know the ones, so sweet that if you stand too close your teeth start to rot.

I asked him what had happened, expecting an answer like "I caught her in bed fucking my best friend" or "She was a sketched out dope fiend who ran us straight to the poor house with a $200 a day cola habit. You know, something bad. Something that would cause a 25 year marriage to go down the shitter.

What I got was...

Todd: "Dude, I could smell her fucking butthole!"

Me: "Ummmmmmmmmm...ok, so you divorced your wife of 15 years, the mother of your 2 kids because you could smell her fucking butthole?"

Todd: "Yea. I could smell her fucking butthole"

Me: "Ok, are you saying that she would just be walking by, or sitting next to you or something, and you could smell ass...and you knew for sure it was her ass that you were smelling"?

Todd: "No, nothing like that. We were home one Friday night, just kicking it, watched a movie, drank a little, she gets up and gets in the shower. She comes out about 30 minutes later wearing this nice red teddy (Dude's wife had huuuuuuge boobies) and does the Ol' "come hither finger curl" at me. So, I hithered my ass to the bedroom in a hurry.

I get in there and shook all of my clothes off, hopped onto the bed right between her legs and start munching down on her snatch. I get her all nice and juiced up, hop up and start nailing it. We're getting after it pretty good. I roll off the side of the bed, pull her into the doggy style position, slide it back in and...That's when it hit me."

Me: "The butthole smell?" (Where's Beavis and Butt-Head when you need em?)

Todd: "Yea, the butthole smell. I mean fullblown ass starts wafting up and hits me full in the face!"

Me: "Are you sure it was coming from her?"

Todd: "Oh yea, no fucking doubt dude. It was coming right from her butthole. It was fucking reeking bad with that dirty ass smell...you know?...not a shit smell...or a fart smell...it was dirty ass...dirty, nasty butthole...nothing smells like that...it's not overpowering or anything...just dirty ass." (He seems to be an expert, so how can I argue?)

Me: "What about the shower? I thought she had just taken a shower?"

Todd: "That's pretty much what did me in. I knew she didn't wash her ass, you know some water had at least trickled down there and if it smelled like that fresh out of the shower, it would have really been rocking underneath those jeans while I was sitting next to her."

Me: "Damn. What did you do? You know, right then while you were fucking her?"

Todd: "Well, I instantly lost my boner. Told her something like I had to pee or some shit like that. Walked in the bathroom. I was staring in the mirror and I had a little bit of the dirty butthole residue floating up into my face. I made my desicion. I walked out of the bathroom and told her I wanted a divorce, right then, right there."

Of course she wanted to know why, so I told her - it's your butthole. it smells dirty. I could never fuck you again without thinking about it having that smell. She couldn't believe it, started freaking out and yelling that I was fucking someone else. I told her that was not it at all. It boiled right down to her butthole. Six months later we were divorced. Been divorced a couple of years now."

I didn't believe Ol' Todd at first...but...he's told a few other people the exact same story. Pretty wild shit...literally!

I don't know if I would divorce the wife over the dirty butthole smell...but damn...it would throw a freaking kink in there.

So, everyone reading this, in the future, please wash your ass. The relationship you save may be your own.

How To Piss Off An Entire Office In Less Than 5 Minutes

2005-02-07T08:51:00.000-08:00

Ok, since I found a new job, I figured I'd send out a joke e-mail to my fellow co-workers to try to elicit a chuckle or two from them. I thought that I had a pretty good handle on the collective sense of humor of the people that worked here, but found out I was wrong. I couple people laughed, but I offended the rest of them. It's weird because I've seen e-mails a hell of a lot worse than this one come down the pipe here. Guess some people just can't take a joke. I've changed the names to protect the innocent.

The Last Will And Testament Of JP

I, JP, being of (semi-) sound mind and (rock hard) body and not being under the influence of (m)any (hard) drugs, do hereby bequeath the following things to the following individuals:

To (an attorney that is in his late 40's and is about to have his first kid, he also hibernates in his office. We'll go weeks without seeing him) - I start with you because you and I started here on the same day and, if I were a gamblin’ man, I would have wagered a year’s worth of my salary that you didn’t work here for longer than a year and a half, since I hadn’t seen you in about nine months until last week when I was on my way to the bathroom upstairs. Wow, thank God I got sidetracked by that woman (hooker) on my way to place that bet down in Vegas. Be that as it may, I bequeath to you my superb parenting skills. I just sincerely hope you don’t have to use them nearly as much as I do. Good luck!!

To (the only attorney here that voted for Dubuya) - You, my friend, get my hatred of President Bush and everything President Bush-like. Honestly, you should try bashing him for awhile, it’s quite fun. Also, all the snickering behind your back will stop.

To (the secretary in her late 40's that dresses and talks slutty. She's also Chip the computer geek's mom) - I’m going to give you my underwear since you have mentioned on a couple of occasions that you weren’t wearing any of your own. I was going to give you my left knee (she injured her's about a year ago "playing basketball"), but with my right one aching all the damn time, I don’t think I’d be able to play basketball without at least one good knee.

