Thursday, February 28, 2008

It's right around the corner. . .


Thank god for term limits. Three hundred and twenty some odd days and it's over! This morning there was a headline on Yahoo News that said "Bush fighting for more intelligence in Washington." Fearing that a real serious story existed behind the headline, I chose not to read any farther. I have instead, just enjoyed the headline itself.

Now I'm no political genius. But what other options exist?

This guy?
The war is over, let it go!

This guy? Are you fucking kidding me?

How about. . . . . this guy?

Hey Ralphie Boy. Thanks for the whole seat belt thing. Now, piss off before you fuck us AGAIN!!!!

Oh! I know! This guy? No Rudy your balls aren't that big. Your a politician of circumstance.

Well what about him?
O.K. were getting there. Dude will you please vote on something, anything? Walk it don't just talk it. So far you've got my vote. But take a stance or I'm voting for this guy. . . .

At least he is telling me up front that I'm going to get Dycked!!!

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Love you pookie woo! Me too love muffin.

Is this a "true love" story that ends with "happily ever after?" mmmmmmmm No! Look, I've been is some shitty relationships and had some wing dinger arguments. These two take arguing to a whole new level.

Cop: "Mamm, put the airbag down and step away from the car!"

Shit, these two aren't even married! WTF. I've seen Bruce Willis movies that had less action. I'd love to know what this little disagreement stared over!

Will: "Why can't the bridesmaids wear cheerleader outfits?"
Stacey: "You’re fucking serious aren't you?"
Will: "Well yah."
Stacey: "You’re an Idiot!"
Will: "Come on, your sister has nice tits."

Or maybe it was. . . . .

Stacey: "Honey I broke a nail, hold me please"
Will: "Stacey, It was a bad day at work I don't need this right now."
Stacey: "You selfish son-of-a-bitch . . . . . guess what? When you went on that business trip last week your brother and his softball team pulled a train on me!!!!"

My wife hates the idea of the neighbors "hearing" us argue. This one made the AP Wire. It's safe to say, this ones probably over.

Saturday, February 23, 2008


My wife’s grandmother will turn 80 soon. She is a sweet, kind, happy, and giving person. I first met her about eleven years ago. She has treated me like family from day one. As I see it, she is more family to me than the one that I was born into. Until recently she has been independent and active. I appreciate her. Even the days when her requests seem ridicules or her stories don't quite make sense, I appreciate her. Since November her health has declined. The once independent and strong willed woman that I knew has been replaced by someone else. She has become feeble and weak. Her memory is less than sharp. She suffers random pains that often keep her confined to bed. For several months she had a private apartment in a senior assisted living facility. Two weeks ago that changed. We realized that her confusion and memory lapses were becoming more pronounced. Sometimes she forgot to take her medicine. Other times she took too much. Her appetite diminished and she lost weight. We knew she could no longer live on her own and a rest home was out of the question. We took her home with us. Everyone said we were brave for taking on her care. We saw no other option and insisted she be with us. They were right. It has been difficult and all consuming of our time. Last week she began having periods of unresponsiveness. The doctors admitted her to the hospital. Test after test has failed to pinpoint what is wrong. We have been frustrated with the situation and the system. Last night we had a breakthrough. It did not come from a doctor but from my wife. A new medicine prescribed last November for Alzheimer’s. The timeline matched the onset of symptoms. The internet gave us an extensive list of side-affects. They matched her complaints and symptoms. We stopped the medication. Her condition has improved ten-fold in the last 24 hours. WTF, don't doctors make enough to figure this shit out? She has a cardiologist, internist, gastrointestinal specialist, and case manager. Who figured it out? It wasn't an expert but a Freelance Graphic Designer. So, Grandma is back. Her memory may decline over time but she is comfortable and happy. I know it will be hard when she forgets our names or no longer knows where she is. I don't look forward to that day but at least she is not suffering.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Truth In Advertising

At the bar the other night I noticed the sales pitch for Souza Tequila. There motto is drink Souza and "get lost". It's refreshing to see some truth in advertising. I have been "lost" and drunk on "cactus juice" way to many times. Maybe some other advertisers should learn from the honest folks at Souza.

