A Complete Rant Of What The Snake Brings In 2013 And What You Can Expect From This Big Sexy Bastard…
Resolutions, revelations, restitution, ruminations, I can never remember what we are supposed to promise for the New Year. It’s the year of the snake and that alone makes me want to make and keep a great number of promises because I damn sure don’t want a big creepy Chinese snake slithering into my bed in the middle of the night interrupting my dirty dreams with Anne Hathaway and Betty White to remind me of of my poor follow through. So what promises should I surely break this year? They have to be good ones. I promise I will yo yo my weight. I promise to stop smoking, easy enough since I don’t do it but dang it I say it counts. Work makes me nuts and want to smoke but I purge the urge so that is in my favor. Don’t judge me. I promise to stop enticing all you women with my stellar ass. It is a thing of beauty that Rodin himself could have not sculpted quite so perfectly. It just is not fair that I create such lustful wanting especially in church. So thats another guaranteed winner winner chicken dinner. I promise not to make a million dollars because with all this fiscal cliff talk I need to share the wealth. I am a giver folks. A giver with a dreamy ass. I promise to only pick my nose in public and in full view. I really should not keep secrets and I will feel much better if everyone sees this weakness. Nose picking is work and I whistle when I work so if you hear me whistling look the other way. I promise to stop crank calling Kanye West telling him that it was actually Kermit the Frog that knocked up Kim Kardashian. He has a long standing feud with Kermit. I am on team Kermit. Kermit is better behaved and a better rapper. I promise to sleep less at work. While it is efficient in having a better personal life I really get tired of cleaning the drool from my desk. I also am tired of explaining the sleep talking. My co workers are going to eventually have me committed when I continuously sleep talk about being Rapunzel’s personal hair dresser. I think I will make this the year I wear kitten heels on a regular basis, leopard print kitten heels. Fashion is important to me so I am brining back shoulder pads in polo shirts. I want to look strong. I am also going to have extra low cut Polos. I promise my neck line will plunge to my belly button. This will be convenient because I often store my lunchtime turkey sandwich in my belly button. Some people are fashion forward but I am fashion functional. I also promise to lose weight by only eating foods that were blessing by a Rabi named Paco while wearing assless chaps in a Build a Bear. This should prove to be effective and I am saying now to the millions of readers at home that I solely hold the rights to the blockbuster diet book that will follow. I am such a brilliant person sometimes.
What I really promise is to try and be the best me I can be. The best husband and father I can be. To never settle for good enough and to thrive to make all I touch smile. I cannot be more than I am. If I am destined to be a big man so be it but the heart that lies beneath wants everyone it touches to be happy and healthy. Happy New Year friends. I love you all.
When I was a child cartoons were pretty simple. Tom Chased Jerry, Schoolhouse Rock introduced us to “I’m Just a Bill”, we laughed at Elmer Fudd’s speech impediment (okay that is not so good), and Mickey Mouse was king. The stories were easy to follow and there was no work involved. You never worried that Wiley Coyote would catch the Roadrunner because you just knew it would not happen. Flash forward a couple decades and I have a daughter that I affectionately call Stink. I watch Nick Jr with her and I can’t help to wonder sometimes if my childhood friends are making the acid trip cartoons we joked about as teens. I watch Yo Gabba Gabba with her and there are crazy colorful creatures running around, dancing to trippy modern rock and basically scaring the nacho cheese out of me. There are sequences on this show that could be in Pink Floyds The Wall, Yellow Submarine, or more recently Heavy Metal. I just know that subliminally as my daughter watched this they are telling her “Pot isn’t just for plants anymore”, “Put make up on your Pops when he sleeps”, or maybe ” The dog would look so much better painted green”. There are some good shows that try to teach kids Chinese and Spanish but does it take a walking, talking back pack to do this? I look forward to see what the cartoons my grandchildren watch are like. Maybe it goes retro and Hong Kong Phoey makes a long needed return to the American Child Public.
Love you mean it.
My wife and I were talking about our daughter, Stink, and her bad temper. My wife loves to blame or is it lie or maybe tell it like it is? Okay for the purpose of shortening the blog she said Stink got her temper from me. I laughed because she seemed to forget that she has a temper as well. My temper can be compared to a tornado. One minute I am eating a pork chop and jelly sandwich watching Dirty Jobs in my Sponge Bob Square Pants Speedos while prank calling Abe Vigoda and the next second I…..Did I mention that I love Dirty Jobs but I started watching it purely by accident. It was late one night and I was perusing the viewing guide on the TV when I came across this enticing show titled “Dirty Jobs”. My wife was sleeping and I thought to myself maybe Dirty Jobs is about dirty jobs (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). I had visions of watching a show about this guy works for Playboy and he has to approve all the thought provoking photography before it hits the magazine. On Tuesdays, the models have to give him neck massages while serving him crackers dipped in potted meat. I switch the channel over to Dirty Jobs and find out that it is about jobs in which you may find dirt. I love that show. I even love Mike Rowe’s car commercials. So anyway now that the subject of potted meat has been brought up I have a question. Who in the wide world of full contact nude curling came up with that idea? Meat smushed to the point that it can be spread on a cracker. What kind of animal is potted meat and how mad is God at them that She gave us the idea to make them into potted meat. The marriage has gone south when your wife says , “Honey, no pork chop and jelly sandwich tonight. We are having potted meat and three day old guacamole dip.” ….the next second I explode like a tornado. I get real mad real fast and hop around like Donald Duck and just like a tornado I calm down almost as quickly. Mad one second and laughing the next with a mouthful of pork chops, bread, and jelly.
My wife’s temper on the other hand comes on like a hurricane. Hurricanes have warnings and when they hit your town they hang around for hours unlike a tornado which is more of a hit and run in nature. So it happens a little bit like this. I am sitting in the guest room eating raspberry flavored gummy lobsters, listening to Mel Brooks sing his hit single you never heard called “My Idea of Fun is Watching Midget Pole Vaulting”, and scratching my kneepits. I hear things getting set down loudly and hard. This is known as a Hurricane Warning. Have you ever wondered why they named a hurricane Peppy. Maybe no one would take Peppy serious. Maybe name them after serial killers or possibly American Idol contestants. If hurricane Manson or Hurricane Aiken was coming then you can guarantee folks will listen to the warnings and leave. Another gummy lobster consumed and the “Hurricane Watch” has begun. My wife starts to say things out loud and when you ask her what she says she sharply says nothing. She may say something like,” Strawberry Shortcake is a bitch”. This is where it gets entertaining unless she is mad at you. This will go on sometimes for the entire day, much like a hurricane. So She is a hurricane, I am a tornado. Our daughter? Officially she is perfect, for now. As for my wife and I, it is our differences that make us so strong as a couple. I just hope a hurricane and tornado never hit town at the same time. Did I mention I have ADD?
Love you mean it.