As anyone who follows my blog knows, it's been a while since I've made an entry. It's not because I've been lazy I just haven't found very much in the way of humor lately.
I was sitting here trying to think of what I wanted to write about and I toyed with the idea of writing about many different things. For example how many words are funny sounding when you put an "Mc" in front of them. You know like what the McFuck, and holy McShit, and even fans of the movie Superbad can attest to the comedic value of the Charachter named "McLovin'. Then I thought, I had already told the McRiveting story of my McSon and his own battle with the Play Place and the McPoo.
I then tossed around the idea of sharing various things that make you go Hmmm. Things like, why do they make Lamb Skin Condoms or even stranger the glow in the dark ones. Then it hit me like a ton of McShit I'll focus on things that make you wonder . . .
So do you ever wonder about things like, what was the first person to see a cow thinking when they thought it would be a good idea to squeeze the little things that were hanging down and then when they did and a white liquid came out they thought it would be a good idea to drink it. How about do you ever wonder why Psychics don't win every lottery and sports bet in existence. Well I do to so here are some of my favorites.
Do you ever wonder since nothing sticks to a Teflon pan how do they get the Teflon to stick to the pan? Well I do and it must be Fucking McMagic.
Do you ever wonder if a vampire were to bite a person with aids would they contract HIV? Since they are already dead would it kill them?
Do you ever wonder if you were to choke the shit out of Smurf what color would it turn? Oh yeah the Smurf not the Shit . . .
Here is a big do you ever wonder . . . For Christ sake can anyone tell me how you tell if it is time to tune bagpipes? No seriously . . . how in the Fuck do you tell that something that sounds like two cats fucking is out of tune . . . I'm just saying . . . What the Fuck?
You must admit all of these are interesting to wonder about. What about if an Atheist had an insurance policy that had a clause that covered "Acts of God" would they not accept the money? Do you ever wonder if you spin an oriental man, does he become disoriented? with my oldest boy turning 21 on Monday here is something that I have been wondering about lately . . . how about you. If you can’t drink and drive, why do you need a driver’s license to buy liquor, and stranger than that why do bars have parking lots?
So with all of that being said I will sign off with one last do you ever wonder . . .
Do you ever wonder why do women wear a pair of panties but only on bra and one thong? Whatever the answer is to this one . . . I couldn't give a shit because I prefer that they don't wear anything at all . . . I know . . . I know . . . Fuckin' McNasty!!
Peace out my bitches . . .
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Funny Thing Happend On My Way Home . . .
Have you ever had one of those days when you have that nagging feeling that have forgotten something and you just can't figure out what it is. Well I had one of those days today. There was that little fucking voice in my head that just kept saying don't forget . . . Nanny nanny boo boo . . . Yeah but don't forget what Mr. Nanny Nanny Boo Boo. Well it dawned on me on my way home . . . I had forgot to tell the readers of my blog a funny story about the pets within the Little House.
It actually is probably more pathetic than funny but what the hell. First a little background . . . Duchess the dog . . . Yes she is the "Spoiled Bitch" . . . Sylvester the Cat . . . Lovingly known as one Psycho Son-of-a-Bitch . . . And last Tom . . . Mr. Cool Cat. To give you an idea why I have to try and find humor in my life experiences let me set the scene . . .
Life begins to stir in the Little House and it is time for the "Pet Rodeo". The dog is put outside to do her business . . . this is the opportune time for Joanie to get her car out of the Garage. The dog going out is just the beginning of a cluster fuck like you have never before witnessed in your life. The hall door to the garage opens to a resounding call "Here Kitty Kitty Kitty . . . and is usually followed by Sylvester haulin ass into the house like demon who possess him are taking huge bites out of his ass causing him tho hit the Pergo Floor at mach 1 . . . and yes . . . totally out of control. Tom on the other hand is like the Hugh Hefner of the cat world. He has to be asked by name over and over again as the simple word "Kitty" is beneath him. After the frustrating ritual of getting his highness in the house he might leisurely strolls down the hall or might even stop to knock of a fine piece of unsuspecting stuffed animal ass . . . or so he thinks. Whatever his pleasure you can guarantee he just plain fucking cool.
