Smoking Blueberries

Last night I dreamt I was in a cigar shop. Like a real cigar shop, I remembered feeling overwhelmed with the amount of choices and my lack of knowledge. I told the shop keeper that I was a novice when it came to cigars and asked for his assistance. He brought me to the back of the shop and opened a small box. He then pulled out a danish with blueberries on top of it. "Smoke this" he said "and your whole house will smell like blueberries". I smiled politely and asked if he had anything else. Then he brings out this danish covered with cherries. He must've seen my confusion, because he proceeds to light the tip and smoke the danish.

At work today, I had a lengthy argument over whether a pastry can actually be lit on fire. I believe they can not.

A Homemade Porno and a Reluctant Audience

A few weeks ago, an unsuspecting teenage girl accidentally texted my wife's cell phone. Unbeknown to this girl, there are folks out there who will play along and pretend to be people that they clearly aren't. Bekki is one of those folk.

Miss Lovelace: How's that new camera of yours working?

Bekki: Pretty good. Why?

Miss Lovelace: I'm thinking of getting one.

Bekki: I used it just last night to videotape myself.

Miss Lovelace: Cool. Did the picture turn out alright?

Bekki: Yeah, I filmed myself masturbating. LOL

Miss Lovelace: TMI.

Bekki: Do you wanna see it?

Miss Lovelace: No thanks. Maybe Richard does.

Bekki: Do you think Richard is trustworthy?

Miss Lovelace: I don't know. He's your boyfriend.

Bekki: It's a really good video.

Miss Lovelace: Once again, show Richard, not me.

Bekki: Alright, well tell me if you change your mind.

Miss Lovelace: Bye.

Bekki: Bye.

Scent of a Zombie: Daylight Savings, Women's Deodorant and the Walking Dead

AMC's new show, the Walking Dead, is highly addictive. Thanks to Ben Franklin and his daylight savings time, I had the energy to stay up long enough to catch the 1:00 AM replay. It was only the second episode and I'm already fiending for next Sunday. The whole week might as well be this gaping void whose sole purpose is to separate me from the next episode of perhaps the greatest show ever made. Seriously.

I keep thinking about the smell. Ever wondered what a zombie smells like? Neither had I before last night. And despite having rotting flesh on the brain all day, all I could smell was the scent of a beautiful woman. Every time I moved I caught this lovely smell. I'd look around and see nothing. I'd look up from my desk and wonder if someone was standing behind me and there would be no one. Finally I remembered that I had put my wife's deodorant on this morning. I think it was Dove.

Joe and Sam's Wedding

A few weeks ago, my best friend got married to a beautiful girl in a beautiful ceremony held at Alhambra Hall. Bekki and I were lucky enough to attend (with Lukas in tow, of course). It was Lukas' first visit to the Holy City. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time to give him his first glimpse of the ocean. Perhaps next time. The pictures just got uploaded to the World Wide Web and I had to share a few. The complete album can be found here, for anyone who's interested.

And, yes, the groomsmen all wore Chuck Taylors. It's a Charleston thing. You wouldn't understand.

Ricky Martin is a Homosexual and Apparently That's Funny

A few weeks ago, an unsuspecting teenage girl accidentally texted my wife's cell phone. Unbeknown to this girl, there are folks out there who will play along and pretend to be people that they clearly aren't. Bekki is one of those folk.

Miss Lovelace: What's up girlie?

Bekki: I'm watching Oprah and eating chalupas.

Miss Lovelace: Oh, yeah. What's she talking about?

Bekki: Ricky Martin's on, now. He's talking about how he's a fag.

Miss Lovelace: LOL. You're too funny.

Bekki: Yeah, my prejudices are pretty funny.

"Bob" by Drive-By Truckers

The Drive-By Truckers are a band that give humanity and intelligence back to Southern folks. Yeah, we had both, once. Listen:

AMC's The Walking Dead, Zombie Strippers and Jesus Riding a Dinosaur

What better night than Halloween night for AMC to premiere their new drama The Walking Dead? The show, having more to do with zombies than with parenthood (the leap from sleep-deprivation to corpses becoming reanimated is a small one), is as suspenseful as it is fun. But what kind of judge am I? I love anything related to zombies and I have since I was old enough to shit myself unintentionally. I've practically seen every zombie film out there, save one: Zombie Strippers.

Zombie Strippers is a 2008 horror satire starring Robert Englund (Freddy Krueger, anyone?) and Jenna Jameson (hepatitis, anyone?). I haven't seen it due to the sheer fact that I'm scared. Not in the oh-my-god-we-really-have-a-black-president scared, but the perhaps-they'll-be-more-boobs-than-blood-and-my-wife-will-throw-a-hot-bucket-of-popcorn-butter-into-my-lap scared. And anyone who's married knows that there's no one scarier than your spouse.

I recently read an interview with the Rev. Billy Graham. In it, Graham admits that the overwhelming physical evidence supporting the existence of dinosaurs can only be explained by the fact that dinosaurs existed during the days of the Garden of Eden and were present on Noah's Arc during the Great Flood. So I thought to myself, if Billy Graham has the courage to make a complete ass out of himself in front of the whole world in order to justify creationism, then perhaps I, too, can find the courage required to finally place Zombie Strippers on my Netflix queue.

I Interrupt Someone Trying to Read from the Bible

"I don't believe in evolution, but I had to sit through it in high school. So why can't you keep quiet while I read Scripture?"

I'm sorry, what?

"I believe in the Bible. If things like dinosaurs existed, God would've mentioned them."

You don't believe in dinosaurs? The big things with the teeth and the claws? Really?

"No."

So you believe everything the Bible tells you?

"Yes."

So I can assume that you treat your slave with compassion?

"Will you just be quiet, please?"

But if you don't believe in dinosaurs because the Bible fails to mention them, do you also not believe in Tony Bennett?

"What?"

Tony Bennett. The Bible never mentions Tony Bennett. Not once.

"I think Tony Bennett came after the Bible was written."

I think you're right.

"I am."

Community

I'm not sure what it is exactly that makes certain individuals want to congregate with other like-minded individuals. Whenever I'm with someone as awesome as I am, I always end up feeling upstaged. The only saving grace is that the other person is probably feeling just as worthless. That's why I moved to the Appalachian Mountains. The people here are just plain awful. But nowhere else can I get the type of satisfaction I do when standing against a backdrop of rural stupidity. This is the primary reason why I will not be attending the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear being held in Washington this weekend. There's nothing like a few thousand vibrant young liberals to make you feel old and cantankerous.

