Sunday, August 29, 2010

I Like To Rite...uh, Wright, er, Write! RIGHT?

I get “de-friended” a lot on Facebook, which makes me sad. Mainly because de-friended and Facebook aren’t even REAL dictionary words.

It stirs memories of when the neighborhood association asked if I’d like to join their board. This pretty much speaks to their lenient member acceptance policy and it might explain why our neighborhood association didn‘t accomplish much.

Those meetings were incredibly boring.  All they did was sit around griping about some guy who never mowed his yard or some redneck who erected a wagon wheel mailbox.

Honestly, I felt that Jameson on the rocks would make these meetings far more interesting. They held a different opinion which, I think, makes them fairly closed minded. So…I took my whiskey and went home.

I always seem to cause trouble via the written form of social communication, thus the primary reason why I dislike sending letters, responding to emails and generally responding to any message…
people tend to misread them. 

I’m especially bad at communicating via text messages. 

It's virtually impossible to communicate nuances and inflection via text message since space is limited.  C'mon, I need a canvas to effectively paint a picture…HOW can people expect me to work well under such a creativity stifling cloud??? OMG!!

My friend Amanda is a writer and a very effective and brilliant communicator.  She also has gigantic breasts.  I'm not sure how that last fact is relevant to this story...but it just came to mind

However, since I’ve known her, she tends to take things personally and then ends up thinking that people are always mad at her.

If you ask me, I think that she was probably beaten with sticks by the other children when she was younger.

Amanda: Hey…u watchin’ the game 2nite at the pub??

Me: Yep

Amanda: What’s wrong : ( Ru mad @me???

Me: uh…no.

Amanda: U seemed short w/ur txt

Me: Oh, sorry, was just answering your question but I foolishly overlooked the real question behind the question. I meant that I fully intend to watch the match between the Saints of New Orleans and the Patriots who hail from an area which can only be described as our great nation’s cradle of liberty…the majestic land of New England.

Of course, as history notes, some residents of early New England were sociopaths but they knew how to throw a party.

BTW, Today I found myself wishing that they‘d bring back burning people at the stake as a means of punishment.

Anyway, I very much look forward to the game; but not as much as I greatly anticipate seeing your radiant smile and crystal bright blue eyes. Even the most beautiful Shakespearean sonnet pales by comparison to the magnificence which lights up a room simply by your very presence.

I would text message my favorite sonnet but I don’t really want to send 14 txts since I’m almost over my limit and AT & T charges about $750.00 per txt after that.

I hope that we can hold each other tight throughout the entire game tonight, as though we’re exchanging body heat to survive sub-zero temperatures on an Andean mountainside after a terrible plane crash.

We’ll only release our embrace long enough to take a sip of beer here and there. By the way, if we WERE stranded on an Andean mountainside, I promise that I would NEVER entertain the thought of killing and eating your body in order to survive.

It was quite negligent of me to answer your previous question with such a flippant and angry txt such as “yep.” What time do you plan to arrive at the pub?? And, will you be topless?  Xoxo

Amanda: 6pm...Smartass

Me: R U mad at me?

This is Amanda.  I love to sit across from her and write...all day long!

I finally checked my email this week. I usually check it every 5 or 6 months just to stay on top of things.

I made the mistake of signing up for CNN email alerts…I’m not quite sure why I thought that was a good idea since I have about a thousand emails promoting topics being covered on the Nancy Grace Show.

Nancy Grace reminds me of that crazy aunt that comes over for Christmas dinner…even if it’s not Christmas.

My friend Craig is cool and I like to hang out with him at the pub because it reminds me that I would make a far better liver donor than he.

I haven’t seen Craig in a while, which prompted him to send me an email.

From: Craig
To: Jim
Date: 12 August 2010
Subj:: Whatup??

Havent seen u out in a while...gonna get out later or r u just gonna be lazy 2nite and sit around?

From: Jim
To: Craig
Date: 26 August 2010
Re: re: Whatup??

Whew!! Sorry for the delay in getting back with you Craig.

Actually I did not, in fact, get out on 12 August nor was I being lazy.

Me and Pete, the guy who got drunk and went to the bathroom on your couch last year, have been constructing a hot air balloon made from Hefty® 4-ply trash bags.

The neighbor’s kid on South Cortez Street is having a birthday party and we’re gonna surprise the kids by flying overhead and drop Mike & Ike® candies from above. I stole them from the radio station.

I didn’t feel bad about taking them since my boss was a ginormous tool-box…plus they’ve been giving them out to children since that Halloween promotion from 4-years ago.

I don’t think Mike & Ike’s® go bad though since no one is really sure what they’re made of. Kind of like Cher©

Pete thinks we should go to Rouse’s and buy a bunch of Sushi instead since it would be healthier for the kids.

He always gets the California Rolls and we argue all the time about it because everyone knows that a California Roll is not really sushi as much as a ”prop” to make people who are scared of sushi to look “hip“…even though they look like an alcoholic suffering from DT‘s trying to use chopsticks.

By the way that reminds me, Pete is drinking heavily again.

To make a long story short...I’ve never understood the concept of imitation crab in the California Roll. I once asked an imitation crab fisherman and he explained that it’s cheaper and safer to consume for those with shellfish allergies.

I thanked him for the explanation and then I poked him with a stick-pin and he deflated and I folded him up and handed him over to his imitation crab fisherman first mate.

Most people are scared of eating raw fish…not me. Unless it’s a Stonefish.

Pete suggested that we should check prices on Stonefish because it has a cool name and might better impress the kids, until I explained to him that they have potent neurotoxins secreted from glands at the base of their needle-like dorsal fin spines which stick up when disturbed or threatened and that they are the world’s deadliest species of fish.

Pete just stared at me for a moment and agreed that Mike & Ike’s® would be a safer bet.

Soooo…to make a longer story shorter, what are you doing Friday? Wanna get out and kick-it??

Craig usually nervously laughs at my silliness and pretends that I'm normal, which is good, because he's about 4-times my size and looks like a WWE wrestler and could kill me with his thumbnail.

Earlier this year I found an email from my buddy Jeff, who also happens to be fortunate enough to be my landlord. I say fortunate because, as opposed to his other tenants, he only has to remind me 7 or 8 times that my rent is due.

From: Jeff
To: Jim
Date: 12 April 2010
Subj: WTF???

VERY FUNNY putting my name on the Justin Bieber email fan list!! Hahahaha.

Hey, I’m gonna be over from the Northshore 2mrrw…you think you can meet me so I can get the rent? Or just leave it in the top cabinet outside the laundry room?? It’s only 12 days late dude. Lemme know ASAP.

From: Jim
To: Jeff
Date: 12 April 2010
Subj: re:WTF???

Sorry I’m late…I completely forgot the date for rent.

I tend to block things out of my mind on or about the 1st of each month because, as you know, I was married in 1999.

On the surface that doesn’t appear to have anything to do with the 1st of the month, so I'll quickly explain.

One of my ex-wife’s favorite songs was from Bones Thugs -n- Harmony, which should have been my first warning sign.

At any rate, the song “First of tha Month” was widely popular about the time we got married.

We had a very nice marriage but, as these things sometimes go, we grew apart. I suppose I feel a certain sense of failure for not being able to save the marriage so the Bones/Thugs song reminds me of a period that I‘m trying to block from my mind..which, unfortunately, coincides with rent due date.

I also try to block the period around each Flag Day from my mind, which centers around a story about my friend Kenny (he's no longer with us) but that's a reeeal long story.

BTW, did you know that the title of the Bones/Thugs song specifically references waiting on line at the welfare office? I always enjoyed watching VH1’s “Pop Up Video” didn’t you?

I’ll leave the rent check in the box outside the laundry room.
Heads-up…The next door neighbor is probably going to want to talk with you.

My buddies Todd and Ed came over yesterday afternoon to watch a baseball game. Everyone always brings something to eat and Ed brought Mulligatawny soup.

Ed is a chef at a snobby restaurant that none of us can afford and he always has to show off. Todd brought a beef and bean casserole with a spicy (and tasty) Rotel cheese dip and Fritos Scoops…Of course he also brought his annoying girlfriend who got drunk and puked on the living room rug.

Sadly, I couldn’t prepare a dish because I don’t have any money left since I have to give it all to you for rent.

Anyway, we gave some of the mulligatawny and the Rotel cheese dip to the neighbor’s dog and I suppose it was so spicy that the dog just went crazy; he began running in circles trying to find some water and  ran into the road where he was hit by a Fed-X truck.

The dog is gonna be okay but the neighbor said something to the effect that he planned to have a conversation with you.

I can’t remember exactly how he worded it because he was yelling and saying a bunch of dirty words and I was fairly drunk.

Anywhooo...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow so you can take all of my money. BTW, I’ve attached a picture of the front gate…Do you know who these belong to??

There are some instances where a personal visit, rather than a letter, is unavoidable…the DMV  license renewal notice being a prime example.

I absolutely HATE my driver’s license picture. I would be happy to pay extra if they’d hire Olan Mills or Glamour Shots to come in and do the shoot.

Sure, I know that they’ll force me to pose with my hand randomly positioned on my chin so that I look like I’m studiously in deep thought about nothing in particular or staring to the distance looking at absolutely nothing; at least I won’t look like a suspected pedophile in a police lineup.

