Archive for December, 2009

I made only one real New Year’s Resolution in 2009 – not to buy any toilet paper during the year.

You see, last New Year’s Eve, I ran into my neighbors before they moved to Washington, D.C.

“You guys getting on the road?” I asked.

“Yeah, and we left a little present in front of your door.”

“Wow. That was nice of you guys. Thanks and good luck out there.”

It was about 7:00 at night, and my ride was waiting for me. But I had to see what they left. And there it was – a trash bag full of 1-ply toilet paper rolls. The kind you find in a portable toilet outside a sports venue.

I didn’t spend a dime on toilet paper the entire year.

Shit (pardon the pun), I still have six rolls left.

Let’s look at the other New Year’s Resolutions I made last year:

* Get a new digital camera
I got a new cell phone instead but it has a pretty decent camera.

* Get a new television
Actually I went a little backwards on this one. I’m now the proud owner of a Zenith console with wood grain on the sides.

* Quit walking on my broken ankle
It eventually healed, so I guess that’s a “yes.”

* Get my pee & cum pill prescriptions filled
I got my pee pills refilled, but I never got the medicine for the prolonged ejaculation problem. I didn’t hear any complaints – except from myself.

* Get a job
I guess. I know I have to be somewhere Monday-Friday at a specific time.

* Get below 175 lbs.
Have you seen me lately? 202.

* Quit beating my dick like it owes me money
This one didn’t stand a chance.

* Get laid
Seriously.

* Create a line of T-shirts and Koozies to sell on the SOB
Done. King, Devo and the rest of the West Coast Crew are representing out in Cali.

* Clean the Saab
I don’t even know where the car is.

* Win the lottery
I use free toilet paper, work a 9-5 job, and watch a TV made in the ’70’s. What do you think?

This year’s theme is “Getting Thin in 2010.”

Oh, and I might try to grow up and become a responsible member of society. I’ll keep you posted.

You know the day destroys the night. Night divides the day. Tried to run. Tried to hide. Break on through to the other side.

Shopping

Here’s an idea to prevent potential terrorists from boarding planes – have two separate security lines at airports:

Security Line #1: Young Muslim men

Security Line #2: Everyone else

Oh, and put Cheney and Rumsfeld in charge of security.

Now let’s get to work on creating more jobs.

Actually, I think there are plenty of jobs out there; it’s just too f’n hard to apply for them anymore.

I mean, have you applied for a job lately? It’s easier to pick the winning Daily 4 numbers in the state lottery.

Back in the day, you printed a 1-page resume on quality paper, attached a cover letter and mailed it to the company’s HR department.

A week later, you would call to set up an interview. If it went well, you might meet someone else in the company, or they might just offer you the job.

Nowadays you have to create a user account and upload your resume on websites like Monster, Career Builder, etc…Then you submit your resume to a specific job posting.

But it doesn’t stop there.

Oh, no.

Then you’re directed to the company’s website – and you have to enter everything on your resume again!

Only this time, it’s in their format. And by their format, I mean some impossible-to-use web page built by a programmer who has to justify his own existence after convincing the CEO they needed to spend $150k on a relational database management system.

And if you’re fortunate enough to navigate through that mess, you’ll probably have to answer demographic questions like age, sex, race, etc…

If it’s against the law for an employer to discriminate against the answers, why do they ask the questions?

You know what? I’m going to apply for the same job using two different resumes. One will be my own. The other will be from a 31-year old Puerto Rican woman named Catalina Aruca.

Once I find out that a fictional character from My Name is Earl gets an interview – and I don’t – I’ll hire a high-profile attorney, and win a multi-million dollar discrimination lawsuit.

I’ll have enough money to travel the world. But I won’t get on an airplane because some numb nut might have a bomb sewn into his underwear.

WTF?

Your finest hour.

Lil Bro tries to get rid of the stinky

Lil’ Bro lights a candle after I used the bathroom

My trip home for Christmas was a quick in-and-out. Just like prom night.

I went to Walmart on Christmas Eve with Lil’ Bro and the kids. I still needed to get a present for my 4-year old niece, so I ventured off by myself. I quickly realized that I had no idea what to get her, so I called her older sister.

“Can you meet me in the toy department? I’m having a hard time picking something out for your sister. I have it narrowed down to a snow board and a crescent wrench.”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right there,” she replied.

I can’t believe my older niece is growing up. She’s wearing makeup and talking to boys. It seems like only yesterday when she was getting potty-trained, and fell into the toilet after someone left the seat up. Wink.

Anyway, we settled on a Sock Monkey doll as a gift.

“You should buy some candy to put in the monkey’s arms,” she explained.

“That’s a good idea,” I told her.