  1. "Your wallet is in good hands, with Allstate."
  2. "United Airlines, because you’re only other option is Greyhound. Now sit down and shut the fuck up!"
  3. "Let's face it, your wife is ugly. So for you, it’s Viagra."
  4. "Budweiser, the king of beers you cheap motherfucker."
  5. "You need Enzyte. Because the mailman as a bigger dick than you."
  6. "Ford Trucks, we'll see you at the shop, bring your checkbook."
  7. "The US Army, an Army of One, because everyone else you grew up with went to college."
  8. "If you want to waste six hours on the weekend and pull your hair out at the root, come to the Home Depot."
  9. "Nascar, yes it's retarded but it's O.K. to watch it for the crashes."
Gee, I could go on like this all day.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Yes, I'll have the shlongworst well done please.

At work we made sausage and kraut for dinner. Is it just me, or does it look like Lorena Bobbitt did the cooking? This is the one that found it's way to my plate. "Holy shit Dickman" I can't eat that! What the fuck was I supposed to do? I covered it with kraut and choked the bastard down. Wait, that didn't sound right...

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Is humor the best medicine? It hurts to laugh.

I love my job. I love the guys I work with. In the last 72 hours, thirteen were underhandedly forced into retirement. I'm devastated. For three days I've seen grown men/friends cry. I've cried. It fucking sucks! So, I need to try to write something humorous to prevent sinking into a real bad place.

Yesterday my wife and I went shopping at the local Whole Foods store. While shopping I came across "Hemp Granola Cereal". I swear to god this shit exists. The box even sports a big pot leaf. I wonder; if you’re not hungry, can you roll it and smoke it?

Because I was having such a shitty day, my wife surprised me. When we got home from shopping, she made up a steaming hot bath for me to soak in and have a beer. While at the store she had picked up some foo foo aroma therapy bath salts. So as I'm soaking in the tub having a brew, I found myself reading the salt container. Would you believe they advertise it as "organic salt"? WTF!!!! O.K. organic beef . . . no additives, I get it. Organic milk . . . no additives, I get it. Organic veggies. . . .I fucking get it. But what the hell is organic salt? Are you fucking kidding me? What, does the salt farmer not put steroids and hormones in the god damned dirt? I'm starting to think "organic" is French for "your an idiot, give me your money"!

Talk to you later.


Without going into much detail, the last three days have been the worst of my career. This made me laugh. I hope you laugh as well.


Thursday, February 14, 2008

Learn From My Mistake

Guys, let me save you some future grief. Every woman out there wants a "blue box" for valentines. Ladies, I know you agree with that statement. You can't bullshit me. Some of you guys are asking "Jake, what's a blue box?" Well let me tell you, It's the beginning of you being a "broke son of a bitch", that's what it is!!! Tiffany Jewelers is killing me. Now don't get me wrong, every woman deserves something from Tiffany at some point in their life. But here is where I fucked up. I bought the "blue box" at like year. . . . . . .two. It's now the standard and there's no going back. If I came home now and said "honey I got you this nice diamond heart pendant from Zales. I love you, Happy Valentines Day". She would kick me square in the nuts. I wouldn't even get the chance to give her the free kissing bears that came with it. My balls would be up somewhere near my diaphragm. So guys temper the urge to over gift prematurely. Start with a Halmark card and work your way up (slowly) from there. Besides, it's not even a real fucking holiday. When I get to stay home from work on 2/14, then I'll celebrate. Happy V-day. . .


Wednesday, February 13, 2008

"Hey baby, want to see my tattoo?"

This is the time of year that I hate. That gap between football and baseball season. The sports "Blackhole". Lately; to pass time, I've been searching the web for inspiration for my next tattoo. I can usually find some great ideas to help the artist I use, create what I want. That's when I came across this guy. What the fuck was he thinking? Or maybe that was the problem, he wasn't thinking.

Guy: Chicks really dig tattoos. I think I'll get one. But what should I get? I'll go ask the tattoo guy down town.