To (my boss' partner who is taller than I am) - I’m going to give you two feet of my height. I do this because I think it would be pretty freakin’ cool to see people’s reactions when an 8 ½’ attorney entered the courtroom. Of course, you’d probably get kidnaped by Ringling Brothers, but it would be fun to witness while you were still around.

To (the secretary that is a devout Mormon and was a virgin until she got married last year at 32) - You know, I’m afraid to give you anything that isn’t pure as the driven snow mainly because I have a sneaking suspicion that if I did, I’d be slated for the next handbasket headed due south immediately thereafter. Since I have nothing that is pure, you’re out of luck kiddo.

To (the "old timer" attorney of the group. He's in his late 60's and just got remarried) - I’ve got something special in store for you. I have already set the wheels in motion wherein I score some prescription Levitra through my doctor’s office. I did this with you in mind. When I do secure the prescription, I’ll fill it and I’ll give it to you, since you’re a newlywed and have an infinitely better chance of, uhhh, using it in the next month than I do.

To (Chip, the IT geek) - I am leaving you my role as the Notebook Nazi. If you rule these notebooks with the same iron fist that you rule the firm computers with, people will be hard-pressed to get anything notebook-related out the door on time.

To (our receptionist. Her daughter is very cute) - You are one lucky woman. You get my second born, Reese. It seems that Reese thinks that Mimi is his girlfriend. He keeps telling me that his girlfriend is “that girl from the party that we saw Santa Claus at.” And, when pressed, he told me that she’s “the girl that came with (your receptionist).” So there you go. You get Reese. I hope you have better luck with him than I have over the years.

To (the attorney that is very short and a little whipped at home) - I was going to leave you 6" of my height so you can stop wearing those clogs in the summer, but since I gave 2' to (the attorney upstairs), I don’t think I could part with any more of it. So, in the alternative, I’m leaving you my ability to watch South Park and any other smut-filled show at home that I wish. You can thank me later.

To (my fellow Cowboy and Oregon Duck fan attorney) - I’m leaving you my love of the Cowboys so you can eclipse Vicki’s love for the Eagles. Lord knows you’re going to need it, especially if the Eagles win the Super Bowl this weekend. I’d leave you my love for the Ducks, but I’m afraid it would combine with yours and cause your head to explode.

To Vicki - Ah, my roomie. I am leaving you with lower blood pressure and a full bottle of Valium. I’m sure that you can have my desk chair, if you beat our receptionist in a steel cage death match for it. Also, I leave you the right to yell at any guy here any time you want, as I will no longer be here to assume that role.

To (my boss) - What do you give the man who has everything? The only thing I can give to you is the full-time use of your Cayenne. No more people needing to use it to "go meet a client" (read: drag race unassuming Z28s and bang hot chicks in the backseat). The Carrera, however, is still fair game. I’ll be over every other Sunday to make sure it gets driven appropriately.

All of you, except (the Mormon), will get these things at 5:00 p.m. Friday, February 18, 2005. That’s it. That’s all I got. So, in the immortal words of Tony Soprano, “you are all dead to me.”

Is It Over?

2005-02-04T08:37:00.000-08:00

The downward spiral I mean. I had an interview yesterday with a pretty good sized law firm downtown and was pretty much offered the job on the spot. It seems like it would be a good fit for me. It’s laid back, I can still pretty much set my own hours, as long as my work is getting done, nobody will be breathing down my neck and I will have my own office. Not a cubby like I have now, a real honest to goodness office. Complete with a door and my name stenciled on the window. Plus, the best part is that it’s going to be a pretty substantial pay raise. They asked me how much I wanted, I pulled a number out of my ass that I thought was waaaaaay too high and they didn’t bat an eyelash. They said, “We can do that. Plus, you’ll get a bonus in September along with your annual raise.” I think if they would have told me I get my own secretary, I may have creamed myself right then and there. Thank God I have to do my own typing because that would have been fucking embarrassing.

There will be trade-offs, however. It is more “corporate” of an atmosphere, so wearing jeans everyday is out. I will be making a pilgrimage to the Gap Outlet this weekend to buy three more pairs of khakis, along with some dress socks. My usual rotation of my R/L jeans, Gap jeans and Tommy jeans will have to be modified somewhat. Also, they actually keep track of vacation time. Since I moved here, both firms I worked for didn’t care how much time you took off as long as your work was done. At the new place, I get 18 vacation days a year, plus 8 holidays and 1 “floating” holiday per year. What this means, however, is that my little ‘Disney’ vacation that I had planned is probably out, since I won’t have enough time built up. I do get comp time, so if I work an extra Saturday, I can take a day off during the week. I may do that to take my vacation. If not, I’ll take the boys to Seattle for a weekend to watch the Mariners play a game or three. Also, I’m not quite sure how my internet usage will pan out. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get into a rhythm wherein I can blog in the morning and at lunch.

