Friday, June 24, 2011
What I Meant To Say Was...
I maintain a file which contains much of my interaction via text, email and instant messages.
Sometimes I look back on them for story ideas, but mainly I figure that keeping such files will make it easier on legal officials when they come for me. It seemed to work smashingly for President Nixon.
Another Blown Deadline:
From: Mike
I know you’ve been off for a week, but your 1st draft of the next piece was due Tuesday
From: Jim
Could you specify which Tuesday?
From: Mike
You know which Tuesday. This past Tuesday.
From: Jim
Your incorrect present-past subjunctive use of the words “This” and “Past” have confused me. Please clarify.
From: Mike
Tuesday, the 5th
From: Jim
Of which month??
From: Mike
October!
From: Jim
Very well. Sorry about that. I’ll have something for you on or about this previous, past Tuesday-week...oh, in the month of October. Sorry for the confusion.
In the meantime, I just ordered a very nice (leather-bound) day-planner for your Christmas present/past/future!!
OPEN WIDE AND SAY Aaaaah:
Admittedly, I have an aversion to doctor visits, which is precisely why I was kidnapped and forced (at gunpoint) to “go for a ride.” I had been avoiding it for a while. Here’s the way it unfolded one afternoon last fall, via text msg:
Amanda:
Um, we’re goin to the doc tmrrw
Me:
Can we go for a late breakfast and then visit the huge thrift store on Jeff Davis Pky also? The savings NEVER stop at the thrift store, don’t you agree?
Amanda:
Yes, and anything else you can think of to put off going to the doc
Me:
I’m actually feeling better. I have a friend who can get me a prescription from Canada.
Amanda:
You’re going to the doc TMRRW!
Me:
Why do you hate Canada?
Amanda:
TOMORROW!
Me:
I need to run a few errands first. Can we make a couple of stops?
Amanda:
I suppose so…where?
Me:
Baton Rouge, Memphis, Pensacola and Houston
Amanda:
Breakfast, doc’s office and, if you behave, the thrift store
Me:
I think I have to help a friend of mine tomorrow actually
Amanda:
With what??
Me:
He’s moving his entire house. The crane is scheduled to arrive @9am. I suggested he just light the place on fire but he's scared of his insurance adjuster. Primarily, he's scared of going to prison for insurance fraud. Actually he's afraid of prison sex. Not me...as long as it's with the right person.
Amanda:
See you at 9am!
Me:
Do you think Cialis is right for me?
Amanda:
Do you have erectile dysfunction?
Me:
Only when the old lady across the street undresses in front of her window. BTW, if my erection DID last for 7-hours, I would definitely call my doctor...she's smokin' HOT!!!
Amanda:
I’ll see you at 9am.
Me:
I’m really feeling much better. Honest.
HALLOWEEN COSTUME PLANNING
I absolutely hate being invited to Halloween parties, mainly because I don't want to dress up. I usually show up in regular clothes and, inevitably, someone asks "What are YOU dressed up as??"
I usually inform them that I'm dressed as someone who wants to be left alone.
Stephanie
Are you dressing up for Halloween??
JIM
Yes and No
Stephanie
????
JIM
Did your computer key stick on the question mark?????
Stephanie
Very funny…I meant what does it mean that, yes and no, you’re dressing up for Halloween
JIM
I knew what you meant…I just wanted to make you type it…and so, I just won a bet that you would do so. It's pretty boring here this afternoon.
Stephanie
Glad I could help. How much did you win?
JIM
17-thousand dollars.
Stephanie
Nice! So how are you dressing up and NOT dressing up?
JIM
I’m going nude this year. So I AM and, technically, am NOT dressing up for Halloween.
Stephanie
Seriously?????
JIM
Of course not…I’ll wear shoes. Do you think Doc Martins make my feet look too big?
Stephanie
Funny! What’s the theme of your costume…what are you supposed to be?
JIM
Social misfit…with shoes.
Stephanie
You gonna wear socks?
JIM
Judging by the expected weather forecast, as it relates to the evening temperature, yes…most likely on my private parts.
Stephanie
You gotta take pics!!
JIM
I’m confident that the authorities will have that task covered. Can you bail me out of jail later Sunday evening?
Stephanie
Sure.
WRITING PROOF...POSITIVE???
Rikki
I like the latest writing proof. Very funny stuff.
Jim
Thank you...and now I shall walk away from it and continue tomorrow morning, provided that I don’t find myself brutally murdered before then.
Rikki
Is there a non-brutal way to be killed?
Jim
Depends on who you ask. For instance, if you're reading politically skewed numbers from government crime statistics, brutal crimes are down. Try telling that to the guy who just got beaten to death with a window washing squeegee in an altercation at the local gas station.
Rikki
How do you know someone just got beaten to death with a squeegee @the gas station?
Jim
Because I asked him to pull forward 2 times at the pump so I could get gas. I don't ask three times...I take action.
Rikki
I don't know why I even bother asking for your logic. Are u watching the World Series at Finn's this afternoon?
Jim
Not sure yet. I MAY go downtown in a while…Its nice outside
Rikki
When you texted a minute ago, i was sitting in the gazebo with a book and a butterfly was wistfully flitting around me.
Jim
Did you kill it??? I hope so
Rikki
nah, it was panicking, looking for a way out of the gazebo's netting. i just watched it frantically searching for an exit
Jim
Sounds like my life
Rikki
yes, the metaphor was not lost on me either
The Savings NEVER End!!
I’m lucky to have thoughtful friends, especially when they text to ask if I need anything from one of those super-crazy DEEP discount stores.
From: Leigh
Hey, I’m at Sam’s Club…didn’t you say you needed something the other day?
From: Jim
Indeed…I said I needed to have sex.
From: Leigh
I was thinking more along the line of retail needs
From: Jim
I’ll pay for it.
From: Leigh
LOL. If you think of retail store items, I’ll be here for a little while, just text me.
From: Jim
Yes, I need some Creole mustard…how much is it?
From: Leigh
$2.00 for a small jar.
From: Jim
AMAZING!!! At a price like that, I’ll take 50 of them! HOW DO they do it?? So many low prices and not enough room in my pantry!!
From: Leigh
I’ll get ONE. Hey, they have some pretty cool candles for cheap…you want one??
From: Jim
No, I still have several candles left over from the ritualistic sacrifice. Hey, do you know what works best to remove blood stains from fabric, flooring and counter-tops?
From: Leigh
I’ll check the cleaning aisle. I‘ll stop by on the way home to drop the stuff off.
From: Jim
Excellent. Grab some pop tarts too if the Sam’s Club is running one of their “We’ve gone insane with our prices in order to destroy small business” sales.
Tell Me A Little Bit About Yourself...Ugh!!
I’m very uneasy about contributing to an autobiographical piece. I never know what to say about myself…at least anything that’s appropriate for print.
Lynn:
I’m working up your bio for the publisher guy and have some questions. Do you think you can behave long enough to answer them?
Jim:
Absolutely. I’m just chillin’ eating some Doritos and bean dip. How DO they make these things SO damn tasty? BTW, Judge Judy is being kind of a bitch today.
Lynn
I need a subject line for the proposal follow up email
Me
Subject line: FREE ORAL SEX!!!
Lynn
please tell me you're kidding and give some real guidance on the subject line…I’m running late
Me
While I think that my previous suggestion would make for a good and effective subject line...let me think of something which would be more acceptable. I’ll do so by keeping my mother in mind as a filter template
Lynn
i need to wrap this email up…hurry
Me
Subject Line: My son has only 5 days to live…PLEASE HELP!!!!
Lynn
Uh…
Me
I like to involve an urgent call to action in a subject line…too strong??
Lynn
Just a little
Lynn
Do something serious, something that will compel him to read it.
Me
Subject Line: There’s a bomb located on the first floor…read further for instructions
Lynn
Yeah, just what we need…do something that doesn’t threaten the guy’s life please?
Me
Subject Line: There is a bomb located in your wife’s car…read further for instructions
Lynn
How about this... Subject Line: Follow Up Email
Me
Brilliant!!! That is a true, compelling work of art!! It is, indeed, both an email AND a follow up message…how did it come to you to place the two together in a subject line? You're like a Reese's peanut butter cup of the literary world. Bravo!!!
Lynn
Smartass
Me
Glad I could help. How about this…
Subject Line: Please read this as it took 10-minutes to come up with a subject line
Lynn
I don’t think so. I gotta go to the restroom…brb
Me
Number one or number two?
Love is in the air...and online:
I made a new Internet friend. She emailed me in response to a bogus Craig’s List personal ad that I posted.
Kassie:
You’re cute…So, what is a typical date like with you?
Jim:
I like to dress in a pirate costume that I wore for Halloween when I was 13. Sure, it doesn’t fit…but, it doesn’t fit in the right places if ya’ know what I mean.
I also own a submarine so I like to take my date to the bottom of the lake where we dine on Mrs. Paul's fish sticks and seaweed salad.
After dinner I put in my all time favorite movie, Finding Nemo. Then we retire to the bunk beds (I like to be on top BTW.) Then, ideally, we sing the entire soundtrack to the little Mermaid.
Kassie:
Uh, ok…that sounds interesting. What exactly do you DO for a living. Just curious.
Jim:
I’m a roller coaster operator at Disney World.
Kassie:
Oh, you live in Orlando?
Jim:
No. I would never live in Florida, I’m scared of sand…and retired people.
I’ve been using my spare time working on a master plan to overthrow the Neighborhood Association because I'm much too lazy to overthrow a government. Besides, in overthrowing a government, genocide is just too messy for me.
BTW, since I’m on several law enforcement watch-lists, you would be perfectly safe with me at all times. Plus, my therapist thinks a date would do me some good.
Would you like to have dinner soon??
