Wednesday, December 29, 2010
the most random things that would baffle even the world's most
brilliant scholars and men of science. How I even made it past 7 is
beyond me. My poor mother must have thought she was raising a human
My grandmother who lived upstairs from us would save the heel of
Italian bread until it got stale. I would sit in her kitchen and eat
that hockey puck until my mouth was so dry I needed to drink out of
the toilet for relief. Well, not really, but it wouldn't have been any
worse than some of the other weird shit I ate.
Raw potatoes never stood a chance in my house. Walking into the
kitchen and hearing the "swish, swish, swish" of the potato peeler was
music to my ears. You ever see a cat who gets all excited when they
hear the can opener? That was me, except I don't crap into a box.
I'd grab a whole potato, lovingly gazing at the shiny, round orb of
spud in my hands, drooling at the thought of sinking my teeth into
that raw mass hoping my molar wouldn't crack. But yet, if you asked me
to eat them mashed or baked, I'd run and hide under the bed like I was
a baby seal running from an Alaskan poacher. God forbid I eat that
Putting milk in my cereal was a big no no for years. I ate it dry.
Until one morning I was on the porch with my Cheerios and orange juice
and thought "Hmmm... if peanut butter and chocolate go good together,
than why not Cheerios and O.J.? I might be onto something." The only
thing I was on was obviously crack, because that was the worst tasting
slop I have ever had.
It got so bad that Mylanta offered me an endorsement deal at 10. I
should have taken it. Who knows how many potatoes I could have bought?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
I was driving with my daughter the other night on the way to the store when I saw a car pulled over with the hazard lights on. An older gentleman, about 60-65, was standing behind it.
Now, normally I would just keep driving. I've grown more paranoid and cynical in my old age and the thought of pulling over to help a total stranger in a non-life threatening situation just does not enter my mind. You stand a good chance of getting mugged, flipped off, or sued.
Car accident? - Sure, I'll pull over and help.
House on fire? - I'll grab the garden hose and start spraying
You lost your leg in a chipper shredder and now you've got a gaggle of crows pecking at your stump looking for a quick bite to eat? - I'll throw rocks at them to make them fly away.
But you have a flat tire? - Fuck off, that's what AAA is for.
Well, for some reason without thinking I stopped and rolled the window down. I figured maybe he had a flat, or the car broke down and I could offer him the use of my phone or something.
Me - "Excuse me Sir, are you OK? Do you need some help with anything?"
Old Bastard - "Why the hell are you asking?"
Me - "Well, I saw the hazard lights on and just wanted to be sure you didn't need any help."
Old bastard - "I pulled over to get my mail. Is that OK with you?"
I must have gotten to him just as his Depends started to leak. Or maybe he's at that age where having sex is like trying to shoot pool with a rope and he just now realized it. Because there is no Earthly good reason as to why he was such a prick. I cannot think of one. I should have run over his God damn feet. "Try and get your mail now, gimpy!!!!!!!!!”
The only reason why I didn't verbally assault him into a coma was because my daughter was in the car with me.
The next time anyone tells me that I need to show more compassion for strangers and should reach out more is going to get my foot up their hole.
Friday, September 10, 2010
I don't dance.
I don't know how to dance, I won't learn how to dance, and I don't drink enough alcohol to ever attempt to dance. Have you ever seen an old lady drop a lit Camel unfiltered cigarette down her blouse, barefoot on a newly waxed floor with a high turbine industrial fan blowing at her straight on? That's me when the music starts. Not a pretty picture. I won't apologize for that. .
I have plain taste in food
I don't like exotic foods at all. Anything hot enough to burn a second asshole in me is not what I would call comfort food. The thought of eating something that came out of an animal's head is appalling. A plain steak with a side of fries is more succulent to me than a raw fish head with squid scrotum as a side dish. I won't apologize for that.
Cats serve no purpose
Cats suck. The only time they ever show any sort of affection to you is when they are hungry. And how do they let you know? By shoving their pink balloon knot in your face, sticking up their tail as if to say " Hey, look at this. My asshole is pink and clean. Which means I haven't taken a dump yet. Which is due to the fact that you haven't fed me yet. Feed me, asshole." I'd rather have a dog. Any living creature that can lick his own junk, and yet stop right in the middle of that in order to greet you at the door because he is happy to see you is OK in my book. All cats do are rip your new couch to shreds. I won't apologize for that.