With all of this done Joanie can now prepare to release her car from it's Cathouse Prison known as the garage. The cat beds are removed from the hood of the car, followed by the extra blankets for the two pretentious Pussy that have taken up occupancy in my garage apparently need too. Now the car cover can come of the car in preparation for Cathouse Extraction . . . extraction Successful!
The extraction is followed by the animal roundup part two . . . "The Feeding". It start with putting the cats out followed by letting the dog in. Sounds simple huh? the cats are led out with full food dishes and then the dog can have its feet wiped and granted access to the house . . . that's right you read it right . . . the dog gets her feet wiped every time she enters the house . . . no really . . . no shit . . . Every Fucking Time She enters The House . . . For the Last thirteen Years. I know I know what the fuck!! So as you probably have guessed this is where the Litte's get on with their day. After a full day of activities . . . okay that's bullshit . . . a day at fucking work . . . I am usually the first one home with the wife returning home anytime from 7:00pm to 10:45pm depending on her schedule. In preparation for Joanie's return I usually receive a text stating "On my way . . . cats in?" This is when animal rodeo part three begins . . . I call it pussy palooza . . . and for your information when I'm running the god damn rodeo it never goes right. Dog . . . go outside . . . she looks at me like I have lost my ever lovin mind. After the Bitch is out now the real pain in the ass begins the two assholes in the garage get to play hide and seek with me . . . and in case you can't guess . . . I Love It . . . NOT!!! Picture this every night . . . There I am running around my garage clapping my hands really loud . . . okay . . . hand and stump, throwing things to make loud noises and generally yelling like a crazy person . . . all of this so Joanie can park her car in the Cathouse. Any wonder that I have no hair on my head. the "All Clear" text goes out and the cathouse Insertion is a go. The car and all of the steps to extract it from Cathouse Hell are performed for a successful insertion only in reverse. That's right she does this every time she drives her FUCKING car. I know "HOLY SHIT". This is generally the point in my evening when you can stick a fork in me . . . I'm done. So the next time you see me just give me a hug and tell me that everything is going to be alright . . . Well it's time to let the little fuckers in . . . until we meet again . . . MEOW!!
It actually is probably more pathetic than funny but what the hell. First a little background . . . Duchess the dog . . . Yes she is the "Spoiled Bitch" . . . Sylvester the Cat . . . Lovingly known as one Psycho Son-of-a-Bitch . . . And last Tom . . . Mr. Cool Cat. To give you an idea why I have to try and find humor in my life experiences let me set the scene . . .
Life begins to stir in the Little House and it is time for the "Pet Rodeo". The dog is put outside to do her business . . . this is the opportune time for Joanie to get her car out of the Garage. The dog going out is just the beginning of a cluster fuck like you have never before witnessed in your life. The hall door to the garage opens to a resounding call "Here Kitty Kitty Kitty . . . and is usually followed by Sylvester haulin ass into the house like demon who possess him are taking huge bites out of his ass causing him tho hit the Pergo Floor at mach 1 . . . and yes . . . totally out of control. Tom on the other hand is like the Hugh Hefner of the cat world. He has to be asked by name over and over again as the simple word "Kitty" is beneath him. After the frustrating ritual of getting his highness in the house he might leisurely strolls down the hall or might even stop to knock of a fine piece of unsuspecting stuffed animal ass . . . or so he thinks. Whatever his pleasure you can guarantee he just plain fucking cool.
With all of this done Joanie can now prepare to release her car from it's Cathouse Prison known as the garage. The cat beds are removed from the hood of the car, followed by the extra blankets for the two pretentious Pussy that have taken up occupancy in my garage apparently need too. Now the car cover can come of the car in preparation for Cathouse Extraction . . . extraction Successful!