When I went in for my license picture recently I politely asked if they could use a soft lens and aim a box-fan toward me so that I might look like I’m walking down the beach. They axed that idea so then I asked if I needed to disrobe.

For the record, it took forever getting my picture snapped because, as I announced to the photographer, I simply needed to know my “motivation” so that I could strike the appropriate pose.

The state trooper was quite helpful in explaining my “motivation” and we snapped the picture.

By the way, the state trooper was quite an effective communicator.

And, once again, I'm stuck with a pic which makes me look like I should be driving a windowless van near the school playground for a few more years.

I get “E-Vites” all the time and it still amazes me that we live in an age where one can send invitations instantly and effortlessly. Actually it amazes me more so that I still receive invitations to events.

There’s a lot of pressure associated with being the recipient of the E-vite…especially in responding. Typically, you have limited reply avenues:

Will you be attending Julie and Tim’s housewarming party?


The correct answer is always “NO” 

“Maybe” indicates that you’re stalling for time in order to come up with a believable excuse not to it’s ultimately a wishy-washy "Soft NO.” ** 

**(Note: Professional politicians covet the word "maybe")

I usually just ignore the e-vite and, after a few weeks pass, tell the person that I just now got email access back since my house burned down and then I send them a toaster oven.

One final piece of unfinished business online in the correspondence department which involves my ongoing torture of Mike "The Editor."

Welcome to a place where millions of singles & swingers are at your fingertips. Meet real people with verified contact info near New Orleans. Share sexy pics, explore erotic fantasies and have a hookup RIGHT NOW using our live video webcam chat. Get laid today!!!

Member- Anastasia694u has sent you a message: Hey Mike…I saw where you live nearby, can you send me a pic and details?? Your profile just listed your location and age.

Member- Bi Mike469: Hey Anastasia. I live Uptown and am hot, horney and ready to please!!! Mmmm!

I’m an editor for a small publishing house plus I write speeches for a very important state official so I’m real discreet.  

Btw...It’s okay for you to contact me at work (at the number in my profile) because I trust you.

I’m looking for a bondage encounter between me, my girlfriend (Emily) you and, possibly, a guy named Kevin. 

Kevin is my assistant editor who has an abnormal attraction to 1970's television action series black actresses.  Do you own an afro-wig by chance? 

BTW, Emily will probably answer the phone at the number in my profile, but it’s perfectly okay for you to tell her who you are.  Don't worry if she acts surprised and begins to yell...she's got an anger fetish.

Anyway…I’ve attached a photo per your request…I had a self portrait sketched on Navy Pier last year on my trip to Chicago. Talk to you soon. Also, you can reach me on my personal cell.(that's the second number in my profile)

Mike should have his hands full for a while now so maybe he'll leave me alone.

There are many forms of written communication-- email, text, Facebook, Twitter, blah blah blah.

Call me silly if you will...but my favorite form of communication still involves pen, paper and a blank canvas...

                                                                        OH NO!!!!!!!!!!

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010

Author's note: Thanks to everyone who has read this crap from week to week. Your emails and in-person comments have been an inspiration...more than you know.

I shall stop short of hugging you...unless you have very large breasts and promise to press them against me.

Now go email bomb my friend Craig! Tell him that you saw his profile on Craigslist "casual encounters" swinger section and that you want to see him in his tight, outdated "nut-shorts."

It'll be fun and will, hopefully, embarass him to the point that he'll STOP wearing them in public. hehehe

Digg this

Sunday, August 22, 2010

On My Way To The Forum(s)

When Al Gore invented the internet I’ll bet he NEVER thought it would be as big as it is.

I like the Internet. You can find answers to every single question imaginable…anytime, anywhere. Plus, there’s lots of dirty pictures AND one can find a hook-up on Craig's List while saving some Nigerian exile who has inherited a billion dollars and all he needs for you to do is to provide your bank account number.  Simple enough.

I especially take comfort in knowing that there are thousands of forums and message boards out there…There's virtually something for everybody.

Whether you're craving fun stuff, games, self help or someone to simply lend a sympathetic ear, it's all available within the click of a mouse.

I’ve never visited forums or message boards before…until last week. I made lots of lifelong friends and mine was an experience that I shall treasure forever. week-long adventure in cyberspace...


User Frankie: How do I post a humor entry?

User Frankie: (I have no clue how.)

User Jim: Directions for posting a humor entry…

1. Post a query on the humor message board asking "How do I post a humor entry?"

2. Then subtitle query with "I have no clue how."

3. Hit "post/reply button" then pause for hysterical laughter!!!!

I sometimes can’t figure out how to do things, such as blink my eyes or go to the bathroom.

One time I forgot to breathe, which was quite frightening due to the fact that I was in a WiFi dead spot and couldn’t get on the Internet to post on a forum “How do I begin to breathe again?”

I would have subtitled my query “I have no clue how…Pleeeease hurry”

Fortunately I suddenly remembered how to breathe again and everything was okay, relatively speaking.

It just occurred to me…was your post actually an abstract joke??? If so I must say it’s quite brilliant now that I think about it.

Would you like to go out on a date sometime? I’m not a huge conversationalist, as I’m a bit shy.

However, I’m lots of fun in bed because I am triple jointed and can contort my body like a ceiling mounted garage pulley.

You should skip the message boards and go straight to Google and type in “Ceiling mounted garage pulley” and then just picture my face on it and you can get a pretty good idea of what I can do. I’ve attached a picture of myself though.

Anyway, just let me know if you wanna kick it sometime. I love you Frankie…you‘re funny!!


This seems to be a site dedicated to those who think that they might be pregnant or simply aren't sure of the signs.

If you find yourself in this dire situation, I recommend going to this board FIRST, before going on the "Who's My Baby Daddy?" chat site.

I'm impressed by how quickly they got back with me on my question. BTW, I used a female name, what with being a man and all I didn't want to irritate anyone or make them uncomfortable.  I chose the name of my ex girlfriend, Felicia...primarily because the name NOLAbar Ho was taken...

User Felicia: First of all, I want to say that I'm fully aware that when a woman has her period it is usually a sign that she is not pregnant. However, my last period (which started on the 22nd of July) started 2 days earlier than usual and was a little lighter, then it was heavy and has now lasted for longer than usual. As of today, I’d say 450 to 500 days.

User Annette: OMG! Go to the doctor!!

User Felicia: I’m scared of doctors so I really don’t want to go for a visit. Actually I’m scared of babies too, especially the really ugly ones that people make you look at when they show you pictures while you’re out trying to just have a good time on the town with friends. Then you have to pretend and say nice things like “Oh, she is really…adorable. Where did you get her?”

Now that I think about it, I’m scared of my boyfriend too. He’s been having a tough time at work at the pool cue factory and they’ve been laying a bunch of people off lately so he comes home in a bad mood. I get really scared now when people bring a pool cue anywhere near me, especially when they raise it in the air and talk loudly. I’m on another message board trying to tackle that issue.

I’ve been feeling nauseous but just wrote it off as a bug…or that maybe it was from looking at pictures of my best friend‘s really horrendously ugly kid, but my boyfriend hadn't been feeling that way and he told me to stop asking annoying questions or else he would go get the pool cue. That’s why I turned to the Maybe Mommy message board.

In addition to the nausea, I've had a couple small dizzy spells, mostly when I move from one place to another a little too quickly but I figured it was due to the 6 tequila shots.

I've also had some lower back pain, my breasts have been extra sensitive and I have been very tired. The extra sensitive breast thing has been kind of nice by the way.

I didn't become concerned until I saw that my belly was starting to protrude a bit further out than normal.

I thought it might be because I ate a lot at the Pizza Hut all you can eat buffet last night but I asked the boyfriend to look at my belly to confirm that I wasn't crazy.  He verified that I AM crazy but he also confirmed that my belly looked funnier than usual...and then he punched it like a punching bag real hard.

When I started to Google my symptoms (minus the breasts, which I attributed to the fact that me and my boyfriend have a lot of rough sex and our cat, Pookie, bites my nipples in the middle of the night for some reason) Anyhoo, one of the first things that came up was pregnancy…which made me poo poo in my pants.

Also I am SOOOOO gassy. I'm not normally gassy at all, apart from the usual! (I can do a little trick by making myself fart anytime I want. That’s how me and my boyfriend met…it still makes him laugh. His dad used to like it also, but he's dead now...looong story about that).

Sorry for the length. I wanted to be thorough. Any suggestions?

Forum Moderator Christine: I strongly suggest that you move along to another forum site.

User Felicia: Okay. Thanks for getting back with me. Do you know a good site that might be able to answer my question?

OPEN DIARY.COM (General Discussion)

Moderator: Which jokes do you prefer? Blonde, female, Yo Mama, religion, Rude

User Jim Replies: I like jokes about all of the above on the list.

Specifically, the one about the blonde who ran into the room...she literally ran into the room, crashing her car thru the wall due to the fact that she was performing oral sex, WHILE DRIVING- thus, knocking her unconscious (which greatly improved her IQ by 140%)

She didn't reach the 150% IQ mark because she is quite religious and used 10% as a tithe to the church.

She showcases her strict religious dedication by invoking God's name regularly in the back seat of a worn out, non humorous blonde woman joke and can often be heard screaming...

"Oh God, OH GOD, OOOOOH GOD!!!!"

A lesson she learned from her fat mother. Her mama was so fat that there's not enough room in this joke to finish so I shall pause here to kill a small kitten while I sing a tune from My Fair Lady.