"Wake Up" by Tim Armstrong

Off the album A Poet's Life, this is "Wake Up" by Tim Armstrong, lead singer for Rancid and ex-guitarist for Operation Ivy. Enjoy:

The Choking Game for Dogs

By now you've heard of the Choking Game where kids deprive themselves of oxygen to achieve a small rush. Some kids get injured. Some kids die. It's horrible. Well, apparently this type of reckless behaviour isn't reserved strictly for children. I went into Ernie's room (yes, my dog has his own room) and found something very peculiar in his sock drawer. It was a bag of Ol' Roy dog biscuits with about 5 or 6 chocolate truffles throw in.

At first I was appalled that he would bring that inferior dog food into our home, but when I found the truffles, I was speechless. Come to find out it's some sort of Russian roulette for dogs. A couple dogs sit around in a circle and you close your eyes and grab a treat from the bag. Some are dog biscuits. Some are truffles. Some make your coat shiny. Some kill you.

Speaking of drug addicts, Rush Limbaugh said on his radio program that the media is making too big a deal over this whole oil spill fiasco. "The ocean will take care of this on it's own. . . " Limbaugh said. "It's natural. It's as natural as the ocean water is". I agree. What better way to solve a man-made catastrophe than to pass the buck back to mother nature?

And as apathetic as I am to the environment and Rush Limbaugh, I'm equally apathetic to what Ernie does in his free time. Honestly, I think he's a giant tool. Never really cared for the guy. But what I really don't like is being lied to. Ernie had the audacity to say he was holding them for a friend.

One Purple Toe and Two Goofy Smiles

The other day I stubbed my toe while carrying Lukas around the house. I was too concerned with making googlie eyes at my boy that my left foot ran aground on the beaches of my Total Gym 1500. It wasn't my big toe and it wasn't my pinky toe. It was one of those toes in the middle that you don't really need and seldom pay any attention to.

Other things have gone out of focus since Lukas' birth. This blog has been one of those. I'm sure, though, that the three people out there who actually read this will excuse my absence due to these unforeseen circumstances. I wasn't even aware that Bekki was pregnant. I just assumed she had some large tumor.

We've spent these past two weeks entertaining family (who we are forever indebted to) and watching cheesy comedies through Netflix. We watched the Hangover. It was decent. We watched Stepbrothers. It was horrible. Completely horrible. I also picked up a copy of Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk. Bekki bought it for me in 2005. It's been five years, but I finally got around to reading it and it's a pretty damn good book. It's also an easy read which is good for me because I'm not too bright. I sure hope Lukas gets his mothers brains. And her looks. If he gets my sense of fashion, I'll be happy. Bekki has a lot of things going for her, but she just can't rock a sweater vest the way I can.

Last night, we stuck a thermometer up Lukas' butt. I felt so bad for the little guy. Unless, of course, he turns out to be a homosexual. In that case, you're welcome, little guy. Unfortunately, he shat all over the thermometer and all over Bekki's hand. Lukas didn't seem to mind. I'm just glad I wasn't the one holding it. He may not have given me the stinkhand last night, but he has given me two things that I just can't seem to get rid of- a purple toe and a smile that won't fade.

"Tru Master" by Pete Rock featuring Inspectah Deck and Kurupt

I can't believe I've never heard this song before. It's off jazz-rap pioneer Pete Rock's debut album, Soul Survivor. Rock made a name for himself as an East Coast producer for artists like Run DMC and Nas. His debut album is full of guest rappers like Big Pun, Nas and a few folks from the Wu Tang camp (Raekwon, Ghostface, Inspectah Deck, Cappadonna and Method Man!), and also contains a few pretty good verses from Rock himself. Watch:

A Hillbilly Update

When Bekki told me her water broke, I honestly didn't believe her. It took the doctor on the labor and delivery floor saying, "Alright, let's get this baby out of you", for me to fully buy in to what was happening. It's not because I think my wife's a liar, which she is, but more about it being a month too early for her to give birth. Let's be truthful, I was desperately craving a month more of crazy pregnancy hormones. It's amazing how I can be a sweet husband and a prick at the same time.

Six and half hours later, our first child was born. Lukas came out with my hair and her eyes and the biggest baby feet that anyone had ever seen. He cooed repeatedly for the entire first day, but by day two had definitely discovered his lungs. Breast feeding was slow in the beginning, which I can't understand because her boobs look awesome. I hope Lukas isn't a homosexual. He does tend to act like a diva when he doesn't get what he wants.

Except for the first doctor who tried to give Bekki Pitocin in order to rush labor, everyone at the hospital was great. It's not his fault, though, I'm sure he desperately wanted to see his son in the dress rehearsal of A Streetcar Named Desire (he played Stella). Labor was six and a half hours, I'm not sure how much faster it could've gone, especially for Bekki's first delivery. The second doctor had splendid bedside manner and the tag team nurse duo was phenomenal. We still need to send them thank you cards.

Bekki's gotten alot more sleep since leaving the hospital. The baby was fine. It was those damn nurses with their incessant blood pressure readings and questions that kept her up all night. Who comes into a darkened room at 2:30 in the morning to ask about hospital paperwork? It all seemed a bit overwhelming, but the end result is that we have a healthy, happy, beautiful baby boy. I couldn't ask for anything more.

Lukas Anthony DeAntonio

Born 4/18/2010 at 1:23 PM
6.1 pounds
18 inches
1 month early, but happy and healthy!

"Shadows in the Night" by Mike the Bull

I should probably put a video with this. Maybe of me eating a bowl of cereal or something. Listen:

Doggy Racism: Radio Personality Advocates Poisoning Pit Bulls

This morning, I was appalled at what I read. According to BADRAP.org, a San Francisco based pit bull advocacy group, a dj for station KGO advised a woman to kill her neighbor's dog by throwing poisoned meat over the fence. Len Tillem, the attorney and radio personality, offered an apology the following day after numerous complaints to the station and threats of FCC intervention.

Personally, I'm appalled by these pit bull advocates. Animals are basically the last group we have left to discriminate against. It's so easy. They don't complain about making lower wages. They don't care if they're allowed to vote or not. And they don't mind riding in the back of the bus. Assuming, of course, that the bus is heading towards a slaughter house.

So I applaud you, Len Tillem, for encouraging people to commit animal cruelty. Some might label this as nothing more than doggy racism, and they'd be right. And the fervor that we failed to subdue with blacks in the 1950's and 60's and women in the 1920's, must be increased when it comes to animal rights in this decade. Because if we, as Americans, lose the right to impede on the rights of others, what rights will we have left? Well, at least we'll still have Mexicans (Oh! Almost forgot about the homosexuals!).


Len Tillam: Let me ask you a question. I'm not encouraging it. Have you already started thinking about rat poison wrapped in hamburger meat thrown over the fence?
Caller: Uhm...No
LT: Well you should
Caller: Well I thought of something but I have a cat...
LT: Oh wait til they kill your cat. Pit bulls love to kill cats. Wait and see what and your 3 year old kid will have to go to therapy because he saw his dead cat being chewed up by the pit bull.
Caller: Oh I hope not.
LT: Welcome to pit bull world. And everything I'm saying about pit bulls I mean and I know with all my heart is true and if you own a pit bull you're an idiot.

