Short People With Short Tempers

Animal Planet is debuting a new show on January 16th at 10PM. It deals with Shorty, a former actor who owns a Hollywood talent management company and also a pit bull rescue organization. The catch is that Shorty is a midget. Hopefully the pit bulls don't mistake him or his friends for toddlers. We all know how pit bulls feel about toddlers.

Bad Boys and Happy Days

Women love bad boys. Yes, it's a stereotype, but the stereotype just might prove to be true. Whether it's the Fonz punching stereo equipment or Johnny Depp dressed up as a pirate, girls just seem to love a guy with a sense of danger. That's why I drive with an open container. Drinking and driving would be reckless and irresponsible. So I remove the bottle cap and pour a liberal amount of alcohol onto the ground. I then place the container in my car's cup holder and wait for the right moment. It might be a woman at a red light or a cop at a routine traffic stop, but somebody will eventually see my beverage. This way, I get the rush of driving with an open container without the fear of collision and bodily harm.

There are several types of bad boys, I've found, that ladies do not love. One of them being Bad Boy Records, vanity label of Sean "Diddy" Combs and former home to the Notorious B.I.G. I've come to this conclusion because every time I dim the lights down low and put "Me and My Bitch" by Biggie on the stereo, it leads to less than desirable results. I've found that the meat and potatoes of seducing a woman is to actually get her to have sex with you. Mood music is supposed to increase your chances of having your meat and potatoes. It is not supposed to hinder them. Be warned- playing gansta rap while trying to get busy might leave you jerking to the bra section of a Sears catalog and sleeping on the couch.

If you ever watch reruns of Happy Days, just focus on Mrs. Cunningham's eyes. She wants the Fonz. She might love Mr. C, but she wants the Fonz. Why does that matter? Because she's hot. She's also a red head, which makes her double hot. And being a bad boy makes getting a piece of double hot cake as easy as, well, cake.

Christmas with the Family

Despite his best efforts, Ernie did not ruin Christmas after all. In fact, it was pretty enjoyable all around. The wife and I woke up about noon and exchanged presents. That was followed with roughly three hours of listening to the Chanukah Song by Adam Sandler. We're not Jewish, but when I listen to the song I wish I were. Sorta like when I watch the Color Purple, I wish I was black.

We had Christmas dinner with Bekki's parents. Three helpings of prime rib later, I felt as though I might explode. The twice-baked potato didn't help, either. Luckily, we had one more holiday tradition to look forward to- Scrooged, the 1988 comedy classic starring Bill Murray. It's a staple in our home. It's just not Christmas without watching it at least once.

We came to the conclusion that Murray's character would be viewed, from a medical standpoint, as going through a manic episode brought on by stress and fatigue. You know who else went insane? Musician Daniel Johnston. They did a great documentary about him called The Devil and Daniel Johnston. It isn't as funny as Scrooged, but it's worth watching. Overall, we had a great Christmas.

An Open Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

Hey, it's me again. I know we haven't talked for awhile. I've been busy. I meant to call several times, but the moment never seemed right. I know there's a good deal of animosity between us, and I just want to be the bigger man and say, "I'm sorry". Let's put the past behind us and focus on what's important this holiday season. Primarily, what you're bringing me for Christmas this year.

Season 6 of A&E's Dog the Bounty Hunter wouldn't be a bad place to start. And if a $40 DVD set is too pricey, how about a t-shirt with Dog looking mean? Folded arms and sunglasses are a must. Also, I wouldn't mind a pair of Ed Hardy jeans- not because I admire the artistic work he and his mentor Sailor Jerry have created over the years, but because I saw some twelve year old at the mall looking really awesome in a pair. I want to be awesome, too.

All my wife wants for Christmas is for the trash to be taken out and for the floors to remain swept. So if you could send us a maid or something, that'd be really great. Just don't send that one maid that slept with Jude Law and ruined his marriage. I know, I know. Jude is just as much at fault. And I don't care how many times he apologizes, I don't want him cleaning my house, either.

That's about it. Once again, I'm sorry for the rift that's grown between us. And if Mrs. Claus didn't hear it from me, she would've heard it from someone else. Maybe instead of blaming me for your broken marriage you should follow Jude Law's lead and take ownership for what you've done. That or not let the paparazzi ride shotgun Christmas night.

Sincerely,

Mike D.