The strands of instant messages, texts and emails go on and on and on…But, I figured I’d close with a few birthday sentiments.
Anyone who knows me well is aware of my deep desire to write greeting cards for one of the major card companies. Therefore, I practice on my friends so that I might be able to hit the ground running when I get that BIG call from Hallmark:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY RIKKI
Greetings!! Since I happen to know that you’re a voracious reader, and I’m suffering from writer’s block, I was tempted to bang out the traditional “quick hit” (Happy B’Day) sentiments.
After careful consideration, I decided to share a little birthday story about a friend of mine.
We’ll call him Terrence. Primarily, because that’s his real name.
Terrence happens to share the same birthday as you, April 4th! Since I’m reeeally bad with remembering dates, this makes it easy to remember YOUR special day.
Yes indeed, April 4th…The same day in which the world was introduced to the delightfully splendid force which embodies the fortunate existence of Ms. Rikki Gee.
For Terrence, it wasn’t such a happy day at all.
You see, Terrence struggled for money over a better part of his life until, one day, it all turned around when he hit the Deuces Wild poker machine for $1,500 at a Mid City bar.
He employed the financial logic to which many New Orleanians subscribe; he threw caution to the wind by forgoing basic physical and discretionary necessities in life…
Food
Shelter
Children’s school tuition
Water
Dancing With The Stars
Glee
He inserted his entire paycheck into a poker machine.
Upon collecting his unexpected reward, Terrence tipped the bartender and did what anyone who comes into a large sum of money would do…he purchased a hooker at the corner of Tulane and South Cortez Street.
Shanda** and Terrence hit it off quite famously!
**Not her real name-- In the interest of protecting her customers; including an unnamed United States Senator from Louisiana. (Which rhymes with “Twitter’)
Due to some wise investments on Terrence’s part and Shanda’s booming business (She’s really good at what she does…Um, I’ve been told) the happy, entrepreneurial couple lived a comfortable lifestyle.
They decided to reward themselves by taking a long overdue vacation to Venice, Italy for Terrence‘s birthday.
At this point, It’s important to note TWO characteristics about Terrence:
He’s 6-foot 4-inches in height and weighs about 128-pounds.**
**Picture a pool cue with a head, ears and big feet. Oh, and a really dumb looking moustache and eyeglasses.
He also has a wandering eye…especially for ladies in low-cut blouses.
As Terrance and Shanda enjoyed a birthday gondola ride through the serene and romantic waterways of Venice, a lovely young woman caught his eye from the top of a levee.
Sadly, in the absence of his forward attention, Terrence was instantly decapitated by a waterway bridge on this magical day…the date of birth which you both share.
Shanda was horrified as she held Terrence’s severed head in her bloody lap.
She quickly scrambled to the back of the gondola, trying to escape in Jacqueline Kennedy fashion as the row-master frantically tried to pull her back into the boat.
In the tussle, Terrence’s head accidentally dropped to the boat deck and bounced over the edge into the magnificently, mystical Venetian canal where it was immediately eaten by a school of hunger ravaged intra-coastal sea bass.
Since I am a well known animal lover, Terrence had always made it perfectly clear that his beloved weenie dog (Beanie) be remanded to my custody. He also left me his pornographic DVD collection.
In other birthday news, sadly, Beanie passed away this morning at 7am.
He was struck by a Zapp’s Potato Chip delivery truck** as he was doing his business on the corner of South Broad and Canal Street.
**I just LOVE the kettle cooked Cajun BBQ chips!
Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your celebrations. By the way, I have a real bizarre story to share with you when I see you later this evening.
In the meantime, I bid you sincere wishes for a happy birthday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHILLIP!
Glancing at the calendar on my phone today, I noticed that it’s your special day!!!
Noticing today’s date also triggered thoughts of deep importance that I feel strongly about sharing with you, since you’re a very dear friend…
I need to pay my cable bill.
I must admit, I have a terrible memory when it comes to dates…especially on or about the 1st of each month; a fact which my landlord will readily confirm.
Happily, my new, fancy phone has helped me to remember things a great deal more these days.
My mother and father tried to break me from my calendar mental block, employing such tactics as rubbing my nose in dog poo. This method didn’t help me to remember dates at all, and it is the primary reason that I do not like dogs to this day.
Somehow my next door neighbor, Elizabeth, thought it would be a good idea for me to look after her pet cat, Pookie, while she went on vacation last month.
It’s important to note two things:
1. Elizabeth is aware of my forgetting important dates
2. Elizabeth has incredible breasts
Oh, and Elizabeth’s cat had a medical condition which required a strict schedule of life-saving medication as she recovered from some disease which I cannot pronounce.
Sadly, Pookie has used up her allotment of 9 lives.
I don’t want to spoil your special day so I’ll make a long story short. Plus, there’s a slight legal action pending and I’ve been advised to say as little as possible about the topic.
Anyway, I’m glad that I remembered your birthday and I hope that it is a wonderful day filled with all that you desire; surrounded by friends, family and, hopefully, disease free felines.
By the way, if you try to call me, I’ve lost my phone somewhere this afternoon.
Happy Birthday!
And finally...one more bit of fun with Mike, the editor. By the way ladies, he's single! His hobbies include being obtuse, collecting ceramic Asian figurines and line-dancing.
When he's not busy picking apart those around him, he loves spending long afternoons in the park flying box-kites and generally giving female joggers the creeps.
His favorite foods are Kraft Lunchables and the souls of aspiring writers...and he's an above average domino player. Hollah!
Mike:
Against my better judgment, I’m sending you an email; I should just post this directly to your Facebook page or blog…since I know it’ll end up there anyway. Can you call me this afternoon please?
Me:
That’s rather presumptive of you. I have no plans to publicly post your emails to the Internet. As far as the phone call, I cant call this afternoon.
Mike:
Why Not??
Me:
I just watched a report on CNN which provided rock solid proof that cell phones are directly tied to brain cancer. I’m scared to use my phone now.
Mike:
Just ONCE, do you think it would be possible to submit a writing draft on time???
Me:
Speaking of cell phones, I want to do a story about AT&T. They’re not raising the bar…they’re lowering the bar as far as I’m concerned. It’s like a virtual limbo contest trying to get a signal anywhere in this town!
Mike:
Stop changing the subject…your drafts are always LATE.
Me:
They’re fashionably late. It’s an endearing quality…according to the cornerstone of numerous “chick flicks.”
Mike:
It’s NOT endearing in the least.
Me:
Tell that to film directors Rob Reiner and Penny Marshall.
Mike:
Yeah? Paris Hilton subscribes to “fashionably late” philosophy, and you can’t stand HER.
Me:
Yes, but she’s a ho. I give ho’s a free pass. Speaking of ho’s, who was that woman I spotted you with in the French Quarter on Friday night???
Mike:
Uh, that was my sister a**hole! She’s visiting from California.
Me:
Can you give her my cell phone number? I would consider ignoring the CNN cell phone/cancer report for her. Not for Paris Hilton though. Please inform your sister that this is a major compliment to her.
Mike:
Can you pleeeeeease submit a draft this week??
Me:
You misspelled please.
Mike:
The next piece is for MONEY. What part of getting paid doesn’t appeal to you??
Me:
I’m independently wealthy. Btw, you tend to overuse the question mark a lot. Are you sure that you’re a legitimate editor??????????????????????
Mike:
Independently wealthy, huh? You borrowed $50 bucks from me on Tuesday!!!
Me:
Which reminds me…can I borrow $30-dollars???????????????????
Mike:
I give up. I’m calling you right now.
Me:
Give me 5-minutes…I need to send your sister a friend request…and I need to post your emails to my Facebook page.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Spring Has Sprung...A Leak
I was a late bloomer…in many areas.
For instance, before I finally experienced the pre-teen growth spurt, I was one of the smallest kids in grade school.
Being a smaller kid, my classmates treated me accordingly... they selected me last in gym class, they routinely made derogatory sexual remarks about my mother, they creamed me in the head with objects such as dodge balls, baseballs, cafeteria trays, textbooks, lunch-boxes, etc.
They also stole my milk money, shot me with pellet guns, threw blazing hot marshmallows at me during summer camp, pushed me INTO the campfire and shot me again with pellet guns as I tucked and rolled in order to extinguish my burning clothes…typical kid stuff.
Those remain some of my fondest memories to this day and, I believe, made me the normal adult that I am today.
I held little interest in academics until much later than many of my classmates. That is, until my mother and father employed effective guidance and incentive methods which nurtured and encouraged me to excel so that I might make the most of my academic experience.
They shipped me away to Miss Doris' Child Education Enrichment Home for the summer. Miss Doris was a good teacher and often beat me repeatedly with sticks if I missed any questions on my multiplication tables.
Of course, she wrapped the sticks in heavy cloth so as not to leave noticeable marks-- thus avoiding suspicion from the neighbors, Child Protective Services and school officials.
I must admit, this program worked better than Hooked On Phonics. ®
I’m kidding, of course; she didn’t cover the sticks with cloth at all.
Another area in my fallow little coming of age garden of weeds was in the dating department. As was the case with a few of my friends, I never really dated much until just after graduating from high school.
I had sex far earlier than my friend Kenny Melvin. Kenny was an honor student and a serious Dungeons & Dragons player, which largely explains why he often got his head dunked in the boy's room toilet. Of course, he also owns about a billion shares in Microsoft.
I'd say he got the last laugh.
I often longingly think back to my first sexual experience. It was the evening of Mike McClain’s 18th birthday party. For the record, my experience was NOT with Mike; it was with a woman named Angel Hendricks.
I remember it being a tender, deep and loving moment in time under the romantic canvas of a partially cloudy evening in the silvery glow of a breezy springtime moon; an intense moment which is shared between a boy and a girl who’ve just met for the first time.