One of the bright points of leaving my current firm is that they are letting me take my laptop with me. When I came aboard in October 2002, they bought me the king-shit of laptops. I e-mailed the partners and told them I’d like to take it with me. They have agreed to that. I feel that I earned it while I was here. However, that was very nice. Very nice indeed.

So, my friends, all my self-indulgent whining, moaning and bitching was all for naught. But it’s my blog and I can whine, moan and bitch if I want to.

Natural Selection

2005-02-02T09:45:00.000-08:00

Ok, I don’t know how many of you guys outside of Oregon have heard about this, but apparently, some chromosome-deficient, mullet-wearing, inbred hillbilly decided that it would be a great idea to storm the Oregon Capitol Building in Salem and take himself hostage.

Let me say that again - take HIMSELF hostage.

Yep, this genius held himself at knife point and demanded to see the governor. Dude didn’t even use a gun. He used a knife. A KNIFE!

Ok, that has to be the most ill-fated hostage situation I’ve ever heard of. But, apparently, the humanitarians down at the Capitol Building freaked the fuck out over this, citing security concerns and the fact that this dumbass was shouting obscenities at everyone. Yes, I can see the concerns that some stupid hick smuggled what looked to be a 9" hunting knife into the building without being searched. That would concern me too. However, to worry about this guy after he started shouting obscenities and taking himself hostage? Sorry, he then ceases to be a problem and becomes a punchline.

First of all, I have no desire to pay for this guy to be taken to some mental institution and poked, prodded, tested and eeg’d to see why his elevator skips a few floors. No desire at all. Just because this dude thinks he’s entitled to see the governor when he holds himself at knife point doesn’t necessarily make him crazy. Dumb as a bag of hammers? Absolutely. Crazy? No.

Good thing I wasn’t at the Capitol Building that day. I would have been yelling stuff back at him like, “Have at it pal. We’ll clean up the mess. Hey Tommy, bring me a mop and some wet wipes, will you?.” Or, “I’ve never seen anyone flop around after they’ve sliced their jugular clean in half. That kind of shit only happens in the movies. Can you do that for me LIVE, please?” In fact, I'm surprised the people dealing with this so-called crisis didn't bust out laughing instead of lock down the building and have a hissy-fit, yelling, "You shithead, that the best you can do?!?"

See, where I come from (as well as in my twisted, sick little mind), it’s called natural selection. The crazies and the weak weed themselves out. No muss, no fuss. No spending taxpayer dollars to figure out why they’re crazy and/or weak. I don’t fucking care why they’re crazy and/or weak. They were crazy and/or weak when they came into this world and they’ll be crazy and/or weak when they leave it, no matter how much money we throw at a mental institution to figure it out.

Bottom line is this - yes, it’s a huge concern that a weapon was smuggled into the building. Fix that problem and that problem only. I’m tired of living in a state where we rehabilitate. Dude’s crazy, period. Let him kill himself if he wants to. I mean, as long as he’s not taking anyone with him when he goes, why the fuck should we care?

Downsize Me

2005-01-31T10:51:00.000-08:00

Friday, January 28, 2005 - 4:45 p.m.

As I was walking by my boss’ office, on my way to the copy room, I heard my boss say, “JP, can you come in here for a minute? And close the door, would you?”

That’s not unusual. Usually late on a Friday, I’m asked to make a beer run or go get some wine from the cellar or some such shit.

“JP, I have some good news and some bad news.”

~Actually thinking that he’s going to tell me there’s no room in the budget for a raise this year, it’s that time. I’m prepared for this.~ “Ok.”

Hesitating - “The good news is that what I am about to tell you has NOTHING to do with your performance here with our firm. You are a great worker. You have done a marvelous job. You are a loyal worker with great people skills and our clients all love you.”

~Thinking to myself - greeeeaatttt, it’s definitely not a raise, since that has nothing to do with his motive for calling me in here in the first place.~

“JP, the problem is that our accountant has told us (meaning him and his partner) that we need to cut overhead. We simply don’t have the cases coming in and/or settling to keep spending the money that we do every month.”

“Ok.”

“We have done everything we know how to do. We’ve sold things. We’ve gotten rid of paid cell service for the attorneys here. We’ve cut as much as we can cut.”

“Ok.”

“The bottom line is this - we have cut everything we know how to cut here. However, you are a luxury. A wonderful luxury, but a luxury nonetheless. We are not going to leave you out in the cold, but what we would like you to do is take the next one to two months to look for a new job. You, of course, would have the freedom to interview at will, whenever you want to, just keep me in the loop. If it drags on past two months, we will continue to keep you here as long as we can afford it. I will give you the best recommendation possible and will do everything I can to assist you in securing a new job. I’m very, very sorry. I wish there was a way to keep you here, but there’s really not.”

“Ok. Uhhhhh, well, uhhhhh, ok. Um, I guess you have to do what you have to do.”

