Did you know that there is a whole underground culture of people that believe animals, or non-humans, take on human characteristics. Whether it be looks or personality, they believe that all animals are like humans in some way. They call themselves Furries.
The Furry culture has taken their beliefs beyond the realm of related characteristics. Many of them believe that through each other, they can, and should, be related sexually. You can find groups of them in chat rooms and social networks across the internet. They even have a national convention in Pittsburgh every year.
It seems that rarely do people use their real names as a screen name. It is usually some form of a pseudonym. I have decided to create a list of screen names for this community. Please vote on your favorite one. Here they are:
-Duckbillplattapussy
-Whisker Licker
-Horse Humper
-Funky Monkey Love
-Catalingus
-Porky Pig Poker “Dibbity, dibbity, dibbity…that’s my hole folks!”
-Jack Rabbit Hammer
-Fox Twat
-Muffscrat
-Porcupenis
-Muffketeer
-Chipmuff
-Skeetah
-Woodpecker
-Back Door Beaver
-Tucan Clam
-Tickle Me Tiger
-Barack O-Llama
-Dongo
-Cockateel
-Chipokememon
-Camel Toe
-Thumper
-Felching Ferret
-Donkey Punch
-Cockidile
-Enis the Anal Alligator
-Dr. Gyno Rhino
-Manapee on Me
-Pink Taco Panda
I am not sure if this group of people is divided among itself or not. Perhaps the ones dedicated to the art form of being a Furry disapprove of the ones that enjoy the mating aspect of their lifestyle. So far, I have found it hard to make any distinction between the main group and this sub group. I would like to make a suggestion so that there is no confusion. I think the sub group that believes in the mating aspects of their beliefs call themselves Fur Fuckers. Thank you very much.
For further proof, click here!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Today's Thought
When you pass someone on the street walking a weiner dog, pick it up and tell them to go long.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Political Hip-Hop Lingo
I recently saw an interview with Barack Obama on BET. The portion I saw started off asking Obama what hip-hop artists he listened to. He mentioned Jay-Z and some other notable musicians, but noted he was more of an “old school” guy that mostly had Marvin Gaye and Earth, Wind and Fire style songs on his iPod. What got me so interested in this interview was the conversation that followed.
Obama, being the politician that he is, turned the conversation to social issues as all politicians do, rarely answering a question directly. He made valid points about some hip-hop music being derogatory towards women and speaking to negative aspects of society. He continued by saying he would like the artists to focus their songs more on the positive aspects of community in an effort to inspire their listeners.
What got me was the lingo he kept “dropping” during his answers. Anytime a politician tries to keep it real, they always come off sounding so lame. I know most of the country truly believes Obama is a black guy, but I am not so sure. Even dorky black dudes can use words like “real” and “down” when talking about cultural influences like hip-hop and not sound like your father trying to be a bigger part of your life. You could tell Obama was not comfortable talking like this and that only comes from not ever being a part of that lifestyle. I am sure he never listened to any hip-hop until he began his campaign and had to get in touch with his black roots.
But then I got to thinking…how would Hillary Clinton or John McCain answer the same questions? “Mrs. Clinton, which hip-hop artist has influenced your life the most?” I imagine she squirms a little bit before answering, “Well, I think they are all great, but I think Fitty’s trials and tribulations have shined the most light on me, showing me what it takes to persevere in today’s society.” Okay, maybe she could sound worse than Obama.
How about McCain? I think this line of questioning could catch him so off guard, his mind may collapse in on itself trapping his consciousness in his POW hell camp memories, forcing him to run the country with a solid focus of revenge against all asian countries. Little bit scary.
Clinton and McCain are two pretty damn white people and I do not see how they are going to be able to reach out to their non-white constituents. I don’t think I would be very good at it either, but I am not trying to run the country.
Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY CORIE! I love you!
Obama, being the politician that he is, turned the conversation to social issues as all politicians do, rarely answering a question directly. He made valid points about some hip-hop music being derogatory towards women and speaking to negative aspects of society. He continued by saying he would like the artists to focus their songs more on the positive aspects of community in an effort to inspire their listeners.
What got me was the lingo he kept “dropping” during his answers. Anytime a politician tries to keep it real, they always come off sounding so lame. I know most of the country truly believes Obama is a black guy, but I am not so sure. Even dorky black dudes can use words like “real” and “down” when talking about cultural influences like hip-hop and not sound like your father trying to be a bigger part of your life. You could tell Obama was not comfortable talking like this and that only comes from not ever being a part of that lifestyle. I am sure he never listened to any hip-hop until he began his campaign and had to get in touch with his black roots.