The extraction is followed by the animal roundup part two . . . "The Feeding". It start with putting the cats out followed by letting the dog in. Sounds simple huh? the cats are led out with full food dishes and then the dog can have its feet wiped and granted access to the house . . . that's right you read it right . . . the dog gets her feet wiped every time she enters the house . . . no really . . . no shit . . . Every Fucking Time She enters The House . . . For the Last thirteen Years. I know I know what the fuck!! So as you probably have guessed this is where the Litte's get on with their day. After a full day of activities . . . okay that's bullshit . . . a day at fucking work . . . I am usually the first one home with the wife returning home anytime from 7:00pm to 10:45pm depending on her schedule. In preparation for Joanie's return I usually receive a text stating "On my way . . . cats in?" This is when animal rodeo part three begins . . . I call it pussy palooza . . . and for your information when I'm running the god damn rodeo it never goes right. Dog . . . go outside . . . she looks at me like I have lost my ever lovin mind. After the Bitch is out now the real pain in the ass begins the two assholes in the garage get to play hide and seek with me . . . and in case you can't guess . . . I Love It . . . NOT!!! Picture this every night . . . There I am running around my garage clapping my hands really loud . . . okay . . . hand and stump, throwing things to make loud noises and generally yelling like a crazy person . . . all of this so Joanie can park her car in the Cathouse. Any wonder that I have no hair on my head. the "All Clear" text goes out and the cathouse Insertion is a go. The car and all of the steps to extract it from Cathouse Hell are performed for a successful insertion only in reverse. That's right she does this every time she drives her FUCKING car. I know "HOLY SHIT". This is generally the point in my evening when you can stick a fork in me . . . I'm done. So the next time you see me just give me a hug and tell me that everything is going to be alright . . . Well it's time to let the little fuckers in . . . until we meet again . . . MEOW!!
Monday, April 4, 2011
Here A Pee There A Pee Everywhere A No Pee Pee . . .
It was an ordinary day. Joanie was so excited to be going to an interview. Her interview was at 9:30 at English Oaks rehabilitaion center. The interview went off without a hitch. As a matter of fact it was time for a pre-employment physical, and of course Lucy . . . I mean Joanie had never had a pre-employment physical. Anybody who Knows Joanie . . . Hmmm . . . what could possibly go wrong? As far as the physical was concerned nothing was wrong. Something was wrong with Joanie however . . .
Going into the physical she was very very nervous. With that being said you would not think that the problem that she had would be so. The physical went great but by the title of this blog entry you could probably have guessed . . . she could not Pee. That's right the wonder Wiz was eluding her. The nurse having seen this before knew just what to do. She gave her a nice big glass of water to try and jump start the "Puddle Maker". For most "Normal" people this refreshing aid is generally sipped at a leisurely pace along with thoughts of waterfalls, running faucets, and rain, but not Lucy . . . I mean Joanie. She in an effort to impress the Pee Gods and Goddesses thought it would be a good idea slam . . . No . . . Guzzle . . . Nay . . . Gulp like a person who has been stranded in the desert for a month. This in turn almost triggered a visit from the "Vomit Monster". She let the nurse know that she wasn't feeling very well and that she felt like she was going to show everyone what she had for breakfast . . . I know . . . Ewww! That's when the nurse produced a small trash can which was reminiscent of those high school beer drinking parties where inexperienced drinkers could waste what they had drank to that point. The nurse gave Joanie the barf bucket with strict instructions to not drink ANYTHING else. This was now entering the end of the first 20 minute period. That's right it had only been 20 fucking minutes . . . All this in only 20 minutes holy shit . . . only Lucy.
After sitting for about a hour trying to keep her Eggo's down Joanie thought she felt a bubbling in her bladder so off to the Wee Wee room for another try at the "To Beat the Clock Tinkle Test". The Pee Pee timer was set again . . . That's right there was a 2 minute Pee Pee timer that the nurse would set to make sure that those people who can't piss on command have even more performance anxiety. Well as you might have guessed what make this a blog worthy story is that yes . . . once again . . . the "Pissless" marched on. Well at least back to the waiting room to wait for the all elusive "Stirin' of the Urine".
Well after hour two went merrily by she thought once again that this could be the gully washer she had been waiting for. The time was set, the tweeds and panties were around the ankles, the catch cup was in place . . . here it comes . . . here it comes . . . Squirt. That's it . . . That's all . . . A fucking thimble full . . . well this is great Joanie thought . . . I'm gonna be the first person to fail a Urine Test from not turning it in.