“Yes, it really is a numbers game and, unfortunately, we just can’t afford you any more.”

“Ok then, I’ll do my best to find a new job within a month or two.”

“Thanks, JP. I am really sorry that it’s come to this.”

~I’m dying on the inside, but put on my best smile.~ “Hey, what can you do? I know you well enough to know that if there was a way, you’d keep me on here. I thank you for employing me. It’s been a wonderful experience.”

I left the room. Shock and awe doesn’t sufficiently cover the emotions I’ve been feeling since then. My life has been turned upside down by this news. I knew that the firm was in trouble financially, but I didn’t think it would come to this.

I have told many of you here that I have the best job in Portland. I do. This firm is a great place to work. It’s almost like we’re a family here. I look forward to getting out of bed every single day and leaving my kids to come here and help others with their problems. It’s the perfect mix of casual, professional, personal and family here. We normally have a dog or two running around the office. If I have a doctor’s appointment or one of my kids has a school function that I need to be at, I just go. I don’t check in with anyone. I don’t jump through 90 hoops to walk out the front door, I just go. I can start a half hour early every day so I can take an hour and a half lunch to go work out. It’s just a rare perfect fit. Combine that with my salary, perks and bonuses and I’m going to be hard-pressed to find a job to replace this one. They don’t grow on trees. I truly cannot afford to take a pay cut, but I may just have to because I’m probably in the top 5% salary-wise of all paralegals here in Portland.

The thing that upsets me the most is that I left a stable firm to come over here to this one. I could have spent my whole career at my last firm and retired, had I chosen to do so. I didn’t make nearly as much, but it was also a nice fit for me. I was assured by my boss that this firm was stable and I’d be here a long, long time as long as I performed. The other upsetting thing is that as soon as they can afford a paralegal here, they’ll give MY JOB to someone else. I was the first paralegal here and I had planned to be the only one here for a while.

As far as “cutting overhead,” I think the problem here is that both partners came from successful defense firms where the money was steady and free-flowing. Being plaintiffs’ attorneys is vastly different in that if you don’t win the case, you don’t get paid. However, they seem to spend money like water here. I mean, we probably have $25,000 worth of Persian rugs here, $50,000 worth of art work hanging on the walls and wine in the cellar. They just hired another attorney which, in my opinion, we didn’t need. Also, my boss has a Porsche Cayenne Turbo sitting in the driveway that cost him $87,000. That’s to say nothing of the Porsche Carrera S that sits in his garage at home. He rarely drives it. Plus, he just remodeled his house to the tune of $250,000. There’s plenty of money, they just spend it too rapidly.

I’m mad. I know it’s not personal, but fuck (or should that be butt fuck?), it feels personal. This is my job dammit. I made this little ‘team’ what it is. I was the glue that held this team together when my boss fired his secretary because she was more worthless than tits on a bull, as well as the fact that he wanted to hire Vicki away from his old firm. I did both my job and his secretary’s job for three months while Vicki prepared to leave her old firm. I was told afterwards that I was going to be given a bonus to cover my extra work. I was given a bonus ($1,200), which I used to go see my grandmother before she died. I was grateful. However, when Christmas rolled around that year, I was shorted on my year-end bonus and told that “I had already received part of my Christmas bonus in February.” I never said a word. I was happy to get my year-end bonus AND to have been able to go see Nanny before she passed.

Likewise, I have let some job opportunities slip through my grasp in the past six months. I’ve been offered interviews and opportunities to send my resume into other firms. I’ve turned them all down because you can’t put a price on loving your place of employment. I truly thought I’d grow old here, if I chose to. Blind sided doesn’t begin to describe my feeling. Actually, I feel like I’ve been hit in the head with a brick.

I truly don’t know what to do. I mean, I know what to do - look for another job, I have no choice. But I mean where? Do I go to a bigger firm where I have more security and less individuality and more office politics? Do I go to another small firm where I can shine, but won’t be paid as well and may just price myself out of their market? Do I stay in Portland where it rains seven months out of the year, summers are short and I feel a little out of place? Do I move back to Florida where the sun shines and my boys will have an edge when it comes to playing high school sports? After two months, do I file for unemployment and spend a couple of months just selling stuff on e-bay to supplement my income until my lease on my townhouse is up? I’m truly at a loss.

I was hopeful when 2005 started. However, the downward spiral continues.

