Category archives

-image-My Dear John Letter

 

Dear Happy Madison Productions,

This will be the hardest letter I've ever written. I have wrestled with this for a long time, but recent events have finally given me the strength to move on with my life. I may have loved you at some point, or maybe I just let my love of "Happy Gilmore" and "Billy Madison" blind me to who you really were, but I just know that I don't love you anymore. Our relationship is over.

I know the first thing you'll be thinking is that it's because of your friends. And that's true to a small degree. I mean, I do like David Spade and Chris Rock, most of the time. But it's your insistence on bringing Rob Schneider everywhere with you that really soured me. I mean, just because I loved you, I was willing to suffer through "Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo". I even tried to watch "The Animal" and "The Hot Chick", although I'll admit that I couldn't even gather up the strength to sit through "Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo". In the earlier stages of our relationship, it was cute when Rob would pop up and make a short, funny joke - I'll admit that I laughed. But I grew up, and he hasn't. And by continuing to thrust him into the spotlight, you've shown that you haven't either.

Rob's just one small part of our issues, though. The main reason is you. You started out full of promise and hopes and dreams and you've just slowly gotten lazy and sloppy and the way you've let yourself go is getting to me. I don't even want to be seen with you! Sure, "Little Nicky" had some shortfalls, but it was a good effort, and I still loved it even though it wasn't perfect. And when you followed that up with "Joe Dirt", which I loved, I was impressed and believed in your dreams. "Mr. Deeds" was solid, but mediocre. I still supported you, though - remember when I told everyone I loved it and couldn't wait until your next one? But then that bit me in the ass. I mean, "Anger Management"? How did you manage to fuck up anything with Jack Nicholson in it?

It was at that point that I thought I might be falling out of love with you. I was considering taking a break - you could go do some serious films and I would check out what Woody Allen was doing, but then you semi-redeemed yourself by being romantic (like you used to be with "The Wedding Singer"), and "50 First Dates" was enough of a reason to erase my doubts. For a little while, though.

Since then, though, it's just been a downward spiral. I'll admit that I'm somewhat at fault, here. I listened to my head instead of my heart and lied to you when I said that I liked "The Benchwarmers", "Click", and "I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry." But I didn't. I didn't even watch them!

The last straw, however, was today's embarrassment. I walked in on "You Don't Mess With the Zohan" and saw you with *sob* a horrible premise! And bad acting! And not a single joke for two whole hours! And I sat there and didn't laugh and wanted to cry and realized that I couldn't even tap into my deepest emotions to wring out one drop of love for you anymore.

I'm sorry to do this by letter, but last time I talked to you on the phone you roped me into a thirty-minute conversation about whether or not shampoo or conditioner was better. I just can't play these games with you anymore. We're through.

Love,

Me

P.S. There's someone new in my life - Apatow Productions - so please be happy for me.

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-image-Puerto Rico

 

So, as most of you know, I go in every week for a shave and a haircut at my barber's. My first experience was awesome, but then I had a clowning experience, and of course, there was the photo opportunity when I had my eyebrows waxed.

Then, there was the time that I really felt like an asshole. I've linked it, but the relevant text is here:

Wednesday, after going to my barber's for my weekly trim and shave, was when I reached the realization that I am indeed an asshole. I walked into the barber's and immediately noticed that my usual barber, Raul, wasn't there. I asked the owner where he is, and she says, "Oh. Well, he's in the hospital right now. They found out that he might have lymphoma."

"That's horrible," I said. "Who's going to cut my hair and shave me?"

She gave me a slightly strange look. "Natalia is going to do it today. So, about Raul. Would you like his phone number? Some of his regulars are checking in on him and sending flowers or something."

On the inside, I'm thinking furiously. What the fuck can I say to that other than "Okay"? I don't want his fucking phone number - I'm not going to call my barber who might have cancer and make small talk! Maybe I'd send him something at the hospital, if he wasn't just my fucking barber! But there was no real answer I could give that would get me off the hook, so I shrugged and said "Sure. Maybe I can send him something."

Two days later, and I still haven't sent him something. If he doesn't die and actually comes back to work, I'll ask him if he got the nice arrangement that I had sent up, and when he says, "No," I'll blame the hospital and the old lady volunteers working the gift shop. But, in the end, and this is the REALLY asshole thing, I'm almost hoping that he doesn't come back so I don't have to worry about it.