Tic Toc . . . Tic Toc . . . There goes the clock. Hour three rapidly approached and oh how there was an immediate need for the yellow river to start flowin' . . . now would be a great time. So she was off to the tinkletorium . . . Timer Set . . . Get Ready . . . Get Set . . . Goooooo! Yes, yes, yes . . . I'm Peeing . . . I'm Peeing she yelled at the top of her lungs. Actually she didn't yell it but it sure would have been funny if she had. At any rate she finally went Pee, the nurse finally got to go to lunch, and the anxiety of a failed Urine test from not turning it in was gone . . . Life was good again. Wouldn't you know it for the next two hours she had to pee every fifteen minutes like a male dog marking his territory. Well she is scratching at the door wanting out so I had better go and take her on a walk . . .
Going into the physical she was very very nervous. With that being said you would not think that the problem that she had would be so. The physical went great but by the title of this blog entry you could probably have guessed . . . she could not Pee. That's right the wonder Wiz was eluding her. The nurse having seen this before knew just what to do. She gave her a nice big glass of water to try and jump start the "Puddle Maker". For most "Normal" people this refreshing aid is generally sipped at a leisurely pace along with thoughts of waterfalls, running faucets, and rain, but not Lucy . . . I mean Joanie. She in an effort to impress the Pee Gods and Goddesses thought it would be a good idea slam . . . No . . . Guzzle . . . Nay . . . Gulp like a person who has been stranded in the desert for a month. This in turn almost triggered a visit from the "Vomit Monster". She let the nurse know that she wasn't feeling very well and that she felt like she was going to show everyone what she had for breakfast . . . I know . . . Ewww! That's when the nurse produced a small trash can which was reminiscent of those high school beer drinking parties where inexperienced drinkers could waste what they had drank to that point. The nurse gave Joanie the barf bucket with strict instructions to not drink ANYTHING else. This was now entering the end of the first 20 minute period. That's right it had only been 20 fucking minutes . . . All this in only 20 minutes holy shit . . . only Lucy.
After sitting for about a hour trying to keep her Eggo's down Joanie thought she felt a bubbling in her bladder so off to the Wee Wee room for another try at the "To Beat the Clock Tinkle Test". The Pee Pee timer was set again . . . That's right there was a 2 minute Pee Pee timer that the nurse would set to make sure that those people who can't piss on command have even more performance anxiety. Well as you might have guessed what make this a blog worthy story is that yes . . . once again . . . the "Pissless" marched on. Well at least back to the waiting room to wait for the all elusive "Stirin' of the Urine".
Well after hour two went merrily by she thought once again that this could be the gully washer she had been waiting for. The time was set, the tweeds and panties were around the ankles, the catch cup was in place . . . here it comes . . . here it comes . . . Squirt. That's it . . . That's all . . . A fucking thimble full . . . well this is great Joanie thought . . . I'm gonna be the first person to fail a Urine Test from not turning it in.
Tic Toc . . . Tic Toc . . . There goes the clock. Hour three rapidly approached and oh how there was an immediate need for the yellow river to start flowin' . . . now would be a great time. So she was off to the tinkletorium . . . Timer Set . . . Get Ready . . . Get Set . . . Goooooo! Yes, yes, yes . . . I'm Peeing . . . I'm Peeing she yelled at the top of her lungs. Actually she didn't yell it but it sure would have been funny if she had. At any rate she finally went Pee, the nurse finally got to go to lunch, and the anxiety of a failed Urine test from not turning it in was gone . . . Life was good again. Wouldn't you know it for the next two hours she had to pee every fifteen minutes like a male dog marking his territory. Well she is scratching at the door wanting out so I had better go and take her on a walk . . .
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Do you ever wonder . . .
That is a pretty wide open statement and I know that everyone wonders about something during the course of their existence. Well the following entry is about some of the things that I wonder about . . .
The first thing and probably the least unique thing that I wonder about why do we bother teaching English in public schools anymore when it obviously doesn't matter if you can read, write or even speak it . . . Hell just ask Juan the undocumented citizen . . . all he would say is que'? anyway.
The second thing that I wonder about is the "Fun Size" candy bar. What makes it so "Fun"? I mean I understand the "Bite Size" and even the "King Size" they make perfect sense, but why does making a candy bar smaller make it "Fun" and what the hell is so fun about a candy bar anyway? Now there are some things that "Size" and "Fun" go hand in hand . . . Like . . . Oh I don't know perhaps . . . Dildos. I believe that it just might be that the size to fun ratio is a given when it comes to Dildos . . . but in candy bars . . . Really? I think this may just be a pathetic advertising ploy to get the mindless sheep known as the American consumer to make a subconscious connection to their inner Dildo Desire when it comes to buying candy.