Now that I think about it, I suppose the only type of humor I dislike is rude humor. Oh, and jokes about people who were born without elbows. The elbow thing hits a little too close to home for my comfort level.

Also I don't like cucumbers. I'm actually terrified of them...but that story is probably best suited for the vegetable message board and, sadly, the "Why I hated my creepy uncle Leonard" message board.


I made a nice friend in my encounter with the forum moderator. I like her a lot and may go visit her sometime for coffee

Tons of Fun asks: I’m absolutely terrified right now, I am on one long non stop binge. (On day 2,472 of it now) Every day I wake up and try not to eat an extra large Price Destroyer triple meat combo pizza from Domino’s but I JUST CAN’T HELP MYSELF!!!!

I try to do something a bit differently to break the cycle, so this morning I spread a container of cream cheese on my loaf of toasted bread instead of butter and a extra thick cut fried pork chop.**

**I just realized that I should have typed “AN extra thick” rather than “A extra thick.” I was sooooo hungry that I ate the letter “N.”

I’ve stopped going to the all you can eat buffets and just order three entrees from the menu. This seems to be working. And I’m TOTALLY skipping dessert…today.

My roommates really made me angry recently because the cat seems to have gone missing and they’re asking me insinuating questions about where it might be.

I asked “Exactly WHAT are you accusing me of?????” They think that I ATE little Tinkerbell!! I’m moving out soon because I feel that this was unacceptable behavior from my roommates.

By the way, it’s been 5-weeks since we’ve seen Tinkerbell so I figured it would be terrible to let the cat food go to waste.

Tomorrow I am going to start trying to eat sensible and have a balanced breakfast…do you think this will help?

The thing is it's not really about physical hunger for me, it just dominates my thoughts. Sometimes when I’m talking to a co-worker or a friend, I visualize them as a gigantic side of beef tenderloin which keeps taunting me by saying “Eat me…EAT ME!!!!” And then I end up hating myself and eat an entire box of Count Chocula cereal with chocolate milk. HHHHHEEEEELLLLLPPPPP.

System Moderator: You obviously have problems. I think that you should use your time reading about the problems (physical and mental) which plague overeaters rather than get online and say mean things.

You really sicken me with your post and I’m only going to give you one warning and then I’m tossing you off the board.

Tons of Fun: You seem irritable. Are you hungry?

System Moderator: Congrats! You just got banned jerk!


I met Michael on this board...he was a really cool guy

User Partick: My name is Patrick. I just realized that my name is misspelled on my profile, but I can't figure out HOW to fix it!!!

Anyway, I’ve been coping for a long time with my eyesight. I invert letters all the time and sometimes objects. It comes and goes but it’s reaylly been hurting my grades in scoohl. What can I do about ti????

User Michael: Guess what? Youre a fucking asshole.

User Partick: Michael, I’m distraught that you think so poorly of me as we haven’t even met. I’m tryign to find help here and don’t know where to turn as I want my grades to improve so I won’t have to work forever at the grease trap cleaning company.

BWT, I mean, BTW, I’ll bet, with dyslexia, you have a real hard time spelling your name with “Michael” having the weird inverted spelling and all.

I always thought that the A before E thing was just weird. I mean, you can spell it by leaving one of the letters off, even though it would look a little funny.

Maybe you could spell it Mikhull or maybe Meykull. If it were me, I'd just spell it “Mike”...either way, people would still get the gist of your name. I bet your parents were mean, which really makes me feel sad.

User Michael: I feel sad for you. You definitley have problems.

User Partick: Mike, Mike Mike. We both may have dyslexia, but that's why we have to work harder than other people in the spelling department so as not ot draw extra attention. You misspelled "definitely."

I learned how to spell phonetically in first grade as part of a test class. My school building was real old and full of asbestos. We might all die from cancer now but we are above average spellers.

I always enjoyed going to skool as a kid. How bout you Mike??

User Michael: Again……. YOU are a fucking asshole!!!

User Partick: Are you mad at me Michael?

User Michael: I wouldn't waste MY time being mad at YOU.

User Partick: Thank you fro using capital letters so that I could better understand that MY refers to YOUR time and YOU actually indicates the source of YOUR this case...ME.

User Michael: Your stupid

User Partick: You just confused your with you're...but lots of pepole do that. BTW again, when I wrote “What can I do about TI, it wasn’t a typing error…My brother LOVES TI and plays the CD over and over and over again.

I wish TI would go back to the pureness of his roots from the album "I'm Serious" which made him famous . He sounds over-produced now. How do you feel about this?

User Michael: Go to hell

User Partick: I really wish that we could just make up and be friends again Michael. : ( now I'm really sad

User Michael: Whatever

User Partick: I just thought of something else…technically I AM a f-ing A-hole as you pointed out. As I mentioned earlier, I sometmies invert objects which really upset my ex girlfriend.

I would accidentally stick it in the wrong place because of my eyesight and she screamed because I have a reeeeally big pensi.

User Michael: I’m reporting you to the moderator asshole.

User Partick: Oyka Mike.  Have a blessed dya!


I don't really understand the possibility of sex addiction, but I suppose it's real. I was kind of bummed that there weren't more pictures

User Jim: Damn! I’m HORNEY!!!!!

User Lil Cyndee Kims: Very funny. Don’t be a dick dude.

User Jim: Okay. Hey, did you realize that your name is sort of an anagram?? You can spell “Lick Me” with it…and even have superfluous letters remaining.

With extra letters hanging around like that, it technically means that we have enough for a "letter orgy."  That makes me incredibly horney.

Btw, I LOVE your profile pic…I’m looking at it right now. Actually, I made it my new wall paper but I cropped it to where it only shows your breasts in the low cut top you're wearing in the pic. You wanna trade pics sometime??

Administrator message: You have been denied further access to this web community. Please see forum rules and guidelines. If you feel that you have received this in error please contact the site administrator.

FACEBOOK (Drive-by)

I decided to end my day safely by catching up with a good friend. What better place than a social ring where you can "Chat" "Like" "Poke" and then de-friend. Sounds like a one-night stand if you ask me.

Rikki: quotes Austin O'Malley:

“Show me a genuine case of platonic friendship, and I shall show you two old or homely faces.”

Jim: Austin O'Malley and I used to write together. I was always led to believe that we were just friends, even though my other friends warned me. I finally realized that he had a secret agenda.

We wrote late into the night and we'd get hungry... so I'd do "friend" things like cook a BLT sandwich with Ore'Ida french fries and Suddenly Salad Tomato & Herb and after we finished eating he would look at me and say "you're a really good platonic friend.”

And then he shoved his hands down the front of my pants and said "A hole is nothing at all, but you can break your neck in it." Which really creeped me out so I called my friend, Allison, to come get me and then she held me while I cried all night...She is a really nice, platonic, friend of mine.

After a full day online it finally occurs to me that I never got to see any dirty pictures. Believe it or not Lil Cyndee Kims sent me an email though!!! Hehehe.

If she’s about to fall off the wagon, I feel that someone needs to be there to catch her- No moderator needed...unless she's into that sort of thing.

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Ask Your Doctor If THIS Is Right For You

…Gonna pop my pills from a Pez dispenser

I wish someone would invent a pill to make those trailblazing mavericks Nickelback go away. I suspect that I’m not alone on this one. We could swallow a little green pill, swish it down like REAL rock stars, with a shot of water (pronounced Tequila) and BAM! The band actually explodes into a million pieces, as Rob Zombie sweeps their scattered remains down the nearest storm drain of non rock stars (who claim that they hold disdain for commercial artists) into the abysmal depths of irrelevance.

Speaking of Kid Rock

Have you noticed that there’s a pill for everything? You can’t open a newspaper, magazine or turn on the TV anymore without being bombarded by PILLS!! Acid reflux? Take a pill. Acne? Take a pill. Soft bones? Take a pill. Soft bone? (not to be confused with bones) Take a pill. Out of control kids? Give them a bunch of pills and then YOU pop a couple of Excedrin extra strength…which, according to the bottle, “May cause a headache.” What???

Other than the Federal government and Dr. Laura, how can something which is supposed to HELP have so many negative and risky side effects?

I saw a commercial this weekend where the slick, fast talking announcer rattled off possible side effects which included the following:

“May cause suicidal thoughts or actions.”

And all this time I thought that….nah, too easy…I shall not stoop to the level of invoking obvious, gratuitous remarks. On another note, it’s time to play WHEEL OF FORTUNE!!!

CATEGORY: May cause suicidal thoughts or actions


“I’d like to buy an “I” Pat! And tell Vanna to take off her dress”

Did you know that there's an anti depressant drug which may cause suicidal thoughts or actions and an anti anxiety drug which may cause schizophrenia? That must have been an entertaining day with the lab rats down at the research center.

I walked into a restroom recently when I stumbled upon a gentleman who was carrying on an animated conversation with Steve, Terry and Kevin. I don’t know what Steve, Terry and Kevin did to draw this man’s ire, but it’s important to note that, other than the two of us, the restroom was empty.

I’m not a doctor but I like holistic remedies when possible. In this case, I quickly exited the restroom, dissolving the quorum. Thus, according to widely recognized global quorum by-laws, ending his meeting. This seems to prompt governmental bodies to take a break so I figured it was worth a try…and with no side effects!

