Here!!! Have a laugh at MY expense!!! No Charge.

When I started this blog, I said to myself that I would pretty much put anything out here that I found either funny, interesting, deep, sad, or as in this case, disturbing, gross, and embarrassing.  Which leads me to this "puke".  For those of you that know me, it will make this story that much more disturbing and funny for you.  For those of you that don't know me. . . .sorry for your loss.  Some of you have heard this story, but since many of my followers are newer to my world, I thought I would share this ultimate embarrassment to them as well.  Share and share alike I aways say. 

*disclaimer*  This story contains horrific word pictures involving poop and the stains they can leave behind, or on the behind.  So if you get offended by any reference to doodie, STOP READING NOW!!!  The writer of this blog accepts NO responsibility for any nausea, mental trauma, loss of sleep, cases of creepies, shutters, and sadness that might arise out of the reading of the following story.  Scott has no money, so don't even bother suing him.  You won't get anything but blogged about!!!!   

I will start off by saying sadly that this story is 100% true.  I haven't changed the name or identities of any of the participants for their protection, even though I probably should have.  What started off as me spending a day with my family out and about, turned into my own, and other's, nightmare.  I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one traumatized that day.  Trust me, you'll see what I mean.

The plan was quite simple.  The family woke up one morning and decided to head out of town to visit a mall which is much larger than the mall in our town.   How simple is that?  What could possibly go wrong with that easy plan?  Just some shopping, fun, and food with the family.  There is NO WAY I can screw this up.  Or is there????

We made the 40 minute drive without a hitch, and when we arrived, we decided that we all were hungry since is was lunch time.  We took a vote and decided to eat at a restaurant there in the mall called Garfield's.  The meal was good, but I can't remember exactly what I ate.  It's safe to say though that I didn't order off the "healthy choice" menu. In fact, if a restaurant would have an "unhealthy section" in their menu, that would be the ONLY page that I would need.  

***T.M.I. (Too Much Information) Alert***

I need to point out that my digestive track processes "crap" food really quickly.  I can usually tell the quality of the food by just how long I have before I feel the first gurgle, and then have to do the "Clenched Cheeks" run of my life towards the bathroom. I will usually have to do the "Running of the Bowels" either in the restaurant or if I decide to test it, I will have a very long and silent drive home praying to the good Lord above to let me just make it home to my own throne where my handheld solitaire machine waits.  Unfortunately though, my prayers have gone unanswered quite a few times though, and I now have several gas stations that have my picture hanging in their establishment with a sign saying:

If you see this man looking like this:

and running like he is trying to hold a credit card between his butt cheeks. . . . .

LOCK THE DOORS!!!!!!!

So anyways, I digress.  Back to the "event".

We all finished our meals and decided to go walk the mall and do some shopping.  I didn't have the need to go to the restroom at this time, so all was good.  We walked down the hall and Linda, my wife, wanted to head into some kitchen store to look around, so I followed being the wonderful husband that I am.  As I walked into the store,  I felt a sneeze coming.  An innocent little sneeze.  I mean, what could possibly go wrong with just SNEEZING???  So I did what anyone would do.   I stopped and sneezed!!!

"AAAAAACHOOOOOOOOO . . . . . . . . *SQUIRT*"

Well at the same time that I sneezed, I shot a Hershey Kiss out my butt. It wasn't a solid Hershey Kiss, but a melted one and I knew I was in trouble right away.  There was no warning this was going to happen.  I had no gurgle at all.  This was a surprise to me AND my Tighty Whities.  I felt like I did back in the 2nd grade in Miss Nordstrom's class when the same thing happened to me back then.  I went into shock.

I found Linda quickly and told her that I had to go to the bathroom NOW!!! I told her that I would catch up with her later because I knew this was going to take awhile. She had seen that look on my face many times before, so she knew what was up. Her hubby had to go.  Little did she know though, that I had already decided to start going before I got there.

I walked ever so gingerly, but fast, towards the restroom and when I got in there, I have to say, IT WASN'T PRETTY.  It kind of looked like a crime scene from "CSI Lake Wales".  So after the the realization that I just crapped myself for the first time in 33 years, I cleaned up the best that I could. In retrospect, I probably should of just thrown my underwear away and went "commando", but I thought I cleaned up well enough to get through the rest of my day.  Little did I know. (Are you puking yet?)

So I headed back to find her to do the rest of the shopping , confident that all was right in the world and my "accident" would NEVER be discovered and my pride would still be intact.  Well like most shopping trips to the mall, we wandered around for the next hour looking at useless items and not buying a dang thing.  We decided it was time to leave and head home after the wife and kids took their own bathroom breaks before making the drive.  I didn't have to go, so I decided to wait in the food court while they went. As most trips go with my family, we didn't go straight home but we ended up stopping at Walmart, Home Depot, and Winn Dixie, a grocery store, here in town.  This is where the the crap hits the fan!!!  (great choice of words as you will see)

As we shopped for groceries, I was just standing there minding my own business, and Dallas, my stepson, was walking behind me.  Being that he was roughly 8 at the time, he was just tall enough to make this gruesome discovery.  All of a sudden he blurts THIS out of his little mouth, "Scott crapped his pants".  I had one of those surreal moments that I would liken to an out of body experience as the words flew out of his mouth.  My mind was racing.  "How does he know what happened back at the mall?"  "I'm going to kill myself?"  "I'm going to kill HIM!" "Oh DEAR GOD MAKE IT STOP!!!"  I was back in the 2nd grade again reliving the moment of terror that Little Susie Farkle got the first whiff of my "Faux Pas" after lunch. 

God bless my wife Linda.  She immediately took up for me and was angry that Dallas was blurting this out for the world to hear without any grounds.  She didn't see, however, that he DID have grounds because she is taller than him and didn't have his viewpoint on the "situation".   She said, "DALLAS.  What in the world are you talking about.  Don't say stuff like that out loud about ANYONE when it's not true."  Well Dallas knew something that she didn't, so he decided to put the final nail in my coffin and my pride.  He pointed and said, "Well he did. Look". Linda walked behind me and as her hand went to her mouth, I knew something was amiss.  I felt right then and there, her opinion of her new husband was going to change in a second.  She was about to look into the pits of Hell and see her future.  Well she started laughing, or crying, the two sounds are very alike,  and told me that I might want to go sit in the car for the remainder of the trip.  I tried to tell myself that this wasn't happening by saying "Why?" and she proceeded to tell me about the huge brown stain on the back of my shorts.  Mortified, I walked out of the store like I did back in the 2nd grade when I had to go to the office to place the call to the folks that I needed a change of clothes.  I could almost hear the laughs of the other children as I walked out to the car.  It might have been the cashiers laughing, but I'm telling myself that it was all inside my head.  This might explain, however, why all the cashiers use the hand sanitizer right after I hand them money.  Hmmmmm.