Click here to read the full article by BADRAP.org.

The Guy With the Tattoo On His Face

The other day, Bekki and I went to the first of three scheduled classes offered by our local hospital. The first class is about pregnancy. The second class is about childcare. And the third class is about breast feeding. I'm planning on attending the third in the hopes that I get to see some awesome pregnancy boob.

Breasts aside, the classes also offer a great opportunity to network with other first time parents. There was one couple in particular that really made an impression on me. The girl was somewhat average looking. She wasn't really someone that stuck out in a crowd. The man with her, however, was just the opposite. Apart from the generic Ed Hardy shirt and NY baseball cap turned sideways, this fella had one fashion accessory that did stand out- a tattoo on his face.

I'm not sure what exactly drives a person to get a tattoo on their face. The only people I've seen with tattoos on their faces were either in some sort of gang or they were Mike Tyson. So I'll assume that the prerequisite for getting a tattoo on your face is being crazy. I'll also venture as far to say that the desired outcome is to be forever unemployable.

And for the brief moment that I was wrapped in the warm embrace of stereotyping, I thought to myself that at least I now knew that I'd be a better father than two people in this world- Scott Stapp from Creed and the guy with the tattoo on his face. But as I thought about it more, perhaps he was the most conservative and family oriented man there. Tattoos are, however, a tradition that stretches back hundreds of years. So I suppose my hat's off to you, tattooed face guy, for having the courage to wear a tattoo on your face. Oh, and for the courage to wear an Ed Hardy shirt in public.

Nerd Rap

If you haven't given them a once-over already, click on the Nerd Rap icon at the top of the page.

And, oh, happy Easter!

"Something Good This Way Comes" by Jakob Dylan

This is from Jakob Dylan's 2008 debut, Seeing Things. The album was produced by the legendary Rick Rubin and is entirely acoustic. Dylan's sophomore album is slated for release in April. Watch:

Illegal Mexicans Will Benefit the Most from Obamacare

I hear alot of people talking these days, and they're talking about Mexicans. Whether it's about how Mexicans are taking their jobs, or how they don't like to shop at Walmart late night because that's when the Mexicans show up. You can't wave a pistol around in protest without hitting one of them. Although, if you're bringing handguns to protests, you probably aren't too worried about pistol-whipping a Mexican or two.

But it's ok if you injure an illegal Mexican at one of those pistol-wielding protests , because that's where Obamacare comes in. The program is set up to give handouts to people who aren't even citizens of this country. They can walk in to any doctor's office and cut right in front of everyone else to get their free health care. Meanwhile, the mother of two who just got cut in line has breast cancer. Fortunately, she was pretty enough to marry a man with enough money to afford the $1,000 a month premiums for the health insurance that will save her life.

Now, on the other side of town lives this woman's ugly cousin. The only man she could find to marry her was a Mexican who works a landscaping job. He's too busy spending his paychecks on tacos and diapers for their two children to give a damn about health care. Instead of spending $1,000 a month on the health insurance premium, he now has to pay $50,000 to $100,000 on treatment for his wife who also has breast cancer. The fact that her husband can't afford this and will have to watch her die just proves that her cousins husband loves his wife more .

Unfortunately, Obamacare has leveled the playing field and neither cousin will die. Now you've got Darwinian Republicans pumping their fists into the air and calling Democrats the atheists that they are. Surely Nancy Pelosi understands that breast cancer is just God's way of controlling the population.

A Day in Pictures

The tree in my front yard is apparently having it's period.

My wife is definitely NOT having her period.*

Lilly and Clementine admiring Red as she plays in the backyard. None of them will ever have their period again.

*This picture is actually from a few weeks back. Since then, Lukas has added an addition or two to his living space.

"Say Hey (I Love You)" by Michael Franti & Spearhead

I'm not sure how violence or anger can exist in the world when there's music like this filling the air. A really great song to listen to over and over again. Enjoy:

Come On, Diddy!

Dixie, our 2 year old little girl, is hands down the most lovable and vocal dog we've owned. She's half Chihuahua and half Dachshund. The designer breed aficionados refer to them as Chiweenie's or Mexican Hotdogs. Although we didn't buy her from a breeder, I can't help but think that's where she came from.

We got Dixie as a very small 8 week old puppy from a no kill shelter in Morganton, NC. I didn't even think twice about it at first, but now that I've put a little more thought into it, what was a designer breed puppy doing in an animal shelter. Was she possibly the runt of the litter? Is it because her overbite is too exaggerated? Or is it simply because whatever backyard breeder owned her couldn't find a buyer quick enough and tossed her away.

I don't feel like getting into a philosophical debate about why I think breeders are bad, but I will say that Dixie is so sweet and so precious that the thought of someone labeling her 'disposable' or 'not profitable' makes me physically sick. At our house Dixie may be the smallest, but her personality is impossible to overlook.

A Pit Bull Attacks My Son (While Still In Utero!)

They warned me. They warned me. They warned me. Friends. Family. Complete strangers. They all warned me of the dangers of allowing a pit bull around a child, and I refused to listen. You've heard of the bad reputation held by pit bull type dogs, they're vicious, unpredictable and prone to attack without warning. Sadly, those rumors were proven right this past week. Our 1 year old pit bull mix, Red, made her first attack against our son, Lukas.

My wife, Bekki, decided one night to drive up to the local Arby's for a roast beef sandwich. Instead of putting Red in her kennel, she put a leash around her neck and invited her to hop in the car. Bekki's prego stomach is now beautifully bulbous, but somewhat restricting when it comes to movement. This weakness was not overlooked by Red. As soon as they got on the street, Red distracted Bekki by squirming in her seat. Bekki went to move some papers from under Red's bottom. When she looked up, she saw she had run into a telephone pole. When she tried to back up, she realized that their was a fire hydrant stuck under the car.

I've underestimated Red's cunning. I was expecting an attack of a more physical nature, but I have to tip my hat to her inventiveness. A pregnant woman gets into a car crash, demolishes city property and causes over $2,000 worth of auto damage, and who's the last one that anyone suspects? The dog.

Wu Tang is for the Children?

The label for this post is "Wu Tang is for the Children". I started out using it just for posts relating to the Wu Tang Clan. I then realized that the label could also be used for posts talking about children. More specifically, my little bundle of joy that will be premiering in May. And under some very rare instances, the label will be used for both. And, yeah, that one piece is awesome. Too bad they don't sell it in extra large.

Check out the new single, The Champion, from Inspectah Deck's new album Manifesto. Released March 23rd.

