Category Archives: Uncategorized

Getting Older


I am having a very hard time getting over my denial that I am getting older.  Here is a list of reasons that I know I am aging…

1.  I have noticed that my ears and my nose are enlarging.  I heard this never stops!!!

2. I see many, many fine lines around my eyes, so much that I believe a spider could get lost in them.

3. I get irritated at teenagers for doing the same things I had done.

4. My thick locks are not as thick as they used to be or as think as I still think they are.

5.  Instead of 2 weeks in the gym to get back into shape it takes me an average of 3 months. (P90X)

6. Never getting I.d.’d for anything is a constant reminder.

7.  Thinking about my fiber and eating all of my fruits and vegetables. (started looking at Ensure for the vitamin factor)

8.  The hang overs seem to be more catastrophic, takes days to get over them now.

9.  I need glasses now to watch TV and read.

10.  My shoulders, knees and back are now my worst enemies.

11.  My golf game is getting a hell of a lot better.

12.  I am no longer looking for acne, I am looking for age spots.

13.  The sun has become an enemy. If I wasn’t so damn cool I would take an umbrella outside to block th UV rays.

14.  I am too old to wear shirts with designs on them although I never did before.

15.  Your more apt to find me at the bookstore than the dance club.

16.  I call it a dance club

17. Eight hours of sleep just never seems like enough.

18.   I am seriously considering time share.

19.  My annual physical keep getting more elaborate as the years pass ( a couple more years, I am gonna be a lot ‘closer’ to my Dr.)

and  20. I can make it to number 20 without stopping and wonder if I should take this list to fifty.

Feel free to add your own on the comments. 

Introducing The Lebonese (not all of them)


Yes, the Lebanese…This group of men ran an illegal LEVIS cartel.  What?  Yes, Levi Cartel.  We had three apartments, each one having a couple of older Lebanese gentlemen (“chaperones”).  All which by the way were either named Sam or Al.  Along with the chaperones was anywhere from three to six young teenagers living in each apartment also.  It was a sort of interracial halfway Brady bunch house.  All the kids were around my age, fourteen, fifteen drop outs, junkies although there were a couple of normal ones (well who seemed to be normal compared to the lot of them).

In exchange for the roof over our heads we would all pile up into three or four, filthy, minivans and travel from state to state, store to store and buy as many pairs of Levi 501 jeans on sale as possible.  This was so that by the end of the month after we had filled up an entire bedroom to the ceiling wall to wall, we would shove them all into as many U haul trucks as needed, drive it down to San Diego, throw it on a ship so that they could send them to Lebanon to get a disgusting return on their money.

The retail stores and the Feds started getting savvy to our little operation.  So most stores in the greater north-west, because of yours truly, implemented a maximum amount of jeans that could be sold to one person and that number was three.  Before this we were getting paid one dollar per pair of jeans we bought (with their money) and each of us was pulling in hundreds of pairs per day, so this new rule tossed a monkey wrench in our income.  Now we had to change our tactics drastically.  Now instead of six people in each van we had to fit suitcases of clothes, hats and even fake mustaches in with us.  We would all run into a store get our three pair maximum, run outside change clothes and do this as many times as we could before the store was either out or security escorted us off their premises.

Now these stores being as smart as they are changed their policy again and added not only a cap on the amount but now anyone that wanted to buy a pair of jeans needed to have a I.D..  This did not have the effect they were expecting, because after we all got our plethora of fake I.D’s we pretty much drained the Levi 501 market…Washington, Idaho and Montana were the next in line for our 501 supremacy, but you get the picture.

I don’t really remember how long I was with them, but it was a while.  Enough time to learn enough Arabic to get me by.  I also learned that if you are in the back of a mini van going 80 mph and the driver wont stop to let people use the bathroom, you get pretty good at going out the window. Always felt bad for the people driving behind us.

Eventually the IRS was able to catch up to us and deported our chaperones back to their own soil, forcefully I might add.