Here is the reality of what happened, I had worn my really light tan, almost white, cargo shorts this fine day. They are pretty thin and, unbeknownst to me, I guess my clean up attempt didn't quite go as planned and if I would have been a criminal trying to clean up a crime scene, I would have been busted within 24 hours. 

As I sat in my car feeling embarrassed beyond belief, I suddenly realized.  I had been walking around almost this whole time with a Keebler's fudge strip down the back of my shorts!!!!  Every store I was in, every person that had the joy of walking behind me, got a view of my skid mark from Hell. I played back the video tape in my mind of all the places we had been that could have seen this abomination.  AND THEN IT HIT ME!!!!

Remember that little part I mentioned about waiting in the food court while Linda and the kids had to go to the restroom?  Like a ton of bricks it dawned on me. When I was waiting on them, feeling lazy, I had leaned over one of the trash cans there in the food court. So picture this, you are eating in the food court and you look up. Here, about 10 feet from you and your family, is a 40 year old guy that is as big as Shrek, bending over and leaning on the trash cans with his butt in the air as he waits on his family. He has the biggest CRAP stain down the center of his shorts and now you're supposed to enjoy your bean burrito from Senorita's Taco Hut.  All I could do was lay my head on the steering wheel and choke back the tears of my embarrassment.

The family returned to the car and the laughs at my expense were flowing like wine.  I just wanted to crawl in a hole and hide for awhile until it blew over.  My pride put up the "Gone Fishing" sign and closed up the shop.  I had to laugh with them because I didn't want them to see me cry.

We arrived home and I rushed to the restroom to see what was going on back there. You know how sometimes you spill something on your clothes at work and you look in the mirror and say, "It's okay. You can hardly see it"?  WELL THIS WASN'T ONE OF THOSE TIMES!!!!!  One look at the damage and I wanted to die. It was like a painter came up behind me and sprayed a can of dark brown paint on me.  Stevie Wonder would have come up behind me and said, "Look!!!  That guy crapped his pants."  Now my pride called and told me that it was going on vacation for a very, very long time.

Well I'm happy to report that there has been NO repeat of this event since that day years ago, and my pride called and said that the vacation is ALMOST over. I do have a feeling though that if my pride reads my blog, he's going to stay away a bit longer.

I hope you enjoyed the laugh at my expense and. . . .

Smile!!!

My Life as a Step Parent Pt. 1

Ladies and Gentlemen!!! Boys and Girls, Dogs, Cats, and Hamsters, Multiple personalities, Alter Egos, and Imaginary Friends. . . . . .

LLLLLLLLLLLET'S GET READY TO PUUUUUUUUUUUUUKKKKKKEEEEEEE!!!!! (Hopefully I won't have to pay Michael Buffer any royalties for that.)

I was given an idea yesterday to "puke" on the first time becoming a parent.  I sat back and thought for a little bit and came to the conclusion that there is TONS of stuff I could talk about when it comes to NOT being a parent, but being a STEP PARENT, or as I like to call it, a Stunt Double. Some will be funny stories but eventually I might even get deep with the topic.  Who knows.

Let me start off by saying that I do not have any kids of my own, BUT, I have been a step parent in two major relationships throughout my now 42 year life.  My first experience came when I was just a lad at 22 and that lasted for 13ish years.  I was fresh out of college and got involved with a woman that had two kids, one boy and one girl.  They were great kids, but I can honestly say that I wasn't quite mature enough to realize just what I was getting into.  I went from being a 22 year old college student to being a step father to two kids OVERNIGHT.  It was quite a shock to me at the time.  Here is what I would liken it to.

***Analogy Alert.  Analogy Alert***

Growing up I was a huge "jock".  I played sports whenever and wherever I could.  In fact, our back yard was the local arena for most sporting contests that took place.  Baseball, Football, Smear the Queer, (It had NO negative connotation back then, so settle down.  The "Queer" was the idiot that decided to grab the  football and try to hold on to it while the rest of us tried our hardest to "SMEAR" him), and just about any other sport that could be played by 6-8 kids in the neighborhood.

Well my older brother Mark was the intellectual of the family.  If you wanted to find him, just go inside the house and look for the kid reading a book.  I really can't remember him being outside playing all too much, but of course, I might be wrong.  I think there was a time that he wanted to take part in the ritual of playing a sport and so he asked Dad if he wanted to play catch with the football.  Dad loved the fact that his son wanted to actually get out and "toss the pigskin", (no animals were harmed in the writing of this blog) so he grabbed the football and headed out to the backyard. I followed, because if there was going to be sport stuff happening, I was going to be part of it.

So after a few warm up tosses, my Dad tells my brother to "Go long".  Which for those of you that don't know what that means, it means just start running as fast and as far as you can, and the football will come in your general direction.  So off my brother goes.  He's running fast and far and looking back at my Dad to see when the football was coming.  Dad let the ball go and Mark, the sprinting kid, got ready to catch this gift that was coming his way.  It was a perfect throw and a perfect catch.  You would have thought you were watching Joe Montana and Jerry Rice connect for an 80 bomb that would seal the win for the 49ers, except for ONE THING.   There were no trees on the middle of the field in Candlestick Park in San Francisco. 
Actually, I should just say that there wasn't a TREE.  Because there was only ONE TREE that Mark could possibly find that day and I think you know where this is going by now.

Mark made the perfect over the shoulder catch from this bomb that my Father had thrown him.  You could see the elation on his face as he pulled the football gently into his arms.  You could see in slow motion that he was now picturing himself on the field someday catching a ball like this that would win the game for his team.  You could in this split second see that he was proud of himself, proud of this catch, proud of showing me and Dad that he could catch, proud of his new career in football, proud of. . . . . .