I don’t know if it made the voices in his head go away but I felt better about my chances of survival. I, on the other hand, will now need a pill for an aggravated bladder as I never got to pee.

Everyone is so stressed these days. Understandable…grim economic outlooks, inflation, high gas prices, two wars, instability and security threats in North Korea and Iran, Nickelback’s latest song…these are dark times indeed.

Speaking of which, I have a friend who always calls at the worst possible stressful moments. Not for me…for HER. I’ll go for weeks without hearing from her and, almost every single time that she calls, the conversation goes like this:

Me: Hello

Her: (background noise sounds as though she’s standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier)


Her: Oh, Hey….can you hear me??

Me: Yeah, where are you?

Her: Oh, I’m at home…the contractors just started sanding the floors and I’m also babysitting my neighbor's kids. Just thought I'd call to catch up with you. (background noises of what sounds to be a school bus full of children who have spent the entire morning feasting on sugar drenched cereal, candy bars, soft drinks and crystal meth. And there's a cat meowing incessantly)

Me: Well, it’s good to hear from you…everything goin’ okay?


Me: Um…

Her: Sorry, what were you saying?

Me: Um…


Me: Uh, I was saying that I'm…

Her: (Loud crash) SHIT!! Hey, the boys just threw their sister through the window and the cat just got sucked into the floor sander. Look, it’s a bad time, sorry…can I call you back?

I’m no time management expert, as any employer will affirm, but it occurs to me that when calling someone, perhaps it’s best to do so from a locale which doesn’t sound as though you’re doing a live news report from the front lines of a full-scale military conflict.

I'm no different from anyone else...I don’t like stress, but I don’t want to take a pill every time I feel the pressures of life closing in on me. I simply transport my thoughts to my happy place.

A poolside villa overlooking an ornately decorated Greek swimming pool where two young, confused, ladies are rubbing tanning lotion on one another. One girl stands up and her bikini top accidentally pops off as the doorbell rings.

They playfully chase one another to the front door, giggling all the way. Then I walk in, donning an electric company meter man shirt, tight boxer briefs with a tool belt, mirrored sunglasses and a porn moustache. The girls then make sexual innuendo, asking me if I might teach them how to scale a utility pole.

When I did voice over work, sometimes I’d have to visit the television station audio production studio. TV newsrooms are quite hectic and I always enjoyed strolling through to observe the controlled chaos.

My friend, Neil, was a TV meteorologist- I always called him out on his faux degree which garnered the title of “DOCTOR” being attached to his name. HA HA HA HA HA!

This is the same guy who once passed out drunk at a party with a bottle of cheap vodka, face down in the snow. We finally figured out where he was when the pizza delivery guy showed up and alerted us to the fact that a man was on the front lawn in a pile of yellow snow singing a Whitesnake power ballad.

We finished our pizza and did a shot with the delivery guy before scooping Neil up from the pile of snow. We then completely wrapped him up like a mummy in Ace bandages and rolled him under the guestroom bed. Needless to say, I had a difficult time taking him seriously as he authoritatively looked into the camera with concerned tone in his voice as he tracked a tornado heading straight for a local trailer park.

I laughed until I almost cried when I saw him in one of those TV station promos one night. You know the commercial I'm talking about. It starts with tragic weather scenes as the scary, deep-voiced announcer guy assures you that you will most likely die and go to hell if you don't watch channel 5 during a storm.

In the commercial, Neil was crouched over the Weather Center 5 pinpoint 3-D storm, tornoado, hurricane, snowstorm, prison escapee doppler 7000 radar staring solemnly at the console as though he were about to tell a concerned patient that they had 4 months to live...and that their son is gay.

Neil was always stressed! HOW?

Neil: And your 5-day forecast…lookin’ good. Highs in the mid 70’s lows in the lower 60’s and no rain anywhere in our weather models.

News Anchor: Well Neil, that’s a great forecast for my golf match this week, I‘ll dust off my 3-wood.

Neil: Ha ha ha, well, Bob, I’ve seen you use the 3-wood…unfortunately you’ll need more than mother nature to help…ha ha ha ha.

Anchor: Ha ha ha…Very funny! You rascal…thanks Neil. In other news…

Now that I think about it, I’d be stressed too if I were forced to engage in mindless chit chat on TV with a 900-year old, stuffy news anchor.

One day I showed up at the studio with, what I thought to be, a brilliant idea. I’d eaten about four strips of green apple Laffy Taffy so that my tongue would be green. I stood against the green screen, upon which weather maps and TV graphics are superimposed, to see if the map would appear on my tongue.

DOCTOR Neil would always glare at me, judgmentally, shaking his head and then asked if I was drunk. What does that have to do with anything? Then we did a shot of Jameson in his office and I went on about my day.

I think that my visits to the TV station were helpful in lowering Neil’s stress in that, observing me, he felt better about his life. Lower blood pressure…pill free. You're welcome Neil.

For the record…the weather map/Laffy Taffy experiment didn’t work but we were able to superimpose a head shot picture of the smokin' hot weekend weather girl on the front of my green boxer shorts. This largely explains why I don’t have a “doctor” title attached to my name.

I understand that there are numerous medicines on the market which save lives and greatly increase the quality of life for millions. We’re truly lucky to be living in such a medically advanced era. I even understand the impotence…I mean, importance of...


What catches my attention is the disclaimer. “Ask your doctor if your heart is healthy enough for sex.” What??

A better question would be:

“Hey doc, what are your feelings about the status of my heart health as it pertains to having sex with my lady friend? Specifically as it leads to a fairly steady relationship (with the exception of two moments of indiscretion with a hotel housekeeper while on a business trip to Cedar Rapids, Iowa and a brief moment of confusion in that rest area bathroom.)

Then we get married and have a couple of kids, who absolutely drain my bank account because one wants to go to medical school and the other one accidentally impregnates his girlfriend who he, in turn, marries and I feel obligated to help them purchase a house until such a time he announces that he’s quit his job and has decided to be a professional drummer in a band named THE SKULL FU#KS

You think the ol’ ticker is up for that one doc?”

I wish that there had been a drug which would have kept my parents alive much longer, a pill that I’m sure we’d all hope for a scientist to invent. I’ll bet my parents would have wished for a drug which made me not chop down a pine tree with the axe from my little tool set which I received at Christmas when I was 10. The magic pill would then reverse gravity...preventing the tree from falling and destroying the entire corner of the garage and the passenger side of the car.

The side effects of the magic pill would make hair grow back instantly after I shaved the dog and my friend Matt's head completely bald with mom's electric hair trimmer. Then it would have rendered me deaf and mute before I repeated my dad's assessment of his boss at the dinner front of his boss.

For the record, I believe my dad's precise assessment in numerous rantings to my mother was that "Charles is a complete fu*king shithead" or something to that's a little fuzzy to me now since I was only 6-years old. It got reeeeal quiet at the table as I recall and Charles seemed very uncomfortable. My mother, on the other hand, laughed about it for the rest of her life.

How about a drug which makes one appear sexy, cool and hip? By the way guys…there’s absolutely no way for a man to look cool when sipping a drink through a straw. As for the ladies…that’s a whole different ballgame.

I don’t know about you, but I would be terribly uncomfortable taking a pill with side effects which include:

May cause blackouts and irrational or erratic behavior. Do not operate a vehicle while taking this medicine

Honestly, WHO would be comfortable with that??

Stupid People


"I’ll take an “N” Pat!"

I actually had a sinus headache when I began writing today but, thanks to a pill, it's all better now and I'm back to my happy place. Not THAT happy place...I only visit that place when I have alone time late at night while watching the female version of the Shake Weight commercial.

As I hand this silly little documentation of my happy corner of the world over to Osama Bin Mike to proof read before he beats one of his children senseless for ending a sentence in a preposition, I'm going to see a concert tonight. Irritable Bowel Syndrome is opening up for Skull F*ck.

I can assure you that they're tons better than Nickelback

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Get Off The Bus

For many people a job is more than an income – it's an important part of who we are. So a career transition of any sort is one of the most unsettling experiences you can face in your life. -- Paul Clitheroe

I have a friend of mine who’s trapped within the confines of a miserable job. Allow me to clarify- he’s working for a company well within his tenured career path, he’s just not challenged…at all.

This seems to be a common mistake that employers, especially in today’s hustle and bustle, bottom line environment, make all too often. The boss is not entirely to blame-- employees are equally guilty for either not talking with the boss or by silently sinking into complacency.

The right people are on the bus…sometimes they’re simply not in the correct seats.

Speaking of which, we took a vote around the table today and decided that Mike, the editor, shall be strapped onto the hood of the bus while we ram it into the car in front of us.

I asked my buddy to give me the scoop- I wanted to know why he wasn’t happy and how he planned to handle the situation.

He explained that he absolutely LOVED his career and felt deep passion for the work which he’s performed for almost 20-years…he simply felt that his employer was not a good one.

He went on to explain that his employer THINKS that they're good to their employees but they often cut corners by placing workers and supervisors in positions in which they are grossly under qualified or too lazy to effectively perform. 

This company is also heavily regulated by the United States government and frequently administers certification tests on which many employees cheat for company appearances sake. I immediately asked the logical question…

When did you begin working for Congress or the broadcast media business??

Sensing that my friend was truly in agony over the decision at hand, I tossed all silliness and joking aside and began to do the Sudoko puzzle on his counter-top.  Oh, and then I asked what I could do to help.