The World That Cried Wolf


So on a different note from my small town visit I had to talk about this end of the world prophecy for tomorrow May 21, 2011.  As much end of the world crap as we have heard in all of our life times it has been more of an amusement than a warning.  Just ten minutes ago I was watching the news and heard, “Breaking News, church leaders say second coming of Christ tomorrow”  than in the same breath, that there will be a concert in town square next week.  There will never, in the future, be a legitimate end of the world scare because of all the times that we have cried wolf.  We will only know when the end of the world is upon us when comets are actually coming through the front door.  Although there is some humor and hope in this for those of us that put no stock in prophecy.  There is a man (an atheist) who has actually had 200+ clients to watch their pets when they got beamed to heaven.

No offense but this is more Christian fundamentalist trying to put fear in the thoughts of their followers, and that’s just the republicans…hee hee.  BURN

Stop the freaking madness.  And finally, who the hell is screening the news now a days.  Get that crap off the air, or all you will have are idiots like this pitching their garbage.   Its bad enough that we have Christian, Mormon and so forth channels.  Now we have the retards of the religious sect becoming their own personal super hero because they see themselves on the motion picture box.

Day 3 City Boy, Small Town


A slower way of living out here in Small Town North Carolina.  Nothing fast about it.  No need to get things done fast, no coffee shop on every corner and no dry cleaners, heck, I can’t even find a place to get an alcoholic refresher at any point of the day or night.  The churches out here, one to every household it seems, must have the lock and key to the liquor cache.   The fast food out here is even slow.  I definitely sound like an outsider here going through the drive through at the local hang out (Arby’s).  “Hello, can you hear me…Hello”  not knowing that the politeness out here does not allow them to interrupt someone from whom is talking. Even the elevators are slow here, in our hotel to get to the third story you might as well scale the side of the building.

Life in a small town is definitely an acquired taste.  You have to go into it knowing that everyone around is going to know your business, that most people know each other.  I was walking around “town” taking pictures of some of the older buildings and run down old shacks when I was stopped by an older fella that went on to talking to me about the IRS tax code for roughly an eternity.  Also some FYI for you, it is not a stereotype about the southern men all having chew in their mouth and camouflage hats and clothing.  Id say 4 out of 5 men out here fit that profile.  If they are not hunting they are directly apart of a conversation about it.  I have seen more dead deer pictures and poor deer heads on the wall than I have ever seen in my life.  I am sure that this little town has taken out at least 35% of the deer population.  And the vehicles have taken out 90% of the possum’s.

Day 1-1/2 City Boy Small Town


I had to title this day 1 1/2 because I don’t remember much, only working on about 45 min of sleep.  After all the madness with the car rental company it was time to drive from the dirty-dirty (Atlanta) to small town North Carolina.   I wish that I could have given you a run down of the drive but it would all be made up as I was counting sheep the entire time.

I always heard that people were a lot nicer and friendlier out in small towns, but this is ridiculous.  We stopped at a gas station a ways outside of town ( I call it a town even though there are more constants in the word town than there are businesses there)  so that I could freshen up a bit.   I was standing at the back of the rental car changing my shirt,  I was watching a van pull into a, I thought extinct, full service area.  The very polite young man explained that the other pump (2 pumps) was the self-service.  So the man in the van proceeded to back up to self-serve, I assume trying to take a short cut and go right through the gas pump, trash can and window washer.  I hear a loud bang as the attendant and the owner of the gas station run out.  Goodie goodie I am about to see a major shouting match, some police cars a lawyer and probably even channel 13 news.  Nope.  A quick check of the car and the pump, a little reorganizing of the trash and everyone was shaking hands, smiling and the van was on its way with the two workers waving them bye.  If this was to happen in Vegas, there would have been at least two panic attacks, one argument a paper trail of insurance cards, more than one finger-pointing and a partridge in a pear tree.