BAM!!!!!!!!!

(The sound of Mark's head being introduced to the tree)

Yep. Mark DID make the catch, but as soon as he turned to reach the endzone, the Football Safety we will name "Oak McTree", hit him so hard that even I felt it. So Mark went from elation to deflation in one fatal second. He went from an illustrious career on the gridiron, to pooping himself in the middle of the backyard as his family watched in horror, except me, I was laughing my butt off, because if you can't laugh at your siblings misery and pain, WHAT COULD YOU LAUGH AT? Now I have heard many sounds while playing sports throughout my life, and this ranks right up there with one of the worst.

I am happy to say that he did get up poop free, but he had a knot on his forehead that looked UGLY.  It was one of those injuries that you just accepted as a kid and Mom would rush you off inside the house to put frozen peas on it.  You didn't worry about concussion or brain damage back then, if you could still walk, you were FINE.  Mark's sporting career came to an end that day, but that was fine with him, books were his friend. I think it's kind of ironic though because books hurt my head all the time back then the same way sports hurt him.

***Analogy Over Alert***

So becoming a step father was pretty much just like that. I was running full speed into a new relationship until I ran smack dab into the tree that was known as REALITY. Heck, I will call it REALITREE. (Clever little cuss aren’t I?) There was no moment like what I'm about to relay that sums up that realitree (I'm going to patent that word) better. 

I don't really remember all the details as to why, what, and where, but I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I discovered two words that I would grow such a fear for that day.   Two little words that would invoke Terror, cold sweats, and the "Heebie Jeebies" in me quicker than anything I've ever crossed before.  These two words turned out to be MY tree in the middle of MY field of this thing called a relationship.  I have used these two words on many occasions myself, but NEVER knew what horror they could bring one day.  These two words were   "I'm Done."  and I will forever call THIS tree, "Poopie McTree".

I was left alone in the house with the 2'ish year old boy.  Like I said before, I don't remember all the details as to why, but it really isn't important to the story.  So here I am, Mr. Cool 22 year old, fresh out of college BOY.  I'm watching TV and minding my own business.  The 2'ish year old was watching cartoons with me, because I quickly learned that cartoons were great equalizers, and so all was going well on my alone time with kids.  He got up and went to the bathroom which was no big deal to me, after all, who doesn't know how to go to the bathroom?  Well roughly 10 minutes later, I realized that it WAS GOING TO BE A BIG DEAL IN MY WORLD!!!

I'm sitting there watching the television and I hear this come from the bathroom.   "I'm DONE."  I was like that's odd.  Why would he feel the need to tell me that he was done, so I ignored it and went back to see if the Coyote was going to finally catch the Road Runner.  Well right as the Coyote was putting together his ACME Grappling Hook Cannon, I heard those two words again. . . . . "I'm DONE." 

Now I was from Ohio and was now living in Florida, so I thought maybe this was just what the "Southerners" did down here.  You would announce to the World that you were done relieving yourself.  Cool.  I couldn't wait to try it at McDonalds.  So I responded back with, "Okay."  I thought that would be a proper response to something like that.  To which I hear again, "I'M DONE!!!!"  I sense a disturbance in the force, so I get up to walk to the bathroom door.  I knock and say, "Are you okay in there?"  To which he responds, "Yes. I'm done."  To which I say, "Okay.  Well flush and come on out.  The Coyote just got his cannon set up."  He then says, "Help.  I'm Done."  To which I open the door to see what's what.  I see this 2'ish year old boy sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles looking at me like he expects something from me.  I say, "What?" He then informs me that he is ready to be wiped.

I kind of wished I could have had an out of body experience right then so I could have seen the look on my face as "Poopie McTree" nailed me square in the face.  I'm sure I turned pale, I'm sure cold sweat formed on my brow, and I'm sure that I started to shake like a Chihuahua when I realized what was being asked of me.
"You need me to do what?" was all I could think to say.  I guess I was just hoping that he would say, "Just Kidding Sir.  I was playing a sick joke on you to welcome you to my family.  Ha Ha.  You can leave now."  He then confirmed my fear when he said, "I'm ready to be wiped." to which I uttered under my breath, "OH DEAR LORD!!!!!"

I think I would be one of those people that would be described as having a "weak stomach".  Poop and puke will almost ALWAYS send me into dry heaves immediately.  Not mine mind you, because I don't stink, but others. 

In a span of 3 seconds, I played scenario after scenario over in my mind on how I was going to do this, and EACH scenario ended with a 2'ish year old covered in MY puke.  I have never faced a "Fight or Flight" moment like this in all my 22 years.  So as I debated just shutting the door, turning up the TV so I wouldn't hear him yelling, "I'm DONE, I'm DONE, I'm DONE", and waiting for his mother to get home so I could say, "I don't know where he is.",  my stupid inner voice told me that I was going to HAVE to do this. 

So I approached the child sitting on the toilet and I got my first dry heave as my mind knew what was to come.  I reached down and grabbed the toilet paper to get it ready for the world’s fastest wipe.  (Dry heave #2).  Then the smell hit me, before I even went in for the kill, the smell came up and punched me in the gut so hard I thought I was about to wipe Mike Tyson.  (Dry heave #3)  All I kept thinking about would be how was I going to explain to the mother why her child was sitting on the toilet with a poopy butt and Lucky Charms all down his back from me.  I couldn't let that happen.

So not knowing what to do, I asked him.  "What am I supposed to do here?".    "Wipe my butt." he said honestly, and then bent over to allow me access.  (Dry heave #4)  I took a deep breath and went into "Poop Valley".  I took my first wipe and between the smell and feeling of what I was doing, I now did dry heave #5 but with liquid.  I dropped that piece of toilet paper in the water as if it was acid in my hand and had to back out of the room to swallow this liquid and catch my breath.  I stood there breathing like I was in a Lamaze Class.  I'm sure the boy was in shock over how this whole thing was going down, but I was only thinking of him covered in puke and thought that would be worse than me backing out after every wipe.
So that's how it went.

#1.  Run in
#2.  Grab a HUGE chunk of toilet paper, because I would have just dropped over if I would have had a tear issue.
#3.  Kid would bend over
#4.  Dry Heave
#5.  Wipe and throw
#6.  Run out of the room to my Lamaze Class swallowing my Lucky Charms and milk that revisited me.
#7.  Back to Step #1.