Gays Seek Abortion Rights Under Obama's Healthcare Plan

Shame on Congress for bowing to the whims of a tyrannical madman like Barack Obama. I'm speaking, of course, of the recent victory for health care reform. How dare those lofty leftwing liberals in their ivory towers try to hold huge multinational conglomerates to ethical standards. The American people are smart enough to know when they're being ripped off, right? Just like I don't need the FDA forcing dairy farmers to keep their milk free of bovine tuberculosis. I've been around enough cows to know what clean milk tastes like.

Now Barney Frank is crying to the media over being called 'faggot' by Republican demonstrators. He knows what he is. He likes being called a faggot. If he didn't, he wouldn't have chosen that lifestyle, and put himself in the company of so many Republican tea baggers. It's like young girls acting shocked when a guy calls them 'slut'. They know they're sluts and they're secretly happy that they're being recognized as such. Why are they sluts? If you only knew what they were doing in Mark Foley's imagination, you wouldn't even ask.

And why buy the cow when you can get your bovine tuberculosis for free? That's what John McCain and Rudy Giuliani did. Both Republicans left their wives for younger, newer, faster versions. These men were faced with the decision that all men are faced with; whether or not to have sexual relations with other men. Unlike Barney Frank, they made the right decision and opted to let out their sexual frustrations with women they kept on the side. And now that the government is giving away free abortions under their new health care bill, I wonder if Frank will turn from his homosexual ways and start milking cows.

"Gorillas" and "Shadows in the Night" by Mike the Bull

Check it out bitches, two new songs for your listening pleasure.

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Pit Bulls Don't Kill Babies, Their Teeth Do

A coworker recently posed the question,"With a new baby on the way, what are you going to do about those dogs of yours?" I was a little perplexed, so I asked him to elaborate. "You can't have those dogs around a baby" he said, "Especially that pit bull. You'll see". I'm assuming he said 'you'll see' because he believes I'm blind and not because he's never owned a pit bull or a baby. Yes, you own babies.

I suppose I hadn't thought about it, though. Bekki and I tolerate the dogs and their vicious behaviour, but why should our child have to? I guess I could take them in the backyard and fill them with buckshot. I could line them up against the fence and do it execution style. As long as I don't place their bodies in the Indian burial ground, I should be alright. I watched Pet Cemetery. I know what happens there.


Or, or, this is just a thought. . . I could do nothing. I'm just throwing that out there. Call me crazy. Bekki grew up on a farm with dogs and chickens and dinosaurs and she turned out alright. There weren't any pit bulls, though. And I did hear once that pit bulls and children don't mix. And I am one to believe whatever someone tells me as long as they sound convincing. That's why I stay away from that Indian burial ground. Dog zombies suck.

"I'm Awesome" by Spose

As entertaining as it is brutally honest. Enjoy:

Camila Alves and the Folks of "Shear Genius"

I'll blame it on the hormones, but for some reason my wife insists on watching the new season of Bravo's Shear Genius almost religiously. Sure all the flashy clothes and brash characters provide a good 30 minutes of sensory stimulation, but after the flash is gone, what substance is their? It's like a crib mobile for adults. It's nice to watch for a while, but eventually I start to get cranky.

I will admit, however, that I'm in love with host Camila Alves. How brave of her to refuse speech therapy, especially when it comes to the two words she uses the most, 'stywists' and 'congwaduwations'. And forget all this talk about President Obama and if the health care bill gets passed. The only thing I want to pass is time. That way I can start watching season 4 before I start to lose interest in season 3. Which, of course, happened about three episodes ago when I realized that Janine is unstoppable.

Hopefully, though, Ms. Alves will get picked up to host the next season. If not, the only entertaining factor left on the show will be the two pieces of Laffy Taffy around Kim Vo's mouth. I think he calls them his lips.

"I'm in Love!" by Mike the Bull

Here is a more polished version of a song I previously recorded. Enjoy:

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The Battle of the Bulge

The last thing I want is for my son, Lukas, to grow up to objectify women in the same sense that his father does. You objectify women, Michael? Sadly, I think I do. As pointed out by my loving wife, the last three posts on this blog have contained pictures of overly suggestive cleavage. I understand that women are more than sugary eye-candy, that’s why they have vaginas. Form meets function.

So to balance the massive amounts of mammaries promoted on this website, I present to you the male bulge. What better way to counteract your own sexist tendencies than to objectify yourself. And by ‘objectify myself’, I mean objectifying someone who has a much larger penis than me. And if Real Woman Have Curves, do real men have small penises? I don’t know, just ask Prince Gomolvilas.

And if real women have gestational diabetes, then I suppose I’m married to a dude. Thankfully my wife, Bekki, received a positive result from her glucose tolerance test. Now we can have our cake and eat it, too. She was still referred to a dietitian, but told to ‘take it easy’ until the appointment. Luckily, my wife responds to ‘take it easy’ the same way as I respond to ‘no, Michael, my feet hurt’- ‘thank God it’s just your feet because I really want your vagina’.

"Happy People" by Mike the Bull

After trekking up to Asheville earlier today, I recorded a few spoken word pieces that I'll be unveiling over the next few days. Here is me a la a cappella.

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Breastfeeding at the Mall

Recently I read a story about Salma Hayek breastfeeding some African baby whose mother couldn't produce any milk. How disgusting. An American mother would never shed her modesty, even to help a hungry child. Modesty is a hallmark of American ideology. Just ask anyone at Fox News. All I had to do was ask a group of teenage girls hanging around Hollister. Who I only talked to, by the way, because I thought they were prostitutes.

With a wife that's seven months pregnant, I get alot of people asking me if we're going to breast feed. It's a serious question meant for a mature audience. I know this, because every time someone asks me I giggle. First off, I won't be breastfeeding the child. I've tried and I've failed. If my breasts could provide some sort of sustenance, trust me, I would. But even if I could, I wouldn't breastfeed in public. Pooping is natural, but you don't see me doing that in the middle of the food court. Right?

The point is, if you want to breastfeed in public, go to Europe. Or Sierre Leone. Or wherever it is people like Salma Hayek go to feed their children. But in America, we keep our shame and our breasts closely guarded. So will my wife breast feed? That's almost as intrusive as asking if we have sex. Which, of course, we don't. We're modest people.

The Butterface Effect

The other day, a friend and I were discussing the meaning of life. I know, what a heady topic, but it did get me thinking about the way religion influences what people put emphasis on in their day to day lives. For instance, a Christian (like the aforementioned friend) believes that this world is only temporary. That is why they could care less about the environment. It's like the rest of us are homeowners and they're the renters on the corner who never mow their lawn. Maybe if they cared a little more about the appearance of Earth, market value wouldn't plummet and God would think twice about the whole Armageddon thing. Just a thought.

On the other hand, Agnostics like myself don't believe in divine judgement. That's why I'm such a prick. I can say whatever I want to whomever I want and I'll never have to deal with the repercussions. Unless, of course, you have muscular friends. In that case, I take it all back. But what about atheists? When someone believes that their is nothing to believe in, what do they believe the meaning of life to be? Self-fulfillment? Helping others? Getting the chance to watch another season of Jersey Shore? Surely Snookie and the Situation are offshoots from some golden deity. Just look at their tan and sculpted bodies.