When we finally get to “town” everyone that was out on the road (3/4 gravel, 1/4 pavement) waving as we drove by.  It was a children of the corn moment for me, scared of all the brightly pigmented people…

City Boy, Small Town: Day 1


I was going to start this multi-part blog my first day in town, but I decided to do a little rant about the Planes, trains and automobiles.

So obviously I haven’t flew or taken a legitimate vacation in some years, but when did the stewardess, wait the air plane isle attendant, or is it the drink cart engineer become such a depressing looking job.  A plane used to be the last resort in customer service.  Always smiling always saying yes sir and yes ma’am.  bringing me pillows and asking if I needed a blanket, sneaking me a spiced rum and even asking if I am comfortable.  And this was coach.

This is a step by step reenactment of my flight from Las Vegas to Atlanta.   We get to the airport to check our bags, now if you know anything about checking bags I guess you already know that they charge for bags, but did you know that they charge more if it is over fifty pounds, one of our bags was 58 pounds and they had us move all of our stuff around to get it EXACT.  So after thirty minutes of reorganizing the luggage that took us two hours earlier to organize we had finally calibrated it to the right tonnage.

An assumed quick stop at the airport Burger King to order a chocolate milk, a burger and fries turned out to be a small fry an orange juice and a broken straw.

Now to the plane.  Starts off right from the git go.  Walking through the door of the plane we are greeted by a stewardess that decided that she knew more about being a parent than I.  “The bathroom is right here, you should take her in there before you sit.”    Me  “no she is fine she just went to the bathroom.”    Her  “well kids have to go to the bathroom a lot and you might regret not taking her”.  Like I had just scooped this child up and needed the advice on how to take care of her.   This is the same woman who had so much want to give me parenting advice but was too lazy to point out the emergency exits.  You see this airline, whom I will not mention the name, (it was definitely not Delta,  I will say again it was…not Delta Airlines flight from Las Vegas, Nevada to Atlanta, Georgia)  took away the only real job these people had.  A little television drops down and tells us were the exits are and how to use the oxygen masks, not the flight attendants.  This did not make them any more efficient in the drink department, as I was trying to sleep and they did not know how to steer it, or they were playing a fun game of bump me in the arm as they pass by 100 times.  Not to mention the sexually confident male stewardess that put his ball-sac on my shoulder about half the time walking by, I think he was intentionally trying to tea bag me.

Now besides all that and the plane was as old as aviation, and that every time it moved it felt like a part of it may have flown off.  The Rental car fiasco was just as bad, we were there for around an hour back and forth with the ENTERPRISINGLY idiotic car reservation attendant that did not know the difference between an SUV and a Geo Metro.

I am looking forward to the rest of my trip to the small town south.

Hello Friends


Will be back in another week, feel free to go through all my past blogs… Enjoy

Whats On Your Mind


So I am thinking about trying to make my blog a little political, then I think just more emotional, then I think more humor.   I finally came to the conclusion that I am too freaking confused and should just ask my readers.  What do you out there want to hear about or learn about.  I can write about pretty much anything so let the ideas roll.  This will be a fun little project.  Maybe I will do Thirty days of reader ideas, so read often I may pick your topic, don’t worry I will mention your name and site, if you want.

Going Over The Top 100


Ok, so Time Magazine put out their The 2011 TIME 100  most influential people in the world.    Now time to dig in, I will not be going over all of them, because, well I just don’t have that type of commitment to this list.

We have…

Reed Hastings; the founder of Netflix, you know the guy that changed the way we rent movies forever, or at least until the next guy comes up with something else.

Amy Poehler; So besides a handful of very funny movies like Baby Mama, and being on Saturday Night Live, I have no clue how “Influential” she can be.

Mark Zuckerberg;  Obviously no link needed.  I actually agree with this one, he changed the way we communicate more than any other social media site could have ever dreamed.  Although he may be a bit of a narcissist, he is a communication genius.

Peter Vesterbacka; I am irritated just typing this.  This is the creator of “Angry Birds“.

Amy Chua;  WHO?