I managed to get it done without puking, but it was touch and go throughout the whole ordeal.  I swore right then and there that I would teach him to wipe himself and school was going to be in session REAL QUICK because I couldn't face that each and every day.  I looked like I had been sprayed with pepper spray from my eyes watering from the dry heaves, my stomach hurt from the muscle strain from the dry heaves, and I couldn't eat Lucky Charms for a long, long time after that.

So here was my tree folks!!!  Here was the thing that snapped me into Realitree. (I love that)   The poop caked tushy of a 2'ish year old innocent child that looked to me for help.  I learned to fear those two words, "I'm Done" for a long time afterwards and even to this day if I hear someone say them, I dry heave.  I managed to "Fight" instead of "Flight" but it was HARD. 

My life as a Step Father has been very rewarding but VERY INTERESTING at times.  This moment to me sums it all up so perfectly. I didn't truly know what I was getting into, but I did the best I could.  I never got the joy of seeing a baby born.  I never held a child that was mine.  I had to learn things on the fly and let me tell you one thing.  On THIS occasion. . . . . .It was a CRAPPY JOB!!!!

"I'M DONE"

Smile!!!

Third Chaps My Cheeks Award

There are just some moments on TV that can make your blood boil.  You sit there and watch whatever it is and the only response you can have is that of utter disdain.  My last two recipients of this award have been the lady that sued over falling in the mall fountain while texting and Charlie Sheen.  I'm sure you can all agree that they were deserving of their awards.  So in the course of the past 12 hours, I have witnessed TWO, that's right TWO, deserving recipients of this esteemed award.  I will cover the first one now and should still be angry enough on the second one to do it in a couple of days.  So much to complain about and such little time!!!
So Ladies and Gentlemen.  The Third recipient of the Chaps My Cheeks Award is. . . . . (insert farting noise)

Whomever created the Auto-Tune, American Idol, and The Black Eyed Peas!!!!!

Yes.  I realize that this is a group, but I think all three are deserving at this moment.  For those of you that are not familiar with what Auto-Tune is, it is an electronic device that will take your crappy voice and put it in tune for you.  That's right.  If you SUCK as a singer, no need to worry, just get an Auto-Tune and all your problems will be solved. NO TALENT now equals BIG BUCKS!!!!  Why bother with singing lessons?  Why bother with pitch?  Why bother with any ability to hold a note?  If you can dress stupid, shake your butt to the beat, and remember the words. . . . .YOU CAN BE A STAR!!!!  Auto-Tune.  Turning no talent into $$$$.

So here I am watching the 3/17 results show for American Idol, I can thank that on my wife because I NEVER watched it until she came around, and they have a very special guest group to perform their new song for us. . . . The Black Eyed Peas!!!  (Cue screaming)  Now even though I'm still a bit traumatized from the Super Bowl halftime show, I decided to give them another chance since it is a new song after all.  Well what do I hear next?  A nice piano beginning and then the lead singer breaks into the first verse.  Guess what folks?  AUTO-TUNE was doing it's job.  So instead of hearing a normal voice, I got to hear a voice that sounded like just about every alien from the movies that uttered, "Take me to your leader".  Certainly this must just be for an affect at the beginning RIGHT?   Nope, him and the two other males in the band used it for the ENTIRE SONG.  The only singer in the band, Fergie, actually didn't sound too bad, but she sounded as if she was a member of the new pop group,  Fergie and the Martians. 

Am I the only one that finds the irony in this?  You are putting on a SINGING competition and the guest group you are having on is using an electronic device to make them sound better than they are.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME???   Let me repeat that though so it sinks in.   You are having a contest that its entire goal is to find the best singing talent in America and the role model you have perform for them can't sing on key without the help of an electronic box and program to help them.  What a great message to tell these kids, and while we are at it, the rest of America.  "You don't need the ability to sing.  Just buy the program." 

If you ask me, there are way too many hip hop, R & B, Pop "stars" that get away with this crap.  Just turn on the radio today and you will hear this invention in all its glory.  I can remember hearing Bon Jovi use the device that distorts Richie Sambora's voice at the beginning of "Living on a Prayer" and thinking how cool was that.  Why?  Because they only used it for a few measures and that was it.  They didn't sound like that through the whole song or when singing any other song.  It was done for effect because you hear Richie sing and he can actually sing.  Imagine that.  Talent for ya. 

I think that every "artist" that relies on Auto-Tune for everything, or at least 80%, should just GO AWAY!  Go away and make room for someone that can actually sing.  If I want to hear a computer sing.  I'll call Watson.  That cool computer that kicked butt on Jeopardy.  At least he will be able to sing ANYTHING I want and I can pull his plug when he gets annoying.  Where is YOUR plug Black Eyed Peas??? 

GO AWAY AUTO-TUNE SINGERS!!!!   JUST GO AWAY!!!!

Smile!!!

(disclaimer:  Before anyone says that I don't have to listen to it, I agree, but sometimes it goes much deeper than that.  It's the principle that on a singing show you are going to let a multi-million dollar group promote their song that they can't even sing without the help of a computer.  Trust me.  I turn a lot off in the car and try not to spend any money on them.  I guess I must be from the "old school" that a musician actually had to have talent to perform.  Silly me for expecting more out of today's "stars".   Music is music and everyone has their own taste.  I just hate to see people accept this kind of "artistry".  If you love Auto-Tune created stars.  That's fine with me, but I for one, just don't get it.  MAKE THEM SING NATURAL and then decide how great they are.)

Random Thoughts on St. Patrick's Day

Me again!  Time to just sit here and see what comes out of this head of mine for a few minutes.  Enjoy!

1.  Am I the only one that thinks Scotty Mccreery from American Idol looks just like if Howdy Doody took up country music?

2.  Why don't we make an alarm clock that sounds like my pet puking?  I know that at three in the morning, NOTHING will wake me up quicker than hearing my cat about to puke on the rug.

3.  Why is it that when you mention you got a virus on your computer, it feels like you just told them you have an STD?  "I wasn't looking at porn lady, I just opened an email from my mother!!!"

4.  If all it takes for women to show their boobs is beads, can someone please tell me WHERE to buy some beads?

5.  Why are the abused animal commercials the longest ones on TV?  Do they really have to play the entire "Eyes of an Angel" song?  How about you just give me the chorus and get back to my show please?

