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Archive for the category “Miscellaneous Ramblings”

Men Suck at Thanksgiving!

A heart-warming holiday tale back by occasional demand… 

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Men Suck at Thanksgiving! And I don’t mean just a little. No, we suck in a big ole stink the whole house up Big Fart kind of way.

To be fair, some guys reading this may think they suck less simply because they do not have to endure the hostile environment encountered when you are the host family and everyone is schlepping to your house for the big meal… that your wife has painstakingly prepared. If that’s your situation and you were fortunate enough to travel somewhere beyond your ranch to a place where someone else prepared the meal and you just had to show up well… YOU STILL SUCK… but just less so.

Case in point: As any hostess worth her yams will tell you the preparation for said feast does not begin on Thanksgiving. Oh no, there’s at least three days of advanced preparation.

Day 1: Hunt and gather. This day is for accumulating the required feasting items; Turkey, stuffing, cranberry, potatoes, beans, spices and a wide assorted of unidentified goods. If you make the mistake of asking what any of these mystery items are during Day 1 preparation, YOU SUCK and this will be bantered about for approximately 4 ½ hours while she gathers her thoughts in preparation of Day 2.

Day 2: The sequel. This is the return to the shopping center day where she will retrieve all items forgotten on original Day 1 assembly. Upon her return, any mention of this revisit will be met with violent opposition, reminding your sorry self that she did not want to go back but rather had to go back because YOU SUCK!

The evening between Day 2 and Day 3: No calm before the storm. About an hour before we went to bed I asked (thought innocently enough) “You don’t have to get up early tomorrow do you”? YOU SUCK! As soon as the words left my lips I knew I was sinking in a stew of poo. It starts with the look of pure disdain… like when a drunk house guest barfs on your cat! Then a growl becomes a tirade of things she has had to do, and will have to get up early to do to properly prepare for tomorrow… all of which you did not do because YOU SUCK!

Side note: Her 6:45am awakening and subsequent movements to the kitchen must be steadfastly ignored. Any attempts at early holiday banter will prove futile. At this point there is so much tension in the air a mere toe crack can send you hurling into a vortex of doom. There will be loud sighs, banging of pots, occasional screams. Just lie still.

Day 3: D-day. Pay close attention to your surroundings with a keen eye on things outside of her focal point. Apparently my 12 year-old son was not supposed to wear his “Zombie Apocalypse” shirt with the dead guy and blood spatter on it.

Unless there’s a new, more praise-worthy translation for “mangled” and “hack-job” men also suck at carving the turkey. This is no doubt perplexing to many as this is supposedly “the guys’ job”, the moment when he’s tagged in from football watching and beer drinking to Ginsu the bird. The crowd gathers, there’s a faint drum roll (perhaps only you can hear), the sun spotlights on you thru the picture window and then… YOU SUCK! I once witnessed the swift emasculation of my father in-law’s initial Emeril-quality bird bravado transformed into Jerry Lewis’ Nutty Professor with one “what the hell did you do?” from my mother in-law. Shameful.

If somehow you manage to do something right on this day (bring your plate to the sink, not spill Blueberry pie on the rug, whatever) then do not, under any circumstances, draw attention to the feat. Like throwing a live grenade at an upright trampoline this will immediately blow up in your face.  And, whatever you do, don’t say something moronic like “I picked up a case of beer so we’re all set with that”. This seemingly beneficial act is so measly in comparison to the colossal tactical and physical effort of the Grand Gala it will only remind her that YOU SUCK.

My advice, stay out of the way and don’t say anything until after dessert. By then, she will have had at least 2 glasses of wine and your presence will be somewhat tolerable.

Also, keep in mind not one iota of this story is remotely amusing to her during the Day 1 thru 3 YOU SUCK period and is only safe to share when the dust truly settles on Day 4 and beyond.

Men, Consider Yourself Warned.

Women, Thanks For All Your Giving!

May The Feast Be With You!

Steve 🙂

Divorce Prevention Disclaimer: The previous fictional account does not necessarily depict any actual person or event. Any similarity between this tale and real life is purely coincidental.