So I picture this guy hopping into his 72 Dodge Dart and heading to the shop. He walks throught the door. *ding* *ding*

Tattoo Guy: Hi, welcome to the Hip Hop Tattoo Shop, can I help you?
Guy: Yeah, I hear chicks really dig guys with tattoos, but I don't know what to get.
Tattoo Guy: Look man, maybe you should put a little more thought into this, I mean it's a pretty big commitment.
Guy: Look, I'm really striking out with the babes and I don't know why. I'm sure a tattoo will change my luck.
Tattoo Guy: Hey whatever man it's you body.
Guy: Well what should I get?
Tattoo Guy: Look, how the fuck should I know? It's your tattoo.
Guy: Come on man you do this all the time, help me out.
Tattoo Guy: O.K. how about a cool skull and dagger.
Guy: Nah skulls kinda scare me. I still live with my mom and she won't let me keep a night lite on. She says it runs up the PG&E bill.
Tattoo Guy: Well then how about a "Mom" tattoo?
Guy: Shit man do you think I'm some kinda loser or something?
Tattoo Guy: Look dude I ain't got time for this. . . for all I care you can get your cat's ass tattoo'd on that fat stomach of yours!!!!
Guy: Woooooooo, now your onto something. . . . . that idea rocks!!!!!

Way to go dude!


Monday, February 11, 2008

Pimping Chelsea; Holy Fuck!!!

I'm sorry, but what the fuck is going on? I'm a fairly smart guy but am humble enough to know that even at forty; I have a lot to learn. So with all of the recent (and not so recent) quirky shit going on in presidential politics, I decided to do some goggling. The last election it was the Electoral College and hanging chads. Now they come out with this "superdelegate" bullshit. Basically they are extra/super votes that can trump our regular measly lowly common shit votes. These are votes for hire. Call them ballot box mercenaries. So you would figure that these "superdelegates" are ancient all knowing wise political gurus. Not the case. I have and will continue to vote in every election. I may be blindly oblivious to the intricacies of politics, but WTF!!!!!


"Father Flannigan I can't practice today, I forgot my shorts."

Let me preface this post with "I was born into the catholic faith". Yet, I feel Catholicism is kind of a funny (not ha ha, but strange) thing. Your hear people say “I’m a practicing catholic”. What the hell does that mean? I interpret practicing as “oops I fucked up, let me try that again!”, “shit I did it again, father forgive me.” “Mother Mary full of grace please forgive me for jerkin’ off to, I’ll never do it again.” I mean really, most all of the Catholics I know break the friggen' rules everyday, intentionally, and without guilt (until Sunday rolls around). I guess they aren’t lying when they says it’s just PRACTICE. Queue the Allen Iverson press conference. “We’re talking about practice!” Sorry, I digress. Shouldn't they be saying “I’m Catholic and I’m on my game?"Shit, I don’t know where the hell I’m going with this! I’ve read two recent posts on other blogs that bring up lent.

Since I don’t practice Catholicism and don’t consider myself to be in the “game”, I can’t really relate to the rules/traditions of it all and this “giving up” stuff. But, for the sake of this post and the spirit of lent, I will make the following promise to "give up".

I promise to give up the following habits while sitting in church.

1. Smoking a Cohiba.
2. Drinking Patron straight from the bottle. Even though mixing it is a sin!
3. Reading Dan Brown books.
4. Visiting on my iphone.
5. Singing a hymns that starts with "duck duck bo buck banana fanna foe. . . ."
6. Asking people next to me if catholic girls are really that bad.

But only for forty days. . . . . . . .

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Daniel Boone ain't got shit on me!