6.  We have Cityville, Farmville, Childrenville, Planetville, Aquariumville, Rodentville, Mafiaville, all on Facebook.  Why can't we have an IDON'TCAREVILLE!!!!  or a GETALIFEVILLE?

7.  Am I the only one that giggles every time I'm "poked" on Facebook?

8.  Are we truly bad people?  I say "YES", because I was stuck in traffic for like a half an hour and all I kept saying was, "There better be a good wreck up here that's caused this."

9.  We have cell phones, camera phones, Skype, video conference, and all sorts of technology at out fingertips to let us talk to people while seeing them.  Why is it that whenever I watch some CNN or FOX news channel, they do an interview with someone and there is like a 20 second delay.  So you get this.

Interviewer:  "So tell us Ted.  What do you think about the oil shortage?"

Ted:  . . . . . 5 seconds. . . . . . . .  . (blank stare). . . .10 seconds  . . . . .  (glances off camera). . . 15 seconds. . . . . . . .  .(looks back at camera). . 20 seconds. . . . . . .  .(finally starts to get the question). . . . .  ."It sucks Bob.  It sucks bad."

I mean if they want to borrow my Skype account, go right ahead!!!

10.  Who do clowns invite to entertain THEM at their kids party?   An Accountant? 

11.  Why are "morning people" so smug?

12.  If Donald Trump runs for President, I can't wait for the boardroom meetings with the other politicians.  YOU'RE FIRED!!!!!!

13.  If Charlie Sheen is "Winning",  how screwed up do you have to be to be "Losing"?

14.  If Bruno Mars sings "I'd catch a grenade for ya.  Throw my hand on a blade for ya.  I'd jump in front of a train for ya."  Don't you think that girl is asking a lot out of you?  I mean, I'll do a lot for my wife, but when she starts asking me to KILL MYSELF for her, I might start questioning our relationship.

Okay.  Times up.

SMILE!!!

Don't Mess with the Cap'n!!!!!

A friend of mine pointed my nose at an article that really hit close to home with me.  This article brought sadness, despair, anguish, and depression into my life.  So out of this intense sadness, I thought I had better "puke" about it to maybe, just maybe, make the pain go away.  What in the world could affect my life so greatly?   What national crisis is taking me to the brink of chaos?  Who could drive me to my blog in such a quick fashion, even quicker than Charlie "Whack Job" Sheen did?  Well the answer is quite simple folks.  Someone is messing with the CAP'N!!!!!  

"Who's the Cap'n?", some of you might be asking, because I can feel your blank stares right now.  This is the Cap'n that I am talking about.

The man of the hour, the man with the plan, the man with enough sugar to let you sail around the world twice in an hour, the man that was the "Red Bull" of my generation, the one and only  CAP'N FREAKING CRUNCH!!!!!

So I read a report that our First Lady, Michelle Obama, is running a campaign to get sugar out of our lives.  First off, STAY AWAY FROM MY SUGAR MICHELLE!!!!  and second, Don't Mess with the Cap'n!!!  Due to this pressure, Cap'n Crunch is in danger folks.  There have been shots across his bow!  He is now fighting the Obama Sugar Brigade in a battle that could be his last.  That's right!  Forget World War I & II, The Battle of the Bulge,  and New Coke vs. Old Coke!!!  We are at war people!!!  Obama vs. The Cap'n!!!  VIVA LA CAP'N!!!!

And it is not just the Cap'n she is messing with.  If she is able to sink the Cap'n, then how long before she sets her sights on Toucan Sam, Tony the Tiger, or any other mascot that represents a sugary cereal?  Leave our cereal alone Washington! 

Growing up, there was nothing as sacred to us kids as our relationship we had with our cereal.  We lived for it, we craved it, and needed it.  We would wake-up, relieve ourselves, head to the kitchen (washing hands was for sissies),  grab our bowl, spoon, milk jug, and our cereal.  It was our routine and you didn't mess with it.  Once we had our cereal, we would then head to the TV to watch a cartoon because the two went hand and hand together.  Cartoons and Cereal was like coffee and the paper to adults.  You just HAD to do it that way.  Until I got that 94 grams of sugar in me, I wasn't worth a thing.

Now what kind of cereal you had was part of the fun.  (Unless you had parents that just bought the "healthy" ones that NOBODY liked.  I feel sorry for you if this was the case and good luck with the therapy)  There was a whole routine that would take place when it came to cereal.  We could go to the grocery store with our mother and we would wait for the five best words in the English language at that moment, "Go pick out your cereal."  WHOO HOO!!!!  Cereal picking time!!!  Us three kids would run off towards the cereal aisle like we were participating in the Running of the Bulls.  "Get out of our way lady!  We are heading to the promised land."  was our battle cry.   We would sprint past the canned vegetable aisle, baking good aisle, paper product aisle until we found our Mecca. . . The CEREAL AISLE.  A land of sugary goodness and the promise of a toy in every box.

I can remember looking down that isle and actually shaking from the excitement that was coming.  I was about to walk the line up of colored boxes and pass judgement on each and every one of them until I found the perfect one to bless with my company.  Of course, I could rule out ANYTHING that was on the top two shelves because those were the adult cereals that made promises like, "Fiber Loaded" and "Healthy Heart".  I wasn't interested in those because, A) I didn't know what fiber was and B) I wanted a racing heart not a healthy one.  Then there were the evil ones that you learned to avoid.  Ones like Life, Raisin Brand, Wheaties and Frosted Mini Wheat's because they sucked you in with their commercials once. . . only ONCE!!!!  Yeah they looked cool, but they were healthy for you and you just didn't trick a kid like that.  I hated when I fell for their advertising gimmick and had to spend the rest of the weeks eating tiny little Brillo Pads that would make my poop feel like steel wool coming out of my tiny tushy.  I think I figured out what fiber was for. DANG YOU EVIL ADVERTISERS!!!

I would then stand there and mentally yell out to all the boxes, "What are you going to give me if I pick you?"  I was the judge, jury, and executioner in this sugar land of goodness.  This was back in the day when cereal was the equivalent of a huge box of Cracker Jacks.  You got some form of crappy toy in the box that could really sway your decision.  You see.  If I was looking at Sugar Smacks and they offered me a real compass with belt clip or Fruit Loops with a pencil, well the compass would win every time because a pencil is boring and a compass could help me find my way home again if I was ever lost in the woods behind my house.  DUH!!!!  NO BRAINER!!!! 