I hate Al Gore, and most Liberal agendas in general
I won't buy a Hybrid. So, you want me to pay an extra $15,000 in order to save the environment? But yet Al Gore's energy consumption for his Nashville estate is 20x the national average? How about you make it affordable for people to make that switch and maybe more people would? If not, I'll buy a 1976 Mack truck with a softball sized hole in the exhaust and let it idle in the parking lot all night until it runs out of gas. Then I'll fill it up and start all over again until he decides to do as he says. I won't apologize for that.
I won't apologize for who I am. Who am I, then? I am the most loyal, family oriented man you will ever meet. I am the best father that I know how to be who devotes his entire life and choices to his daughter's best interests. I am a son who knows how lucky he is to have parents who loved him and cared for him the best way they knew how. I am the one who will tell it like it is when asked, and yet comfort you when you cry because of the truth in those words.
Oh, one last thing. I am sorry to all the spiders I killed over the years due to hysterical women who have no issues cleaning up baby shit and dog puke, but yet scream like mental patients when a 1" fury bug with 8 legs happens to crawl up the wall. Those poor things never hurt anyone. That, I will apologize for.
Anyway, my older brother and his friend Sean were over the house and just hanging out. I imagine my asshole brother must have said to him " Hey, let's mess with Dave. I'm kind of bored," This is strictly a guess, but it wouldn't surprise me. My brother seemed to get "bored" a lot when I was around, and subsequently made me his entertainment for the day. I should have charged him Ticketmaster prices, maybe he would have left me alone.
Suddenly I hear "Hey, Dave. If we catch you, we're going to kick your ass." So, like the little wuss that I was, I took off. Peddling as fast as I could down the street. I was huffing and puffing and kicking my little white Irish legs, wearing my Jack Tripper shorts and athletic socks up to my knees.
I look behind me as they are getting closer, laughing like two evil scientists who just discovered the formula for immortality. Or, like two 12 year old boys with their first tittie magazine.
As I was getting closer to the end of my street, I had a dilemma. You see, my street ended at the crossing of another road running horizontal. And that road always had cars zipping down it, and it was around the corner from the end of my street, so anyone coming by wouldn't see me until it's too late.
So I did what any smart 7 year old would do. I jammed on the brakes and got ready to take my beating. Except......
I hit JUST the front brake. Yup, I flew like the Greatest American Hero over the handle bars. Flapping my arms and legs like 4 pieces of wet spaghetti during a wind storm.
I put my hands out to brace my fall as I hit the ground. And skidded.
I had road burns all over the palms of my hands, knees and forehead. I looked like two pieces of tenderized meat that the Swedish Chef from Muppets pounded on for over 2 hours.
I was crying " Take me home to Ma, you asshole!!!!!!" Having that type of language at 7 years old is the only benefit to having an older brother.
So, I limped up the street with my bike in hand, sniffling and hobbling the entire way.
I don't remember what happened next. But from then on anytime my brother said he was bored, I grabbed my helmet and gloves. And the bacatracin.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
People say that God works in mysterious ways. Bullshit, I think he's just a prick. How else do you explain parenthood? My theory is that The Almighty resents parents since he never got to make kids the old fashioned way. Think about it. He's all-powerful, but yet the only way he could get a woman to carry his child is to promise NOT to have sex with her? The Supreme Being, who single handedly created the very ground we walk on and the air that we breathe was reduced to a faceless sperm donor? So, essentially, because Mary had completely unrealistic standards, we parents have been paying the price ever since.
How so, you may ask? Well, my daughter seems to always know how to say the absolute WORST thing at the WORST time. It's like she's the Good Lord's personal marionette. And I'm the dink who has to sit back and watch the show.
We were in Wal Mart one Sunday night. Browsing the aisles and marveling at all the cool stuff that I could furnish my house with. If my house were a 10x20 tin-roofed trailer up on blocks with my dog Zeke chained to the fence as I sit on the front steps picking my one remaining tooth with a stick I found by the side of the creek.
Anyway, we have a habit of playfully poking each other, picking on each other, and giving each other "pigeon kicks" (I'll explain some other time. But they can be very annoying, and hurt like hell if done correctly). We were having our sacred ritual of pissing each other off and giggling as we stroll the aisles, trying to think of new ways to bug each other.
And then God intervened. There must have been a re-run of Jersey Shore on T.V and he was looking for something to occupy his time before Real Housewives of NY came on (and the simple fact that both of these shows exist is further proof that God hates humans).