About this time in the conversation, my friend asked that if I had no written moral code how was I supposed to live a just life? I quickly thought back to one of the greatest cinematic masterpieces of the last 50 years, The Butterfly Effect starring Ashton Kutcher (yes, even greater than Dude, Where's My Car?). It's simple, everything you do effects everything else. If a butterfly flaps his wings in America, some little Asian kid gets brain damage. I don't know how exactly, but that's what I've been told. Look at Jessica Simpson. If her father Joe would have never made all those inappropriate comments about his daughters breasts, she would have never grown up with daddy issues and built such a sexually suggestive image to seek male approval. Joe, from all of Jessica's ex-boyfriends, thank you.

Snookie from Jersey Shore and the Epic Gynecologist Appointment

The wife and I spent over three hours at the doctor’s office this morning. She went in for her second round of testing for gestational diabetes. I’m so excited. A highly restricted diet and health concerns are a huge negative, sure, but imagine how fun introductions would become. “Hi, I’m Michael and this is my wife, Bekki. She has diabetes”. I would pronounce diabetes with a soft e at the end, strictly as an homage to actor Wilford Brimley.

The long wait as the wife got blood drawn four different times did allow me to catch up on pop culture. Luckily there was an issue of People Magazine lying around and I was able to read all about television’s latest craze, Jersey Shore. What better way to eradicate racial stereotypes than by casting people who fit them to a t and then giving them their own show. That’s exactly the same strategy that BET has been using for years. You’re welcome, black community.

After reading the article, the wife and I spent the next two hours and fifty five minutes judging the receptionists lack of courtesy and professionalism and wondering how our experience would have been different if Snookie was in charge. Towards the end of the ordeal, I noticed that the light bulb directly over me was burnt out. I said to Bekki that if Snookie worked here, this never would have happened. I don’t know what’s worse; giving Snookie fictional reign over the doctor’s office or taking three hours to notice I was sitting in a darkened corner.

"Oh, Yeah" by Foxy Brown

Every time I get a free day by myself, I always end up cleaning the house and listening to extremely loud rap music. With a baby on the way, these days might be numbered. Today was no different. I even came across an old Foxy Brown song that I absolutely love. Bekki says I'm the only person who still listens to Foxy, but whatever. Watch:

Brokeback Mountain

Brokeback Mountain. The Gay Cowboy Movie. I actually didn't think it was that gay. Anything with Roy Rogers is way gayer and way more cowboyier. He wears yellow paisley shirts and pink bandannas. I'm no expert on gay culture or cowboy culture, but I think he would get some pretty stern looks if he walked into a dude ranch looking like Captain Crunch.

Heath Ledger was hot in that movie. It's kinda hard not to look hot when you're wearing blue jeans and riding a horse. Even Randy Quaid looked hot riding a horse (He played the angry sheep herder). Ledger did mumble throughout the film, though. He reminded me of the gopher from the Winnie the Pooh series. He slurred so much when he talked that the first time I watched the film I thought his name was Anus instead of Ennis. Anus would have been so much cooler.

An Open Letter to My Son

Dear Lukas,

I know it may be awhile before you can read, and if you attend the schools around here that day may never come, but I wanted to take a minute to let you know that I love you. I don't love you the way I love breasts, but deeper and less superficial. I still worry sometimes if I'm the best role model for a child to have. I would hate to pass the family nose or the family temper on to you. No one needs that kind of baggage. At least I know I'll be a better dad than Scott Stapp. He sings for the band Creed. Yeah, I know.

I promise to make the best effort, though. I'll read to you every night. I'll play catch with you. I'll do all those things that a good dad is supposed to do. I promise. And I'll never engage in group sex with Kid Rock and a couple strippers in the back of a tour bus. Yeah, Scott Stapp did that. While he was married and fronting the pseudo-religious rock band Creed. What a jerk.

It's hard for me to imagine anything more beautiful than that big bulbous belly that your momma has right now. I place my hands on it and feel you kick and it brings tears to my eyes. But I know that it will pale in comparison to the first time I see your face and hear you cry. I can't wait to meet you. If I never do anything monumental in life, at least I can say that I created a wonderful child with a wonderful woman. I don't care if I'm never an astronaut. Or a NBA star. Or the singer for a pseudo-religious rock band that plays songs about fatherhood, but then attempts suicide. Yeah, with a wife and two kids, Scott Stapp tried to kill himself.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to give you everything and I want to be everything for you, but if I fall short just know that I tried and I love you. And at least your dad isn't Scott Stapp, because that guy really sucks.

Love,

Daddy

President Obama and His Radical Homosexual Agenda

There are alot of people talking right now about how President Obama has let them down. I might as well be one of them. So here it goes; President Obama has let me down. And it's not the usual petty politics that has me so upset. It isn't the economy. It isn't health care. And it certainly isn't LGBT rights. All of which, coincidentally, are the reasons I voted for the man in the first place. His failure, or 'lack of progress', in these areas might be enough for the average left wing nut job to doubt our commander in chief, but it takes more than that to rile my tail feathers. And it isn't his lack of patriotism as Glen Beck might have you believe, but rather his lack of facial hair. On a side note- Barney Frank, if you're really a homosexual, where are you hiding your moustache?

Not since William Howard Taft has a president had the audacity to dawn facial hair. Sure you're the first black president, but without a really cool set of mutton chops, does it really even count? Shaft didn't seem to think so. And what about Isaac Hayes? Sure he would have still been funky without his signature beard, but he wouldn't have been superfunky. And in a world where politicians get up every morning and shave their man-fur, we need superfunky. But I suppose that looking presidential is sort of your thang, Obama. So if you're not going to walk the walk, the least you could do is talk the talk. Let's go back to Barney Frank. The man is probably the 'talk the talkiest' person in Washington. He's not afraid to speak the truth. If he's not going to fix the economy, he doesn't say he will. In the old days it was called being a 'man of your word'. Hell, even those closeted Republicans could learn a thing or two from Frank. If you're going to choose the homosexual lifestyle over a normal and moral lifestyle, at least own up to it. Don't organize witch hunts and condemn your fellow sinners. Instead, these Log Cabin Republicans choose to arrange phony marriages to women in order to appear more electable. Shame on these women who marry politicians only to hide their gayness. What do they call them? Oh, yeah, beards.