Of course, there were a few pitfalls that you would learn about once you were "blinded by the light" of the promised gifts inside the box.  There were mail away toys that would trick us.  There was nothing worse in the world than seeing a free Fruity Pebbles Frisbee on the outside of the box only to rush home and find out once you had dumped all the cereal out on the floor and ripped the box in two that there was no Frisbee to find.  Then you would do a little more research and see those horrible, terrible words. . . "Mail in 950 box tops to receive your Frisbee".    @#$%!!!  The Flintstones just tricked me.  I could have had the decoder ring but NO, I fell for the mail in scam!!!   "I hope Dino drops a huge "gift" in your rock house Fred!!!  I hope you step in it too.  I hope Barney drowns in it because he's small and it could happen!!!  Die Flintstones, DIE!!!"  Oh how I hated that trick and if I could have scooped all the cereal off the floor and taped the box back together to return it, I would have, but Mom wouldn't let me.   Who mailed those box tops in anyways?

The prize didn't always affect your decision.  There was also taste, color, and sugar coma potential to take into consideration.  After all, you were going to be stuck with this box for the next week and you wanted to enjoy it too.  Did you like marshmallows? letters? stuff that would turn your milk a different color? "berries?" (don't worry, they had nothing to do with actual fruit) cookies? All these things made it tough to pick out the perfect one.  I had my "go to" group that would always satisfy my little sugar addiction.  The monster cereals: Boo Berry, Franken Berry, and Count Chocula, The Cap'n fleet of goodness: Cap'n Crunch, Peanut Butter Crunch, and Crunch Berries,  and some of the main streamers like Lucky Charms, Coco Puffs, and Sugar Smacks  (because you knew you were in for a good time when the word SUGAR appeared in the name).

So once you had chosen your fate, you would rush home just counting down the minutes until morning would come and you could attack your box like a starving kid from Ethiopia.  Truth be told, I wasn't really a big fan of the original Cap'n Crunch cereal.  I know I started this defending him, but it's more the sacred institution of cereal than specifically THAT cereal itself.  My biggest complaint with the Cap'n was that they didn't tell you all of the ingredients that was in that cereal and they didn't give you a warning label as to the side effects of eating it.  Sure there was sugar, sugar, and sugar, but I will go to my grave swearing that there was also tiny shards of glass, asbestos, and steel wool in there.  If you have ever eaten the original Cap'n Crunch you know what I am talking about.  You would eat that bowl down and then all of a sudden you would notice a weird sensation coming from the top of your mouth.  It was like hundreds of little strings hanging down, but instead of strings, it was really your skin.  Yep, the roof of your mouth looked like it had been sand blasted and you were left with only one layer of skin before you hit bone.  Talk about painful!!!!  Heaven forbid your mom made you any hot chocolate that day.  That molten chocolate goodness would hit your raw mouth and just about make you pass out from the pain due to the nerve endings that were exposed.  So, sorry Cap'n, you were a cruel sailor to me.

We all had our little routines and hopefully by reading this, you are remembering yours.  If I was eating a cereal that had marshmallows or crunch berries in it, I would eat all of the boring part of the cereal and save the marshmallows or berries for last.  Yeah it took some patience, but the reward was great at the end.  You would be left with just colorful goodness that was soaked full of milk.  YUM!!!!  I would get so angry if a marshmallow would stow away on the bottom of my spoon and I wouldn't catch him, because marshmallows are men, before I bit down on him.  AHHHHHHH!!!  That was one less at the end for me to enjoy.   (On a side note, the Cap'n brought out a cereal called Oops. . Just Berries and I thought that was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  I did buy myself a box and guess what?  It wasn't fun. I guess the thrill of the hunt was part of the enjoyment too.)

Then once all the cereal was gone and you were left with this white, hazy, speckled, multi colored liquid, this was truly the Holy Grail of the whole experience.  You had 50% milk and 50% sugar left in your bowl.  Could life get any better?  NOPE!!!!  I would see people not finish it and that would make my little 10 year old body hurt, I would see the ones that used their spoon to drink the rest of the milk and that would drive me crazy because it took FOREVER,  Not me,  I grabbed that bowl like it was the Stanley Cup and would drink it down savoring every swallow.  Milk would pour from out the sides of my mouth, but I didn't care.  I was a caveman at that moment and I was finishing my kill by drinking the blood.  Then I would sit back, let the sugar rush through my veins, and finish watching whatever cartoon I was watching at the time.  LIFE WAS GOOD!!!

So to you First Lady, I say, "Leave us alone.  Leave the sacred institution of kid induced sugar comas intact."  I don't want to live in a day that a child asks me for fruit and vegetables for breakfast.  IT AIN'T RIGHT I tell you!!!  In fact, I still find myself enjoying a wonderful bowl of Cocoa Puffs, Crunch Berries, Peanut Butter Crunch, and Golden Grahams for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.  So if you take this joy from my children, you are also taking it away from me.  DON'T MESS WITH ME LADY!!!!  How about we work on the price of gas?  There is something I can get behind?  Maybe we could use the left over milk as a fuel source because I sure know it kept me running all day long.

So go ahead and mess with the Zohan (horrible, horrible movie reference), just DON'T MESS WITH THE CAP'N!!!!

Smile!!!

Second Chaps my Cheeks Award

I don't know who to give this award to. The media, people in general, or the man himself?  I mean, look at the past month or so, and this person has been in the public eye for a lot of reasons.  Plus, for the past couple of weeks, WE CAN'T GET AWAY FROM HIM.  Every time I turn on the TV there is a pretty good chance I'm going to see his face and hear another one of his arrogant, angry, demeaning, self-involved rants that belongs more inside a pro-wrestling ring rather than a news report.  In case you haven't figured it out by now who I'm talking about.  "Ladies and Gentlemen, he is the second recipient of my "Chaps My Cheeks" award.  You know him, you love him, and by now, I hope you are learning to HATE him.  I give you the one and, THANK GOD, the only. . . . .