My daughter just didn't seem to be in the mood. And then God spoke through her.
"Dad!! Stop touching me!!!! I only like it when I touch myself!!!!"
I looked around and sure as shit, people heard her. A pair of blue hairs looked at me like I was the spawn of Satan as they were frantically searching their purses for that little bottle of Holy Water they keep for just such an occasion. A gaggle of teenagers laughed their asses off. And one, lone father who was pushing his 3 year old in the carriage, looked up at me and just nodded his head. He understood.
He must have been a dink too.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
But there is just one catch. It sucks. I mean, really, really sucks.
I have been using this off and on for about 6 years now. More off than on and with good reason. I don't have too many horror stories of Russian biker chicks trying to initiate me into their gang with a handful of rope and the broken end of a bed post. A few weird moments? Sure. Like the time I was set to meet my potential date in the parking lot of her apartment complex. I was in the car with the music playing watching the plethora of people walk out the back door (yes, I said plethora. Not bad for a vocational high school graduate, huh?). At one point, a woman walks out and I thought to myself "Hmm, who's the old broad? Looks like my Auntie Kathy." But then I noticed that she was walking towards my car and getting closer and closer. Then it hit me "Holy sweet Jesus in Heaven, it's my date!" Needless to say, we didn't play "Davey and Goliath" that night.
My main point of aggravation are the ads. Women are the first ones to complain that the ads from the guys suck and leave little to the imagination. But the women are not much better. Here are some examples of the drivel I have come across over the years:
I don't really know what else to say...I guess if you want to know more, just ask =) Christ... Helen Keller had more to say. Why don't you try saying SOMETHING so I can decide if I even want to e-mail you in the first place?
LIKE TO GO DANCING, OUTDOORS,THE BEACH, TRAVEL,PETS LIKE TO SPEND TIME WITH FRIENDS AND FAMILY LIKE A GUY WITH A GOOD PERSONALITY, GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR - WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SHOUTING?????!!!!!!! TURN THE FUCKING CAPS LOCK OFF YOU INTELLECTUAL CLUSTERFUCK!!!!!!
I love spending time with family and friends. Do you really? No shit Sherlock, everyone does. You can't think of anything more original, like "I really hate my family, and I wish they would all die in a fiery plane crash. And my friends all suck eggs because they don't understand me and think I should seek professional help." Hey, at least it's original.
And my personal favorites. The same tired lines that EVERYONE seems to use:
I don't like drama - Damn!! I was so hoping to open up to you about my crazy ex girlfriend who likes to follow me and smear pig blood all over my car when I am out on dates. What's not to like about that?
I do not like playing games - So much for my plans of Strip Twister for our first date.
I am not great at talking about myself but here goes. - THIS is your opening line? Yeah, I'm intellectually stimulated now. I cannot WAIT to talk to you on the phone and hear that awesome silence when I ask you "So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?" and all I hear are the crickets chirping in your empty God damn head.
I am a single mother, and my kids come first. - FUCK!!!!! I was REALLY hoping I could convince you to dump your stupid, snot-dripping, glue-eating, nose-picking little rugrats and run away with me to Asia.
So there you have it. Your little foray into the world of Internet dating and the types of things you will read. And these aren't even the strange ones. I'll talk about those later on. These are just the tired, old, boring, contrite, drivel-laden things you will find in most of these ads.
I wonder if I should start picking up chicks at the funeral home again. At least they had more personality.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
None the less, it was still cute in a regurgitated piece of ham sort of way. And obviously this poor little fella was misplaced and calling for it's mother. Even the Grinch would have felt a twinge of sympathy and sadness for it. Right before he BBQ'd it and ate it. But that's neither here nor there.
Gabbi asked what we should do and I said "Nothing. We can't pick it up. Because if we pick it up then the mother will want nothing to do with it. Plus, if she's around and sees us picking up her precious little baby, she'll swoop down and peck our eyes out!!!!" And then I got the look from my daughter that I have seen oh so many times in her 11 year career as Daddy's little self esteem killer. "Daaaaaad, you're so immature. When are you going to grow up?"
Next time, we're taking the bus.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Yeah, I know what you are thinking. This isn't one of those stories where I am going to sit here and tell you what a Rhodes Scholar my kid is because I get to put one of those puke inducing bumper stickers on my car telling you that she made the honor roll. You know the ones. “ My kid made honor roll at Cherry Long Elementary School for Future Strippers.” ( Kudos for those of you who catch the school reference. There's hope for man kind yet if you do.). And no.... I am not one of these mosquito-brained idiots who go totally the other way with those “ My kid beat up and shanked your honor roll student in juvenile hall.” ones either. I swear to all that is holy, I don't know which is worse.