A few years back I decided to go camping. Unfortunately none of my friends could join me. So, I decided to go it alone. The first problem was gear. See at the time all I owned that could even be considered "Camping gear" was an old cotton/flannel sleeping bag from when I was a kid and a Coleman kerosene lantern. For Christ’s sake, I didn't even own a "camping" worthy vehicle. Not a truck. Not a jeep. Hell, the Scooby Doo Mystery Mobile would have been more suited to camping than my bright red Mitsubishi Eclipse. So, mission one was to beg, borrow, and borrow without people knowing, as much camping-ish shit that I could. I failed miserably. I borrowed my friend Paul’s tent that would fit 20 Samoan warriors comfortably. I bought a hatchet at a garage sale. The final camping necessity was a one gallon jug of white gas courtesy of Big 5 Sporting Goods. Off I went. I was going to conquer the Tahoe wilderness single handedly. Let me get this out right off the bat. I can be an idiot on any given day without warning. Heck, seizure victims get an aura feeling before a big one hits. Not me. I’m normal one minute, village idiot the next.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, problem number one. It was Memorial Day weekend and I failed to make any reservations. Wow who would have thought you had to make an appointment for peace and quiet in the great outdoors. Well, live and learn. I ended up in a pasture. It was fifteen miles from anything of interest. It was dry, dusty, and honestly a pretty ugly place. There was a stream about 200 yards from my little piece of hell and that was it. Now, as you recall, my list of gear was pretty short. Yes I brought food. But guess what. No dishes, no pots, no pans, well you get the picture. Did I tell you I'm an idiot?

Now, onto problem number two. I (at the time) had no clue how to light a Coleman lantern. For the benefit of you who have never been in the middle of nowhere, it gets really really really fucking dark at night. By the headlights of my not so off road vehicle, I set up the 400 piece Taj Mahal tent.

Now, problem number three. Cotton / flannel that is 20 years old sucks! I slept like shit and had to use a t-shirt; stuffed with the rest of my clothes, as a pillow.

Problem number four came at first light. It was cold as shit and dew covered every bit of what might be considered fire wood. Thinking my idiocy had passed during the bitterly cold night, I made a pile of damp wood. Repeatedly I attempted to light it but created nothing but an acrid smoky mess. "Ahhh but wait" I said to myself, "I have a can of white gas!" Do you see where this is going? Let me say, "No you don't have the slightest clue." So, pouring directly from the big square can, I attempted to fuel the smoking shit pile. It worked. It worked way too well. Faster than I could say "oh fuck, I'm on fire!" I was on fire. Well not all of me, just the arm that was holding the big square can of highly flammable lantern fuel. Instinct kicked in and said "Jake, you might want to drop that can." I heeded my own warning and did just that. I then ran around in circles flapping my one flamming arm hoping for some positive result. Surprisingly it worked. Fuck the stop drop and roll thing. I think that only works in the movies and for Richard Pryor. So, all was better right? Wrong! The big square can of hell juice is now on it side with the spout pointing down hill. I now have twenty feet of quickly spreading "oh shit I’m fucked" moving across this pasture. My saving grace was that damn morning dew. Jumping around like an epileptic at a square dance competition I was able to stop the conflagration.

I sat on the ground next to my car to recover from this harrowing ordeal. *Sniff* *sniff* "god burning grass smells a lot like burning plastic!" How could I miss Paul’s circus tent going up in flames? I stopped that fire as well, but not before there was a new door created on the back side of the tent. Twenty trips to the creek with a Styrofoam cooler to get water and I had everything under control. I returned home with a bruised ego, no hair on one arm, and a tent with great cross ventilation. Paul found the story humorous and loved the fact that he got a new tent out of the ordeal. I still camp and have gotten much better at it. But I have to admit, the silver asbestos fireman crash suit gets awfully hot on longer trips.

My bad!

So it started about eighteen or so years ago when I was in college down in L.A. I lived just off of the USC campus which if you don't know, is a complete shit hole. (Frequently) At least ten times a day homeless people would ask me for money. First of all I was a student, and money was something I had little of. Second, I knew that they would probably go and use the money for anything but food. So, I got in the habit of asking them if I could buy them something to eat rather than hand out cash. Many of them declined the offer (I was right about there intentions). Surprisingly, some of them would happily take me up on my offer. In the 80’s, two to three bucks could go along away at a road side taco stand. As the years have gone buy, I have made attempts to continue this practice. Over the last year or so, a homeless woman regularly sits outside of the grocery store where I shop. I have made it a habit to buy a sandwich, fruit, etc . . . when I would see her. A co-worker of mine liked the idea so much that he started feeding her as well. Then, a couple of weeks ago I was in line at a different store in the area. Well, this woman was in front of me in line with a fifth of cheap rock gut gin. Just prior to getting to the checker, she noticed me behind her. She was obviously mortified. She made her purchase and scurried off. Now I have to be honest. I have been pretty pissed about this for the last week or so. Not like punching the wall kicking the dog pissed, but rather just annoyed at the circumstances. But then on Superbowl Sunday I had a little epiphany about this whole thing. I was in my big warm house, watching the game on my big screen TV, gorging myself on a feast that would make a roman emperor jealous. Remarkably, the whole time I was lounging in paradise, happy as a clam, nursing my sore jaw, I was tying on an award winning drunk. I’m happy and I get drunk. I really can’t imagine being in the shoes of someone who is homeless, addicted, and/or down on their luck. So now, I feel like a complete shmuck for getting pissed about this. Because I’m sure that if it was me out there, I want whatever cheap high I could get, to numb me up a little. She no longer hangs out in front of my store. That makes me feel even worse.