Charlie "Whack Job" Sheen



I turn on the TV. . . .there he is.   I turn on the radio. . . . there he is.  I turn on the computer. . . . there he is.  I turn on the microwave. . . there he is.  I turn on my wife. . . AND THERE HE IS.  (Okay, that last one might not be true, but seeing as now he is unemployed. . . .anything can happen.)

What is it about this man that fascinates us?  What has he done so important to warrant this attention?  What makes his personal and professional life rate higher up in the news than the war, gas prices, police deaths, and about a thousand other things that I can say is more important in the world today?  

We have all had to sit here and watch this train wreck of a man destroy himself and instead of turning away, we just feed him the attention that he craves day in and day out.  Tell me. When is the last interview you saw with the young widow and fatherless children of a serviceman that gave his life for this country?  Let me know about that interview with oil companies that can explain to me WHY gas is flying up in price after OPEC has confirmed that there is plenty of reserve oil to go around.  Yet, every time I turn the media on, all I hear is, "Up next.  Charlie Sheen toots his own horn."  I'm just not getting this I guess.

I can't really blame Charlie Sheen on this one, he is just doing what we have enabled him to do.  I'm half tempted to get a hold of cocaine, order me some prostitutes, head over to the Holiday Inn, and trash the place until the cops have to be called.  I just wonder if I will be treated the same way as Charlie was.  The last time I checked.  #1.  Selling, buying, and using drugs is illegal in every state.  #2.  Vandalism is illegial in every state.  #3.  Prostitution is illegial in just about every state.  Am I correct here?

Why is it that time and time again, celebrities can break the law over and over and just walk away unscathed and in most cases, their stock goes up because of the attention?  What gives them less accountability for their actions?  How can someone get 2 DUI's and not spend more than 84 minutes in jail when you hear of "regular" people getting years for the same or even lesser offense?  The prison system is full of people that their crime was having some pot on them, either a little or a lot, but yet, a celebrity can have cocain, pot, heroin, or prescription drugs on them, and NOTHING happens.  It truly is sad and unfair if you ask me.  It's sad because they are taught that it's okay to do it and unfair because "normal" people's lives are ruined for the same kind of offenses.

So Charlie is now fired by Warner Brothers for his actions these past few weeks.  Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?   Am I supposed to start a charity to help Charlie out during this time of need?  Charlie was making around 2 million per episode on his show since 2010 and he was making around $850,000 per episode before that.  Trust me. . . He will be okay.  In fact, I'm willing to bet that new TV deals, movie scripts, and book deals are flooding into him right now even as my middle class hands type this.  That is the one thing you can guarantee when a celebrity goes bad.  There is ALWAYS someone waiting to pay them for doing it.

So who do I give this "Chaps my Cheeks" award to?  I'm starting to think I just need to give out three of them.

#1.  I present this award to Charlie Sheen for being a huge screw-up.  You time and time again like to remind all of us "lesser folks" that you are a WINNER and that you have it all under control.  I'm pretty sure you don't just by listening to you speak.  Please go away and get help Charlie or give the media and most of the public what they probably want in the end.   That would be suicide or an overdose that they can capitalize on.  SAD BUT TRUE FOLKS!!!!

#2.  I present this award to the Media.  You are the worst type of jackels that walk this land.  You find Charlie's crazy actions newsworthy when there is so much more important things going on in this country.  Recession, war, poverty, the housing crises, gas prices, police killings, and so much more.  Hey.  I got a great idea.  You stop giving him all this attention and he might just go away and get the help he needs so bad!!!!

#3.  I present this award to people in general.  I'm guilty of it too so don't think I'm above this award.  We love to see a celebrity crash and burn.  How many times have we seen this over and over and just keep watching with our popcorn and soda just waiting to see how it ends.  It usually ends up bad for the celebrity, but what do we care, they aren't real people anyways.  Perfect example of this is Michael Jackson.  Think about it.  How many of us had written him off as being a complete freak of nature.  We knew he did something bad, but we just couldn't prove it.  Then the best thing that ever could have happened for his career happened. . . .he died.  Once that happened, everyone came out of the woodwork saying what a great man he was and how the world was a worse place now that he was gone.  His funeral played out like a Hollywood production, he was worshiped, revered, and cried over when just weeks before, most of us would have grabbed out kids and ran if we would have seen him coming.  We really should be ashamed of ourselves, but why bother, THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT!!!!

So thanks Charlie for taking up all my media time by being such a huge idiot.  Thank you for proving once again that celebrities are above the law and KNOW IT!!!   Thank you for reminding me that I don't have what you have,  #1.  A drug and alcohol problem.  #2.  Relationship issues  #3. Your kids, because THEY WERE TAKEN FROM YOU.  

Yep, you have the wealth and that won't change, but you have only proven one thing to me during this time.  Instead of saying that you are on the drug WINNING, you really need to think about changing that to LOSING.  Because that's what we are seeing.

Smile!!!  (he won't be around much longer)

Send in the Clowns. . . . NOT!!!!!!!!!!!

While getting ready for work this morning, I was standing there working on whatever hair I have left on the top of my head, and I was wondering what to "puke" about next.  I had just gotten out of the shower, sorry for the visual, and dried my hair with the towel, and when I looked in the mirror, it hit me.  The way my hair looked at that moment reminded me of something that scares the crap out of me.  It's not male pattern baldness, so shut up if you guessed that, it is a fear that I have had for a long, long time now.  I really don't know where I got it from, but my first memory of having it took place when I was like 4ish. 

I'm pretty sure it was around my birthday and my Godparents came over for a visit.  Not really understanding the whole concept of the Godparents, I kind of just went along with the whole thing due to the fact that they carried in their arms a HUGE wrapped box that was for me.  Once I was on board, I reached out my arms to accept this bounty from these two people that I hardly knew.  It was fine though, after all, it was a HUGE gift.  We all gathered in the living room to observe this wonderful holiday ceremony.  "Gifts for Scott, Gifts for Scott.  All gather round!!!" 