No, what I am getting at is her sense of humor. Point blank, she's a friggin riot. And the best part is, she doesn't even know it. Maybe that's a good thing. Because I am getting tired of being schooled by an 11 year old.
I have been a single father for the last 7 1/2 years, and have had some challenges along the way. Early on I had to make some adjustments while taking my daughter out in public. The biggest issue being the bathroom. When your child is only 4 years old, you don't just send them in there on their own. So I would have to take her with me into the men's room and put her in a stall. That also goes for dressing rooms.
I had her with me in the store one day and I wanted to try on some clothes. But I wasn't about to leave my curious, quick witted, short attention spanned daughter outside the dressing room by herself. She would have taken off in a flash just as soon as I had my pants down around my ankles. I can just picture myself bolting out the door while tripping over my pants. So, I picked the biggest room and turned to her and said "Daddy is going to try on some clothes. Just stand in the corner near the door and turn around. I'll tell you when I am done, OK?" "OK, Daddy."..... So I turn my back to her as well as her having her back to me and start to change. No sooner do I take off my shirt and drop my pants ( I had shorts on underneath. Not underwear, not boxer shorts. But regular sweat shorts. This little piece of information is important in a minute.) and I hear "Ugh!!! Daddy. You're NAKED!!!!!!" And this wasn't some sweet, innocnet little voice. This was loud like a God damn bull horn. She may as well had said this over the store intercomm, I'm sure less people would have heard it. My heart sank and I immediately spun around half expecting to see Chris Hansen whip the door open and say "Why don't you come have a seat right over here."...... "No, honey Daddy isn't naked. I have shorts on. See?" as loud as I possibly could. As if that little bit of news would stop anyone from thinking the worst. "Oh, see Dear it's fine. No need to call the cops. Didn't you hear him? He has shorts on. It must be some mistake." " Hmmmm, why you are quite right Darling. Carry on. Nothing to worry about here."................
I quickly put my clothes back on grabbed her and left. The whole time I kept having visions of the cops chasing me as I scooped up my daughter like a football and took off yelling "But I had shorts on!!!!!!!!!" But you know what the worst part was? The fact that I had never before, or ever since, heard such a tone of absolute disgust and shame in my daughter's voice. She's more and more like her mother every day.
I had a friend who bought me some cologne for Christmas one year. It's not bad, actually. I put some on one morning and walked up to my daughter to give her a hug. “Ugh, what's that smell??!!” You would have thought I was wearing a sweaty necklace of old sardines the way she turned her head and wrinkled her nose. I told her it was my new cologne. “It stinks!! No wonder why no one wants to go out with you.” I canceled my E-Harmony subscription that very minute.
This year my ex wife and I took our daughter to lunch for her birthday. We were having a nice time when suddenly she looks at me and says “ You know what Dad? You're going to die alone. Because every woman you go out with breaks up with you.” Are you starting to see a pattern here? I canceled my Match.com subscription as soon as we got home.
Now, before I continue let me explain something about my daughter and the relationship we have. You see, she has no filter at all. Whatever pops into her head, she says it. Not to be mean, or spiteful. She's just being honest and expressing what she is thinking. She has the most amazing curiosity and sees the world in such grown up ways for someone so young. I was exactly the same way as a child. I am still that way now.
I took her to the batting cages one summer. She had never been. I walked her into the cage and showed her how to stand, where the softballs would be coming out from, the red light, etc. Easy, right? With my kid, nothing is easy.
The first couple of balls were sent through the machine, but none came out. It seemed to be empty. Suddenly, a loose ball rolled over to her from the cage next to her. She looked down at it, stepped in front of home plate, and tried to hit slap shots with it. “What the hell are you doing??? Get out of the box!!!!!!!” She looked up at me “What?” then SLAM!!! She got a softball right in the mouth. My heart shot out of my throat as I ran in and grabbed her and yanked her out of there. This all happened in the span of 5 seconds. My dreams of her making the majors as the first female baseball player were instantly shattered. After the shock wore off and she realized that she was still going to be able to eat with all her teeth, she looked at me and said “Hey Dad, is that what they mean by getting popped in the chops?” That's my girl.