Cell Phone Rage

2005-01-27T09:07:00.001-08:00

Ok, so Victoria had to drop her car off at the service shop this morning. We get to the dealership and drop it off. They run a shuttle service to get you to work. Instead of taking the Max line (guaranteed hour and a half commute from Max stop to our office), we opt to take their shuttle service. After all, how bad could it be? Only problem is that another lady, who also dropped her car off, is taking the shuttle service as well. Ok, no problem. ~cue the Twilight Zone music~

As soon as she sits her fat arse in the back seat of the shuttle (I'm seriously amazed it fit), she yanks out her cell phone and starts yipping into it. First of all, it's 7:15 in the a.m. I'm not awake yet. I haven't even started sipping my coffee yet. So, here we are, captive in this shuttle with no sound other than the hum of the engine and the incessant whine of this lady's voice into her cell phone. She's talking about dog breeding (judging from her looks, I'd say it runs in her family). How she can't find a stud for this bitch and how she can't find a bitch for that stud, etc. Then, in the middle of her conversation, she pulls the phone away from her ear and apologizes for "swearing" so much. After she does that, she gets back on her phone and apologizes to whomever was on the other end saying, "people don't understand doggie talk here." WTF? By this point, I was ready to rip her phone from her meaty hand and stomp it into bits with my Nike hiking boots. THEN something must have struck her as funny because she starts laughing unremittingly into the phone. She sounded like a leaky tire running over a duck (I couldn't tell on a few occasions if she was laughing or choking to death - thank God I didn't have to make the decision on whether to perform the Heimlich or not because she wouldn't have made it). Ok, I'm officially in hell. As we near her destination, she starts telling the shuttle driver how to get to her office, but she still doesn't hang up the phone. So she's now trying to hold up two conversations at once. She confused the crap out of the driver, who is shaking his head so hard I thought he would get a head rush. Mercifully, she finally tells the person she was yapping with that she'll call him when she gets into her office. She hangs up the phone, all exasperated-like (hey it's hard work talking and snorting that much - who needs a gym?), and tells the driver tersely how to get to her office.

Amazingly, she managed to escape the shuttle with her cellphone in one piece. I am proud of myself for exercising such restraint. However, I feel that using your cell phone when you have a captive audience to listen to your side of the conversation is extremely rude. Next time this happens, I have a feeling I'll owe someone a new cell phone.

Pink Eye

2005-01-18T08:20:00.000-08:00

Holy christ! What am I, in kindergarten? Yes, for the first time ever, I have pink eye. This sucks major ass. My eye is sensitive to light AND I can't take my contact out because I can't see without it.

Sooooooo, until this is gone, I will not be blogging. Be back soon, hopefully.

How To Make A JP

2005-01-14T07:51:00.000-08:00

I can't believe how accurate this was. Thanks, Jamie.

How to make a jp

Ingredients:

5 parts anger

3 parts silliness

3 parts beauty

Method:
Stir together in a glass tumbler with a salted rim. Add a little cocktail umbrella and a dash of lustfulness

Personality cocktail
From Go-Quiz.com

How My Mind Works Sometimes

2005-01-13T10:25:00.000-08:00

Ok, I was taking a shower this morning and this whole freaking song popped into my head all at once. Not piece by piece, all at once. I guess it's my mind's impersonation of a guy that's spent a little too much time with the wrong kind of girl. Please sing this in the method of Tim McGraw's "I Like It, I Love It"

Spent 48 hours last week in the county jail.
That dumb SOB shouldn’t have bought her that Full Sail
She’s got me saying motherfucker, suck my dick and you’re queer
I used to say shucks, golly gee and oh dear.
I just got fired cause I called my boss a creep.
When we were at the urinals that cupcake took a peek

But fuck you, I love it. In fact, you can shove it.
When my dick is hard, I can’t rise above it.
It always seems to happen when she’s on her knees suckin.
So Fuck you, I love it. In fact you can shove it.

My mamma and daddy always taught me courtesy.
Now that’s out the window since that girl got a hold of me.
Now I rock out with my cock out and talk to whores.
I screw em in the back of my ‘68 Ford.
When we’re done boning, I pay em in cash.
Prayin that I don’t get a huge fucking rash.

But fuck you, I love it. In fact, you can shove it.
When my dick is hard, I can’t rise above it.
It always seems to happen when she’s on her knees suckin.
So Fuck you, I love it. In fact you can shove it.

-----------------------

Yes, I am totally aware that I should seek professional help immediately. Thanks. Jerk.

Randy Moss, Strange Love, The Surreal Life and Caesar’s 24/7

2005-01-12T09:33:00.000-08:00

I haven’t been in a ranty mood lately and for that, I apologize. I’ve been sick AGAIN!! I haven’t been sick three times in the past ten years but I’ve now been sick three times in the past three months. Grrrrrrrrrr. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. Really, I am. I could seriously hurt someone over this. Anyway, there’s some stuff that’s been on my mind this week, but I haven’t really had a chance to straighten it all out in my head until today.