So there I sat on the floor eying this wonderfully large package, and once all eyes were on me, I went to tearing into that bad boy like I now do when I get a new package of Oreo cookies.  I destroyed the wrapping paper in an instant and since I opened it bottom side up, I had to turn it over to see what this momentous gift turned out to be.  I can remember that it was a blue box that needed to be opened.  So one of the parental units came over to help me with this task as not to destroy the box this item came in.  I sat there with so much excitement on my face just knowing that this was the gift to end all gifts.  The box came open and there to my HORROR was the single most scariest thing I have ever seen in my life.  How could these so called "Godparents" give me something so demonic?  How could my parents let this demon into my home?  How could I turn from a little 4 year old boy into a 4 year old girl so quick?  Well staring at me from inside the box was a 3 ft. replica of this guy:

BOZO THE FREAKING CLOWN!!!!!!!

A demon that was just let loose in my home and was now in MY possession.  I didn't know what to do first.  Crap myself?  Scream like a girl?  Throw this demon across the room?  Cry like a baby?   Well I think I managed to to all of these ALL AT THE SAME TIME.  I let out a huge scream, grabbed the demon toy from its demon box, hurled it across the room, and started to cry.  I don't remember if I crapped myself, but I'm willing to bet my Scooby Doo Underoos had a little "Scooby Snack" in them if you know what I mean.

My folks freaked out, my Godparents felt like dirt, my brother and sister would have countless hours of enjoyment with this "toy" torturing me, and I just sat there and cried my little tainted eyes out trying to process just what did I ever do to deserve this gift from the underworld.  I think I ended up getting spanked for my rude behavior to my Godparents, but I think THEY deserved the spanking for bring Bozo the Minon from Hell as a gift for me!  I think one of my siblings ended up keeping it so not to offend my Godparents and I could feel it staring at me all the time no matter where it was.  So there is began, my fear of demons, otherwise known as CLOWNS.

Being a huge fan of scary things, I can handle most things around me.  I would love to sit down with Freddy, Jason, Leatherface, and Chucky to share a nice cup of tea, but throw in a clown, and IT AIN'T HAPPENING.  They freak me out.  Everything about them bothers me and the fact that there are plenty of studies that have been done proving that I am not the minority here, tells me that I am right in this fear.  In fact, Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studio's do polls every year as to what scares the guest, and the number one answer just about every year is Clowns. 

At 4 I began this life long fear of clowns, so trust me when I say, I've had a lot of time to try to work through this whole thing, but it ain't getting any better for me so I'm betting it isn't going to go away anytime soon.  I just hope they don't have "Clown Day" at the nursing home because I can guarantee you one thing.  If I'm lying there in my bed, getting ready to eat my prune pudding, and Coco the Clown comes bouncing in the room, I'm going to fill up my Scooby Doo Depends so quick, grab my chest, and go to the Lord screaming like an old woman.  I just hope and pray that good old Coco gets some of my spraying "Scooby Snacks" on his, or hers, stupidly oversized shoes.  It's the least I can do on my way out.

Of course this fear made the circus a whole lot fun for me.  I kept hoping and praying that the lion tamer would forget to lock the cage and the lions would be able to see the clowns for what they truly were. . . demons, cause animals have a sixth sense about things like that.  The lions would bust out of their cage, run after that demonic car that they all fit into, pounce on top of it, and then eat them like a Pez dispenser as they got out of the car.  Tell me that wouldn't have been AWESOME!!!!   The door would open then, ROAR. . . .CHOMP. . . . .BURP. . . . then NEXT!!!!!   Let's see how many of those creepy little freaks can fit inside a lions stomach.  A boy can dream can't he?

School carnivals were real fun too.  They would always have a clown that would walk around and just mess with little kids.  Spray you with babies blood from the overly large flower on its shirt (he claimed it was water, but I knew better), twist a balloon into a pentagram to worship the Dark Lord (he clamed it was a dog, but I knew better), and chase you around the school trying to stomp on you with those huge shoes of his (he claimed he wanted to give me a hug, but I knew better).  I hated school carnivals, kids birthdays, parades, and any other function that would bring these denizens from the lowest pits of the underworld out into public to wreak havoc on the souls of children.  I HATED CLOWNS.  You want to know what I saw everytime I saw a clown?  Well here:

Then once I was in high school, I pretty much was able to avoid clowns all together.  I really didn't see them except for movies or TV,  so all was pretty much right in the world until I picked up a book by Stephen King called "It".  For those of you that have read it, you will know what I'm talking about when I say the word Pennywise.  This book was able to dredge that whole fear thing right back up to the surface and remind me just how much I hate clowns.  That book actually scared me.  For those of you that haven't read that book, well trust me when I say that Pennywise was NOT a good clown.  Not that there is ANY clown out there that is good.  Now I sit here at 40ish, and still have this fear.  I don't like them, I don't trust them, and I just know that they are out there doing evil around the world.   So let me tell you my theories on what makes clowns so scary.  I call this proof positive that they are truly demons.

#1.  Make-up  -  Why does a clown need so much make up?  To cover up the scales that a demon has on it's face so we won't notice them.

#2.  Big red nose  -  They wear the big red nose because demons DON'T HAVE NOSES.  They don't want to tip us off to that because most people would notice a creature with no nose.

#3.  White gloves  -  This is so we won't see their claws.  Once they have their victem alone though, the gloves are coming off and it's scratchy time.

#4.  The big shoes - They wear the big shoes because their feet REALLY ARE THAT BIG.  It happens when they come up from hell.  I can't explain it in detail, I think it has something to do with air pressure.

#5.  The balloon stuff -  They seem like they are doing cute little things with the balloons, but in reality they are showing the kids just what they are going to do to them once the parents look away.

#6.  The red hair - Everyone knows that the fires of Hell will stain your hair red.  DUH!!!!!

Do I need to go on?  I think not.  They are up to no good folks and it's high time someone does something about it.  Call a priest, bring some Holy Water, and grab the Bible, it's time to cast out some demons!!!!

They need to be stopped.  They need to know that it ISN'T okay to pull scarves (really intestines) out of their mouth.  They need to know that we are on to them.  They need to know that we know what they are.

So the next time you see a clown, do me a huge favor.  Walk up to them holding out a cross and whisper in their demon ear,  "The power of Christ compels you."  Then throw a bottle of holy water on them then run away!!!!  I'm sure if enough of us do this, they will get the message to go back from whence they came.  And if someone happens to see that Burger King King, do it twice then tell him it's from me because that guy freaks me out too.

Send in the Clowns????   I say NOT!!!!

Smile!!!!