He asked if I would assist him in drafting a letter of resignation to his manager. I did what any logical person in this position would do...I pretended that I didn’t hear his question. After repeating his plea, I finally asked…

Have you ever actually READ any of my juvenile silliness???

I worked for a news director who asked me to write a story for the “print” version of our on-air news site one time.  I suppose I did such a good job that I was never asked to write for the Internet site again.  

I’ve hidden the name of the city in the interest of a confidentiality agreement which I signed upon my decision to, as they worded it in the memo, “pursue other interests.”

I’ve cut and pasted the actual (important to note) copy points as originally received. Please read it carefully:

The state Lottey Corp. says one ticket purchased in (city name) won the $85.7 million multistate Powerball drawing Satuday night.

The winning ticket was puchased at the Circle K convenence store on Airpot Highway and the store will receive a one-time bonus of $25,000.

The prize for the next Powerball drawing will be an estimated $20 million on Wednesday.

Okay…and now for the news brief, as interpreted by me, in my filed report:

Lotto Winner Tells His Boss To Eat It!! 

-After years of throwing away children’s tuition money, local man went into convenience store for a microwave burrito, walks away facing life of bitter in-fighting amongst greedy family members

(City Name)- Despite continuous, egregious spelling errors from our copy desk assignment editor, (formerly of the Associated Press), he managed to send us this little news scad of which we have been able to assimilate enough pertinent information which confirms that a lucky (city name) man has become the state’s newest multi-millionaire.

At news deadline time we were unable to confirm that steps have been taken to terminate our copy editor, even though numerous formal performance and sexual harassment complaints have been well documented. However, the state Lotto Corp. confirms that the $85.7 million winning ticket was puchased (also known as purchased) at the Circle K on Airport Highway. (formerly known as Airpot Highway)

The store will receive an estimated $25,000 bonus for selling the winning ticket, which should stimulate their net operating budget enough to hire our copy assignment editor away as the new night janitor with roughly $22,445 left over for capital improvement projects.

Lottey officials confirm that the lucky (city name) man has donated $5,000 of his winnings so that the Lotto Corp. might purchase an “R” from Pat Sajak so that their name shall heretofore be spelled corectly (We’re conserving R’s at present until this spelling injustice has been remedied)

This story appeared on our news brief site for about 45-minutes before I was called into the manager’s office. Which was fortuitous for me, since I was ready to go home for the day anyway. As I recall, I went out for beef nachos and then spent the afternoon watching reruns of Scubs.

Ooops…I meant Scrubs.

I don’t know the first thing about writing a letter of resignation- the whole thing seems like a silly process if you ask me:

This letter serves as two weeks notice to terminate my employment with (company name) I value the experience and opportunities that my association has afforded with (company name) and I wish for the company’s continued success.

I will assist in any way possible to ensure a smooth transition upon my departure.


YUCK!!! What’s with all the formalities? Honestly, WHO talks like that??

Answer: NO ONE

Except for this ass-kisser Program Director.  We'll call him Jonathan, primarily because his name is Jim Fleischer.  He was the inept assistant director in the corporate office of my former employer.

He also still lived with his mother at age 40. We used to pick his car up and turn it sideways in his parking space so he couldn’t get out. He drove a Mazda Miata…enough said.

 Dear (manager name),

After numerous warnings, I am putting this company on notice. My love and passion for life and happiness supersede the necessity to make money to purchase things such as food, shelter, clothing and the occasional pornographic DVD.

This decision does not come easy, but I now know that being in this building and dealing with directors who live at the golf course and have never worked in the trenches a day in their lives has rendered me unable to attain an erection for my girlfriend.

As you can imagine, she is quite distraught as she really loves to have sex and I’d rather she do it with me rather than to seek satisfaction outside the boundaries of our committed relationship.

I, on the other hand, experience numerous forcible sexual encounters each day in the office as Jonathan, the programming assignment genius, regularly bends me over and shoves it in violently as though I have stolen something from him.

I hope this letter finds you well and I wish the best for everyone…except Jonathan. I hope he loses control of his effeminate little quasi car and careens from a 400-foot roadside cliff in the mountains.



P.S. I love you!

Toward the end of my tenure with a long time employer in Nashville, the owner brought in a new manager who LOVED long meetings…lots of them.

One time we were to participate in a rather important programming syndication meeting and the manager called a meeting before the meeting to discuss what we would talk about in the meeting.

It's important to note that we then had a post meeting meeting to assess the supplier meeting results…I wish that I were making this up.

It reached a point where I absolutely dreaded looking down at the phone to see that she was calling for me.

She always called at the worst moments possible, when I was doing important things such as breathing, blinking my eyes or having some semblance of an otherwise peaceful day.

Beth The Boss Of The Year:

“Jim, could you come upstairs for a quick meeting?”

I found myself wishing that a maniacal, angry gorilla would escape from the zoo and rub feces in my face and then beat me to death with a tree branch whenever she called.

As a note of interest, not long after I left the company I heard that she got fired because no one could reach their work deadlines. Shocking. I wonder how THAT meeting worked out for her?

The workplace is full of interesting and downright absurd stories, from both the employer and employee side.

The last manager I worked with at "The Channel Of Clarity Communications," and I’m not making this up, advocated fabricating a lie when calling out of work.

Rather than embracing honesty as the best policy, like calling out because one wants to attend a concert or might feel that working around absurdity on a particular day might cause him/her to jump from the 6th floor balcony, he encouraged us to lie and make up a family emergency or such.

Using his directive as a calling-in template, I crafted the following excuse as per his suggestion.  This is my actual resignation letter from a 20-year broadcast career:

Manager: Why aren’t you coming in today?

Me: It’s quite odd actually. I was, in fact, on the way to work when a pack of tigers blocked me in as I was backing down the driveway.

I exited the car to shoo them away when one of the tigers (Tony) offered me a bowl of cereal.

Since I’m on a strict, sugar restrictive diet, I politely declined. Tony (the tiger) went on to advise against going to work.

He felt that I needed some downtime in order to rejuvenate my creative juices, thus being a better and more productive employee.

One of Tony’s tiger buddies, being stricken with a sudden hunger attack, then pounced on a nearby vagrant…mauling him to death. Since I was the only witness, I had to stay home to assist the New Orleans Police Department with their incident report.

Realizing the folly of his previous "calling-in to work protocol" suggestion to a group of smart ass writers, that was the first and last time that our manager recommended stupid ideas.

A funny anecdote about this manager and his assistant- Due to a scheduling snafu, I didn't show up for work one day. I legitimately didn't realize that I was scheduled since these guys use email and text messages as a way of life rather than to glance up from their gadgets and actually speak on the phone or in person.

The previous day I had posted a silly missive on my blog:
"I think that I might go join the circus."

They had seriously become concerned that I had indeed joined the circus. I'll pause here in order for that to sink in.

It's important to share the fact that these two are tasked with running a multi-million dollar operation. Oh, my!

They don't speak to me anymore- which really sucks because they provided numerous pages of entertainment.

I’ve written a couple of stories about the best boss I’ve EVER seen and it was a privilege to work with and learn from him. His name is Bob. 

Among many respected qualities, he knew how to motivate people but he also realized the importance of surrounding himself with co-workers who respectfully disagreed with him.

A terribly detached station owner and board of directors who replaced our long installed leader asked why I and a few others had decided to move on. I told them that it seemed abundantly clear that the company was no longer serious about doing their business well.

No fancy letter needed.

Fortunately, I’ve heard, that the company has since moved a deserving person from the middle of the bus to the front seat…an excellent choice indeed, as she has led their business to new heights...without conducting a hundred meetings per day.

Back to my friend and a draft of the letter that I figured to be best for he and his situation:

Dear (manager name),

After years of dedication to a career that I love so dearly, I have decided to move on to a new and exciting chapter in my life.

The truth of the matter is that I find myself unbearably attracted to you.

I know we are of the same sex, and I’ve never really had a sexual longing for another man but, whenever you enter the room, the sweet smell of your natural man fragrance, with a hint of Dial Cool Ocean Mist body wash, simply makes it impossible for me to concentrate.

Sometimes I get so nervous around you that I have to sprint to the restroom to do number 2.**

**(I have a spastic colon)

I’ll miss the countless days when I would try to guess which tie you would wear to work and, when I guessed correctly, I was convinced that it was an omen…a sign that this would finally be the day. The day in which you would debonairly announce that you’ve left your wife and we could purchase a Toyota Tundra and run off to Vermont where we’d spend our days picking blueberries and planting peppers.

At any rate, I treasure my time with the company and I’ll never, ever, ever, EVER  forget about you.

Hopelessly yours,

At the very least, my friend smiled when he read my silliness, thus redirecting his mind to happier thoughts.

As far as his next move? I don’t know. I did offer this piece of advice…I pointed out that people spend a majority of their lives at work…that’s a lot of time investment not to be happy. It’s not good for he or his employer.

Unfortunately, this is not an isolated issue- at present, I know three people who love their work but absolutely hate their job and I'll bet you do too.

As long as it's not a doctor who's about to cut me open or my pilot, I'll feel a sense of relief.