As many romantic evenings from my adolescence began, Angel and I consumed large quantities of grape Kool-Aid which was infused with pure grain alcohol. We scooped cup after cup from a giant 30-gallon Rubbermaid trash barrel until Angel violently puked her guts up.
I lovingly held her hair away from the projectile vomit which twinkled in the light of the luminous midnight sky, as barely recognizable fragments of the Taco Bell Burrito Supreme trickled down the side of the neighbor‘s Dodge Caravan.
It was at that moment when I knew that Angel and I were meant to be together.
Yes indeed! Tonight would be the night when a boy became a man! It was like the Lion King…only less commercialized and not appropriate for Burger King Kid's Meal action figures.
My first sexual experience was nothing short of…well it WAS, in fact, short now that I think about it. As I recall, I lasted just past the second verse of Chicago‘s “When You Love Somebody.“**
**Note: “Short” is in reference to chronology…NOT my equipment.
As a background note, Angel was Mike McClain’s 40-year old step mother-- but that’s a story best suited for another writing.
I came of age when it was deemed taboo to receive “the talk” from an adult figure. The very thought of human sexuality chit-chat between adult and child was an uncomfortable venture for parental figures, except for my friend, Darrin.
Darrin’s Uncle Larry and Aunt Helen never missed an opportunity to explain the “birds and the bees” to he and the other neighborhood children.
They did so in great detail as I recall and, on numerous occasions, they even invited several other kids and adults for sleepovers at their house.
This exercise came complete with live demonstrations and they even allowed us to view late night Cinemax movies!
Darrin’s Aunt Helen and Uncle Lawrence eventually drew interest from local authorities as to their sex-ed techniques before suddenly disappearing into the back of a police van one day. The cops even took their video equipment!
Someone recently informed me that Darrin was in therapy until age 30 for some reason.
You can imagine my surprise when my friend, Michelle, asked if I would sit down and have “the talk” with her 12-year old son, Jack. My own parents never had that chat with me! Where is Angel, Ron Jeremy, Aunt Helen and Uncle Lawrence when I need them???
One would think that, after my last interaction with Jack in assisting with his homework assignments, Michelle would have learned her lesson.
I learned about sex as many other guys did; via the time honored system of “trial and error.” As a young man, the women in my life were quite helpful in guiding me through this exercise by means of helpful and guiding instructions. Such as:
Nope…it’s not there
Can we shoot for 3-minutes this time?
Uh, it’s not there either
2-minutes and 45 seconds is progress sweetie…you’ll do better next time
Why do you have a Chicago cassette tape???
WAIT! Not there!! NO not there!!! Higher!! (gasp) DEAR GOD! That hurts!!!
I tactfully explained to Michelle that I was in the middle of an important project which strictly prohibited me from talking with children.
She didn’t seem to buy-in to that story.
Michelle is a nurse and possesses numerous medical and human physiology reference books so I figured that this might provide guidance which would help to better explain “things” to young Jack, in clinical fashion.
As I thumbed through one of the reference books, I did what any guy would do…I immediately turned to the section containing explicit photos of female genitalia and boobies...uh, I mean, breasts.
Unfortunately, as these things go, explicit pictures of human genitalia in medical reference guides are usually those of a severe medical nature. (i.e genitalia which have been run over by a dump truck or accidentally shredded in a freak food processor accident)
Finally, I owned the duty and responsibility as a man should; I decided that I must find a stand-in to do the job for me.
My friend Ed!!! He’s savvy with kids. He’s a father and he’s a pretty hip guy. Ed would be the PERFECT candidate.
I joined Edward for a beer and informed him of my dilemma.
Ed’s first sexual experience was nothing short of brilliant. His was the sort of encounter of which romance novels are made.
As Ed was (prematurely) finishing his business, he and his young lady friend were busted by the police in his truck behind the Burlington Coat Factory-- both were naked and in possession of a partially consumed 12-pack of beer and two McDonald‘s Extra Value Meals.
If I were Ed, I would have married this woman. Nonetheless, I suspected that Ed might not be the right person to educate young Jack…at least by Michelle’s stringent standards.
After hours of racking my brain, it finally hit me! The perfect candidate to assist in explanation of human sexuality to Jack was hiding in plain sight. My friend Todd!
Todd is a professional writer of epic historical and political thrillers…plus he’s had short stories published in the Penthouse Forum, which makes him my hero.
Todd has also had sex with approximately 5-thousand women, which makes him an expert on the topic.
Aside from the fact that he currently engages in sexual activity with his wife, Melissa (who hates me) I felt comfortable in enlisting Todd’s expertise in educating Jack.
I met up with Todd to explain the situation and we decided to employ the tag-team buddy system in sitting down with Jack:
Todd: Hey Jackson…how ya’ doin' buddy?
Jack: (intently focused on his Halo video game) I’m good.
Me: You mean that you’re WELL.
Todd: Don’t be a word-snob douche bag
Jack: What's a douche bag??
Me: A nickname for my editor...Listen, Jack, this is my buddy Todd and he has something to chat with you about. I’ve gotta leave for a day or so but I'll see you soon.
Todd: (Forcefully grabs my shirt, dragging me back into the room, causing me to spill my cocktail.)
Jack: Are you guys drunk?
Me: What’s that got to do with anything???
Todd: Um, Jack…what Jim is saying is that your mother thought that it might be a good idea for he and I to sit down to answer any questions that you might have about girls, romance, gentlemanly manners, dating, vaginas, G-spots, English League soccer and other manly stuff like that.
Me: You forgot backdoor sex
Todd: (Shooting me an evil glare)
Jack: What’s a G-spot?
Me: It’s like hitting all deuces on the video poker machine; it's elusive but it pays off BIG when you find it...sort of like the premise for all of the Indiana Jones movies.
Jack: Cool...are there snakes???
Me: So to speak.
At this point Todd punched me in the arm, causing me to spill the remainder of my cocktail.
It's important to know that Todd is the father of two young children...one of which is a beautiful little girl. He's convinced that any man who enters her life will be nothing short of Charles Manson...at least in his mind.
Todd: Um, what Jim is trying to say is...well, sometimes boys and girls develop feelings for one another and the emotions that they feel might cause them to take things to more of a physical nature.
Jack: Like riding bikes together or tubing on the river??
Me: Helmets and rubber objects are, indeed, part of it.
Todd: (Throwing a couch cushion at me) Uh, yeah, spending time together doing fun stuff is a part of it. But, sometimes it gets a little more physically closer.
Jack: You mean sex!
I would give everything I own to have a picture of the expression on Todd's face. I almost peed my pants at this point.
Todd: No! NO! That's not what I mean at all! As a matter of fact, boys and girls shouldn't have sex until they're in a long-term relationship.
Jack: How does a guy know when it's a long-term relationship??
Me: When the man finally realizes that he has no more game and reluctantly gives up-- accepting defeat.
He then settles down with a woman who seems lovely during the period of blinding romantic bliss, only she devolves into someone who incessantly picks apart his every shortcoming, guilting him into purchasing lots of expensive clothes for her from chic boutiques.
He does so in order to gain some peace and quiet so that he might sit on the couch and watch a football game for once without being on the receiving end of an onslaught of stupid questions which come out of her mouth with the heart-stopping equivalent of fingernails scraping across a blackboard.
He'll regularly be forced to forego attendance at sporting events with his buddies in order to tag along to a wine and cheese tasting social at an art gallery as a harsh reality sets in that he's slowly sinking up to his eyeball sockets in debt from a mortgage which is far above his means.
He eventually begins to spend many hours at the end of a dark, lonely pub, wondering where and when it all went wrong for him in life, tossing around the pros and cons of divorce.
The primary problem being that his lady paid for a large portion of his student loans until she became pregnant, so he realizes that this will not look favorable to a man-hating jurist in family court. Actually, Todd, perhaps you can offer better hands-on expertise here.
Todd: (Shooting me another evil glare)
Jack: I see men and women having sex right away on TV. Why do I have to wait??
Todd: Because God sends young men to Hell if they have sex with a vulnerable, innocent, beautiful young girl. You don't want to spend an eternity in a tortuous burning lake of fire do you?
Me: (Grabbing Todd's arm) Uh, Jack, will you excuse Todd and I for a second?
I quickly ushered Todd to the kitchen.
Me: Have you lost your mind?
Todd: Did you see that kid's wheels turning?? He's a sex monster!! I don't want my daughter anywhere around this kid!
Me: Your daughter is SIX!
Todd: Even worse!
Me: Um, I think I'll take it from here.
We returned to the living room to resume the education of young Jack.
Me: Listen, Jack, when a boy and girl have feelings for one another it can be a beautiful experience like none other. But, you have to be responsible about it.
Jack: How?
Me: Well, no matter how strong the urge may be, never, EVER have sex with your girlfriend's best friend...no matter how many times she assures you that she'll never say a word to your girlfriend. Oh, and ALWAYS be suspicious of men named Carlos.
Jack: Why?
Me: Because guys named Carlos, especially if they work in the same office with your lady friend, will innocently offer to give her a ride to and from work. They'll cheerfully and dismissively insist:
"Hey...It's on the way, so it's not a problem to swing by; why not save a cab fare?"
They also work out a lot and wear excessive amounts of hair gel.
Next thing you know, Carlos is talking on the phone with your lady friend at odd hours and then you find receipts hidden in the dresser drawer from an out of the way little trendy coffee house, an outlet store near the beach, the art museum, some cozy little pizza shop on the opposite side of town and so on.
You'll then begin to notice a distant air about her until, one day, you walk in early from work and there they are...writhing around in a twisted, disgusting, sweaty, naked...
Todd: Uh, Jim, could I see you in the kitchen for a second please??
After about 5-minutes or so, Todd and I returned to the living room, where Jack had a little surprise of his own.