My precious angel has no problem busting my balls, either. And it's my own fault. I teased her and joked with her from the time she was little. And she kept coming back for more. I knew I was onto something. She has that McGravey spirit. We never back down from getting our balls busted and will come back at you harder and faster until we make you cry in the shower with all of your clothes on while the water runs all over your pathetic, sniveling, face.
Not a day goes by that I don't hear “Hey Dad.” as I look over and she sticks her tongue out at me, or throws the big L across her forhead at me. She'll quote Family Guy word for word from some of the little clips I show her. We watch America's Funniest Videos and cackle at all the morons who let their kids use their hairy bean bags as pinatas as she yells “Oh, that's going to leave a mark.” And I cannot go a week without her saying at least once “Hey Dad, would you be mad if I pushed you down that hill?” and just smile and giggle when I look over at her and wonder why God's such an asshole.
But you know what? You can have your future Hall of Famers, and your little Harvard Professors, and your wanna be veterinarians. I'll take my little Don Rickles over all of those any day.
And if anyone knows of a good free dating site, can you let me know? I am running out of options. And cologne.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Finally I just conceded " I don't know, Gab. That would be awfully embarrassing, I guess. I am not sure what I would do." She kind of chuckled and said " You'd probably cry. Yeah, you would cry. Not me though. Because if that happened, I would be the one saying no, not the other way around."
She'll make a great therapist some day, huh? Full of empathy and compassion. And people wonder why I have no hair.
But the question still begs to be answered. What the hell would I do?
Join the Catholic Church and become a priest? Why not? Hell, after 2,000 years Mary is still a Virgin, so clearly they're not interested in girls. It might be a good distraction.
Hide out in the garage with the door closed and suck on an exhaust pipe? No, the gay references would be too much for me to bare from the grave.
Buy the biggest paper bag I could find and put it over my head in embarrassment to wear the rest of my life? Nah, brown's not really my color.
Renew my subscription to Maxim? Right, one would assume I have cancelled it in the first place. Not likely.
Change my name to Renaldo and move to a far away country and take up the art of selling dead roses out of the back of my truck on the side of the road to unwitting tourists? Throw in a pair of maracas, and you have yourself a deal.
But then again, it could be worse. How would you like to be this poor guy?
Pensioner Rides Wheelchair 125 Miles to Propose
By Neal Colgrass Posted Aug 22, 09 3:55 PM CDT
(Newser) – Lovestruck in Northern Germany, a 67-year-old pensioner traveled more than 125 miles in an arm-powered wheelchair to propose to the woman he loved, Der Spiegel reports. When she turned him down, he turned around for the 4-day journey home and stopped in a cornfield for food........
How cold is this broad? I can just picture this poor SOB pumping away with his frail little arms, over hills and through valleys just envisioning the life he was about to lead with his one true love changing his colostomy bag on a daily basis while she cries at the thought of never dancing another waltz again. Only to be rejected. The least she could have done was offer him cab fare.
Or how about this poor bastard? Or, maybe he lucked out, depending on how you look at it.
The Most Disastrous Marriage Proposal Ever
Huffington Post - Anya Strzemien
First Posted: 03-17-08 10:41 AM
It is the one moment every man wants to get right -- and which London floor-fitter Lefkos Hajji could hardly have got more wrong....Hajji, of Hackney, East London, had concealed a $12,000 engagement ring inside a helium balloon. The idea was that she would pop the balloon as he popped the question. But as he left the shop, a gust of wind pulled the balloon from his hand and he watched the ring -- and quite possibly the affections of his girlfriend -- sailing away over the rooftops.
"I had to tell her the story -- she went absolutely mad. Now she is refusing to speak to me until I get her a new ring."
Wow, that's one expensive I told you so. The dude spends more money on a ring for this woman than I spent on my last car, and she REFUSES to speak to him? In hindsight I say that's the best 12k he ever spent.
I am not sure what I would do. Probably sulk for a little while, eat obsessively for a week, and not shave for a month.
And I'd be sure to hide my tears from my daughter.
I wouldn't want her to worry that her old man isn't tough enough.
Cry baby, indeed.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
There's something wrong with the world today
I don't know what it is
Something's wrong with our eyes
But our eyes are just fine. We are seeing exactly what's going on. We just don't know the root cause. Is it plain stupidity? Drugs? Environmental?
Lord only knows.