I love what I do, and for that I am thankful. However, all of this writing has rendered me exhausted so I'm gonna close the computer and watch Wheel of Fortune. I'm hoping for lots of "R" pu_chases in honor of the copy assignment editor.

copy R ight PontchaRtRain PRess 2010

*Author's Note: The Channel Of Clarity Manager has since moved on to pursue other interests.  I suppose he found the bus stop

Saturday, August 7, 2010

A Day In The Life

My brain hurts. It’s not that I’ve been righting any problems, solving crimes, working the Sudoku puzzle, pondering the factors which lead to my next door neighbor being nosy and judgmental or studying about how to do anything remotely worthwhile, I’m just in need of some downtime.

I woke up yesterday morning the way I always do, staring at the ceiling lamp as it swayed to and fro, wondering if the neighbors upstairs are professional porno stars. I’m not sure what kind of stuff they’re into, but it sounds as if one of the two takes a running start from across the room and, I can‘t be sure, but I believe a trapeze bar may be involved.

I decided that I needed a ME day- a day of doing as much or as little as I want…Me, me, me, me, me, me. I got ready and headed out...embarkation on a day of leisure- right after a quick visit to the grocery store deli.

The deli at my corner grocery store is awesome, but I hate the service at the checkout. I patiently waited in line as I learned much about a man who decided to replay his life story to the cashier and, by default, the rest of us. While I‘d rather have waited for the movie version, directed by James Cameron, I found myself an unwanted part of a captive retail audience. I now know interesting facts about this total stranger. I know that he has no neighbors, he lives alone, he collects half dollar coins and old pill bottles (which makes him clinically insane) and he hates cauliflower. I’m not certain that it gets much more random than that.

Upon purchasing my, once, hot soup, ME day was finally underway. First stop…the pub. I required a cup of coffee if I was to be wide awake for a big day on the town.

I take my coffee like I like my women - pale and liquored up. For the life of me I can’t understand HOW my dad drank HIS coffee. He took his with a gallon of milk and the years entire sugarcane harvest.

As I sipped an Irish whiskey, with a shot of coffee, I noticed a couple nearby who were clearly going through a nasty separation. They engaged in, what I would characterize as, a heated discussion about the kids and visitation times.

I’ve never had children- a fact that most likely relieves many people in my social circle- but I felt strongly that I had a solution for the unhappy couple which was nothing short of genius. Why not sell the children into a Chinese slave labor factory and make money on the deal? Working around pesky, tentative visitation schedules seems to cancel out the benefits of having children in the first place. I.e. Someone to mow the lawn, clean the house, wash the car, etc.

With the one-time Chinese slave factory profit, split evenly with your estranged partner, (even though she‘ll probably want 70%, the house and future investment earnings), everyone comes out ahead. Plus, by knowing someone in a Chinese child slave factory, you’d get free t-shirts, tennis shoes and American flags for life!!

The lady friends in my life feel that I’ve been single long enough- perhaps, but how does that have anything to do with my shrewd business acumen? They constantly naysay my ideas and I attribute it to the fact that they mock what they don’t understand. I feel that I would score a decisive win on The Apprentice and I think my friends are just jealous. The guys are solidly with me on this one…unless their girlfriends or wives are within earshot. You’re fired! Next.

A few moments passed as I prepared to move on to the next stop when a lovely young woman pulled up a chair next to me and asked “Whaddaya got for pain.” Other than my life story, I politely told her that I had no medicine on me but the bartender might be of assistance.

The bartender dispensed a couple of aspirins as the young woman asked if we knew a girl named Alex. Apparently, as the woman explained, she was “supposed to give a friend of a friend (Alex) a ride across the lake for a mutual friend’s birthday party- which was being held at her friend’s boyfriends Dad’s house.” Huh??

As I tried to do the genealogy in my head, I inquired if she had any acquaintances on the planet who were not 2nd, 3rd or 4th removed?

Neither the bartender or I knew anyone named Alex so we asked for a description. The description (I’m NOT making this up) was as follows: “She’s average height, about 26 years old, real pretty, brown hair and big boobs.” I immediately offered my services in doing everything humanly possible in order to find this poor, young, innocent lost woman.

I can never follow the friend of a friend of a friend connection. Much like the aunt twice removed…it’s too complicated for me. Listening to this young woman stirred memories of my SAT’s. I always HATED those stupid mathematic scenario problems:

Bill and Sally work with Stu in a factory filled with heavy machinery. They usually eat lunch at work since there are no houses or restaurants near the factory- it‘s located in a bad part of town- plus it‘s a paper factory so it stinks really bad. Sally didn’t bring her lunch today because she didn’t go home last night, opting to stay over at Bill’s apartment instead. Sally and Bill are having an affair, unbeknownst to Sally’s husband, Frank.

The romance fizzled some time back for Sally and Frank, largely because he made some unwise investments and lost most of his money on a multi-level marketing scheme…plus, Frank has a problem in the stiff wee wee department. (stiff and problem being the operative words)

Fortunately, Stu just moved out of his mother’s house (at age 42) and he, being the bachelor, brought leftover pizza. Originally, the pizza measured 16 inches in diameter and was sliced in equal parts, of which Stu only ate three because he became quite enthralled with the Jane Austen book he had been reading last evening.**

**(Stu is currently confused about his sexuality)

Stu kept one slice of leftover pizza for himself and gave the rest to Bill and Sally.

Question: In which direction is cog F rotating on the assembly line machine and how many slices of pizza did Sally and Bill each have?

Answer: The cogs were NOT rotating, as a very angry Frank appeared at the factory and got into a shoving match with Stu. Stu spent a lot of time after work with Sally teaching her how to make ceramic figurines fashioned into the likeness of Cher and Lucille Ball so Frank believed that Stu was having sex with his wife. Unfortunately, Frank shoved so hard that Stu fell into the mechanism which, in turn, jammed the machine. Stu fell victim to an instant and painfully, gruesome death. He ate zero slices of pizza.

Bill and Sally also ate zero slices of pizza since Frank quickly realized that it was BILL who was having sex with Sally…so, he pulled out an automatic handgun and shot them both in the head 7 times as he sang Matchmaker from Fiddler on the Roof. Frank then ate 5 slices of pizza, laughing insanely, as the SWAT team closed in on the room.

I flunked math class since first grade but I did okay in philosophy.

So far ME day is not very relaxing. As I prepared to, once again, move on to the next stop, a couple of gentlemen to my left caught my attention. They were engaged in a heated argument about a proposed Mosque at the World Trade Center site in New York. I felt strongly about hanging out for this chat- after all, these guys were committing BOTH of the bar no-no’s: discussing politics AND religion.

I’m no expert, but I do know which battles to fight and when. In this case, loud drunk #2 was built like a stick figure while loud drunk #1 had arms the size of Honda Civics. An example of liquid bravery in action I suppose.

I love when drunk guys fight- they’re loud, passionate and there’s always a chance that they’ll end up in a drunken heap, leaned over the bar crying, apologizing and affirming their love for one another…then one of them will buy a round for the bar and go puke on the hood of a nearby parked car. Most of the time they simply seek absolution from a bystander- in this case…it was ME.

Drunk #1: YOU are crazy, you don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about Osama!!! (Looking over to me, restating his case) “He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about dude!!!

Drunk #2: (Invokes the tried and true intellectual response)F*CK YOU!!

Drunk #1: (Invoking the logical retort) Yeah? F*ck YOU Taliban lover…You’re too STUPID to recognize that these people (Muslims) want us all DEAD!!! You don’t know a silent killer when you see one!!!

Me: (Hesitantly interjecting) I believe I know the silent killer

Drunk #1 & 2: WHO??

Me: Cholesterol…the Al Qaeda of the cardio pulmonary system, if you will

I always try to defuse tense situations...another example as to why my friends pay their tabs and quickly leave me behind at moments such as these. I, on the other hand, waited for my free shot of Tullamore Dew.

I understood both sides of the argument but discounted it as drunken barroom ranting…not a lot of substance, peppered with obvious xenophobia. It was clear that one of the drunk guys absolutely HATED all practitioners of the Islamic faith. I really hold no opinion on the subject, as that would require me to think too hard. What happened next, however, was nothing short of accidental comic brilliance. The bartender cheerfully announced that free PORK tacos were being served at the back of the pub. I almost peed my pants.

With that, I ate a pork taco and bid the fellas Shalom…it was time to move on to the next stop. My parents taught me right from wrong, in that right meant to run from insane people. (A lesson that I largely ignored in the relationship department…to my own detriment.)

My friends always chastise because I typically find myself firmly planted amidst nearby unfolding turmoil. I disagree with their assessment- I mind my business and stand quietly, usually working a crossword puzzle. An unassuming demeanor if you will. Kind of like when you’re bored at work and dream up benign search phrases on the company computer which brings up pornographic material. (Note: When using a computer belonging to a rigid, conservative company, one must use benign keywords so that when the manager receives the monthly employee Internet activity report you are better positioned to invoke plausible deniability while being questioned about web activity.

I always tell them that I simply typed in “lace thongs“ because I was searching for a gift for my girlfriend and was absolutely shocked when “Barely legal thong sluts from the People‘s Republic of Poontang“ appeared on the screen. I then helpfully suggest more stringent filters on the company computers so as not to expose employees to such filth. You will appear most sincere if you act as though you’ve been traumatized by the experience and assure your boss that you love your job even though the company could do a better job in preserving a professional work environment where computer filter safety is concerned.