Joe Biden; Ok I get it, he is the vice president, but really that’s like nominating the prom kings brother for just being related, but whatever.

Kim Clijsters; A tennis player, really?

Cory Booker;  How can a Mayor of Newark be among the top 100 IN THE WORLD?  He is not even a Senator!

Rob Bell;  I can’t wait until I finish ONE book so that I can be on this list next year.

Michele Bachmann;  This may take a minute…Ok so this whack job has said things like: “I find it interesting that it was back in the 1970s that the swine flu broke out under another, then under another Democrat president, Jimmy Carter. I’m not blaming this on President Obama, I just think it’s an interesting coincidence.” and jewels as “Carbon dioxide is portrayed as harmful. But there isn’t even one study that can be produced that shows that carbon dioxide is a harmful gas.”  Top 100 Idiots of all time maybe.

Justin Bieber; No link deserved.  Are you F’n kidding me?

Now this list goes on an on with people like, Sting and Mark Walberg.  I am not saying that the entire list is lame, there is alot of very important people on this list like, Wael Ghonim,  Ai Weiwei, Larry Page and Derrick Rossi.

Dear Time Magazine,

This biased and amazingly incompetently list should be as embarrassing to you as Rolling Stone is at putting Snookie on its cover.  This list should be pulled from your archive and every copy should be destroyed.  There are a lot of people on this post-it-note list that seem like seat fillers.  It seems that you got to around number fifty couldn’t think of anyone else, ran to the store got the enquirer and went crazy.  I have always liked your pieces, but this list is an atrocity.  If you need to throw actors on the list why not Micheal J Fox and Clint Eastwood.  Also how is Justin Bieber more influential than the Pope or say even Yogi Bear (they all love children, ok low blow).  I was honestly surprised that you didn’t put Glen Beck on that list.

No Thanks,

Thoughts Of An Ordinary Man

Poop Sensitive


greatmarriagetips.blogspot.com

Me being the poop sensitive man, that I am, I had a very hard time potty training my daughter.  I at one point wanted to take her to the doctor because I was afraid that she pooped way too many times during the day, I thought that it was abnormal.  When she was an infant it was always scary opening the putrid smelling wrap that kept the demon of the bowels contained.  I was more times than not utterly surprised that a butt, more than half way down the body could magically shoot poop up to my daughters hairline.  I think they called this explosive diarrhea .  A box of crayola could not compare with the variety of greens that I have seen in these wicked times.  Bathing was never a fun voyage with a tiny human that did not have the capacity to “hold It’.  I don’t know that anyone that does not have a child, has seen diarrhea in a roman tub, but it is something that you can live without.

I do not think that I have ever had a normal diaper changing episode, It was always either my hand somehow finding its way dab smack into the middle of the diaper or her hands somehow getting a mud mask when i went to get some new wipes.  There was one time that was ok, and it was only OK because about ten seconds before hand when I was taking off her onesie and fate decided that it was time for the residual from her em-biblical cord to get stuck in the fabric and ripped out.  So the overwhelming shock of thought that I just accidentally yanked off my daughter’s life line, I wasn’t paying too much attention to the poopy diaper.

It goes on after just getting your child to poop in the toilet, at this point you have to show them how to wipe.  It puts it in a whole different perspective when you see theses giblets floating in a toilet and not a diaper.  It makes it more human I guess you can say.  The calling out from the bathroom, ” Daddy, I went kaka can you come wipe me” always put a chill down my spine, just to hear poetry like “see daddy, I went big kaka like Mommy” (information that I neither need or wanted to ever know), not letting me off the hook until I inspect the lot of it.  Throughout the entire evolution of my daughter,  potty training was the part that I could have done without.  Again having the gag reflex of an inebriated man who decided to take one more last shot of tequila,  I have also been in the vicinity of my amazingly gorgeous daughter as she farts louder than I ever could, without ever even batting an eye, ( I may need to get her ears checked because she doesn’t seem to hear them) like an old woman.

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