Jack: Actually, Miss Hansen, my health and wellness teacher, says that talkin' about sex and having babies and stuff isn't really a one-time talk. She says it's an ongoing process and if I have questions I should ask.
I know where babies come from, but I'm not really interested in hangin' out with girls or dating or anything right now. Besides, all the girls I know don't like to play video games and they pretty much suck at basketball. If it's cool with you guys, I can ask you guys sometime if I find a girl who's pretty cool to hang out with...if that'd be okay?
Todd: Uh, yeah...of course. That's cool Jack.
Me: Absolutely! I'm glad we chatted about this. Listen, I don't think there's any need to share our chat this afternoon with your mom. Let's just keep it between us guys.
Jack: No worries...that's cool. Thanks guys.
Todd and I breathed a sigh of relief as we returned to the kitchen, where we found Michelle and Todd's wife, Melissa, standing there staring at us with a pinpoint-laser, judgmental glare.
Later that evening, after we dumped Todd's overnight bag at my house, Todd and I found ourselves sitting at the end of a dark, lonely pub, wondering where and when it all went wrong.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
For instance, before I finally experienced the pre-teen growth spurt, I was one of the smallest kids in grade school.
Being a smaller kid, my classmates treated me accordingly... they selected me last in gym class, they routinely made derogatory sexual remarks about my mother, they creamed me in the head with objects such as dodge balls, baseballs, cafeteria trays, textbooks, lunch-boxes, etc.
They also stole my milk money, shot me with pellet guns, threw blazing hot marshmallows at me during summer camp, pushed me INTO the campfire and shot me again with pellet guns as I tucked and rolled in order to extinguish my burning clothes…typical kid stuff.
Those remain some of my fondest memories to this day and, I believe, made me the normal adult that I am today.
I held little interest in academics until much later than many of my classmates. That is, until my mother and father employed effective guidance and incentive methods which nurtured and encouraged me to excel so that I might make the most of my academic experience.
They shipped me away to Miss Doris' Child Education Enrichment Home for the summer. Miss Doris was a good teacher and often beat me repeatedly with sticks if I missed any questions on my multiplication tables.
Of course, she wrapped the sticks in heavy cloth so as not to leave noticeable marks-- thus avoiding suspicion from the neighbors, Child Protective Services and school officials.
I must admit, this program worked better than Hooked On Phonics. ®
I’m kidding, of course; she didn’t cover the sticks with cloth at all.
Another area in my fallow little coming of age garden of weeds was in the dating department. As was the case with a few of my friends, I never really dated much until just after graduating from high school.
I had sex far earlier than my friend Kenny Melvin. Kenny was an honor student and a serious Dungeons & Dragons player, which largely explains why he often got his head dunked in the boy's room toilet. Of course, he also owns about a billion shares in Microsoft.
I'd say he got the last laugh.
I often longingly think back to my first sexual experience. It was the evening of Mike McClain’s 18th birthday party. For the record, my experience was NOT with Mike; it was with a woman named Angel Hendricks.
I remember it being a tender, deep and loving moment in time under the romantic canvas of a partially cloudy evening in the silvery glow of a breezy springtime moon; an intense moment which is shared between a boy and a girl who’ve just met for the first time.
As many romantic evenings from my adolescence began, Angel and I consumed large quantities of grape Kool-Aid which was infused with pure grain alcohol. We scooped cup after cup from a giant 30-gallon Rubbermaid trash barrel until Angel violently puked her guts up.
I lovingly held her hair away from the projectile vomit which twinkled in the light of the luminous midnight sky, as barely recognizable fragments of the Taco Bell Burrito Supreme trickled down the side of the neighbor‘s Dodge Caravan.
It was at that moment when I knew that Angel and I were meant to be together.
Yes indeed! Tonight would be the night when a boy became a man! It was like the Lion King…only less commercialized and not appropriate for Burger King Kid's Meal action figures.
My first sexual experience was nothing short of…well it WAS, in fact, short now that I think about it. As I recall, I lasted just past the second verse of Chicago‘s “When You Love Somebody.“**
**Note: “Short” is in reference to chronology…NOT my equipment.
As a background note, Angel was Mike McClain’s 40-year old step mother-- but that’s a story best suited for another writing.
I came of age when it was deemed taboo to receive “the talk” from an adult figure. The very thought of human sexuality chit-chat between adult and child was an uncomfortable venture for parental figures, except for my friend, Darrin.
Darrin’s Uncle Larry and Aunt Helen never missed an opportunity to explain the “birds and the bees” to he and the other neighborhood children.
They did so in great detail as I recall and, on numerous occasions, they even invited several other kids and adults for sleepovers at their house.
This exercise came complete with live demonstrations and they even allowed us to view late night Cinemax movies!
Darrin’s Aunt Helen and Uncle Lawrence eventually drew interest from local authorities as to their sex-ed techniques before suddenly disappearing into the back of a police van one day. The cops even took their video equipment!
Someone recently informed me that Darrin was in therapy until age 30 for some reason.
You can imagine my surprise when my friend, Michelle, asked if I would sit down and have “the talk” with her 12-year old son, Jack. My own parents never had that chat with me! Where is Angel, Ron Jeremy, Aunt Helen and Uncle Lawrence when I need them???
One would think that, after my last interaction with Jack in assisting with his homework assignments, Michelle would have learned her lesson.
I learned about sex as many other guys did; via the time honored system of “trial and error.” As a young man, the women in my life were quite helpful in guiding me through this exercise by means of helpful and guiding instructions. Such as:
Nope…it’s not there
Can we shoot for 3-minutes this time?
Uh, it’s not there either
2-minutes and 45 seconds is progress sweetie…you’ll do better next time
Why do you have a Chicago cassette tape???
WAIT! Not there!! NO not there!!! Higher!! (gasp) DEAR GOD! That hurts!!!
I tactfully explained to Michelle that I was in the middle of an important project which strictly prohibited me from talking with children.
She didn’t seem to buy-in to that story.
Michelle is a nurse and possesses numerous medical and human physiology reference books so I figured that this might provide guidance which would help to better explain “things” to young Jack, in clinical fashion.
As I thumbed through one of the reference books, I did what any guy would do…I immediately turned to the section containing explicit photos of female genitalia and boobies...uh, I mean, breasts.
Unfortunately, as these things go, explicit pictures of human genitalia in medical reference guides are usually those of a severe medical nature. (i.e genitalia which have been run over by a dump truck or accidentally shredded in a freak food processor accident)
Finally, I owned the duty and responsibility as a man should; I decided that I must find a stand-in to do the job for me.
My friend Ed!!! He’s savvy with kids. He’s a father and he’s a pretty hip guy. Ed would be the PERFECT candidate.
I joined Edward for a beer and informed him of my dilemma.
Ed’s first sexual experience was nothing short of brilliant. His was the sort of encounter of which romance novels are made.
As Ed was (prematurely) finishing his business, he and his young lady friend were busted by the police in his truck behind the Burlington Coat Factory-- both were naked and in possession of a partially consumed 12-pack of beer and two McDonald‘s Extra Value Meals.
If I were Ed, I would have married this woman. Nonetheless, I suspected that Ed might not be the right person to educate young Jack…at least by Michelle’s stringent standards.
After hours of racking my brain, it finally hit me! The perfect candidate to assist in explanation of human sexuality to Jack was hiding in plain sight. My friend Todd!
Todd is a professional writer of epic historical and political thrillers…plus he’s had short stories published in the Penthouse Forum, which makes him my hero.
Todd has also had sex with approximately 5-thousand women, which makes him an expert on the topic.
Aside from the fact that he currently engages in sexual activity with his wife, Melissa (who hates me) I felt comfortable in enlisting Todd’s expertise in educating Jack.
I met up with Todd to explain the situation and we decided to employ the tag-team buddy system in sitting down with Jack:
Todd: Hey Jackson…how ya’ doin' buddy?
Jack: (intently focused on his Halo video game) I’m good.
Me: You mean that you’re WELL.
Todd: Don’t be a word-snob douche bag
Jack: What's a douche bag??
Me: A nickname for my editor...Listen, Jack, this is my buddy Todd and he has something to chat with you about. I’ve gotta leave for a day or so but I'll see you soon.
Todd: (Forcefully grabs my shirt, dragging me back into the room, causing me to spill my cocktail.)
Jack: Are you guys drunk?
Me: What’s that got to do with anything???
Todd: Um, Jack…what Jim is saying is that your mother thought that it might be a good idea for he and I to sit down to answer any questions that you might have about girls, romance, gentlemanly manners, dating, vaginas, G-spots, English League soccer and other manly stuff like that.
Me: You forgot backdoor sex
Todd: (Shooting me an evil glare)
Jack: What’s a G-spot?
Me: It’s like hitting all deuces on the video poker machine; it's elusive but it pays off BIG when you find it...sort of like the premise for all of the Indiana Jones movies.
Jack: Cool...are there snakes???
Me: So to speak.
At this point Todd punched me in the arm, causing me to spill the remainder of my cocktail.
It's important to know that Todd is the father of two young children...one of which is a beautiful little girl. He's convinced that any man who enters her life will be nothing short of Charles Manson...at least in his mind.
Todd: Um, what Jim is trying to say is...well, sometimes boys and girls develop feelings for one another and the emotions that they feel might cause them to take things to more of a physical nature.
Jack: Like riding bikes together or tubing on the river??
Me: Helmets and rubber objects are, indeed, part of it.
Todd: (Throwing a couch cushion at me) Uh, yeah, spending time together doing fun stuff is a part of it. But, sometimes it gets a little more physically closer.
Jack: You mean sex!
I would give everything I own to have a picture of the expression on Todd's face. I almost peed my pants at this point.