Randy Fucking Moss. I hate this guy. Hate him like he punched my grandmother. He is another supreme example of what is wrong with modern athletes. When the Vikings drafted him, there were questions about his character. As all of us who follow sports have learned since, there was a reason he went so low in the first round. The man is an insipid douchebag. He has said stuff in the past like, “I play when I want to play. If you don’t like it, I don’t care.” Nice way to give back to the team that has made damn sure that you are living in a mansion and aren’t flipping burgers in West Virginia (where he’s from) for the rest of your life. His display in Green Bay over the weekend was shameful. The “fake mooning” he gave the crowd was just the icing on the cake. Back to that in a minute. First of all, I knew something was different with him when he came out with his “Sideshow Bob” hairdo instead of his usual cornrows. Told me he was in a weird mood. Then, after the Vikings took the lead, you see him on the sidelines saying stuff to the crowd like, “I don’t give a shit. Look at the fucking scoreboard. Ya’ll are losin.” Dick. The first TD pass he caught should have been called back for offensive pass interference. He totally pushed Al Harris down in order to catch the ball. Nice skills there Randy. Then when he did the “simulation mooning” to the crowd and appeared to wipe his ass on the goalpost, I was disgusted even further. He is a classless, tasteless individual. Why you would, as a business person, give this man $84 million is beyond me. You do not make a man of his character and personality comfortable, if you want results from him at all times. Anyhow, Randy Moss, you are an asshole and if I ever meet you, I will fight you. For now, though, I am rooting for Lito Sheppard and Sheldon Brown of the Eagles to aim directly for your ACL when they tackle you. After all, your $84 million contract isn’t guaranteed money.

Strange Love. Ok, I have to admit that I have been looking forward to seeing this show on VH1 ever since I saw that Flava Flav and Brigitte Nielsen were involved. First of all, could you come up with two people that look worse together than these two? For those who don’t know, Flava Flav is a rapper from Public Enemy. I fucking love Public Enemy. They put out three of the most influential rap albums of the 80's and early 90's. Yo Bum Rush The Show, It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back and Fear Of A Black Planet were by far the best rap albums ever to come out, with the exception of The Black Album by Jay-Z. I guess Flava and Brigitte met on the Surreal Life and hit it off. The opening episode is Flava flying to Italy to be with Brigitte. Only problem is that Brigitte is engaged to some guy that looks like a soccer reject. Flava talks Brigitte into ditching the fiancee and taking her to some Italian villa to be alone. The rest of the show was spent listening to Flava call Brigitte “Geet-A” and Brigitte call Flava Flav “Foofy Foofy.” High comedy right there. Let me say that I cannot believe that this woman was once married to Sly Stallone. She has not aged well at all. She’s all wrinkly and stuff. She was a semi-hottie back in the 80's, but damn, she’s hideous now. She was always a bit mannish, but now she’s freakishly mannish. Well if you don’t take into account the fact that she has HUGE hooters. The show was strange, to say the least and from the looks of it, it will only get stranger as the season wears on. I will be watching.

The Surreal Life. True story - I used to think that Queen’s lyrics said “Is this surreal life, is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide. So escape from reality.” See, the reality part justified the surreal life part in my mind. Yes, I know I’m an idiot. Asshole. Anyway, another VH1 reality train wreck. But the weird part of it is that it’s a beautiful train wreck. It works splendidly. You put some washed up faux-celebs with personality disorders in a house together all at once and the jokes write themselves. In The Surreal Life 4 (there were 3 before this? I must rent them on Netflix) houses Chyna (of WWE fame - and she’s a MAN baby!!), Christopher Knight (Peter Brady), Da Brat (who?), Adrianne Curry (America’s Next Top Model winner, and she’s smokin’ hot, if not extremely stupid - my favorite combination), Markus Schenkenberg (male model and definite mimbo), Jane Weidlin (she of the Go Go’s fame from the 80's - and quite possibly possessing the most annoying speaking voice in the history of television), and Verne Troyer (Mini Me). What could possibly go wrong? This show really deserves its own entry because it’s so great. In the first episode, Chyna arrives at the house first and chooses a room. There are two rooms that sleep three and one room that is solo. As you can guess, she chooses the solo room. Only problem is that it’s meant for Mini Me. Everything is freakin tiny. Closet, mini bar, bed, everything. You can imagine what happens when Mini Me finds this out later. Da Brat comes in and sees that she’s in a house full of hasbeens and calls her manager telling her that she’s leaving. Adrianne and Markus walk around like they’re in a daze. It must be hard carrying all that beauty around all the time. The funniest part of the show (and maybe in the history of reality television) was Mini Me getting fucked up. Totally trashed. He is in bed sleeping it off when the Adrianne and Jane decide to go skinny dipping. Well, Peter Brady goes and wakes him up. Mini Me comes out and makes a pass at Peter Brady, then passes out on him. They get him to back to bed and he starts making these orgasmic moaning sounds. Totally satisfying himself with people IN the room. Everyone is laughing their asses off. Then, not five minutes later, Mini Me (who gets around on a scooter type apparatus) is on his scooter, driving down the hallway bare-assed naked. He stops at the end of the hallway and pisses on the wall. Oh.My.GOD!! I have never laughed so hard in all my life. You can’t script shit like that. Definitely another show that I’ll watch religiously. I really need a TiVo.