Well, Raul made a full recovery, and returned to the barbershop. By that point, though, I had switched over to the owner and had no interest in having Raul do my shave. He was unreliable, and missed random days, had problems getting to work, and just went from being a meticulous, amazing barber to someone that I really didn't want holding a blade to my throat.

He's from Puerto Rico, and Cori, the owner, kept joking with him, every time he was there, about going back to Puerto Rico where his car would be top of the line and he'd have more money than most people, and Raul would joke with her about it, but you got the sense that he was serious, and one day he was just going to up and disappear and go back to Puerto Rico.

Yesterday, after getting my shave, and setting up my appointment for next week, I notice that Raul isn't in the appointment book anymore. "Oh," I said. "Looks like King Raul went back to Puerto Rico to rule over them with his mighty scissors and razor, eh?"

"No," Cori said. "He died on Sunday."

"Fuck! Really?"

"Yeah. Want to send his mother some flowers?"

-image-It is all a lie

 

Since I'm busy working on the postcards, I didn't have time to write a post today. So I have a guest poster! And before I introduce him, don't forget to head over to Burt Reynolds' Mustache to read my post from yesterday. It's lonely and needs your comments.

This man has known me for over 30 years. He's a 73-year old entrepreneur, an amateur comedian, a Masshole, and my grandfather. Please welcome my Papa.

*************************

First, let me tell you that if it wasn't for my grandson, this post would be in all capital letters. Apparently in the world of the internet this is considered shouting, and I have been shouting every time I have sent an email for the last few years.

Now, when Ahmoo (we call him Ahmoo because that's the only way his little brother could say his name many years ago) told me he wanted me to write a guest post for his blog, I had no idea what a blog even was. He explained that it was like an online diary, which doesn't make a lick of sense to me. It seems a diary should be private, but what do I know? In my day, the only people who kept diaries were little girls. I hope Ahmoo's not a little girl. Although, now that I think about it, we don't have any great-grandkids yet!

I wish that was going to be the only time that I said "In my day", but it's not. You see, I've spent quite a bit of time on the internet using ebay and buying and selling my figurines. I get lots of emails that seem to be hoaxes and scams from people telling me that I need to click here and type this to verify my account or password. Before I do anything, though, I always forward it to Ahmoo for him to tell me if it's legitimate or not.

The thing is, he always responds in about 20 seconds, no matter what time of day or night. And that's just not normal, to be spending so much time on the computer, every single day of the week. In my day, we were active. We would do yard work and help family members and have a "honey-do" list of everything that needed fixing around the house. We would listen to the radio occasionally, and when television was around, we might watch Ed Sullivan once in a while. But it just seems abnormal to be parked in front of a giant box all day long, staring at a screen until your eyes go bad.

It's okay, though. Ahmoo's a good kid. I've watched him grow up (and grow and grow and grow, if you know what I mean), and he hasn't turned out half-bad. There was that time where he joined the circus but got kicked out because he couldn't fit in the tiny clown car. And when he got his head stuck in a toilet as a boy, we worried that he might not be too smart, but he proved us wrong. Sometimes. It's amazing how some of the smart ones never have any common sense.

Anyways, I am not sure really what else to write, but I thought I'd share one more embarrassing story. When Ahmoo was two years old, I would drive him to pre-school early in the morning. Part of our trip took us up a hill, and at the top, you could see the Tomoka River. We played a game called "I can see the river first." However, I would always distract him in some way and then, as we reached the top, I would shout, "I can see the river first!" And Ahmoo would cry and cry. This might explain why he's so competitive about everything now!

Okay, now back to my Hummels. Get off my lawn!

-PAPA

-image-Nothing to see here

 

Too tired to write anything substantial today. Instead, I'll direct you over to a hilarious video blog post by Heather. She's drunk, she's wearing Mickey Mouse ears, and she's playing with action figures. What could be funnier?

So, go check her out and laugh and comment and encourage her to post even more drunk vlogs.

-image-When genius collides

 

Adam and Britt meet

Updated: Adam has his prostate stimulated to generate semen:

-image-Sex

 

Yesterday afternoon I was working and had a brilliant idea for a blog post for today. "I should write it now," I thought. "Nah, you'll remember it in the morning," I also thought. Well, fuck. I have completely forgotten what it was. So, instead, with this lack of inspiration, here is a Sex Meme that I took from Bluepaintred.