The cashier didn’t notice the candy as she ran the little monkey across the scanner. So I taught my niece how to shoplift, which was nice.

We were waiting for the others near the entrance, when my niece pointed and said, “There’s my friend Abby.”

“Aren’t you going to say hi to her?”

“No.”

“Hey Abby!” I yelled.

Abby looked over and waved.

“You just embarrassed me,” my niece said.

“How did I embarrass you? I thought she was your friend.”

“Well, she’s more of an acquaintance.”

Teenagers.

We started to get impatient, so I had an employee page my nephew’s name over the intercom system.

That made us laugh.

We were still waiting when the Walmart Hotline started ringing next to us. And it kept ringing.

“I’m going to pick that up,” I said.

“Oh no.”

I lifted the handle and said, “Thank you for calling Walmart. Can I help you?”

“Hi, do you have a,”

“Nope,” I said as I interrupted the caller, “But thank you for choosing Walmart.”

And then I hung up.

Lil’ Bro eventually showed up, and we started walking to the car. On the way, my niece looked at her dad, and said, “That was the funnest trip to Walmart, ever.”

And my Christmas was complete.

Yeah, yeah.

Chasing Tiger

I’m flying out of St. Louis on Wednesday, and there’s a 100% chance of rain. If you’ve never flown in or out of Lambert Field when there’s precipitation – that means my flight will be delayed.

But I’m pretty sure that’s why they put bars in airports.

I haven’t told many people this, but I’ve been working on a novel for a couple of years, now. It revolves around the Holidays. The main character is an alcoholic slacker who lives in a one bedroom apartment.

So far I only have the title – The Bitch That Gave Me Chlamydia.

It’s a work in progress.

Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. And if you’re an atheist, I don’t know what to tell ya.

And you know it’s time to go. Through the sleet and driving snow. Across the fields of mourning to a light that’s in the distance.

Gold Flakes on Car

Straight Outta Bridgeton

Since I didn’t have a chance to give my Christmas present to the woman I was dating, I’ll share it with you.

To say she is directionally challenged would be an understatement. Actually, I found the quality to be endearing, especially since she laughed at herself.

I thought a GPS would be the perfect gift. And since we had plans to go to the grocery story last Saturday, I had the address already programmed.

When I found out her sister was coming over, and we wouldn’t be going to the store, I ran up to the gas station. I entered their address, so I could surprise her on the way to her daughter’s house later that evening.

Then I was asked to leave for continuing a conversation while urinating with the bathroom door open.

The following morning I entered the address to Target, and drove the 5.3 miles to return the gift.

The directions were flawless.

“Why are you returning this?” I was asked.

“Because I pee with the door open,” I replied.

Man talk about your strange looks. The girl behind the counter barely said another word.  And I damned near got lost on the way home.

I don’t care what you do. I wouldn’t want to be like you.

Customs

I ate lunch at El Maguey on Friday, and sat next to a table of U.S. Border Agents. I’ve never seen so many nervous employees.

I figured the agents would enjoy their lunch, and then perform a raid. But they left right after I did.

Now, let me recap my Saturday night.

I went to my new (former) girlfriend’s place. We had agreed to meet around 4:30, and then go to the grocery store to get stuff to make dinner.

I received a text message around 2:00 that said she wanted us to go to her daughter’s around 7:30 to look at her Christmas decorations over a glass of wine.

Fine.

When I got to her place, she said her sister and her boyfriend were coming over, which meant we wouldn’t have time to go to the grocery store.

Fine.

After they left, I went to the bathroom, and didn’t shut the door.

Not fine.

I was told how disrespectful that was, and it was probably best that I leave.

Fine.

Excuse me, but sometimes I get the urge to urinate during a conversation with someone I know well. I choose to continue the conversation rather than shutting the door. Otherwise I run the risk of forgetting what we were talking about.

I guess opening car doors, not getting upset when she changes plans, letting her decide where to go and what to do, never letting her pay, giving her compliments – well, apparently those gentlemanly acts don’t trump the sound of urine hitting toilet water.

Shit, I’m proud of myself for actually using the toilet.

Next.

So hard to find my way. Now that I’m all on my own. I saw you just the other day. My, how you have grown.

Bennys Christmas Wish List

Looks like we’ve got a short one tonight. That’s what she said.

I’m heading out to meet my college buddy, Wile E.

Before I leave, I wanted to share a story from my friend Jane, who lives in NYC. She was at home getting ready for a first date last Saturday.

He called before he left and asked, “Should I bring anything?”

“Just your credit card.”

And she didn’t even give a courtesy reach when the check came.

Drink – I said came.

He’s making a list. And checking it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice.

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