Caesar’s 24/7. I fucking love reality TV. Love it. I also love Vegas and would move there in a heartbeat if I could. This is an interesting show that focuses on all aspects of running a huge gaming casino. Another inaugural episode. This one featured a retired 31 year old millionaire woman losing $60,000 at the roulette wheel. The bizarre thing was that she was there for 12 hours. She was down $60,000 after 2 hours and battled back to even after 11 hours and then lost it all in the next two. The house always wins. Walk the fuck away already. They focused on a man with terminal cancer. He comes to Vegas every so often and plays the slots. This time he decided to play the $500 slot machine and in his fourth pull ($2,000 into it), he hits a jackpot of $1,000,000. I would have fallen over in a dead fucking faint. The floor manager congratulates him and puts him and his wife up in the nicest suite in the hotel, a 9,500 square foot mansion of a place with plasma tvs in every room (including the bathrooms) and their own private swimming pool. Later in the show this guy hits a poker machine for another $75,000 and wins another $125,000 playing cards. Not a bad day, all in all. Good for him. There was a blackjack dealer they featured talking about how, if she gets a guy at the table that wins a bunch of money, she’ll take home $1,000 in tips per night. She averages $750. That’s insane. And it makes me want to deal cards 12 hours a day. Dammit, I’m hooked. There goes one New Year’s Resolution. Oh well, such is life...or reality.

Because Vicki Told Me To

2005-01-11T11:12:00.000-08:00

Vicki told me I had to do this or I don't get to see her boobs. Not that I get to see them now, but I'm always hopeful. So, here goes it.

3 names you go by:
JP
Daddy
Silver Fox (softball teammates)

3 screen names you have:
JP In P-Town
Wilbert Montgomery
Itsanalias

3 things you like about yourself:
I’m a good dad.
I live every day to the best of my ability.
I don’t do anything half-assed.

3 things you hate/dislike about yourself:
I'm too trusting.
I'm pretty bad at budgeting my money.
I’m too accommodating. I do for others before I do for myself.

3 parts of your heritage:
I’m 3/4ths Italian.
1/8 English
1/8 Irish

3 things that scare you:
Not being able to protect my boys.
Dying with regrets.
Carnies. Circus folk. Smell like cabbage. Small hands.

3 of your everyday essentials:
Backpack full of everything I may need at one point or another during the day.
A good book. Need something to occupy my mind at all times.
A good night’s sleep. I’m worthless without it.

3 things you're wearing right now:
A very comfy pair of Doc Martens.
Nice, warm flannel boxers.
A huge smile on my face. I’m a happy person.

3 of your favorite bands/artists:
Motley Crue
Creed
George Strait

3 of your favorite songs at present:
Stacey’s Mom Has Got It Goin On - Fountains of Wayne
Dirt Off Ya Shoulder - Jay Z (the ringtone on my phone)
This Is The New Shit - Marilyn Manson

3 new things you want to try in the next 12 months:
Learn to play an instrument.
Get another tattoo.
Coach my boys’ baseball team.

3 things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
Passion
Respect
Honesty

2 truths and a lie:(no particular order to keep ya guessing):
I’ve won a national championship playing fastpitch softball.
I love watching cooking shows.
If I had a choice between sleeping with Jennifer Garner and spending a night with my kids, I’d choose my kids every day of the week and twice on Sunday.

3 physical things about a love interest that appeal:
Legs
Ass
Personality/Compatibility

3 things you just can't do:
Function when I’m sick.
Stay focused for more than a week at a time.
Speak my mind to my significant other (that's that whole "too accommodating" thing).

3 of your favorite hobbies:
Watching movies
Playing Softball
Playing X-Box with my kids.

3 things you want to do really badly right now:
Take some Nyquil and go to sleep.
Go someplace WARM.
Veg out in front of a TV and drift off to sleep.

3 careers you're considering:
Staying a paralegal.
Personal Trainer
Physical Therapist/Masseuse

3 places you want to go on vacation:
Hawaii
Tuscany
Disney World

3 kids names (either boy or girl):
Chloe Mya
Micah Tanner
Jonah Thomas

3 things you want to do before you die:
Spend a month in Tuscany.
Win another national championship.
Raise my kids to be respectful, useful members of society with no regrets.

3 people who have to take this quiz now:
Jenn
KtP
Zelda

Page From Miss Vicki

2005-01-10T08:05:00.000-08:00

I too took the Myers-Brigg Online Personality Test . Here's what I got. It's fairly accurate. However, if any one of you makes fun of my being "prone to crying," I'm so kicking your ass.

