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My Dark Passenger

monkey_middle_finger_20100104_1363225097Up front I want to be clear that this isn’t a post about my black friend I carpool with to work everyday. If it was, it would have been titled Fatboy & Leroy.  And it would have detailed our repetitive arguments over why he insists on listening to rap on the way to work when we all know he is a closet country fan.  Or how he thought I was mocking the month of February because I was low riding my pants.  But this is totally not about that.

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Spandex Clowns

While waiting to turn onto the main road to go to work this morning, I got stuck. Or trapped. Trapped is a better word. I was trapped. It wasn’t by cars, or an accident or even an old lady who couldn’t see over her steering wheel. It was the damn bicycle freaks.

Every time I had a space to pull out, some clown in neon spandex would come flying down the side of the street looking at me like I’m a monster trying to kill him. Which after the first bike clown blocked me, I was OK. After the third one, I was ready to kill him. So I’m stuck here watching these pavement riders and it is turning into monkey rage.

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Elf On The Self Control

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But every night around midnight or 7am, my wife and I remember that we forgot to hide the elf. And our kids are slightly obsessed with it so it’s a big deal. And every time I drag myself to go hide the elf – I just want to make it do naughty things.

I’m sure it’s just the 10 year old inside of me, but every night I battle the overwhelming urge to make the elf hang himself or do bad things to the barbie dolls. So since I can’t, here’s some pictures of other brave souls who have! Read More…

Upped My Expectations, Now Up Yours

Best edit job ever

Every now and then you will come across some e-mail being passed along or facebook status about how if you have a man that has a job and doesn’t beat you or your kids and he lives in a house with you and showers every few days and remembers your birthday you should forward this message or repost it.

Really? Wow. I see the women of the world are really upping their expectations. How bad does your man have to be to praise him for having a job? Or more importantly, why have you been swimming on the shallow end of the man pool? Everyone has to have a job. That doesn’t make you special. Unless you didn’t leave mommy’s basement til 37.

Loves his kids? You can be praised for that? If you think that your man is stepping up to the plate by loving his own kids then you should see me. I sometimes even talk to mine and throw food into their corner.

My man remembers my birthday/anniversary. He remembers the day you talk about for 2 months straight with non stop hints? Maybe you should stop hogging this genius and share him with people who need him. Like NASA or the returns department at Wal-Mart.

Your man pays his bills. What fantasy world is this? Can I live in a world where I don’t pay my bills and get a piggy back ride to the unemployment office from Elizabeth Hurley? The next time he takes you to Applebee’s and ‘forgets’ his wallet, replace his coloring sheet with a help wanted ad.

What’s next? We are so proud of Johnny. He gets to use the boys restroom because he is a boy! Jennifer has a girls name because she is a girl!

Next time just think before you post. If you are praising someone, make sure they did something EXTRAordinary. Like paid off your parents mortgage or saved orphans from a burning building or went through a whole family dinner without offending anyone. Praising a man for having a job and paying bills and not being in jail says a lot about you and even less about him.

5 Worst Facebook Updates

HONORABLE MENTION – The ‘This week I am going to finally get my. . .’ post

This will include, but not limited to – fixing something, dieting, updating a blog, cleaning a room, be a great week, fit into some outfit, finish business something. We get it. You could have done all of that had you not just told us about how lazy you are.

5 – The ‘FML’ or ‘This is the worst week ever!’ post

Every week you are guaranteed to see at least 10 of these. It’s usually after someone’s car broke, or they got left behind from a party. That’s your worst week? A fixable problem? A bad haircut is a worst week. The week your pet dies is the worst week. The week you had to work overtime? Grow a pair.

4 – The ‘Last night was fun!’ or ‘I’m so excited!’ post

And that’s it. They never say why. They never include explanations. These posts are designed to have people fawn all over them asking what was so cool. You know who else does this? 9 year old girls on the playground. They just say ‘I have a secret’ and run away hoping someone will chase them. The posts about being excited for something almost always end in the event never happening, and then they have the worst week ever.

3 – The ‘Advice on money/house/job’ post

When I need financial advice, I ask an expert. Same with homes, mortgages, employment and marital advice. You know who I don’t ask? The people who have enough free time (read: no job) to offer up advice within minutes online. Because if you want to make a decision that affects you for the next 30 years, you want a reactionary response with an emoticon given by someone in a bathrobe.