"Pregnant Women Are Smug" by Garfunkel and Oates

I find that this song holds certain truths. Hopefully the old ball and chain can laugh with me. That or I'll be sleeping on the couch for the next three months. Enjoy:

The New McItaly Burger

Recently, Italian Minister of Agriculture, Luca Zaia, gave the official seal of approval to McDonald's new burger, the McItaly. The McItaly is compromised of Italian beef, Asiago cheese and artichoke spread. Zaia claims that the sale of this hamburger will benefit Italian farmers who are struggling under the flailing economy. Critics claim that this collaboration of lunch and state is an attack on the very culture of Italy. I say that the industrialized food industry will work wonders on Italian life. Look what it did to the American South.

Hopefully fast food won't be Americas only export to the pointed boot. Our mobile home industry is booming. Who needs the upkeep on an Italian villa when you can vacuum a double wide during Judge Judy commercials? Plus, they can always hook it up to a pickup truck and drive to America when they realize that living in a country with strong cultural ties is far more time consuming than living in a country that doesn't care. We're the country that forgets to put a load of clothes in the dryer. Sure they've spoiled, but we can always wash them again.

What can't be washed off is the foul stench of sin. After we teach the Italians how to eat, we should probably teach them how to pray. Sure they're got the Pope, but we've got Pat Robertson. And if those two ever had a superbowl for the soul, my money would be on old Paddlin' Pat. He's got the balls to say the hurtful and dividing statements that the Pope only implies. Plus the ornate robes and antiquated rituals of the Catholic Church fly a little too close to the brightly feathered barbarians that brought our ancestors to America in the first place. Sure we murdered the Indians and pushed them into cramped squalor more than actually converting them to Christianity, but at least we tried. Italy, get ready for cultural extinction. Hey, I wonder if you can infect a blanket with ignorance?

Click here to read the full article.

9 Chubby Nerds and a Black Guy

Urinating is a very important ritual for me. Where I go, how I go and with whom I go matter greatly. For instance, if I'm going to go in public, I wash my hands prior. It's not that I'm afraid of the outside world; it's that I realize my penis is cleaner than most people's hands. Do you really think your coworker washes his paws after every bowel movement? Hardly. When I'm at home, however, it brings me great joy to pee in the backyard with the dogs. Allowing them to pick up on my scent helps to unify the pack.

It's also important that my pee not touch someone elses pee. A small part of me insists that this is nothing more than my racist subconscious. I am, after all, from the South. And what is more discerning than having my healthy fluid mix with inferior urine? I thought that the online dating service I signed up for would help to ease my troubled subconscious. That's why when the questionnaire prompted me to select the nationalities I was most interested in dating, I proudly clicked 'African American'. Sadly, all I got were 9 white chicks and an Asian.

Luckily, my wife also signed up and took the aforementioned questionnaire. Who was she paired with? Nine chubby nerds and a black guy. I didn't even know she was into black guys. That tells you how much I pay attention. Hell, I didn't even know that I liked Asians. In fact, I was so sure that I didn't like Asians that I left the 'Asian' tab unclicked. I was so positively and undoubtedly sure that Asian women were so far removed from my preference that I would never in a thousand years have romantic feelings for one. Fortunately for me, I took the Chemistry.com questionnaire and now know otherwise. Apparently, I'm quite fond of them.

On a side note, this post is a few days late due to a few more battles with the now slain computer virus.

You and Me and Baby Makes Three

I love you, Bekki!

Oh, and you too, Lukas!

Hello, Heather

As promised, I signed up for an Internet dating site. I took the personality test at Chemistry.com and it matched me with some pretty hot numbers. Unfortunately, I refused to pay the $26.65 sign up fee, so actually contacting and talking with these women is out of the question. Instead, I'll just look at their pictures and pretend we had long meaningful talks about life and love. Hey, Heather, remember when you made that really charming and introspective comment about how people treat one another? Of course you don't. But you might ask yourself; if you're just looking at pictures of women and fantasizing, how is that any different than looking at pornography? Well, when you look at porn you stroke your penis. When you look at Chemistry.com, you're just stroking your ego.

I did find out a bit about myself through the websites personality test. For instance, did you know that I'm interested in sex? "Of all twelve (primary/secondary) types, you are also the most sexual-because both dopamine and testosterone stimulate the sex drive". I had no idea that I was such a sexually driven person. I should probably tell my wife this. My unstoppable sexual appetite has less to do with me being a pervert and more to do with my genetic makeup. It's not my fault. It's sciences fault. You can't blame me for hunting for strange ass in a grocery store than you can blame a lion for playing piggyback with a gazelle.

"Sheila" by Jamie T

There are two seperate videos for this song. Both of which are worth watching. Sadly, embedding is disabled on these. So, enjoy:

Deliciously Deviant Dexter

Through the beauty of Netflix, the wife and I just got finished watching the entire first season of Showtime's drama Dexter. For anyone not familiar with the show, it stars Michael C. Hall as a blood splatter analyst working for the Miami police department. In his spare time he also likes to stalk and murder 'bad guys' in a ritualistic fashion. I wonder if South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford is next on his list.

[spoiler alert] The first season centers around this vigilante serial killer and his journey of self discovery. He finds out he has a brother. His brother is also a serial killer. Michael C. Hall marries the girl who plays his sister, which is gross because it's incest, but more like TV incest which is considerably less gross due to the fact that it's not real. And even if it were real, she's only his sister through adoption, but still the psychological bond is there. Right? [end spoiler alert]

And Dexter's sister is like a gerbil in a hamster wheel. She keeps searching for love, but she never really gets anywhere. I think she'd be great with Sgt. Doakes (played by Erik King). If you watch the show, don't worry. I don't know anything. I'm just guesstilating. Although I wouldn't be surprised if Dexter sabotaged that relationship. I watched Six Feet Under. I'm fully aware of his preoccupation with bald black guys. His relationship with Keith was tumultuous at best. I'm just sayin', watch out Montel Williams.

Hunting for Strange Ass at the Grocery Store

Flowers. Hallmark cards. Heart-shaped candy and boxes of assorted chocolates. Is there anything that sums up February more than Valentine's Day? Well, besides black history? I doubt it. The fact is, February is for lovers. And why should I be denied love just because I'm married? That's why I've decided to throw my hat into a couple of the better known dating sites; Match.com, eHarmony.com, ect. I'm hoping to find someone who looks like the Sun Maid Raisins lady. And if that doesn't pan out, I wouldn't mind having lunch with the girl from the Santitas bag.

The wife is strangely unopposed to this idea. Perhaps she's too distracted by the ungodly creature that's tap dancing on her bladder. Whatever the case, I'm overjoyed by the opportunity to bring disappointment and regret to a new generation of women. I say women, because I was under the impression that these dating sites are strictly heterosexual. I'm just waiting for a few queens out there to prove me wrong and point me in a more flamboyant direction. I wonder if the Brawny guy is available.