Todd: No! NO! That's not what I mean at all! As a matter of fact, boys and girls shouldn't have sex until they're in a long-term relationship.
Jack: How does a guy know when it's a long-term relationship??
Me: When the man finally realizes that he has no more game and reluctantly gives up-- accepting defeat.
He then settles down with a woman who seems lovely during the period of blinding romantic bliss, only she devolves into someone who incessantly picks apart his every shortcoming, guilting him into purchasing lots of expensive clothes for her from chic boutiques.
He does so in order to gain some peace and quiet so that he might sit on the couch and watch a football game for once without being on the receiving end of an onslaught of stupid questions which come out of her mouth with the heart-stopping equivalent of fingernails scraping across a blackboard.
He'll regularly be forced to forego attendance at sporting events with his buddies in order to tag along to a wine and cheese tasting social at an art gallery as a harsh reality sets in that he's slowly sinking up to his eyeball sockets in debt from a mortgage which is far above his means.
He eventually begins to spend many hours at the end of a dark, lonely pub, wondering where and when it all went wrong for him in life, tossing around the pros and cons of divorce.
The primary problem being that his lady paid for a large portion of his student loans until she became pregnant, so he realizes that this will not look favorable to a man-hating jurist in family court. Actually, Todd, perhaps you can offer better hands-on expertise here.
Todd: (Shooting me another evil glare)
Jack: I see men and women having sex right away on TV. Why do I have to wait??
Todd: Because God sends young men to Hell if they have sex with a vulnerable, innocent, beautiful young girl. You don't want to spend an eternity in a tortuous burning lake of fire do you?
Me: (Grabbing Todd's arm) Uh, Jack, will you excuse Todd and I for a second?
I quickly ushered Todd to the kitchen.
Me: Have you lost your mind?
Todd: Did you see that kid's wheels turning?? He's a sex monster!! I don't want my daughter anywhere around this kid!
Me: Your daughter is SIX!
Todd: Even worse!
Me: Um, I think I'll take it from here.
We returned to the living room to resume the education of young Jack.
Me: Listen, Jack, when a boy and girl have feelings for one another it can be a beautiful experience like none other. But, you have to be responsible about it.
Jack: How?
Me: Well, no matter how strong the urge may be, never, EVER have sex with your girlfriend's best friend...no matter how many times she assures you that she'll never say a word to your girlfriend. Oh, and ALWAYS be suspicious of men named Carlos.
Jack: Why?
Me: Because guys named Carlos, especially if they work in the same office with your lady friend, will innocently offer to give her a ride to and from work. They'll cheerfully and dismissively insist:
"Hey...It's on the way, so it's not a problem to swing by; why not save a cab fare?"
They also work out a lot and wear excessive amounts of hair gel.
Next thing you know, Carlos is talking on the phone with your lady friend at odd hours and then you find receipts hidden in the dresser drawer from an out of the way little trendy coffee house, an outlet store near the beach, the art museum, some cozy little pizza shop on the opposite side of town and so on.
You'll then begin to notice a distant air about her until, one day, you walk in early from work and there they are...writhing around in a twisted, disgusting, sweaty, naked...
Todd: Uh, Jim, could I see you in the kitchen for a second please??
After about 5-minutes or so, Todd and I returned to the living room, where Jack had a little surprise of his own.
Jack: Actually, Miss Hansen, my health and wellness teacher, says that talkin' about sex and having babies and stuff isn't really a one-time talk. She says it's an ongoing process and if I have questions I should ask.
I know where babies come from, but I'm not really interested in hangin' out with girls or dating or anything right now. Besides, all the girls I know don't like to play video games and they pretty much suck at basketball. If it's cool with you guys, I can ask you guys sometime if I find a girl who's pretty cool to hang out with...if that'd be okay?
Todd: Uh, yeah...of course. That's cool Jack.
Me: Absolutely! I'm glad we chatted about this. Listen, I don't think there's any need to share our chat this afternoon with your mom. Let's just keep it between us guys.
Jack: No worries...that's cool. Thanks guys.
Todd and I breathed a sigh of relief as we returned to the kitchen, where we found Michelle and Todd's wife, Melissa, standing there staring at us with a pinpoint-laser, judgmental glare.
Later that evening, after we dumped Todd's overnight bag at my house, Todd and I found ourselves sitting at the end of a dark, lonely pub, wondering where and when it all went wrong.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Sign On The Dotted Line...Please???
I like to ease myself into the day. Even though it sometimes takes about 2 or 3 days to prime myself to conduct any sort of measurable social or business interaction, it’s a scientific process.
Last week I was extremely busy with an important project (watching Judge Greg Mathis and The People’s Court on television) when Amanda engaged me in the following text message chat about some sort of paper that required my signature:
Amanda:
1:37pm
Hey, the project contract needs to be notarized and you need to sign it in their presence. I dropped it off at a notary near your house. Can you run by and sign it? Just leave it with the girl and I’ll pick it up later.
Me:
1:39pm
Certainly. Is the girl attractive?
Amanda:
1:40pm
This is important…will you PLEASE go sign it today??
Me:
1:43pm
I'm not asking for specifics; at least give me a ballpark idea of what her body looks like.
I’ll make it easy…we'll do a scale of 1 to 10. As it goes, 1 being Rosie O'Donnell, 10 being Jessica Alba. As a median point of reference, we’ll designate the average rating to Jennifer Aniston.
Jennifer Aniston is cute, but not really “all that.” I must say, even though Jen comes in at number 5 on the ratings list, I’d definitely have naked, wild, all night, passionate, uh, conversation with her before I would EVER consider any such action with Rosie. (I just threw up in my mouth a bit)
Amanda:
1:45pm
We can NOT move forward on this project until you sign off on it and get it notarized! ASAP!
Me:
1:46pm
I’m feeling a tad forced into signing a contract for a writing project in which I’m uncertain about. According to Judge Greg Mathis and Judge Judy, I may be signing something under duress…which would void the agreement.
Amanda:
1:49pm
Why can’t a text conversation EVER be short and simple with you??
Me:
1:49pm
Because my cell provider offers an AMAZING unlimited text package. You should consider switching service providers.
Amanda:
1:52pm
Go sign the contract and leave it at the notary...please????
Me:
1:52pm
Okay. I don’t know why things always have to be so difficult with you.
Amanda:
1:55pm
Don’t forget to leave the contract WITH THE NOTARY.
Me: 3:01pm
I just left the notary…You’ll be pleased to know that it’s signed.
Amanda:
3:05pm
Did you leave the contract there??
Me:
3:06pm
No, I’m experiencing separation anxiety and wanted to take it for a walk in the park a little later. If there’s time, I may sneak in some cuddling time on my couch. I dearly hope that there’s time.
Amanda:3:09pm
So, I take it that you left it there?
Me:3:10pm
Yes.
Amanda:3:11pm
Thank you.
Me: 3:11pm
No…Thank YOU
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Happy Birthday To Me
Today is my birthday.
Before anyone jumps to conclusions and accuses me of shamefully fishing for birthday sentiments, you couldn’t be more incorrect.
I have no shame…and I’m not fishing. I don’t even like to fish. For that matter, I’m scared of fish.
My friend, Amanda, feels strongly that it has something to do with some fishing trips that my creepy Uncle Leonard took me and my cousin on when we were age 12.
He assured us that we’d catch more fish if we took off our pants. I'm not sure how taking one’s pants off helps-- I never seemed to catch any fish.
Uncle Leonard always seemed to have fun on those trips though; he'd sit there quietly in the boat with this strange smile plastered across his face.
My dad paid Uncle Leonard a visit shortly after learning of the fishing expeditions and I never saw Uncle Leonard again for some reason.
Each year my friends ask what I’d like for my birthday and I give them the same answer every time.
I want what every reasonable person wants…
The wish list goes on.
In keeping with tradition, it’s time for my annual little story, titled:
Also known as…
1. I judge people who attend ANYTHING on “ice.” i.e. The Lion King, Toy Story, Disney, etc.
I feel strongly that anything on “ice” is stupid. With the exception of vodka.**
**I would consider going to see Platoon, Friday The 13th or Big Momma's House on ice.
2. According to my good friend Nicholas, a sure-fire way to assure that one’s evening will NOT favorably advance toward sexual relations is to make the following assertion:
Girl: My ex-boyfriend was such a jerk. He thought highly of himself too.
Nicholas: That sucks.
Girl: Yeah, and he sucked in bed! I don’t know what he was so proud of…plus he had a tiny pee pee. (extending her pinkie finger for illustrative purposes)
Nicholas: Guys who brag about it are usually nothing to write home about. I don’t brag.
Girl: So, how bout' you? IS there anything to brag about? Just curious.
Nicholas: My manhood is long, but unimpressive…sort of like Canada.”**
**Note: In the interest of preserving his dignity and anonymity, his real name is NOT Nicholas. It’s Nick.
3. While the color and consistency of water and vodka are the same, vodka will NOT extinguish a grease fire in a kitchen. And, it will result in losing one’s job.
4. Drunk people who come into a bar and load the jukebox with $20-dollars in sh*tty songs and then leave after only two of them have played are no better than terrorists.
5. There is no greater free entertainment value than that of observing “Springer” moments on social network sites.
Cynthia wrote:
Whew! FINALLY home after a very long, but fun, nite!
Posted 6minutes ago
Chad wrote:
Sure is pretty late.
Posted 1minute ago
Cynthia wrote:
Really none of ya' bizness Chad.
Posted 1minute ago
Chad wrote:
FYI, I've heard that only whores stay out past 3am.
Posted 2minutes ago
Cynthia wrote:
Yeah?? I heard that only pervs sit up all nite looking at tranny porn sites. Speaking of girls who look like men, tell your new GF Ashley hello.