"Must Be Santa" by Bob Dylan

It seems that anyone that has ever recorded music has also recorded Christmas music. A new name can be added to that merry roster- Bob Dylan. Yes, the spokesman for the Pepsi generation has released a new album entitled, Christmas in the Heart. After watching this video, I'd have to say that the only thing corny or out of place here are the long gray locks coming from under Dylan's Santa hat. Enjoy:

Fools in the Snow

A few days ago, the East Coast got pounded by a winter storm. Our little town rarely sees snow, and when it does, it's nowhere near this heavy or this quick falling. Bekki and I enjoyed it while it lasted. And, for posterity's sake, we recorded a quick romp in the snow. Watch:

Ernest Ruins Christmas

Did you ever watch those Ernest movies growing up? Ernest Saves Christmas was always my favorite. So much, in fact, that we named our first dog Ernest in honor of the film. And, yes, Ernie has saved Christmas on several occasions, but this year was not one of his better performances.

My mother and father trekked the icy roads to visit us this week. My mother was in the room during the ultrasound to play witness to the teary eyes and gasps of joy when the doctor announced that we would be having a bouncing baby boy. Few times in my life have I been happier than at that moment. I can't wait for all of the wonderful father/son bonding experiences. We can hike. We can fish. We can tell girls we love them just so they'll show us their boobs and then we'll never call them again. It will be truly magical.

After the ultrasound, we drove up to Asheville for some heavy duty baby shopping. My mom promised to buy us a crib, but went all out with a 4-in-1 convertible crib, bedding, a mattress and baby clothes. It was more than we were expecting, but we didn't protest too much. The bedding has a jungle theme which can only mean one thing: I have free reign to paint tigers on our walls.

On the drive home, we decided on an evening of pizza and television (none of us were capable of much else). But before I could even turn the lights on as I walked in the front door, I slipped on a huge puddle of brown grossness. Once I flipped the switch, we noticed four more piles of brown grossness. Then as we marched through the house, we were met with three more huge piles of grossness on our brand new couch. Then I found another pile on the old couch, and two more piles on our new area rugs. Just as we started to put the pieces together, Ernie comes walking into the room with a paper Christmas bag wrapped around his neck.

Ernie is fine. After Bekki going into hysterics and calling the emergency vet, Ernie is fine. Apparently, he got into some chocolate my mom had brought me. You see, Terry's Chocolate Orange is a Christmas staple for me. So my mom, being the superb gift-giver that she is, brought us up two. Ernie wasn't aware they were for us and decided to eat both of them and most of the tinfoil that they're wrapped in. The piles of brown grossness weren't poop after all, they were piles of orange flavored chocolate and orange flavored stomach bile. Thank you, Ernie, you saved Christmas.

Let My Possessions Do the Talkin'

The good folks at Ralph Lauren have been very excited over their new commercial for Polo. It's a remake on an old theme of theirs, a beautiful young man enjoys his wealth by yachting, horseback riding and looking like a douche. As distasteful as defining myself by material possessions is, I can't help but think, 'I wonder if the Kennedy's wear Polo?'

So to distance myself from the consumeristic mind games that Ralph Lauren's playing, I've embraced the counter culture the best way I know how; by purchasing a pair of Levi jeans and getting my granpa to recite Walt Whitman. Watch:

It's a Boy!

Today was our scheduled ultrasound and I'm happy to announce that it's a boy!
I never thought I'd have to suffer through another man sucking on my wife's fun bags.

Babies and Dogs Are Kinda the Same Thing

"Kids are like dogs that slowly learn how to talk". I'm pretty sure that quote comes from the film Knocked Up. If anyone knows definitively, please clue me in. Wherever the origin of the particular quote, I feel it rings true. I for one can't wait until the first time I see my little bundle of joy dropping a deuce in the backyard. Or the first time s/he stands over me with a menacing look to establish pack dominance. Ah, precious memories.

Will I feel the same love towards the baby that I do towards the dogs? Don't underestimate my feelings for our four-legged family members. Hell, I even have a leather wallet with a corner chewed up. I can't remember which dog committed the crime, but I smile fondly every time I look at it. Will spit-up on my favorite shirt do the same thing? And when strangers walk up innocently and ask what breed the baby is, how should I respond? There are so many questions that I suppose I'll just have to figure out along the way.

The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt

For anyone who followed my previous blog, Bad Sum Bitch, my struggle to finish a book is legendary. In fact, it took almost an entire year to finish the Rise of Theodore Roosevelt by Edmund Harris. Hopefully it won't take me an entire year to watch the upcoming movie version that's slated for release in 2011. It's being directed by the impeccable Martin Scorsese and stars Leonardo DiCaprio as TR.