2 – The ‘People are going to get it’ or ‘Karma’s a bitch’ post

Just like the last night was fun post, we are left hanging. These usually involve ex boy/girlfriends, lawsuits or drunken nights. And there are two responses to this post. The people begging to know what the heck is going on, and the people replying that they are totally on their side. And they should call or text them right away. You can hear the battle lines being drawn and camps being set up. I would be scared to death if I read a threatening post on facebook. This would be hilarious if the people committing this atrocity weren’t over 10.

1 – The ‘Praising (fill in the blank), who isn’t even on facebook’ post

The post about someone’s dad, grandma, best friends cousins pen pal. Usually telling them happy birthday or how wonderful they are. Except that the person being heralded isn’t on facebook. They are off functioning in the real world. What do you say about this post to the person it is about? “Oh hey there grandma! I told everyone that I wished you a happy birthday on facebook, instead of calling you and doing it in person.” These posts are designed to make the postee look wonderful and so thoughtful. When really all you have done is avoided talking to the person you say you care so much about.

You Forgot To Say When

That button is clinging to dear life

While at Lagoon I noticed something – People stopped caring what the hell they look like. And before I go any further let me preface this by saying if you ever see me at a pool or water park there is a 100% chance I covered up all the wobbly parts and I was only there to have fun with the kids. I met my wife at my biggest size/weight, so that is proof us chubbies can lead full and wonderful lives with hot women. Especially if you catch a hot woman on a night when she has unexpectedly lowered her standards. My secret weapon – I dressed according to my size. And wanting to keep said hot woman you tend to eat less and walk more, so she doesn’t.

That aside, there was an incredible amount of muffin tops (awesome link) going on last night. When people were getting ready to go to Lagoon yesterday a few things went wrong.

1 – The shortage of fabric in this nation is getting severe. People are barely able to find shirts that cover past their belly button or sleeves that come past their armpits.

2 – A lot of people were picking clothes from the side of their closet labeled ‘For After My Diet’ and they forgot to do the whole exercise and diet thing before.

3 – There were so many girls walking around in bikini tops and sneaking in the remains from an all-you-can-eat-buffet. At the pool this is perfectly acceptable. You go there to get a tan and cool off and it is the socially preferred code of dress. Walking around the fairway at Lagoon – not acceptable. If you have the body to pull that off we all appreciate it. Well the guys appreciate it, the girls all think you are an idiot stick figure with no soul and hate you.

It’s OK, that’s a diet Coke

It baffles me that so many people forgot to say ‘When’ while pouring themselves into their jeans/shorts/bikini’s. Maybe there is something wrong with me. I want all of my kids to have great self esteem and ignore what the world thinks is cool. But even more so I don’t want anybody thinking flaunting your October-February body is a good idea.

I doubt that all of the people that spend mornings and evenings at workout boot camps, jogging, treadmills or gyms see these guys in public and think “You mean I could have just given up and walked around like that!?! This changes everything! I’m going to have so much more free time now!”

Here is a free tip – if you are constantly pulling your shirt down to cover you and and it is so tight that it is see through, your clothes are too small. We all plan on getting back into shape, just dress appropriately until you do. Unless you have given up. Then just graduate to sweat pants and the ‘I Don’t Do Mornings’ t-shirt.

‘Allo Guvner!

What a dashing young chap!

I love accents. One of my biggest fears is causing an international incident because I tried one out at the wrong time. Every time I am around someone with an accent I have a mental conversation with myself. Mostly it’s just me trying to convince myself that I can pull off the accent and the other person will find it hilarious. And why wouldn’t it be? I’m making them feel at home.

Have you ever been around someone from the south? Within an hour I will bet you have incorporated y’all into your vernacular. Someone from Japan stopped by? Switch your L’s with R’s. Canadian snuck over the border? Ask him why and punch him for giving Nickleback a homeland.

But the godfather of all accents for me is the British one. Sure I can say guvner and crumpet and spot of tea. I even taught my 2 year old son to say that. But after one or two sentences it devolves into this hideous love child of an Italian and Mexican accent. Been that way my whole life. And it kills me because I want to join in on the fun so badly. I try an Australian accent and it turns into Crocodile Dundee on mescaline. I try a Spanish accent and everything winds up ending in the letter ‘O’.  I just really wish I could join in.

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