Oddly enough, my son is also for sale. The wife and I have been pimping out his baby registry info to anyone and everyone who will listen. Well, are you listening? #43691882 at babiesRus . And if unrewarded generosity is as unappealing to you as it is to me, I'm offering the consolation prize of naming my son. The first person to buy something from our registry will get the honor of naming our son. I'm not just talking abut the first name, either. I'm talking about the whole shabang. How does Louise Larsen, Jr. sound? Or Prince Gomolvilas, Jr.? And, Prince, if the Brawny guy is available, I'll take the one from the 1980's. I can't resist a guy with a moustache.

"Damaged Goods" by the Devotchkas

NYC, bitch!

Sarah Silverman and the Toyota Death Trap Recall

When I first saw the movie Speed, I never imagined that it would play out in real life. I'm speaking, of course, of the massive number of Toyota's that are being recalled due to sticking gas pedals. There have been reports of some automobiles reaching speeds of 130 mph before being stopped only through collision. I can't tell if I'm watching CNN or a Jason Statham movie. As Toyota releases recalls and apologies, I have only one logical question: where the hell is Dennis Hopper?

Another unstoppable force is comedian Sarah Silverman. Season 3 of the Sarah Silverman Program airs tonight. Some people might be put off by her confrontational comedy, but it's satire. It's supposed to make you think a little. She's like a female version of Larry the Cable Guy. Only cuter. And more Jewisher. Oh, and her comedy act is totally different from his. So I guess she's not like him at all. But she is like these new Toyota death traps. She's shiny and fast.

"Rebel Girl" by Bikini Kill

The last 30 seconds are my favorite. It makes me feel the warmth of sisterhood so much that I wish I had my period. Enjoy:

Whores, Girlfriends and Guys Named J.D.

I was saddened to hear of the recent death of author J.D. Salinger. When I was a child, I often dreamt of running away to New York and paying for a prostitute. Salinger's novel, the Catcher in the Rye, gave me hope that my dream could one day be fulfilled. The only difference is, I wouldn't have pussed out like the fictional Holden Caufield. I would have given that whore six and a half inches of American made reality - 3 minutes of sex followed by 57 minutes of crying, 'cause all be damned if I'm paying for the second hour.

Another J.D. to recently pass is the main character from the ABC comedy Scrubs. The network execs didn't exactly kill him off, but he might as well be dead with as few 'guest appearances' as he makes. Ever since ABC bought the show from NBC and Zack Braff walked, the show just isn't the same. Watching the show now is like staying with your hot girlfriend after she gets really fat. Sure, the sex is still good, but her self-esteem issues are a total drag. If I wanted that type of bedroom talk, I'd just have sex with my wife.

Salutations

I apologize for the absence. A nasty computer virus has taken my Internet connection from me. However, I will return shortly.



Stay cool, bitches.



Stay cool.

Vagina Envy (The Vagina Trilogy: Part III)

With this being the third post in the past week and a half relating to the female reproductive organ, one might say that I am a leading authority on the subject. Sadly, I'm no more a spokesman for vagina as Steve-O is a spokesman for universal health care. Sure he's been to the hospital more times than Michele Duggar, but I heard he got his doctorate from a clown college.

No, I'm what you would call an amateur enthusiast. My heart's in the right place, but I lack the knowledge and field work to be a true professional. I honestly don't even know what a vagina looks like in the wild. What are its migration patterns? What is its life span? What is its natural habitat? -Possibly a bottle of Tylenol, because every time I go looking for it my wife gets a headache.

I do know that it's where babies come from, and this fact is constantly held over me by the old ball and chain. "Until well after this child's born, it's 80/20. I'm invested 80%, you're invested 20%" And a small amount of vagina envy has definitly been brought to the surface. Peeing while standing up and having an external sack are dwarfed by the awe inspiring magnitude of child birth. Her breasts will become larger. Her stomach will expand. The bones in her hips will actually move. It's almost like I'm married to Optimus Prime. Sadly, their's only one thing on me that can double in size, and that's my waistline.

"No Children" by the Mountain Goats

Bekki views this song as required listening for anyone thinking about getting married. The video is from the Adult Swim show Moral Orel. Enjoy:

An Open Letter from Conan O'Brien

There has been alot of controversy lately surrounding the Tonight Show and NBC's offer to move Conan to 12:05 and give Leno his show at 11:30. I was a Conan fan all through high school and college and I consider NBC's actions as a personal affront not only to me but to all of Conan's fans. NBC is pissing away an entertainer that far surpasses Jay Leno and probably any other entertainer on television today. Here is Conan's letter which was published yesterday:


People of Earth:

In the last few days, I've been getting a lot of sympathy calls, and I want to start by making it clear that no one should waste a second feeling sorry for me. For 17 years, I've been getting paid to do what I love most and, in a world with real problems, I've been absurdly lucky. That said, I've been suddenly put in a very public predicament and my bosses are demanding an immediate decision.

Six years ago, I signed a contract with NBC to take over The Tonight Show in June of 2009. Like a lot of us, I grew up watching Johnny Carson every night and the chance to one day sit in that chair has meant everything to me. I worked long and hard to get that opportunity, passed up far more lucrative offers, and since 2004 I have spent literally hundreds of hours thinking of ways to extend the franchise long into the future. It was my mistaken belief that, like my predecessor, I would have the benefit of some time and, just as important, some degree of ratings support from the prime-time schedule. Building a lasting audience at 11:30 is impossible without both.

But sadly, we were never given that chance. After only seven months, with my Tonight Show in its infancy, NBC has decided to react to their terrible difficulties in prime-time by making a change in their long-established late night schedule.

Last Thursday, NBC executives told me they intended to move the Tonight Show to 12:05 to accommodate the Jay Leno Show at 11:35. For 60 years the Tonight Show has aired immediately following the late local news. I sincerely believe that delaying the Tonight Show into the next day to accommodate another comedy program will seriously damage what I consider to be the greatest franchise in the history of broadcasting. The Tonight Show at 12:05 simply isn't the Tonight Show. Also, if I accept this move I will be knocking the Late Night show, which I inherited from David Letterman and passed on to Jimmy Fallon, out of its long-held time slot. That would hurt the other NBC franchise that I love, and it would be unfair to Jimmy.

So it has come to this: I cannot express in words how much I enjoy hosting this program and what an enormous personal disappointment it is for me to consider losing it. My staff and I have worked unbelievably hard and we are very proud of our contribution to the legacy of The Tonight Show. But I cannot participate in what I honestly believe is its destruction. Some people will make the argument that with DVRs and the Internet a time slot doesn't matter. But with the Tonight Show, I believe nothing could matter more.

There has been speculation about my going to another network but, to set the record straight, I currently have no other offer and honestly have no idea what happens next. My hope is that NBC and I can resolve this quickly so that my staff, crew, and I can do a show we can be proud of, for a company that values our work.

Have a great day and, for the record, I am truly sorry about my hair; it's always been that way.