Take a look at some of these headlines I have found and you tell me. Are we doomed as a society? I seriously think that when God was handing out brains, these mental midgets thought he said trains, and said "Cool!!! I'll take the slow one!!"
Pastor Accused Of Pulling Gun On Son At Church
Tenn. Pastor Accused Of Threatening Son With Gun At Church Over His Lack Of Church
(AP) ALCOA, Tenn. (AP) - The son of a well-known Alcoa pastor has taken out an order of protection against his father, claiming he was threatened with a gun during an argument at a church over his lack of church attendance.
The younger man told police his father pulled out a handgun when they met at the church to discuss church attendance. He told officers his father pointed the gun at him and threatened to kill him, his wife and family.
So…… he blames his adult son for the fact that people would rather be at home sitting on the couch scratching their asses, watching Football than listen to his coma-inducing sermons? " Come and pray with me in the name of the Lord and help spread good will towards men. Or I'll blow your God damn knee caps off!!"
Police: Colo. Dad Ordered Kids To Bite Officers
Colo. Police Say Dad Accused Of Passing Out At McDonalds Ordered Kids To Bite Officers' Faces
(AP) COLORADO SPRINGS, Colo. (AP) - Police in Colorado arrested a 28-year-old man accused of passing out in a McDonald's play area and telling his two children to bite the officers who were trying to arrest him. Colorado Springs police said officers had to use a Taser on Joshua Alger to subdue him Wednesday after he allegedly passed out drunk at the fast-food restaurant.
Police said Alger refused officers' orders and at one point told his children to "bite the officers' faces off."
Do you think he was pissed because McDonald's stopped selling the McRib? This genius sounds like another reason why the gene pool needs more chlorine. And to think, he was the fastest sperm.
Truck Driver Chokes On Chili And Crashes Into Home
Lumber Truck Driver Hits Bump And Chokes On Wendy's Chili, Crashing Into Mass. Home, Police Say
(AP) LOWELL, Mass. (AP) - Police said a Massachusetts lumber truck crashed into a home after the driver was knocked unconscious by a small chili from Wendy's, Lowell police said.
Eric Gremm reported that he choked on the chili when the truck hit a bump, causing him to pass out as the flatbed truck veered off the road and slammed into the home. The man, 59, said emergency workers at the scene told him that he had passed out, but he could not
remember losing consciousness.
Police said he could be cited for eating while driving.
He should have gone to McDonald’s and ordered the McRib. Eating while driving? That's a crime? "Honey, can you please pass me a fry?" " Not until we get passed that roadblock up ahead, dear."
Priest Accused Of Shoplifting Butter, Sofa Cover
Illinois Priest Accused Of Shoplifting Butter, Sofa Cover And Switching Bar Code From
(AP) WEST CITY, Ill. (AP) - A Roman Catholic priest was accused of shoplifting butter and a sofa cover at a Wal-Mart in southern Illinois. Police arrested 41-year-old the Rev. Steven Poole on Friday. He's charged with two felony theft counts. Investigators said Poole failed to scan a $3.22 container of butter and a $60 sofa cover at a self-checkout. Poole then allegedly went to the store's bedding section, picked up a memory foam mattress and switched the pricing bar code. That caused the $145 item to be scanned for $31.
More proof that the Catholic Church is out of touch with the modern times. He should have just used a gun like the pastor from Tenn.
Pa. Woman Manages To Crash Car Into Her Own Home
Philadelphia Police Puzzled After Woman Somehow Manages To Crash Car Into Her Own House
(AP) HARLEYSVILLE, Pa. (AP) - Police in suburban Philadelphia are trying to figure out how a woman crashed her car into her own house. Police said the crash happened early Wednesday morning in Harleysville, about 25 miles outside of Philadelphia. The unidentified woman was uninjured and able to get out of the car, but the house is badly damaged.
This is one hell of a way to get out of doing laundry. I swear, the longer I live, the more I believe that Playskool needs to make an operating system. Giving a woman car keys is like giving a monkey a loaded machine gun.
Now my head hurts about as much as being whacked in the nuts with a wet sock full of quarters.
The world is full of people too stupid to pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel.
I don't think this is what God had in mind when he told man to go forth and multiply. Maybe human beings should have learned how to add and subtract first.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
You ever have one? Well don't, because you'll be reduced to nothing more than a pathetic, little man that every woman complains about. You know the type. " Oh, my husband is such a BABY when he's sick. He gets a little cold and he is laid out on the couch all day whining that he needs his pillow fluffed and his hemorrhoids lanced." Guess what? You will turn into one of these wimps. And deservedly so.