Posted 1minute ago
· ·Jeremy and 1 other person likes this
Chad wrote:
Why don't you inform your new BF Jeremy why he should wear a condom at ALL times with you?
posted 2minutes ago
· · Ashley likes this
Cynthia wrote:
Go to hell!!!
posted 1minute ago
Chad wrote:
I've been there, thank you very much. Thankfully, I wore a condom. Cheers!
2minutes ago
· · 12 people like this
6. I’m much too lazy to be belligerent.
7. There’s a reason why Super Cuts only charges $10 for a haircut.
8. Nickelback still sucks.
9. Two “wrongs” do NOT make a “right.” Unless it involves a 3-way sexual encounter.
10. Never, EVER, let the cell phone store take your cell phone to the back room to work on it until you've deleted all pornographic photos from the graphics folder.
You WILL receive judgmental stares and snickers from the technician, the sales reps and the cashier.**
**Note: See item #9
11. While I’m neutral on the topic, 500+ economists, including the entire Harvard University staff of economic studies, call for a marijuana regulation debate; new report projects $10-14 billion annual revenues to U.S. economy.**
**Figures do not include projected Tony’s pizza or Taco Bell sales
12. Mike, the editor, still sucks.
13. There, apparently, is still no safe cigarette. I suppose that the new, ominously frightening fuchsia, silver and teal packages will definitely scare smokers into quitting…according to a multi-billion dollar government study.
I always purchase the cigarette which touts the following:
Since I do not plan on becoming pregnant, I feel that these are the safest cigarettes for me.
14. Some girl named Suzanne, apparently, provides above average skills in the area of oral stimulus**
**According to the dispatch that I just read on the men's room wall
15. When a woman asks:
The answer is always NO. Unless you're particularly in the mood for a 1-hour conversation, peppered with no fewer than 2-thousand questions, which will inevitably ensue...causing you to bleed from the ears.
16. You haven't really lived until you witness a crackhead sing karaoke.
17. While the Golden Rule (Do unto others as you would have done unto yourself) serves as a solid and successful cornerstone for most, it has proven to be unsatisfying to me.
The things I want done unto me costs money...and is frowned upon by most law enforcement agencies.
18. I’m still not a role model for children.
19. It appears that I'm not mature enough to use an electronic language translator.
My writer friend, Todd, gave his 9-year old son a translator for Christmas last year. I did what anyone would do...I translated dirty words. Little did I know, this stupid thing stores all translated searches.
Not a problem as far as Todd was concerned; His wife Melissa, on the other hand, had a slight problem with it.
For our aspiring Spanish students in the reading audience...
Translates to:
"My left testicle aches for your punishment"
And so, we add a final item to the "Things I've Learned" list
20. Todd's wife, Melissa, still hates me.
Yes indeed...another year has passed. I'm tired.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Before anyone jumps to conclusions and accuses me of shamefully fishing for birthday sentiments, you couldn’t be more incorrect.
I have no shame…and I’m not fishing. I don’t even like to fish. For that matter, I’m scared of fish.
My friend, Amanda, feels strongly that it has something to do with some fishing trips that my creepy Uncle Leonard took me and my cousin on when we were age 12.
He assured us that we’d catch more fish if we took off our pants. I'm not sure how taking one’s pants off helps-- I never seemed to catch any fish.
Uncle Leonard always seemed to have fun on those trips though; he'd sit there quietly in the boat with this strange smile plastered across his face.
My dad paid Uncle Leonard a visit shortly after learning of the fishing expeditions and I never saw Uncle Leonard again for some reason.
Each year my friends ask what I’d like for my birthday and I give them the same answer every time.
I want what every reasonable person wants…
- World peace
- Global economic stability
- Better schools for our children
- A pizza
- Better wages for our teachers, firefighters and police
- Naked photos of Jessica Alba
- To see a day when all deadly diseases are eradicated
- Naked photos of my neighbor Alicia
The wish list goes on.
In keeping with tradition, it’s time for my annual little story, titled:
“Things I’ve Learned.”
Also known as…
“Why I Wish An Errant Meteor Would Smash Me To Pieces.”
So...Here we go:
1. I judge people who attend ANYTHING on “ice.” i.e. The Lion King, Toy Story, Disney, etc.
I feel strongly that anything on “ice” is stupid. With the exception of vodka.**
**I would consider going to see Platoon, Friday The 13th or Big Momma's House on ice.
2. According to my good friend Nicholas, a sure-fire way to assure that one’s evening will NOT favorably advance toward sexual relations is to make the following assertion:
Girl: My ex-boyfriend was such a jerk. He thought highly of himself too.
Nicholas: That sucks.
Girl: Yeah, and he sucked in bed! I don’t know what he was so proud of…plus he had a tiny pee pee. (extending her pinkie finger for illustrative purposes)
Nicholas: Guys who brag about it are usually nothing to write home about. I don’t brag.
Girl: So, how bout' you? IS there anything to brag about? Just curious.
Nicholas: My manhood is long, but unimpressive…sort of like Canada.”**
**Note: In the interest of preserving his dignity and anonymity, his real name is NOT Nicholas. It’s Nick.
3. While the color and consistency of water and vodka are the same, vodka will NOT extinguish a grease fire in a kitchen. And, it will result in losing one’s job.
4. Drunk people who come into a bar and load the jukebox with $20-dollars in sh*tty songs and then leave after only two of them have played are no better than terrorists.
5. There is no greater free entertainment value than that of observing “Springer” moments on social network sites.
Cynthia wrote:
Whew! FINALLY home after a very long, but fun, nite!
Posted 6minutes ago
Chad wrote:
Sure is pretty late.
Posted 1minute ago
Cynthia wrote:
Really none of ya' bizness Chad.
Posted 1minute ago
Chad wrote:
FYI, I've heard that only whores stay out past 3am.
Posted 2minutes ago
Cynthia wrote:
Yeah?? I heard that only pervs sit up all nite looking at tranny porn sites. Speaking of girls who look like men, tell your new GF Ashley hello.
Posted 1minute ago
· ·Jeremy and 1 other person likes this
Chad wrote:
Why don't you inform your new BF Jeremy why he should wear a condom at ALL times with you?
posted 2minutes ago
· · Ashley likes this
Cynthia wrote:
Go to hell!!!
posted 1minute ago
Chad wrote:
I've been there, thank you very much. Thankfully, I wore a condom. Cheers!
2minutes ago
· · 12 people like this
6. I’m much too lazy to be belligerent.
7. There’s a reason why Super Cuts only charges $10 for a haircut.
8. Nickelback still sucks.
9. Two “wrongs” do NOT make a “right.” Unless it involves a 3-way sexual encounter.
10. Never, EVER, let the cell phone store take your cell phone to the back room to work on it until you've deleted all pornographic photos from the graphics folder.
You WILL receive judgmental stares and snickers from the technician, the sales reps and the cashier.**
**Note: See item #9
11. While I’m neutral on the topic, 500+ economists, including the entire Harvard University staff of economic studies, call for a marijuana regulation debate; new report projects $10-14 billion annual revenues to U.S. economy.**
**Figures do not include projected Tony’s pizza or Taco Bell sales
12. Mike, the editor, still sucks.
13. There, apparently, is still no safe cigarette. I suppose that the new, ominously frightening fuchsia, silver and teal packages will definitely scare smokers into quitting…according to a multi-billion dollar government study.
I always purchase the cigarette which touts the following:
“May complicate pregnancy.”
Since I do not plan on becoming pregnant, I feel that these are the safest cigarettes for me.
14. Some girl named Suzanne, apparently, provides above average skills in the area of oral stimulus**
**According to the dispatch that I just read on the men's room wall
15. When a woman asks:
Is something wrong?
The answer is always NO. Unless you're particularly in the mood for a 1-hour conversation, peppered with no fewer than 2-thousand questions, which will inevitably ensue...causing you to bleed from the ears.
16. You haven't really lived until you witness a crackhead sing karaoke.
17. While the Golden Rule (Do unto others as you would have done unto yourself) serves as a solid and successful cornerstone for most, it has proven to be unsatisfying to me.
The things I want done unto me costs money...and is frowned upon by most law enforcement agencies.
18. I’m still not a role model for children.
19. It appears that I'm not mature enough to use an electronic language translator.
My writer friend, Todd, gave his 9-year old son a translator for Christmas last year. I did what anyone would do...I translated dirty words. Little did I know, this stupid thing stores all translated searches.
Not a problem as far as Todd was concerned; His wife Melissa, on the other hand, had a slight problem with it.
For our aspiring Spanish students in the reading audience...
"Me duele el testÃculo izquierdo de su castigo"
Translates to:
"My left testicle aches for your punishment"
And so, we add a final item to the "Things I've Learned" list
20. Todd's wife, Melissa, still hates me.
Yes indeed...another year has passed. I'm tired.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Workin' Man's Blues
Mike, the editor, recently emailed a writing suggestion; which I believe is a perfect illustration as to how Gmail sucks where “blocked mail“ settings are concerned.
Mike’s suggestions are the leading cause for suicide in the United States. His communications, both written and oral, typically cause severe loss of appetite and erectile dysfunction.**
**Results may vary
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: Idea
I have a GREAT idea. You should get a temp/fill-in job and write about your observations and experiences. It could be a good working storyline.
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Stupid Idea
This is Jim’s friend, Dave. Some time back, Jim granted access to all of his passwords and copies of his car & house keys in the event of a personal emergency.
Sadly, Jim is dead.
P.S. Are you aware that he has a blow-up doll that looks like Betty White under the bed?? Bizarre!
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: Idea
Hmmmm. I’m curious as to the manner in which Jim died.
**Treme is an inner-city neighborhood in New Orleans. The word "Treme" is French for: "Don't go there at night"
I arrived at the staging area outside of a downtown hotel at 6am.