Yours,

Conan

The Good, the Bad and the Vagina

Along with a strew of other baby books, my wife recently purchased and devoured the book Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy. It's all about the good, bad and ugly little details of her pregnancy with son Evan. One anecdote was found so utterly amusing by my wife that she had to indulge her penchant for toilet humor and share the story over dinner. In the book, Ms. McCarthy gives specific details about the changing consistency of her vaginal discharge since becoming pregnant. She describes the discharge as "thicker and slimier" and lovingly refers to the residue it left on her underwear as a "snail trail".

I'll give you a minute to digest that image. It's like staring into the sun, where the longer you think about it the more permanently burned into your retina it becomes. I even shared this story with a male friend of mine who reacted with horror. "Jenny McCarthy's centerfolds helped me enter manhood! Why would she say that?" Whatever mystery or magic McCarthy's vagina held over my friend is now gone forever. It is replaced by the knowledge that what lies behind that tuft of blond bush is not only for sex, but also for creating babies (and pee).

I suppose the glitter fades with every new experience, not just McCarthy's vagina. The best we can hope for is that some things in life actually live up to the hype- unlike Bruno, which totally blew (insert pun here). Or we can just realize that nothing is perfect and that the rainy days are just as beautiful as the sunny ones. Hell, even Humphrey Bogart shit his brains out on occasion. Does that make you like Casablanca any less?

"If You're Gonna Be Dumb" by Roger Alan Wade

Cousin of Johnny Knoxville, Wade has a unique style of country music where he basically says whatever the hell he wants. This is what John Prine would sound like if he lived in a trailer park. Enjoy:

Death of a Socialite

Casey Johnson, heiress to the Johnson and Johnson empire, has passed away at the age of 30. She has left behind her adopted daughter, a celebrity girlfriend and two pampered pooches who have, apparently, pissed alot of people off. Los Angeles police were called to the home of Johnson's fiance, reality tv star Tila Tequila, to settle a dispute with friends Bijou Philips and Nicky Hilton as they came to collect Johnson's two dogs on behalf of her family. Tequila claimed that the two wanted to put Johnson's elderly dog, Zoey, to sleep and bury it with her. Luckily, Johnson and Tequila had not yet wed. Under heiress custom, all legal property must be buried in the tomb with the deceased.

And celebrity gossip columnist Perez Hilton can bad mouth her all he wants, but my heart goes out to Miss Tequila who, sadly, has only a few hundred thousand Twitter followers to comfort her. Sure her completely random and emotionally charged Tweets are skeptical at best, but if he has never lost a friend who was also doubling as a pawn in a strange and strategic career move, then how can he possibly judge her? Perez, don't hate. It's not flattering.

And get ready, Perez, I've heard that these things happen in threes. First it was Brittany Murphy, then Casey Johnson, so what next? Tila's career? Soon to be ex-wife of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, Jenny Sanford? We all know how vengeful those politicians can be (California congressman Gary Condit, anyone? For the moment, though, Mrs. Sanford is not dead. She is, however, extremely pissed. Fortunately for her, and her publicist, she has bottled her rage in the form of a tell all memoir, Staying True. The memoir is being released in early February months before it's previously scheduled date. Mrs. Sanford, people don't read books anymore. If you really want someone to connect with your words of pain and betrayal, I suggest you channel them into a series of Tweets. Has the death of Casey Johnson taught you nothing?

Guy on a Red Couch

Yes, the couch is red and the guy is me. Enjoy:

"Born to Die" by Leftover Crack

From the boys of C-Squat located in Manhattan, NYC come a barrage of hardcore, ska and punk melodies to make your ears bleed. My darling wife turned me on to this band and, I must say, I'm in love. Enjoy:

I Wish I Were Gay

There are so many perks to being homosexual that I can't help but to think that life would be monumentally easier if I were gay. For instance, gays can't get married. Some would view this as a 'restriction on civil rights', but I like to look at it from Tiger Woods' perspective; if you never get married then you can never get divorced. The second you stick your penis in a dozen or so glory holes, she will take half of your money and your children and move back to Sweden where they live in Igloos and eat blood pudding. Seriously, they eat pudding made out of blood. They're like vampires that make really crappy furniture.

Also, guys don't spend hours applying face paint and body contraptions to make themselves look like they did in the fourth grade. A guy will wash his face and hair with the exact same bar of soap that he just washed his ass with. Grooming is a necessity, not a hobby. Guys do not spend excessive amounts of time on unimportant activities. Instead, we spend our entire Sundays watching football and talking about cars we'll never be able to afford.

Most importantly, guys don't turn down sex. A guy will not get all huffy and slap you for asking for road head. He will punch you in the stomach if you drink the last beer. That's understandable. But you will then respond in kind by punching him in the stomach. One of you will cave and drive to the store for more beer. The problem will then resolve itself as you both drink and laugh about the fight extensively. That sounds preferable to weeks of analyzing every bump and vocal tic used in said argument.

Being gay does have one drawback, though. It's slick, cylindrical and about 8 inches if you're lucky. Apparently, if you're gay you have to enjoy some degree of strange penis interaction. I say strange, because playing solitaire in the shower is probably more heterosexual than actually having intercourse with a woman. Cock fear aside, I'd still rather give Tiger the old tug and pull than babysit his vampire children. Vampires really freak me out.

Young Pussy and Old Vagina

With society placing more emphasis on youth, it's not surprising that the standard of beauty is somewhat less than mature. I remember fondly looking at my grandfathers old Playboy's and marveling at the lush and curly bushes. These girls weren't the 12 year olds I was too nervous to talk to, they were beautiful grown women with a dense underbrush. Now it's commonplace to shave your wiffer and throw some baby powder between your legs. Kinda reminds me of those 12 year old girls I was too nervous to talk to.

Former 12 year old and Disney star Miley Cyrus seems to be the unofficial spokeswomen for our Lolita-lust. Not only does she prance around in full makeup and short-shorts, she poses for Vanity Fair with no shirt on. More shocking was the photo from the same series with father Billy Ray Cyrus. In the photograph, Miley is apparently using her elbow to keep her father's ballsack warm.

Remember when all the comedians and late night talk show guys were blabbering on about the Olsen twins and the countdown until their eighteenth birthday? How long until we start counting down to the time where it's socially acceptable to start the aforementioned countdown? First we'll have to establish an age we find appropriate to start said countdown. This age, of course, will drastically reduce as time goes by. Let's start with 15. 15 will be the age where it's acceptable to think about having sex with a girl, but not to actually go through with it. That age is still set at 18, as outlined by your state law enforcement agency.

I think I'll start cruising the local nurseries. That way I'll have 15 years of anticipation and 3 years of sexually depraved fantasies before I can actually start pursuing her. Then, one lucky night I'll find myself removing her pink Care Bear panties only to find a woolly and unkempt bush staring back at me. Upon seeing this pubic hair, I will surely lose all interest. I think I might just skip all that and think about Anita Ekberg.