I have had 3 and let me tell you, I'd rather jab myself with a rusty nail in the eyeball and twist out my cornea with it than have another one.
The first one was the worst. And I'm going to tell you about it. In excruciating detail.
Part 1 - Pepto and Dave. The story of a boy and his bismuth potion of magic
I was driving to work one morning when suddenly I get this sharp pain in my left side. Holy Mother of Christ!!! I shot right up in my front seat and almost drove off the highway. I remember thinking " Huh, feels like a bad gas pain. I'll just try and squeeze out a fart and I should be all set." Yeah, well needless to say one painful ride to work and two bloodshot eyes from pushing later, I was no better off. Oh, and I never farted.
As soon as it came on, it was gone. Sweet!!! I figured I was home free. And I didn't have to gag myself out of the car from farting to get there. This was going to be a good day after all........
...Until about 4:00 in the afternoon. The pain was back. This time, I was on my knees begging the good Lord to let me rip some ass. It never happened. Of course my good friend, who shall remain nameless ( Jessica ) laughed in my face and said "Awe, poor Davey!! You got a tummy ache, you pussy!" and just cackled. I had to admit, I laughed because she was right. And try as I might, I still couldn't fart. Lucky for her, the insensitive clam.
I ran to the bathroom as I felt myself getting sick. There I managed to dry heave because the pain was too much. My buddy Brian was in there and heard my pitiful screams of torture as I continued to beg the Lord to let me fart. I came out of the stall and he was white as a sheet. He asked me " Um, are you OK?" in that tone that said " I really hope you say yes because I just want to get the hell out of here and forget the awful sounds of a cat getting skinned alive that came from you stall. "
I lied and said yes. He said "OK" and shot out of there like a rocket. I never saw someone that big run that fast. Jim Thorpe, my fat Irish ass!! This kid was headed for the Olympics the way he darted down the hall.
I decided to drive home. A little bit of Pepto and some sleep and I'll be good as new tomorrow.
Well, the kidney stones were moving through me pretty good at this point. It felt like Freddie Krueger was sliding his sharp nails in the stomach and playing patty cake with my intestines. Long story short, it hurt. Like hell. And I continued to drive anyway. I was basically standing up in the car the whole way trying to stretch myself out. Yeah, like that was going to help. All I could think about was Pepto. I mean, why not? That pink stuff is like magic in a bottle. All full of minty goodness. But I knew if I stopped, I was all done. So I kept driving. Through lights, through stop signs, etc. I was like Tony Stewart on speed. I just needed to get home.
Then it was "OK, I won't make it home. I just need to make it to Dad's. He has Pepto.".... then it was " OK, maybe I'll just make it to the store and buy some Pepto.". And then.... stay with me now......
I stopped. Damn it!!!!
There was a volunteer fire station just down the road. I pulled in and crawled inside. Someone came down stairs and said " Holy crap, are you OK?". They called an ambulance and as they were strapping me in the pain went away. I asked the driver
" Hey man. I'm starved. Can we stop at McDonald's on the way?" "What are you, an asshole?" he said to me. Needless to say, we never stopped at McDonald's.
Basically, I went in the ER, they found out I had a kidney stone and gave me some scripts and sent me home. Told me to go see my Dr in the morning.
I spent most of the night awake and in pain. Called my Dr. and went to go see him later that afternoon. Once I got there and he asked me if told me how big the kidney stone was, I told him. His eyes popped out if his head as if he was a squishy toy and if you stepped on his crank they would pop out. He sent me to the hospital to be checked in.
Now the real fun begins.
Part 2 - Why I hate roommates
I get checked in and the Urologist told me that if I didn't pass the stone tonight, they were prepping me for surgery at 7:00 the next morning to go in and get it. Yeah, right. If he thought I was going to let him go in there with a bait of chum and a fishing line as if he were trolling for bass, he was mistaken.
Now, I should mention that I had popped two pain pills a half hour before getting to the hospital. And let me tell you. I have absolutely ZERO tolerance for drugs. I was floating like Mickey Mouse in the Macy's Day Parade. And I started sounding like him too.
When I got into my room, they asked me how long since my last pill. I lied and said about 5 hours ago. They gave me another one AND a morphine drip. Jackpot!!!!