Random Observations

I'm back. In a previous post "I broke myself", I discussed my jaw. Well, it happened again on Superbowl Sunday. This time, a trip to the dentist was required. The diagnosis "a charley horse to my face"! I'm not shitting! Apparently I had a cramp to the facial muscles on the left side of my face that was so severe, it pulled my jaw to the side dislocating it. So, since last Sunday it's been soft food and Valium. But as I said, I'm back now. So while I was off recovering, I made a few random observations.

1. Hot dogs are just bologna shaped like a dick.

2. Who thought up the word yogurt? It sounds like something I cough up when I have bronchitis.

3. Why do some (grown) women adorn the rear widow area of there car with stuffed animals. Do they fear covering up the Cinderella bed spread that they have at home? Please, grow up.

4. Turn signals come standard on every car sold in America. To the asshole that turned into Starbucks this morning, please remember that. And by the way "fuck you". Don't honk at me, you were in the wrong.

5. Where is it? A very bright friend of mine always seems to end our debates (disagreements) with "well that’s neither here nor there!" Well then smart guy, where the fuck is it?


Friday, February 1, 2008

Spam heros.

Today alone, 79 emails arrived in my bulk emailbox. Looking through them I learned ten very important things about myself. Let me share them with you.

1. My penis is too small.

2. My penis no longer gets hard.

3. I suffer a great deal of pain.

4. I cum to fast.

5. There is an online pharmacy that will take care of numbers 1-4. (No physical required!!!)

6. I need a new watch and apparently a replica will do just fine.

7. My shoes aren't worth a shit, but never fear because Johnny Arelene can get me new designer ones for 60% off. Thanks Johnny!!!

8. There are aggressive stock traders hunting me down and I should beware.

9. My mortgage sucks.

10. Nembe'; a close friend in Africa that I wasn't aware of, wants to share a $100,000 inheritance with me if I pay a $100 transfer fee for him.

I love the internet. Where would I be in life if all of these fine individuals weren’t looking out for me?

Monkeys, thumbs, and de-evolution.

I like monkeys. I think that monkeys are pretty cool. Over the past two years or so I have been exposed to monkeys more often than the previous several years. Here are some of the reasons; that I feel, being a monkey would be cool.

Reason number one: Sleeping. Monkeys sleep a lot. I would assume it's because they don't have jobs or alarm clocks. I have both and never seem to get enough sleep.

Reason number two: Public ball scratching, public pissing, and public masturbation. I know what you’re going to say “Jake nothing is preventing you from doing that as a person." Your right, but my point is that people have hang ups about these acts and monkeys don't give a fuck!

And finally the third and in my opinion the greatest reason that being a monkey would rule. . . . . you get to throw shit at people when they piss you off or invade you space. Again, "people do that also Jake!" My retort, only if you’re up state doing time in the local penitentiary. Well, I'm not willing to be someone’s cell bitch just so I can enjoy a little turd tossing.

Upon looking at this idea in more depth I actually believe the problem is "opposing digits!" Yes folks we have thumbs, and it's fucked everything up. Track back any human shortcoming or flaw and ultimately you will wind up blaming it on our fucking thumbs. So really, maybe we de-evolved and the monkey's are above us on the evolutionary chain. Now don't get all snippy and pissed at me. Don't pull out the "our brains are bigger and more advance" crap. Watch 5 minutes of any Jerry Springer show or Jim Carey movie and that theory gets shot right the fuck down!