ME day cautiously continues…

As I enjoyed a peaceful afternoon stroll through the city, I happened across two friends who are prominent emcees for special events. They invited me to enjoy a couple of beers at their house and then join them at, what I can only label, “Naked Interpretative Stage Performance” at a local venue.

So far ME day has been filled with nymphomaniacal neighbors, a nosy, judgmental next door neighbor, angry, drunk, politicos, a lost girl and her 2nd removed (sexy) friend, cold soup and the insane coin and bottle collecting hermit. The mere mention of the word “naked” alerted me to the fact that this event could only equal fun. One is rarely unhappy while naked…unless it’s when you’re 12 and creepy uncle Earl is keeping you for the day and he “accidentally” walks into the bathroom six times while wearing aunt Cheryl’s panties and a cowboy hat while you’re taking a bath. Hypothetically speaking of course.

The event specifically involved naked “people” karaoke. There are some things in this world that one simply can not make up…or Google.

As karaoke goes, there were good singers and bad. As THIS karaoke goes, there was good naked and “I believe I just threw up in my mouth a little” naked. However, I saw an attractive young lady who couldn’t sing very well…a point which became irrelevant when she disrobed. Quite honestly I’m not even sure that she was singing…I simply don’t recall.

It’s interesting to note, as a lesson in how small the world in which we occupy truly is, her name was Alex. I suppose she never made it to the birthday party and now I found myself as a 5th removed acquaintance in her circle of friends.

It’s not that I didn’t enjoy ME day, it’s that everything going on around me pretty much made ME day a little too hectic.

I require very little in life, as a matter of fact it’s the simple things that please me. Like the triumphant feeling when you sail through all of the traffic signals before they turn red, finding a $10-dollar bill on the ground. (So what if it's next to the girl scout bake sale table? They should be more careful with their money) I’d like to not be brutally murdered on any given day and if we can fit a cheeseburger and a large order of onion rings somewhere in the fold…I’m happy. The little things in life are nice.

With that, I did what I should have done in the first place…I went to the burger joint near my house to enjoy one of life’s simple pleasures…and it’s charbroiled with extra cheese.

Seems that one of the drunk guys from earlier at the pub had the same idea. With a pile of onion rings towering before me, I wondered if he cared to join me for a discussion about the silent killer.

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010

Friday, August 6, 2010

Three Men And A Tow Truck

I recently visited a friend on the other side of town and, aside from my car being towed, she and I had a wonderful visit.

It seems that there are three grumpy guys who live a few doors down who feel that the parking space in front of their house is off limits. They literally tape measure to verify that vehicles are exactly 3-feet from their driveway and then have them towed.

Even though a vehicle is nowhere NEAR impeding these guys from entering or exiting their driveway they love this parking space so much that they have vehicles towed on a B.S. technicality.

Since I owed a few parking tickets, the grand total for my visit to see my friend was $400...and I didn't even have sex!!

Since none of the other neighbors have spoken up about their displeasure with these, uh, "gentlemen" I decided that I would be the trailblazer.

**Author's note: I do not hide behind the anonymous curtain of the Internet or write letters in order to vent to myself...this letter has actually been delivered to said evil doers

Good Afternoon,

Actually, I can’t be certain when this letter will find you but, seeing how it’s afternoon as I write this, I suppose we’ll stick with “good afternoon.” At any rate, I hope this letter finds you well and in peaceful spirits.

I’m new to the neighborhood and wanted to take a moment to get to know the citizenry therein. I chose this area because it is a largely accepting and neighborly community, something which I’m sure you gentlemen greatly appreciate about this historic and grand locale.

I’ve heard a great deal about many warm and generous spirited neighbors on this block, sadly, we seem to have haters amongst us. This troubles me and I’d like to enlist your assistance in order to break through barriers of, possible, misunderstanding by corralling all like minded neighbors to sniff out these misanthropes.

Clearly this is key to understanding, acceptance and love. I learned that from watching Mr. Rogers as a kid, even though my dad thought Mr. Rogers would make me “delicate." (He used a different word)

In the spirit of the aforementioned neighborhood reputation and to foster harmony on a block which we all share, I shall attempt to initiate a gesture of good will that, I hope, triggers an evolution of bridge-building.

It’s my understanding that we have someone in our Shangri-La who takes pleasure in having fellow neighbors and their guests arbitrarily towed, even when they're not blocking a driveway. I’ll pause here to let that dastardly news sink in as it took me by surprise too. Actually, when I heard this news I needed a moment to myself while I sipped some hot Pekoe and listened to my Harry Connick Jr. CD.

In order for peace and love to prosper and prevail, I believe it to be imperative for each of us to give back and to be kind. This may be accomplished in simple ways but there are also specific actions which will, admittedly, take effort on the part of all involved.

An immediate solution, as proposed by some on the block, is to find the person/persons responsible and drive a truck through their living room. I feel that negative actions and mindsets are unproductive. (I learned that from a Tony Robbins book on tape)

A positive beginning would be to find this neighbor and educate him/her so that they might stop treating a parking space as though it’s a sacred Indian burial ground. (By Indian, I meant the casino owners, not the people who answer the Dell technical support hotline…sorry)

Having vehicles arbitrarily towed causes heartache, suffering and pain. Actually, I thought only my EX could stir such emotions now that I think about it. While $400 might not seem like much money to some, as might be the case to the territorial parking space miser, it IS a sizeable chunk of change to common folk.

Hypothetically, $400.00 might be better used by a fellow neighbor to do silly things. Perhaps it could be used to purchase a plane ticket so that a friend could go see a dieing relative. Forking over such an erroneous fine could literally cost one his/her opportunity to visit with a loved one to say goodbye before they slip away to the eternal parking paradise in the sky.

$400.00 could be used (for some) to fill a much needed, expensive, prescription in order to maintain some semblance of a healthy, pain free normal life.

While I’m not quite certain about my feelings as they pertain to the current Presidential administration’s handling of healthcare…I DO think Mrs. Obama is quite striking.

Unfortunately, she is in no position to purchase airline tickets or medicine and groceries for a total stranger in need. I sent a note last month to test my theory and was flatly rejected unfortunately. I did, however, receive a very nice ink pen with an eagle emblazoned down the side and a pack of Air Force One M &M‘s. The gentleman at the pawn shop felt that it wasn’t worth pawning though so I just ate the M&M’s and I use the pen to write checks, drawn on an account which is, ironically, $400 short.

Looks like the friends who needed help will just have to live with harsh reality...much like that of a 6-year old child who's evil uncle Lloyd told him that Santa Clause isn't real.

That being said, Obama-Care is far from coming to fruition, since there seems to be lots of political maneuvering, in-fighting and resistance on both sides of the aisle…fueled by powerful lobbyists on K Street and a ratings driven 24-hour news cycle. Ultimately, hard working, financially struggling Americans are left behind to bear the brunt of partisanship politics while grumpy neighbors have cars towed as they laugh menacingly while pulling the wings off of butterflies and pluck the whiskers from the innocent faces of little kitty cats.

A disturbing thought indeed. If we idly sit back and do nothing…then the terrorists win. Actually I have no proof to substantiate that claim, but it sounds effective when politicians use it.

Anyway, as a good neighbor, I wanted to alert you to the fact that someone on the block is out for blood where assumed parking spaces and towing are concerned and it‘s unnecessarily costing good people lots of money. I heard that the last vehicle that these people had towed cost a family their rent money. The man and woman had to take a 2nd job and they sold their child into slave labor in order to make the rent. I’m kidding...just trying to find humor in a bad situation. Actually the couple lost their house because of the fines and towing expense and the family now lives in a makeshift tent behind a vacant house in Mid-City.

We need to stop these tow-truck trigger happy guys before they requisition the city for a permit to build an alligator infested moat and a drawbridge.

Thanks for your time and please know that I look forward to being your neighbor. Perhaps you guys might come down the street for a BBQ sometime. Right now all I have is cat food and crackers but that will change once I make up the checking account deficit.

By the way my Crème Brulee is out of this world.

With much love and peace, I bid you a fantastic day.

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Dear Jim...

I don’t know why, but I’ve always taken time to read the advice columns in the paper. Dear Abby, Ask Amy, et al.

A friend of mine offers, what seems to be, a logical take as to why advice columns and programs are popular…Misery loves company.

Hearing of others’ trials and tribulations makes us feel better about our own situation.

Speaking of miserable company, my editor recently recommended that I install an “Ask Jim” button on the forthcoming website. I informed him that I was going to seek answers from an advice columnist as to how many years it takes a web designer to finish my website.

Taking his suggestion under consideration, I decided to scan the web for advice columns, so that I might practice. I came across a nice little site named Dear Mrs. Web…clever.

While she exhibits a smashing ability and unswerving compassion in her answers, I found myself with a different take on certain scenarios and situations with which they were tasked in solving...

And now, I shall dip my feet into the advice dispensing pool:

I love your columns! I am planning to marry the man of my dreams this August. Although his parents are wonderful, I'm a little concerned about the role that they still play in his life...particularly his mother. She still does my fiancé's laundry, cooks his lunches daily, and cleans his house. What do you think?

I think that you should stop using the stupidest word in the world... fiancé. It’s your boyfriend…we’re all well aware that two people are to be wed by simply announcing:

"Hey, me and Brad, my boyfriend, are getting married.”

We also understand that this translates into us dragging our ass down to Bed Bath and Beyond or Target to pick up some stupid frappuccino machine that you’ve placed on the registry. There’s no need for a title change as though someone just got a promotion to the second floor accounting department.