Why is it that all of my idols end up tied together somehow? Is it that great minds think alike? If that's the case then the opposite must be true. If you don't believe me just look at the prison population. But I digress. So when you do eventually watch this movie two years from now, remember where you heard of it first.

Let Sleeping Dogs Snore

Here is the pointless cute animal video of the day. In order to get the full effect, turn the volume on your computer up really loud. Watch:

Jim Carroll (1949-2009)

Anyone remember that movie The Basketball Diaries? In the film, Leonardo DiCaprio plays a NYC teenager living a dual existence as a promising basketball player and a troubled heroin addict. Well, that movie was based on an autobiographical book by spoken word artist and musician Jim Carroll.

Sadly, Mr. Carroll died a few months back at the age of 60. The official press release said that he died of a heart attack while sitting at his desk. They said he was writing, but I'm guessing it had something to do with internet porn. I want to know why it took me three months to find out. Why didn't I hear about this on the Joy Behar Show?

Obama's Not Even Close

For anyone who knows anything about me, the identity of my favorite US president should come as no surprise. Theodore Roosevelt lived more in 60 years than other men live in 100. Running for reelection, he was shot in the chest before he was supposed to deliver a campaign speech. Instead of going to the hospital, he started his hour and a half speech with, "Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know whether you fully understand that I have just been shot; but it takes more than that to kill a Bull Moose". Who does that?

1. Theodore Roosevelt

2. John F. Kennedy

3. Bill Clinton

4. Andrew Jackson

5. Abraham Lincoln

Those are my top 5, who are yours?

Outlaw Poetry: The Perfect Holiday Gift

It's hard to believe that it's almost Christmas. I for one have made a last minute mad dash to the stores to finish (start?) my Christmas shopping. I know I can't be the only one, so if any of you Procrastinating Petes out there haven't bought all your gifts yet, I know of a literary masterpiece that deserves to be in any educated person's collection. The work in question is Outlaw Poetry and it's by a very talented and handsome young man who would be more than grateful to spill his heart to you this holiday season. And the first taste is always free, so here you go:

The Devil’s Tide

Salt water splashes up to relieve me from the heat
From this bridge I watch it reaching up to touch my dangling feet
On my chest each bead of sweat reflects the sunlight glistening
And the wind hides ‘neath the bridge like a train that’s whistling

Passed down family stories that reached me as a child
About the islands long ago when they still were young and wild
From its bottle littered shore men would test the devil’s tide
Their bellies filled with stolen beer and mischief in their eyes

In the bamboo forest making love to that same sweet girl I still do
Drinking way too much and puffing on that same cigarette that killed you
We thought to swim the devil’s tide, our manhood to declare
Our bellies slowly filled with fear, no thrill has since compared

On the day we spread your ashes where your soul has always been
On the shoreline I stood thinking you would escape him once again
And that as a child I would long in your shadow to reside
But damn if I hadn’t missed my chance to swim the devil’s tide

On the bridge above Breach Inlet, where the wind sweeps away rogue tears
And thoughts of boyhood chances that have escaped me with the years
No longer am I running for tomorrow or away from thoughts that bother
So here I sit and stare across the sunlit devil’s water

And at $6.99, why not?

Joy Behar Discusses Tiger Woods and His Many Goomahs

The Joy Behar Show is a staple in my house. Which makes it no surprise that I get the majority of my news through Mrs. Behar. Last night, for instance, I learned of the new reality tv show airing on Mtv titled Jersey Shore. The original working title of the show was Guido Beach, but was met with resistance from the National Italian American Foundation for purveying racial stereotypes of Italian Americans. Hopefully Mtv will accept the script I submitted for a reality show titled No Speaka da Inglesh, where a group of Hispanic migrant farmers apply for medicaid.

Race was the dominant theme on the Joy Behar Show last night. The next topic of discussion was Mr. Tiger Woods and his preference in women. The black community is outraged over Tiger's choice in mistresses. No, seriously. Apparently Tiger cheating with 12 white bimbos has more to do with him hating his black side than with the lack of black women in his particular social circle. I wonder if their were more golf courses in New Jersey if Mr. Woods would ever shack up with a 'Guido'? They're a little darker than his normal pick, but I'm sure they're equally as shallow.