I was so high, I never got the chance to use the drip. Bummer
Now, I had myself a roommate. And something tells me he never made it past 11th grade and never met a hit of acid he never liked. He starts telling me what he was in for. I don't really remember what it was, and don't honestly care. But I remember one thing ( and this is important so pay attention ). He said he had not eaten in 4 days, and only can have an IV. He can't even have a sip of water or he would die.
He asks me what I had. I told him. " Oh, maaaaaaaan!! My buddy had that. And he said it was the worst pain he EVER had. And when he was passing it, the stone broke up into little shards and he said it was like pissing lava, etc....."
Just what I needed to hear.
I made it through the night and woke up at 7:30. Guess what? Yup!!! Surgery time!!!
The nurse came in and told me I was scheduled for 8:00.
I panicked. I thought about making a run for it.
But I had to pee. And I mean BAD!!! My damn eyes were swimming. But I held it back. I didn't want to pass that thing. Finally after 20 minutes I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the bottle they gave me and headed in.
I was looking out the window while doing my business admiring the old broken down houses and trash all over the street when I heard a clink in the bottle. WTF??? I looked down and there it was!!!! WOO HOO!!!!!!!!! I passed it. I never felt a thing.
I ran to the nurse’s station and told her to cancel my surgery. I passed it, get me out of here!!!!
The nurse went to go get it and she yelled " Wow, that's the biggest one I ever saw"... " Thank you, but what about my stone?"
My ordeal was finally over, and I came through with flying colors. But I had one more thing to take care of.
I asked the nurse if I could have breakfast before I went home. She ordered it up and I waited.
Then it arrived. It smelled like sweaty hobo ass. But I didn't care. I opened that lid and it was glorious. My neighbor just looked at me with sad, pitiful eyes and said " Gee, that smells good."
"It tastes even better." as I shoved a piece of fatty bacon in my mouth.
I never did fart though.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
OK, so here I am. A very good friend of mine suggested I do this. She states that I am a naturally gifted writer with a story to share. The only problem is, most of my stories require proof of age, and the ability to unstick the pages.
Will this work? Who the hell knows. But we may as well have some fun while we're at it.
See, the problem is that most of time, inspriation hits during the course of conversation. I need that personal interaction. I can't just sit here and think of what to write, what stories to tell, what jokes to lay out. It just happens naturally.
So, let me introduce myself and see where this goes.
My name is Dave. I am a 35 year old single father of a 10 year old girl who means the world to me. But sometimes, truth be told, she's lucky she's cute. I keep telling her if she keeps up her smart assed mouth I'm sending her back where she came from. Unfortunately for me, her mother seems to think that my hairy coin purse is my daughter's true place of origin, so this matter is still up for debate.
I never in a million years thought I would do something such as this. I mean, I have ( well.... had ) a sex life and thought only lonely 40 year old virgins living in Mommy's basement did something like this. Seeing as how I'm not a virgin ( although with my recent track record you would think otherwise. I'm ready to sue Penthouse for my carpal tunnel ), and my parent's basement couldn't hold a lady bug's fart, never mind me and all my shit, I figured I was safe. Nope, no blogging for me!! I don't fit the profile. Sweet!!! One less thing for my daughter to roll her eyes at me for and tell me that I embarass her on a daily basis. " Dad, you need to grow up and start setting a better example." I cannot believe I get schooled by a 5th grader every day. Maybe Mom's basement isn't looking so bad after all.
But you know what? I'm OK with it. Because it takes all kinds. And there are so many self-respecting bloggers out there who have a lot to teach the world. Doctors and lawyers and teachers and authors and porn stars ( what? porn stars can write too. can't they? ) and garbage men have something to say. ( my childhood dream, by the way. Way to shoot for the moon Dave. Most kids wanted to be baseball players or firemen, or cops. Nope!!! Not this kid. I wanted to play with 55 gallon drums full of maggots and water soaked garbage bags and ride on the back of the truck doing 55 down the highway while the smell of sour trash and swamp ass hit me in the face in the middle of August. What the sweet chocolate Christ in Heaven was I thinking? I must have eaten too many lead paint chips as a baby. My mother kept telling me they were Frosted Flakes )
I don't have anything to teach anyone. I'm just hear to meet women. Since the rock star thing didn't work out ( lack of talent and eventually hair led to this dream being shattered really quick. But hey, I can still empty a mean trash can with the best of em' ) And hopefully share a laugh or two.
This is why I'm here.