Lastly but surely not least I wonder why people like Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, and Britney Spears are news worthy? Why do people give a shit about these self absorbed pieces of shit anyway? There are far too many important things going on in this world than these Hollywood Whores and a Hose bag. Like the dentist in New York City who recently had a 31 pound bale of pot delivered to his office accidentally. How would you like to explain that to the drug lord you work for about that "Sorry boss I accidentally sent the 31 pounds of pot to a dentist" . . . duh? Or even the recent news from the Bronx Zoo where a Cobra had gone missing . . . "What the hell do you mean you don't know where it is" . . . How in the hell do you misplace a fucking Cobra? Well the good news is that they found it and only two Zebras, a Giraffe, a Fox, 6 Lemurs and a Partridge in a Pear tree were killed in a tragic twist to the story . . . I'm just kidding. Then there was fellow amputee that tripped a robbery suspect with his fake apendage . . . you go stumpy. Finally what is up with the fake message parlor inspector who demanded a message. First of all why haven't I thought of that before and second where did he find a message parlor with that many stupid people. Honestly where did he find a group of people that not only believed that there is such a thing as a "Message Parlor Inspector" . . . not to be confused with the "Bikini Inspector" . . . I know I have the tee shirt that says I'm official. Then to go on to believe that standard practice is to demand a message as a quality control check . . . Holy Shit where do I sign up? I guess the next open market is for the exciting position of Brothel Inspector" in Nevada. I can only imagine the perks in that job. Well that is it for today as there is a Red Wings game coming on and everyone knows how I am about my red Wings Hockey . . . Go Wings!!!
The first thing and probably the least unique thing that I wonder about why do we bother teaching English in public schools anymore when it obviously doesn't matter if you can read, write or even speak it . . . Hell just ask Juan the undocumented citizen . . . all he would say is que'? anyway.
The second thing that I wonder about is the "Fun Size" candy bar. What makes it so "Fun"? I mean I understand the "Bite Size" and even the "King Size" they make perfect sense, but why does making a candy bar smaller make it "Fun" and what the hell is so fun about a candy bar anyway? Now there are some things that "Size" and "Fun" go hand in hand . . . Like . . . Oh I don't know perhaps . . . Dildos. I believe that it just might be that the size to fun ratio is a given when it comes to Dildos . . . but in candy bars . . . Really? I think this may just be a pathetic advertising ploy to get the mindless sheep known as the American consumer to make a subconscious connection to their inner Dildo Desire when it comes to buying candy.
Lastly but surely not least I wonder why people like Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, and Britney Spears are news worthy? Why do people give a shit about these self absorbed pieces of shit anyway? There are far too many important things going on in this world than these Hollywood Whores and a Hose bag. Like the dentist in New York City who recently had a 31 pound bale of pot delivered to his office accidentally. How would you like to explain that to the drug lord you work for about that "Sorry boss I accidentally sent the 31 pounds of pot to a dentist" . . . duh? Or even the recent news from the Bronx Zoo where a Cobra had gone missing . . . "What the hell do you mean you don't know where it is" . . . How in the hell do you misplace a fucking Cobra? Well the good news is that they found it and only two Zebras, a Giraffe, a Fox, 6 Lemurs and a Partridge in a Pear tree were killed in a tragic twist to the story . . . I'm just kidding. Then there was fellow amputee that tripped a robbery suspect with his fake apendage . . . you go stumpy. Finally what is up with the fake message parlor inspector who demanded a message. First of all why haven't I thought of that before and second where did he find a message parlor with that many stupid people. Honestly where did he find a group of people that not only believed that there is such a thing as a "Message Parlor Inspector" . . . not to be confused with the "Bikini Inspector" . . . I know I have the tee shirt that says I'm official. Then to go on to believe that standard practice is to demand a message as a quality control check . . . Holy Shit where do I sign up? I guess the next open market is for the exciting position of Brothel Inspector" in Nevada. I can only imagine the perks in that job. Well that is it for today as there is a Red Wings game coming on and everyone knows how I am about my red Wings Hockey . . . Go Wings!!!
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