As dutifully chronicled in the national news media, New Orleans is a city known for weather extremes.
The day before the shoot, it was sunny and 75 degrees...
On the morning of the shoot it was about 38 degrees along with torrential rain and hurricane force winds, with a slight chance of a massive mudslide.
When he’s not performing as a film extra (and possibly a fetish porn star) I’m not exactly sure about what this guy does for a living…but I’m fairly certain that he’s killed someone before.
Possibly with his right arm.
A location director eventually came in to speak with us. By speak I mean that she screamed at us via megaphone as though we were standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier.
In listening to the screaming megaphone woman, I embraced a large feeling of sympathy for her husband and recited a silent prayer for him.
It was at this precise moment when I also pondered various methods in which I might kill Mike the editor and get away with it in a court of law.
On a positive note, the film crew constantly fed us!
We feasted on sausage, grits and eggs for breakfast. A hearty serving of pulled pork for early lunch and a late afternoon light meal; which consisted of a colossal deli pita wrap (the best lettuce sandwich I’ve ever had.) They also gave us a bag of bagel chips.
The catering service for the film crew were apparently given strict instructions that the use of seasonings of any sort would ruin the film shoot and possibly kill the actors.
Each item from the above menu tasted like a church communion wafer…with the exception of the Betty Crocker Fruit Snacks.
Either Betty Crocker owns HBO or there seems to be a level of deep concern about scurvy amongst the Hollywood film industry. Every time I turned around someone was shoving fruit snacks in my face.
One fun aspect of being in a film shoot is that they shuttle you around in tour busses as though you're part of a presidential motorcade.
We got to blaze through red lights, stop signs and we pretty much zoomed through any and all lanes of the road as we pleased. Such as the fashion in which New Orlenians drive all the time...only New Orleans motorists do it without a police escort.
I quickly made friends with two wonderful young ladies who have, apparently, previously worked as “extras.”
Because I am a responsible employee, fill-in or not, I only did two shots with them.
Suddenly, and without expressed or written invitation, a director motioned for me.
As a background tid-bit, the "come here" motion typically causes a sinking feeling in my stomach. Primarily because, when people motion for me, it's usually followed by a bunch of difficult questions which almost always results in me getting into trouble.
The director felt that I would make for an excellent candidate to be in a solo scene for a “staged” post-Hurricane Katrina protest which would involve me driving a car.
As any number of friends who have been passengers in my vehicle will attest, this clearly indicates that the Treme' director is an idiot.
Director: Okay, can you drive?
"CUT!!!"
"And…ACTION!!"
Drive forward 3-feet; grab the protest sign and rapidly walk toward the protest scene. Accidentally hit the camera (and camera man) with my protest sign.
And...ACTION!
Collect the protest sign and rapidly walk to the table.
"And…CUT!"
I DID IT!!!!
Director: That was perfect!**
My film prowess clearly made quite an impression on the director and film crew-- as evidenced by the fact that they let me off work before ANYONE else on the shoot!
I may get an agent and pursue a film career!
Since I had unexpected extra time on my hands, I arranged for a fill-in position with another employer which Mike had suggested.
This time…I’m off to the restaurant business.
I’ve never worked in the restaurant business, but I learned a great deal about it during my temporary tenure.
I learned that, once they clear the threshold of the kitchen entrance, table servers pretty much hate everyone on the planet…especially people who order food. (i.e. customers)
Dishwashers are excellent candidates for committing a workplace massacre, line cooks hate servers, (and customers), the bartender is a raging alcoholic and being a restaurant owner seems to cause one to behave in a manner which is consistent with being clinically insane.
Servers and line chefs have a special bond, especially in, what I can only characterize as, an interesting communication style.
10-minutes before the kitchen is slated to close:
Server: Order in!!!
Line Chef: (Groans)
Server: Three filet mignon…well done, mid-rare and rare. Three side salads, make one salad to-go please. Three baked potatoes…"sub" sour cream on one potato.
Line Chef: What do they want to substitute the sour cream with??
Server: A 5-pound lobster. Oh, to go please!!
Line Chef: If you bring me one more fuc*#ng order, I am going to rip your face off with a filet knife and shove you in the walk-in cooler behind a crate of lettuce and cillantro.
The customers were nice; and since I was new to the biz, they were quite eager to provide helpful feedback on the comment cards…
**I visited the bartender on my break.
By the way, did you know that there’s some sort of health code statute against smoking in the kitchen prep area???
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Funeral Service Specifics & Creepy Betty White Fetish
He was having intimate relations with a 22-year old student from Xavier University on the banks of Bayou St. John.
Unfortunately, Jim was eaten by a family of dwarf alligators.
Unfortunately, Jim was eaten by a family of dwarf alligators.
The girl is okay; she‘s a little dazed and remains quite speechless-- not from witnessing this terrible accident-- from the intimate relations portion of the experience.
Unfortunately, they had to euthanize them-- The gators that is...not the girl.
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: Idea
Yeah, I’m not buying it. Look, I’ve attached two job postings I found online…c’mon, this could be fun!
They’re fill-in/temp positions…nothing deeply labor intensive. It’s a no-brainer…Plus, you’ll get paid for it!
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Wikipedia Answers...Procedures For Filing A Restraining Order
This sounds like YOUR job. When do I start?
This sounds like YOUR job. When do I start?
My first assignment involved participation as a cast “extra” in the filming of the HBO original series “Treme.”
**Treme is an inner-city neighborhood in New Orleans. The word "Treme" is French for: "Don't go there at night"
I arrived at the staging area outside of a downtown hotel at 6am.
As dutifully chronicled in the national news media, New Orleans is a city known for weather extremes.
The day before the shoot, it was sunny and 75 degrees...
On the morning of the shoot it was about 38 degrees along with torrential rain and hurricane force winds, with a slight chance of a massive mudslide.
My fellow “extras” were assembled in one of the hotel’s exquisitely decorated ballrooms (circa 1972) where we awaited instructions as to what would be required for today‘s shoot…other than an arctic snowsuit and scuba gear.
After carefully scanning the room, I spotted an empty seat next to a pleasant gentleman who donned an over sized army surplus jacket, a floppy fishing hat and a gigantic tattoo on his left arm which read:
After carefully scanning the room, I spotted an empty seat next to a pleasant gentleman who donned an over sized army surplus jacket, a floppy fishing hat and a gigantic tattoo on his left arm which read:
“Bring It Bi*ch”
And another, with a straight horizontal line halfway up his right arm, which read:
“Insert to here”
Coupled with the 1970’s porno moustache, tank top and excessive body hair, my internal alarms should have prompted me to demand for a rescue helicopter. But, I really wanted to sit down before a long day of filming.
Me: Anyone sitting here?
Military Porno Fisherman: No
(A minute or two of silence passes)
Military Porno Fisherman: Did you know that Russian Czar Aleksandr II was assassinated by a bomb which tore off his legs, ripped open his belly and mutilated his face?
Me: (Rising from my seat) I’ll be right back.
When he’s not performing as a film extra (and possibly a fetish porn star) I’m not exactly sure about what this guy does for a living…but I’m fairly certain that he’s killed someone before.
Possibly with his right arm.
Waiting for a film shoot is fun. We did many exciting things to pass the time…such as being hungry and bored senseless.
A location director eventually came in to speak with us. By speak I mean that she screamed at us via megaphone as though we were standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier.
She explained that we would be paid $100.00 and could, possibly, be on location for 12-hours…outside.
In listening to the screaming megaphone woman, I embraced a large feeling of sympathy for her husband and recited a silent prayer for him.
It was at this precise moment when I also pondered various methods in which I might kill Mike the editor and get away with it in a court of law.
On a positive note, the film crew constantly fed us!
We feasted on sausage, grits and eggs for breakfast. A hearty serving of pulled pork for early lunch and a late afternoon light meal; which consisted of a colossal deli pita wrap (the best lettuce sandwich I’ve ever had.) They also gave us a bag of bagel chips.
The catering service for the film crew were apparently given strict instructions that the use of seasonings of any sort would ruin the film shoot and possibly kill the actors.
Each item from the above menu tasted like a church communion wafer…with the exception of the Betty Crocker Fruit Snacks.
Either Betty Crocker owns HBO or there seems to be a level of deep concern about scurvy amongst the Hollywood film industry. Every time I turned around someone was shoving fruit snacks in my face.
One fun aspect of being in a film shoot is that they shuttle you around in tour busses as though you're part of a presidential motorcade.
We got to blaze through red lights, stop signs and we pretty much zoomed through any and all lanes of the road as we pleased. Such as the fashion in which New Orlenians drive all the time...only New Orleans motorists do it without a police escort.
I quickly made friends with two wonderful young ladies who have, apparently, previously worked as “extras.”
They came to the shoot equipped with an emergency comfort stash:
A large flask of whiskey.
Because I am a responsible employee, fill-in or not, I only did two shots with them.
11:00am:
Idly standing around in the middle of a New Orleans neighborhood doing nothing at all. A fair description of a typical day for me-- only this time I was getting PAID for it!
Suddenly, and without expressed or written invitation, a director motioned for me.
As a background tid-bit, the "come here" motion typically causes a sinking feeling in my stomach. Primarily because, when people motion for me, it's usually followed by a bunch of difficult questions which almost always results in me getting into trouble.
The director felt that I would make for an excellent candidate to be in a solo scene for a “staged” post-Hurricane Katrina protest which would involve me driving a car.
As any number of friends who have been passengers in my vehicle will attest, this clearly indicates that the Treme' director is an idiot.
Director: Okay, can you drive?
Me: My insurance agent and the Orleans Parish traffic court judges might provide a more comprehensive evaluation.
Director: (Nervous laugh) You’ll be fine. Look, I want you to back this car up about 3-feet; when I give you the cue, drive it forward 3-feet to this street sign and grab the protest sign out of the passenger seat and walk to the table over there. Any questions?