ESFP

outgoing, social, group oriented, dislikes science fiction, does not like to be alone, good at getting people to have fun, values relationships and family over intellectual pursuits, open, likes to dance, spontaneous, underachieving, unprepared, emotional, values organized religion, easy to persuade, easy to impress, not analytical, disorganized, prone to crying, likes to be center of attention, happy, trusts others, influenced more by others than self

favored careers:
public relations manager, school teacher, radio dj, customer service, emt, hair stylist, event coordinator, pediatric nurse, child care worker, makeup artist, personal trainer, public relations, human resources, travel agent, massage therapist, physical therapist, interior decorator

disfavored careers:
bookstore owner, author, researcher, painter, artist, scientist, philosophy professor, art director, computer programmer, freelance writer, history professor, web developer, paleontologist, book editor, cia agent, aerospace engineer, archeologist, webmaster

Another Year, Another Resolution...Or 10

2005-01-06T08:55:00.000-08:00

Ahhhhh, 2005. How refreshing. After feeling like I took a year-long acid bath, I fucking love having the slate wiped clean. Yes, I know that I still have the same problems today that I did on December 31st, but dammit I am less stressed than I was for some reason. Every year, I make resolutions just like 99% of you. Some I stick with, some I don’t. Here’s the 2005 list.

1. Go back to the gym. Every November, my life becomes hectic beyond belief. It becomes increasingly hard to go to the gym. I go religiously from January through June. Then softball kicks into full swing, so I cut back my gym time. Softball tapers off at the end of September through October, but basketball starts. November rolls around and there just aren’t enough hours in the day for me to do anything. This year, however, I think I figured out a way to stay consistent with the gym - I’m going on my lunch break (well, actually I adjusted my hours so I could take an hour and a half for lunch). That should help me go most every day. I’m not looking to get buff this year. Just looking to tone up, create some core strength and become more flexible. Pulling a groin muscle last year really taught me a valuable lesson about being flexible.

2. Take better care of my face. I’m talking about using aftershave balm and special men’s face wash twice a day. Yes, I’m a clean person to begin with, but I never really paid attention to using aftershave or what kind of soap I used to wash my face with. Also, I exfoliate twice a week (I’ve always done this). Yes, it’s a little effeminate but I’m pretty secure with my masculinity. Shut up.

3. Take better care of my teeth. Overall, my teeth are just fine. However, I don’t like my dentist. I haven’t been in, well, I’m ashamed to say how long it’s been. My dentist wanted to charge me what amounted to the gross national product of Guam to whiten my teeth. Needless to say, I need to find a new dentist. I may wait until April, when I can change my insurance coverage to include dental services.

4. Play with my kids more. I play with them a lot, but as stressors in my life start to build up, I tend to spend more time isolated, vegging out in front of some sporting event than playing with them. I have resolved to play with them every single night. Something that they want to do. Not something that I want to do, necessarily. So far, so good.

5. Watch less TV. I don’t watch a ton of TV. I watch even less “wasted” TV (as in sitcoms). However, I do watch a lot of sports and I do watch a lot of movies. Granted, I watch most of this stuff late at night, but my time can be better spent reading a book or doing something productive.

6. Take better care of my money. I don’t make a ton of money, but I make more than most in my field. However, every year when tax season rolls around, I look and say “where the hell did all my money go?” Holy shit, you made how much moolah last year? And you have how much in the bank? What the fuck are you trying to do, make sure you work until you die? It’s time to take care of my money. It’s time to make it work for me. I started reading a book that will point me in that direction, or at least I’m hoping it will. I’m a financial idiot.

7. Sell stuff on e-bay. I’ve had a ton of stuff sitting at home and on my desk here at work that I keep threatening to put on e-bay. I’ve only been saying this for about nine months now. It’s time to put this quality stuff on e-bay. *Dazzling smile*

8. Become more aware of what’s going on at work. Doing what I do, I am pretty isolated in terms of what I know about the files we have. My job is basically to get medical records, get them arranged and into a notebook and shuttle them off to whatever associate attorney is handling the case. I have other duties too, but that’s probably 75% of my work. However, I want to do more here like assist at trial (wherever that may be), assist at depositions, etc. In order to do that, I have to be intimate with the files. I plan to keep a running log of what I’m working on and what needs to be done on each file. Also, we have a trial in Southern California coming up in March. I have started reading the contents so that I’ll be *indispensable* when trial rolls around. I hope.

9. Take a vacation with my kids. Disney World is calling my name. As a matter of fact, it’s calling me around the end of April. The kids are at a great age to visit the place I spent a lot of my childhood at. I can’t wait. They were there once, but that was four years ago. Garrett remembers some of it, but Reese only remembers if we show him pictures. Besides, now Reese is big enough to ride the thrill rides with me. Garrett went on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad with me and had the death grip on my arm the whole time. Should be a fun time!!

10. Do what I need to do to make myself happy. This is the hard one. I’m still figuring out what this will take. I’m sure some things in my life have to change. I just don’t know what they are yet. I’ll keep you all posted.

I sincerely hope that each one of you has a wonderful 2005!

Tattoo Me

2005-01-04T09:05:00.000-08:00

I had originally planned to do my New Year's Resolutions post today, but got sidetracked here at work. Celti and VaderChick always asked me for a better picture of my tat. I was going through some old photos last night and came across one that shows it a little better. No dissing the guy with the backwards hat going through his Easter Egg Basket.