Back to the Lab

I just recorded four new songs today, Love is Not Something. . ., Queer Bashing, Good Morning and I'm in Love!. Check them out on my MySpace page and let me know what you think. I need the good, the bad and the ugly. My ego can handle anything (because I'm that cool).

And, oh, Queer Bashing is definitely about Prince Gomolvilas.

Pit Bulls and Pregnant Women

After weeks of seeing advertisements but never actually getting to catch the show itself, I finally saw the new show on Animal Planet, Pit Bulls and Parolees. Basically, a husband and wife team own the largest pit bull rescue group in the country. The twist is that they are both ex-cons and employ parolees to work on their 10 acre rescue. It's like American Chopper, but with dogs instead of motorcycles.

And if ranting about dogs bores you, just wait until this kid pops out. The ultrasound, by the way, is scheduled for December 21st and we're super excited to find out the sex. My mom and dad are actually coming up from Charleston to celebrate with us (and buy baby stuff)! We bought some cute bodysuits and, believe me, I'm eager to show them off. I've been trying to post a video that shows the bodysuits, but to no avail. I tried asking fellow blogger and professional mentor Prince Gomolvilas for help, but he just fed me some hippie bullshit about looking inward.

My wife, Bekki, is feeling better now. She still gets bouts of nausea, but I do believe that the three month long morning sickness is officially over. She's starting to show and she looks radiant. She would strongly, strongly disagree. The baby is due towards the end of May. I'm hoping it will be a Taurus for obvious reasons. Bekki says that it will probably be a Gemini and that wishing for a Taurus is wishing for premature labor.

I'm secretly still pulling for a Taurus.

Why Are Americans So Hung Up About Sex?

I wrote a new post for Bamboo Nation.

Read "Why Are Americans So Hung Up About Sex?"

The Hot Dog Derby

My wife stumbled across this video and I thought it was too cute to not share with the world. Yes, the world reads my blog. I'm that cool.

Stedman Graham: The Loneliest Man Alive

Poor Stedman, quietly masturbating in the bathroom while Oprah and Gayle drink White Russians and give each other mammograms. It would be a tough scene to imagine; having your emotionally distant wife* fall in love with her best friend, but it's a reality that Stedman Graham lives with every day. That and he has to live with Oprah's money.

Now that Oprah has announced the scheduled demise of The Oprah Winfrey Show, will she finally shed the charade and reveal the dyke within? Or does her delusion run so deep that her ego will never let her admit to those hot nights when her and Gayle put their wiffers together and scissored like crazy?

How can a man live without human connection? It's unnatural. I honestly feel bad for Stedman. Well, I suppose he is married. Therefore his situation isn't really that uncommon. But he can't even smile at a pretty waitress without the tabloids catching wind. And by the time the magazines hit the printers, he will have beat himself up over it so much that there will actually be blood. And we all know that Oprah can smell a drop of blood from over a mile away.

*They're "spiritually married". If that isn't gay, I don't know what is.

Is Tiger Woods a Wife Beater?

Tiger Woods is keeping his lips sealed concerning his recent late night car crash. A barrage of questions are being raised. Where was he going at 2:30 in the morning? What caused him to collide with a tree? Would a woman as good looking as Swedish supermodel Elin Nordegren really marry Tiger if it weren't for all his money? We may never know the answers to these questions definitively, and with no official statement from the Woods camp, conspiracy theories are practically all we have to go by.

Talking heads are speculating that Woods had a simple domestic argument and that the crash was a result of poor thinking, and that the only thing hurt was his pride. I like to think that something a bit racier occured. Possibly after a half bottle of Dewar's White Label and/or a few rails of pure Colombian cocaine, Woods had a late night craving for Ben and Jerry's seasonal ice cream flavor, Gingersnap (we've all been there). So he gets behind the wheel of his black Escalade, floors it and hits a tree. That explains everything except his wife bashing the windows in. Even at the Woods residence, I can't imagine that a golf club was just lying around.

Maybe they just had an argument, he got a little 'handsy' and left. Elin, enraged, grabs a gulf club and follows him out to the street. She repeatedly hits his rear window, distracting him so badly that he loses control of the car and crashes into a tree. Either way, his reputation as a wholesome role model and endorser of useless products will never be the same. Nike may operate primarily through sweat shops who ignore child labor laws, but they have their standards.

Bully Breeds: The Umbrella Species

I just read a wonderful article written by Red Velvet Femme over at Pit Bull Patriarchy entitled, Pit Bulls, Umbrella Species, and the Matrix of Oppression. If discrimination gets you riled up, it's well worth the read.