 

Hannah Montana Is A Crazy Ho

If somehow you missed Miley Cyrus’s astonishing latex underwear burlesque performance at the 2013 MTV Video Music Awards please allow me to recap.

It started with this god awful tongue lashing…

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then I’m almost certain we were all drugged and this happened…

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leading to this WTF foam finger incident…

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that unfortunately escalated quickly into this OMG “happy ho down”…

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ending with this totally natural  “look, I’m a ho dog” maneuver

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Since this performance covered so many obnoxious bases, I picked my brain for what could possibly be worse than this in shows to come and came up with nothing I can write here that doesn’t contain extreme vulgarities best left for Ho Digest.

A sure sign of the pending apocalypse, it troubles me (and hopefully you) that this performance was likely appealing to some demographic of the general population.

Steve 😉

 

 

Remembering an American Icon

Dear Friends,

It is with a heavy heart that I pass on the following tragic news. Please join me in remembering a great icon…

The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly-greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours as long- time friend, Aunt Jemima, delivered the eulogy, describing Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded.

Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a very “smart” cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he even still, as a crusty old man, was considered a roll model for millions. Towards the end, it was thought he would rise again, but alas, it was not to be.

Doughboy is survived by his wife, Play Dough; two children, John Dough and Jane Dough; plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.

The funeral was held at 3:50 for about twenty minutes.

Rest in pieces

Steve 🙂

A Little Christmas Story…


When four of Santa’s elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Pre-Christmas pressure. 

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more. 

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where. 

Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered. 

Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drunk all the cider and hidden the liquor.. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom. 

Just then the doorbell rang, and an irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. 

The angel said very cheerfully, ‘Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn’t this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?’ 

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree. 

Not a lot of people know this.

Merry Ho Ho

Steve 🙂

Lexus: Delusions to Remember

With the Christmas season upon us, no doubt you’ve seen those preposterous Lexus “December to Remember” TV commercials that are all over the airwaves.  You know the ones where the girl gives the guy a brand new Lexus with a big red bow on it as a Christmas gift.

First off, who are these astonishingly pompous people and how can I find them and get on the gift list? Seriously, is this act of ultra-extravagant gift-giving commonplace somewhere we common folk don’t know about? What the hell happened to Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas?!?

Just imagine the alternate reality of dating one of these Diva’s? She queues up the faint sound of Silent Night, dims the house lights, sets the Christmas lights to extra sparkle and leads you (like a Vogue model Elf) to the driveway where your brand spanking shiny new Lexus is red-bowed and awaiting your butt cheeks.

At first glance you think “NO WAY UNBELIEVABLY FREAK’N AWESOME YOU ARE THE BEST!!!” Then, 3.4 seconds later you think, “Crap, I don’t have anything that even remotely compares to this! Doesn’t matter that her mitten/scarf set is from K-Mart’s new Sophia Vegara line, she’s still gonna think I’m a schlub.” See photo for this precise moment when joy left his body.

And so it begins… From this moment on, you will forever have to raise your gift giving game to humongous heights or suffer deep-seated woefully inadequate schlub feelings.

How about stocking stuffers? Your Ms. Claus has your Presidential-looking stocking stuffed with a variety of Robb Reports recommended gifts for the fashionably elite; Patek Philippe watch, Gold & Diamond iPhone, Gucci wallet, Habano Cuban cigars and 2 luxury-suite box seats to the Super Bowl. Meanwhile, you stuffed her sorry sad sack with a deodorant stick, a thong and a small bottle of CVS brand body lotion. Schlub.

Roses for your anniversary? Only if you want to officially carve your Schlubery in stone. After all, last year she bought you a quaint Italian restaurant, personal chef, wine cellar and virtuoso violinist. Bitch.

Should you find yourself in this predicament, unable to side-step the wealth of riches granted upon you, try and make the best of it. At times, you may be uncomfortable flaunting your new Lexus to the less fortunate and those struggling in todays down economy but just grin and bear it.  ‘Tis The Season after all.

Happy Ho Ho! 🙂

Steve

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