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.