Me: Can I get a DUI on a closed movie set?
Director: (Nervous laugh)
"And…ACTION!!"
Take 1:
Accidentally graze the curb with the front tire
"CUT!!!"
Take 2:
Having trouble backing into the parallel parking spot. Finally park after 5th attempt. Nearly run over a neighborhood cat. (Cat scrambles up a nearby oak tree as the crowd of film extras look at me in horror)
Having trouble backing into the parallel parking spot. Finally park after 5th attempt. Nearly run over a neighborhood cat. (Cat scrambles up a nearby oak tree as the crowd of film extras look at me in horror)
"And…ACTION!!"
Drive forward 3-feet; grab the protest sign and rapidly walk toward the protest scene. Accidentally hit the camera (and camera man) with my protest sign.
"CUT!!!!!"
Take 15:
Drive forward 3-feet**
**Note: Front camera crew has now begun shooting my scene from a branch in a nearby oak tree; the cat is also with them.
And...ACTION!
Collect the protest sign and rapidly walk to the table.
"And…CUT!"
I DID IT!!!!
Director: That was perfect!**
**10-seconds after the scene was complete, it became painfully obvious that I accidentally left the car in neutral…it began to roll forward into a collection of empty trash cans and crushed a director‘s chair.
Fortunately, the director was not in the chair at the time.
The front camera crew (along with the cat) looked down from the oak branch in horror.
I may get an agent and pursue a film career!
Since I had unexpected extra time on my hands, I arranged for a fill-in position with another employer which Mike had suggested.
This time…I’m off to the restaurant business.
I’ve never worked in the restaurant business, but I learned a great deal about it during my temporary tenure.
I learned that, once they clear the threshold of the kitchen entrance, table servers pretty much hate everyone on the planet…especially people who order food. (i.e. customers)
Dishwashers are excellent candidates for committing a workplace massacre, line cooks hate servers, (and customers), the bartender is a raging alcoholic and being a restaurant owner seems to cause one to behave in a manner which is consistent with being clinically insane.
Servers and line chefs have a special bond, especially in, what I can only characterize as, an interesting communication style.
10-minutes before the kitchen is slated to close:
Server: Order in!!!
Line Chef: (Groans)
Server: Three filet mignon…well done, mid-rare and rare. Three side salads, make one salad to-go please. Three baked potatoes…"sub" sour cream on one potato.
Line Chef: What do they want to substitute the sour cream with??
Server: A 5-pound lobster. Oh, to go please!!
Line Chef: If you bring me one more fuc*#ng order, I am going to rip your face off with a filet knife and shove you in the walk-in cooler behind a crate of lettuce and cillantro.
The customers were nice; and since I was new to the biz, they were quite eager to provide helpful feedback on the comment cards…
“Worst server we’ve EVER seen.”
“I will NEVER come back to your restaurant again!”
“Our server seemed to be drunk”**
**I visited the bartender on my break.
By the way, did you know that there’s some sort of health code statute against smoking in the kitchen prep area???
The restaurant owner seemed to be irritated with me for some reason and assigned re-stock duties to me.
My assignment at hand was to replace the roll of towels in the restroom. For the record, mechanical towel dispensers are not as user-friendly as they appear to be!
Step 1:
Unlock the cover
Step 2:
Fumble with the clasp to the cover in continued efforts to unlock the cover
Step 3:
FINALLY open the cover
Step 4:
Insert the towel roll
Step 5:
Towel roll keeps slipping out of the dispenser
Step 6:
Finally able to position the towel roll appropriately; try to maneuver the towel feed into the slot
Steps 7-10:
Repeated failed attempts at aligning the roll with the slot/feed advance
Step 11:
Successfully feed the towels through the mechanism
Step 12:
Visit the restaurant bartender**
**Smoke a cigarette
I liken my foray into towel replacement duties to that of my first sexual experience at age 16.
Only I didn't cry this time.
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: WTF?
Let me make certain that I understand this correctly…you got fired from TWO jobs in three days?? AND, you nearly destroyed a restaurant by starting a grease fire???
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: WTF?
Impressive, huh?
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: WTF?
I have one final job possibility for you so that you can, hopefully, get something good to write about. I don’t think that it’s remotely possible for you to screw THIS one up.
Since you bartended your way through college, there's an open position selling liquor shots in the 900 block of Bourbon. My assistant PR manager knows the owner. I'll meet you there at 10pm. Don’t be late!
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Uh…
Isn’t the 900 block predominately gay?
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
My assignment at hand was to replace the roll of towels in the restroom. For the record, mechanical towel dispensers are not as user-friendly as they appear to be!
Step 1:
Unlock the cover
Step 2:
Fumble with the clasp to the cover in continued efforts to unlock the cover
Step 3:
FINALLY open the cover
Step 4:
Insert the towel roll
Step 5:
Towel roll keeps slipping out of the dispenser
Step 6:
Finally able to position the towel roll appropriately; try to maneuver the towel feed into the slot
Steps 7-10:
Repeated failed attempts at aligning the roll with the slot/feed advance
Step 11:
Successfully feed the towels through the mechanism
Step 12:
Visit the restaurant bartender**
**Smoke a cigarette
I liken my foray into towel replacement duties to that of my first sexual experience at age 16.
Only I didn't cry this time.
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: WTF?
Let me make certain that I understand this correctly…you got fired from TWO jobs in three days?? AND, you nearly destroyed a restaurant by starting a grease fire???
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: WTF?
Impressive, huh?
To: Jim
From: Mike
Re: WTF?
I have one final job possibility for you so that you can, hopefully, get something good to write about. I don’t think that it’s remotely possible for you to screw THIS one up.
Since you bartended your way through college, there's an open position selling liquor shots in the 900 block of Bourbon. My assistant PR manager knows the owner. I'll meet you there at 10pm. Don’t be late!
To: Mike
From: Jim
Re: Uh…
Isn’t the 900 block predominately gay?
 |
| I'm gonna KILL Mike!!! |
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Happy Birthday (and other reasons why I'm asked to leave a lot of parties)
Terrence happens to share the same birthday as you, April 4th! Since I’m reeeally bad with remembering dates, this makes it easy to remember YOUR special day.
Yes indeed, April 4th…The same day in which the world was introduced to the delightfully splendid force which embodies the fortunate existence of YOU!
For Terrence, it wasn’t such a happy day at all.
You see, Terrence struggled for money over a better part of his life until, one day, it all turned around when he hit the Deuces Wild poker machine for $1,500 at a Mid City bar.
He employed the financial logic to which many New Orleanians subscribe; he threw caution to the wind by forgoing basic physical and discretionary necessities in life…
Food
Shelter
Children’s school tuition
Water
Dancing With The Stars
Glee
He inserted his entire paycheck into a poker machine.
Upon collecting his unexpected reward, Terrence tipped the bartender and did what anyone who comes into a large sum of money would do…he purchased a hooker at the corner of Tulane and South Cortez Street.
Shanda** and Terrence hit it off quite famously!
**Note: Not her real name-- In the interest of protecting her customers; including an unnamed United States Senator from Louisiana. (Which rhymes with “Twitter’)
Due to some wise investments on Terrence’s part and Shanda’s booming business (She’s really good at what she does…Um, I’ve been told) the happy, entrepreneurial couple lived a comfortable lifestyle.
They decided to reward themselves by taking a long overdue vacation to Venice, Italy for Terrence‘s birthday.
At this point, It’s important to note TWO characteristics about Terrence:
He’s 6-foot 4-inches in height and weighs about 128-pounds.**
**Picture a pool cue with a head, ears and big feet. Oh, and a really dumb looking moustache and eyeglasses.
He also has a wandering eye…especially for ladies in low-cut blouses.
As Terrance and Shanda enjoyed a birthday gondola ride through the serene and romantic waterways of Venice, a lovely young woman caught his eye from the top of a levee.
Sadly, in the absence of his forward attention, Terrence was instantly decapitated by a waterway bridge on this magical day…the date of birth which you both share.
Shanda was horrified as she held Terrence’s severed head in her bloody lap.
She quickly scrambled to the back of the gondola, trying to escape in Jacqueline Kennedy fashion, as the row-master frantically tried to pull her back into the boat.
In the tussle, Terrence’s head accidentally dropped to the boat deck and bounced over the edge into the magnificently, mystical Venetian canal where it was immediately eaten by a school of hunger ravaged intra-coastal sea bass.
Since I am a well known animal lover, Terrence had always made it perfectly clear that custody of his beloved Weiner dog (Beanie) be turned over to me. He also left me his pornographic DVD collection.
In other birthday news, sadly, Beanie passed away this morning at 7am.
He was struck by a Zapp’s Potato Chip delivery truck as he was doing his business on the corner of South Broad and Canal Street.
Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your celebrations. By the way, I have a real bizarre story to share with you when I see you later this evening.
In the meantime, I bid you sincere wishes for a happy birthday.
Friday, April 1, 2011
More To Come. Stay Tuned...
It’s been pointed out to me on numerous occasions that a new piece has not been introduced to the blog in a month. I’m happy to inform that a new writing will appear shortly.
We were temporarily taken hostage by Libyan nationalists; I’m relieved to announce that we were not pillaged.
Which is fortunate since Allstate does not, in fact, cover pillaging.**
**Mike, the editor, was slightly sexually assaulted, but it had nothing to do with the Libyan hostage situation...he paid cash for it.
We were temporarily taken hostage by Libyan nationalists; I’m relieved to announce that we were not pillaged.
Which is fortunate since Allstate does not, in fact, cover pillaging.**
**Mike, the editor, was slightly sexually assaulted, but it had nothing to do with the Libyan hostage situation...he paid cash for it.
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