1. HAVE YOU GOTTEN LAID IN 2007? Let's see. There was the dog ball-licking incident, the time that I was walking in the mall, bent over to tie my shoe and a guy with an erection ran into me, and the time I woke up naked with four vampire women biting me in various places. So, yes.

2. EVER HAD SEX IN A PUBLIC PLACE? I have learned the hard way that Mr. Toad's Wild Ride at Disney actually has little cameras throughout the ride so that Disney employees can monitor everything.

3. EVER LAUGH DURING SEX? IF SO WHY? I don't, but my wife does. I can't figure out why . . .

4. EVER CRY DURING SEX? IF SO WHY? Every time, and only because it's so darn special!

5. DO YOU LIKE TO CUDDLE AFTER SEX? There's something comforting about a woman's strong embrace after tender lovemaking. I mean, NO!

6. EVER REGRET SEX WITH SOMEONE? Luckily, I'm always the source of the regret.

7. EVER FAKED AN ORGASM? Yes. All I need is a small tube of warm tartar sauce, and we're set.

8. DIRTY TALK, OR SHUT THE FUCK UP? Neither. I want my partner to talk like Elmo.

9. EVER HAVE UNPROTECTED SEX? No. I always carry a gun and pepper spray.

10. EVER MASTURBATE TO YOUR FRIEND'S SIGNIFICANT OTHER? That's horrible! I just masturbate to my friends.

11. EVER HAVE A ONE NIGHT STAND? We have two nightstands. One has my alarm clock and one has hers.

12. EVER HAVE A THREESOME? Threesomes are so 1990. I have onesomes now.

13. EVER WATCH PORN DURING SEX? I am definitely interested in watching men with above average huge penises having sex for hours without stopping. Because that doesn't set a standard or anything.

14. EVER THOUGHT OF SOMEONE ELSE DURING SEX? Usually Margaret Thatcher. Or Barbara Bush. Or Dom DeLuise.

15. HAS THE CONDOM EVER BROKEN? Only in my ass, so it was okay.

16. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING SEXUAL EXPERIENCE? When I learned that not every boy has a detachable penis.

17. HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY? 18. Or do you mean vaginally?

18. WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE SEX WITH RIGHT NOW? Anna Nicole Smith

19. DO YOU THINK THAT NUMBER 18 IS POSSIBLE? I'm fucking her ashes right now.

20. ARE YOU HORNY NOW? Ummmmughughummmmm hermmmmm...... ..... GAHHHHHHHH YEAH!. Nope. Not anymore.

21. HOW MANY SEXUAL PARTNERS? 49. Including that girl who touched me in first grade. Well, she was in first grade. I was 28.

22. DO YOU LIKE SEX IN THE CAR? Only in the trunk.

23. DO YOU STILL TALK TO THE PERSON YOU LOST YOUR VIRGINITY TO? I call my mom every Mother's Day and birthday.

24. EVER HAVE SEX WITH A RELATIVE/FRIEND'S SIGNIFICANT OTHER? I normally like to keep it in the family, thank you very much.

25. EVER BEEN WITH A CHEATER? Is she one of the North Haverbrook Cheaters? Great family.

26. TOYS, GOOD OR BAD. I use Tickle-Me-Elmo to have my partner show me where I should touch them.

27. LINGERIE. I've always thought that the thong was a little uncomfortable, but I'll wear it if I have to.

28. EVER SLEEP WITH A CO-WORKER? It's a mandatory condition of employment.

29. WHERE HAVE YOU HAD SEX?
(x)park
(x)church
(x)cemetery
(x)beach
(x)boat
(x)school
(x)parent's bed
(x)your bed
(x)car
(x)picnic table
(x)kitchen counter
(x)couch/chair
(x)dining room/kitchen table
(x)woods (open and/or in a tent)
(x)hood of a car
(x)bathroom
(x)shower
(x)bathtub
(x)the other person's bed
(x)porch/deck/balcony
(x)in a house with parents home
(x)at a party
(x)on top of the washer/dryer
(x)with other people in the room
(x)hotel
(x)concert
(x)grandparent's house
(x)field
(x)bleachers
(x)bookstore stock room.
(x)linen closet

(x)on national TV
(x)underwater
(x)in the balls at Chuck E. Cheese's
(x)the roof
(x)walk-in freezer at McDonald's
(x)grandmother's hospital room bathroom
(x)tarmac
(x)on a pile of hundred dollar bills
(x)on a Ferris Wheel

I don't tag, but I think everyone should do this liberating meme and get some of these secrets off of their breasts chest.