As far as your impending life of doom is concerned, your BOYFRIEND has Norman Bates written all over him. He, most likely, has the Oedipus Complex…which will not work out too well for your future father-in-law and he will probably stab you to death in the shower one day while wearing mother's dress.

I strongly advise you to break it off with him…right after he finishes his PBJ sandwich with the crust trimmed off. Try to touch base with him before mom puts him down for his nap.

There’s a girl I like who has a boyfriend. He plays on a team with me. He and I get along real well. She asked me if would I go out with her and I said that I would. I asked her about her relationship with her boyfriend. She said it was on again off again and she didn't know where it was going. I don’t really know what she wants from me. She is of a different race but it doesn’t seem to matter to her. I don’t know whether she is serious. What should I do?

On again, off again? Translation: “Off” again is the time that she spends casually having sex with someone other than her boyfriend (a sad truth about which he is either in denial or utterly in the dark...until she gives him crabs one day and blames it on the public toilet seat.)

Judging by your indecisiveness, sex will take about 3-minutes with you.

By the way, are you a member of the KKK? I noticed that you seem to have a problem with the race issue.

Look, she’s obviously looking to get some “strange” (“off again“) and you seem to be good friends with her man, since you play together on this mysterious “team” that you’ve cryptically alluded to in your email.

My advice is that as soon as you return from burning crosses at your clan rally you should initiate a 3-way with these two and everyone lives happily ever after. If you film it, I’d love to have a copy.

I always give a lot to my relationships, my husband, family members, and friends. I am starting to resent this because I don’t get much back. I hardly ever get what I really want. What should I do?

I’ll bet you were a joy at Christmas as a kid. Why doesn’t anyone like me???? Baaaahhhhhhhh!!! Shut up. NO ONE ever gets what they want all the time. I held the door open for everyone I encountered today, much like any other day. Not one of them said thank you but you don’t see me whining about it to an advice column. Instead, I smile, knowing that I did the right thing and then I say a silent prayer that they will all be smashed to death by an errant tree falling on their car.

I think you should move to the forest because if someone bitches in the forest and no one is there to hear it...there's no noise. By the way, watch out for falling trees.

What makes some people choke under stress?

Great question. I, uh…er, it’s really like this…um, well the thing is that…I mean what I’m trying to say is….Shit!

My sisters and I have settled the estate of my mother except for one item. Mom’s cookbooks. In particular one cookbook that Mom used and in which she modified recipes. My Mother was a phenomenal cook and this book is a real bone contention for us all. What should we do?

What????  Did your mother invent Kentucky Fried Chicken? Her last name wasn't Crocker, by chance?

It’s important to note that by tampering with copyrighted material (I.e. the cookbook) not only was your mom a culinary master, she’s also a Federal criminal. That being said, I have no doubt that she was a good cook, but treating a cookbook as though it were the Ark of the Covenant is a bit extreme.

Since your mom was, obviously, not the matriarch of a sibling brain trust, allow me to step in…Kinko’s has these real cool contraptions, they’re called copy machines. By the way, can you send me her recipe for Baked Alaska?

I just joined a great company but I have found one flaw: a co-worker who works no more than 3 hours in an 8-hour workday. She spends time at lunch, shopping, personal phone calls, and chatting with other workers. Her behavior makes me think she has no respect for her fellow co-workers. She has been here for two years and I just don't see how she keeps her job. Should I make waves and complain about her performance, or go with the flow?

I’ll bet everything I own that you were the hall monitor in school. By the way, your co-worker is my new hero. Mind your own business...I’m going to lunch.

I am a 27-year-old man interested in a woman at work. We are almost the same age and have an excellent work relationship. Due to sexual harassment laws and other workplace laws, it is difficult to ask someone out at work. How can I do this without risking my job?

Aaaaah…a tricky situation indeed. I’ve been there before.

Set up a meeting with your boss and tell him/her that your co-worker has been making you a bit uncomfortable lately. When going into detail, keep it simple, no need for an elaborate story.

Tell the boss that your co-worker regularly begs you to come over and participate in homemade “Skat” films and that you didn't see any harm in her invitation until you Googled "Skat." Explain that this caused additional stress since it now makes sense as to why she continually leaves love notes on your car…written on soiled toilet paper.

It is imperative for you to insist that your boss honor your anonymity.

Once your co-worker is fired, problem solved. Offer to console her and then ask her out on a date.

I work with a man who is self centered and conceited. He is also the department supervisor. He only talks about himself and never listens to anyone else. Since he is such a witty speaker, at first people are spellbound by his conversations. It begins to wear thin. He corners anyone and drones on for hours if allowed. How can we stop him?

Enough about you…let’s talk about me for a second.

I work with this woman, we’ll call her Lydia, who is constantly beating herself up about numerous personal and professional failures in her sad little life. No matter where fate finds her, she lands squarely amidst the stellar company of people who are abundantly successful and much more interesting than she.

Even though Lydia butts-in a lot while I’m trying to share some of MY past successes, hoping that it might extinguish the halo of inadequacy that hangs over her head, she simply doesn’t get it. I've spent hours at a time outlining my case to her.

Making matters worse, she’s not very witty. Anyway…what was your question again sweetie?

I run a child care business from my home and am most disturbed by my next door neighbor who sunbathes in her back yard with nothing on but a skimpy bikini. There is really not much room in between our houses and mothers of children have even mentioned it. I am embarrassed to say anything because it is her property.

Disturbing indeed!!! Especially if your neighbor is 80-years old. If she's young and hot, start selling Buffalo wings and pizza and watch how quickly the daddy’s volunteer to come pick up the kids. By the way, where do you live?

My neighbor next door has an uncovered well. It looks like a danger to the neighborhood children. I have asked him to cover it twice. Nothing has happened. What should I do?

What?? Is your next door neighbor’s house located within an episode of Lassie? Is little Timmy in the well? Honestly, WHO has a well in their yard?

I dread my father-in-law coming to visit us and I have to put up with it 4 or 5 times a year for 1 or 2 weeks at a time. I try to get along with him, but he is such a negative human being. He compares me to my husband's ex-wife. He likes her better and nothing I do seems to change his mind. He just doesn't like me and his mean comparisons hurt me.

I’ll bet your husband’s ex wife doesn’t complain as much as you do.

My sister-in-law is from a different country. When she breastfeeds my nephew she just opens up and pulls her breast out and feeds the baby. My family and friends aren't really used to that method. Whether we are visiting her at home or out and about, she will just pop them out. I have not quite been able to come up with a way to talk to her about this.

Funny...I never knew "breastfeeds" was one word until seeing your question. I like a little space between the breasts.

Breast OO Feeds

Anyway, I’ll speak with them…I mean, her…could you send a picture of them, I mean, her?

My name is Steve and I have a question regarding men's hairstyles. I am balding and decided four years ago to shave my head completely bald for a cleaner look. I received a lot of positive attention from women at the time, however, over the last year or so I have noticed more men with longer hair and women paying less attention to bald-headed men. Are bald-headed men out and longhaired guys in?

Yes, unfortunately you will probably never have sex again in your life because you’re bald Steve. You should probably turn gay since the gay community is much more accepting of balding men. Sorry Steve…ask a stupid question and…

I have been invited to my friend’s family for Easter. Should I bring a gift when I go? Any ideas of what would be appreciated?

Bring a life size statue of Pontius Pilate with a sign around his neck exclaiming “The reason for the season.” I shall pause here for the bible scholars to gasp and sentence me to hell…the rest of you can look it up in a book.

Which are better, cats or dogs


I want to send flowers to a woman that I have recently met. What special day should I choose to do so, Easter or Mother’s Day? I am not sending for each occasion

My, you are quite the thrifty gent aren't you? While I could ponder your logic for not sending flowers for both dates, or WHY you picked either of these dates, quite honestly I find you to be boring. You should probably kill yourself...that way, perhaps, she'll send YOU flowers.

I came home today to discover that my son’s goldfish, Nemo, was floating upside down at the top of the aquarium….he was dead. How should I go about explaining this to him?

Allow me to commend you on a unique name for the goldfish. I’m also pleased that you clarified that Nemo was, in fact, dead. Now I will be better prepared in understanding what an upside down floating goldfish indicates should I ever find myself in this dire situation.

Honesty is the best policy, but, in a delicate fashion for this particular dilemma. Explain to your son that this is simply the way of the world, the natural succession of life. I will provide a sample script for you as a helpful template in getting the ball rolling:

“Son, Nemo had a great life, but this is the way life goes. Our loved ones aren’t going to be with us forever…as a matter of fact your grandpa is probably going to leave us next, as he’s not doing too well right now. That’s not your fault. Even though you overfed Nemo, after your mother and I repeatedly told you not to overfeed him, his death is not your fault either…you didn’t hold a gun to his head and make him gorge himself to death.” You live and you learn...unless you're little Nemo.

I suggest that you share some quality family time at the dinner table after your discussion to sooth your son’s mind. I recommend the pepper encrusted salmon with a bottle of Rodney Strong.

And with that, the story of little Nemo reminds me that it's time to eat, drink a few shots and cry uncontrollably in the corner of my living room until I pass out.

I'm not sure that "Dear Abby" can unravel my issues but, according to my horoscope, tomorrow is supposed to be a grand day :)

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010