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-image-Tug Tag

 

I got fucking tagged by Tug.

List seven songs you are into right now...no matter what they are. BUT. They must be songs you are presently enjoying. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

1. “Run” — Air
2. "Girlfriend" — Avril Lavigne
3. “Hung Up” — Madonna
4. “Blade Techno Opener” — DaRude vs. Zombia Nation
5. “Everything Will Be Alright” — The Killers
6. “DQ Blizzard” — MC Chris
7. “Comfortably Numb” — Scissor Sisters

Yes. I have eclectic tastes. I know this. But my music tastes rock.

I will not tag anyone, but if you're interested in doing this one, let me know.

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-image-Block

 

I woke up this morning without anything substantial or amusing to say, so we'll have to just have a few bullets:

  • I'm working on my transition off of Blogger, and hopefully it will happen in the next week or so. Keep your eyes peeled.
  • When my wife's away on business, like she is this week, I have a tendency to sit down at my desk at 7 AM and stay until 1 AM. So, if you get bored, shoot me an email or an IM.
  • My favorite food right now is a double Whopper with cheese, ketchup, and mayo, only, from Burger King. I open up the bun and put french fries on it, too.
  • I got caught up on Battlestar Galactica yesterday, and will get caught up on Gilmore Girls this week. Amy doesn't watch either of these shows, so I can only watch them when she's out of town.
  • Is it a sign of my rampant immaturity that I'm excited about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie this Friday?

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-image-The way that I drive

 

Many people who have driven with me feel like I drive fast. The smartest ones are comfortable, because they know that I'm someone who has to be in control of something, and if I'm not in control, I won't do something. But there are others who might get a bit frightened. They're wrong. I am completely at one with my car.

My driving style evolved from being taught by both of my parents, aggressive drivers who learned how to drive in Boston. My parents like to drive fast, but they've always stressed that it's essential to be very aware of your surroundings. As a result, when I'm driving normally, I travel across lanes, fit into tight spots, and otherwise drive aggressively, not defensively. However, I am aware at all times of every car in my general vicinity, which means that even with my aggressive driving, I've never been in an accident. And I consider my driving to be normal.

This morning, thanks to a malfunctioning alarm clock and a flight leaving early, I was able to let loose and actually drive in a way that I consider aggressive. When I drive like this, my brain operates differently, I think. I can see the road ahead of me, and all cars across all lanes. I'm able to actually visualize a path that travels across all lanes through all the gaps to move me at the utmost speed.

Let's say the other cars are going 60 MPH. I usually speed up to about 95-100 MPH. At this speed, I can move through the cars as if they're standing still, which lets me take advantage of everyone's slow reflexes. Even if a car brakes or changes lanes, I'm already past them and into the next gap. It's exhilarating to do. I keep both hands on the wheel, crank up my music, and fly.

And that's how I made a 40-minute drive to the airport turn into a 20-minute drive.

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-image-An exercise in imagination

 

I've decided to make this post a clothing-free area, so please remove all items of clothing before continuing.

Now, sitting there, look down. If you're a woman, you'll of course see your funbags. The men will see hair on their chest. Now some of the women might have a little hair on their chest and some of the men will probably have funbags, but that's okay. Just follow along the best you can.

Let's get a little further down to the gut. Even if you're a skinny little crack whore, sitting down at a computer is going to give you a little roll. Doesn't your belly button look like a mouth? You should draw a face on it, and walk around making your stomach talk. But we'll have to save that for a later time.

Move a bit down. Into what I call the "free play zone". The men will have a penis, hopefully, and the women won't, hopefully. But women, I want you to imagine a penis down there, and below that, two sacs that are hairy, wrinkly, and feel kinda weird.

Now imagine that these sacs are sensitive, and any sharp motion against them will cause you to gasp in pain and fall over on the ground. Can you imagine that, girls? Now, men, of course you know what I'm talking about.

Now, close your eyes and imagine laying in bed. At your feet is your dog, who is dreaming about chasing a squirrel or a rabbit or a cat. And then, visualize this dog kicking her feet four times in rapid succession as hard as she can right into these little sacs while you laid dead asleep.

Welcome to my morning. Happy Fucking Thursday.

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