But then I got to thinking…how would Hillary Clinton or John McCain answer the same questions? “Mrs. Clinton, which hip-hop artist has influenced your life the most?” I imagine she squirms a little bit before answering, “Well, I think they are all great, but I think Fitty’s trials and tribulations have shined the most light on me, showing me what it takes to persevere in today’s society.” Okay, maybe she could sound worse than Obama.
How about McCain? I think this line of questioning could catch him so off guard, his mind may collapse in on itself trapping his consciousness in his POW hell camp memories, forcing him to run the country with a solid focus of revenge against all asian countries. Little bit scary.
Clinton and McCain are two pretty damn white people and I do not see how they are going to be able to reach out to their non-white constituents. I don’t think I would be very good at it either, but I am not trying to run the country.
Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY CORIE! I love you!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Listen to Yourself
I would ask a majority of people in this world to try something. I want you to walk around with a running tape recorder for one day. Then, go home and listen carefully to everything you said during the day. I think you will be quite surprised to learn that you are a moron.
It amazes me every day how people act and sound. And, as a people, we just let it happen. No one wants to be mean and tell these people to shut up and explain to them why they are a detriment to society, but maybe we need to. Maybe a quick face smack, along with an explanation, can make this world a better place.
I will be citing two examples of people I have come in contact with lately who encourage support of my face slapping crusade. I have changed their names to protect their identities. We will call the first one “Annoying Chick On The Bus” (AC for short) and “Dipshit Guy I Work With” (Dipshit for short).
Let’s start with Annoying Chick On The Bus. I have ridden the bus to and from work with AC several times. On most occasions, she is quiet and says nothing, but when she does talk, I want to rip my ears off and stuff them in her mouth to stop her from speaking any further. I am sure you have heard her diction before. Every sentence is a question. Ending each one in an upward inflection. Like, “I went to the store today?” Whether it be on the phone (you should know how I feel about this already) or talking to someone directly, she sounds like a total idiot. I feel embarrassed for her.
She does not strike me as the type of person to make life decisions on her own, so I assume she surrounds herself with morons that think and sound like her. Don’t do this. Try and break out of the mold and you will find yourself talking and thinking like a normal human being.
Now, on to Dipshit Guy I Work With. Dipshit is a little different than AC. This guy cannot say an entire sentence without cussing. And, when you can’t do this, everything you say sounds extremely stupid. Also, he is incapable of speaking in low tones. And he does this at work, in a professional environment, not to mention the legal department of a major corporation. He has admitted that this is his first real job outside of internships. Apparently he went to Redd Foxx’s School of Monosyllabic Speech with featured internships on a Brooklyn street corner. Sure, I could chalk his actions up to being young and dumb, but I don’t think he is going to change.
I don’t say these things to be mean to people. I truly believe they need to learn so they can be an upstanding member of society. I am not looking for a world full of robots, but of respectful people that aren’t so ignorant. It’s my utopia.
It amazes me every day how people act and sound. And, as a people, we just let it happen. No one wants to be mean and tell these people to shut up and explain to them why they are a detriment to society, but maybe we need to. Maybe a quick face smack, along with an explanation, can make this world a better place.
I will be citing two examples of people I have come in contact with lately who encourage support of my face slapping crusade. I have changed their names to protect their identities. We will call the first one “Annoying Chick On The Bus” (AC for short) and “Dipshit Guy I Work With” (Dipshit for short).
Let’s start with Annoying Chick On The Bus. I have ridden the bus to and from work with AC several times. On most occasions, she is quiet and says nothing, but when she does talk, I want to rip my ears off and stuff them in her mouth to stop her from speaking any further. I am sure you have heard her diction before. Every sentence is a question. Ending each one in an upward inflection. Like, “I went to the store today?” Whether it be on the phone (you should know how I feel about this already) or talking to someone directly, she sounds like a total idiot. I feel embarrassed for her.
She does not strike me as the type of person to make life decisions on her own, so I assume she surrounds herself with morons that think and sound like her. Don’t do this. Try and break out of the mold and you will find yourself talking and thinking like a normal human being.
Now, on to Dipshit Guy I Work With. Dipshit is a little different than AC. This guy cannot say an entire sentence without cussing. And, when you can’t do this, everything you say sounds extremely stupid. Also, he is incapable of speaking in low tones. And he does this at work, in a professional environment, not to mention the legal department of a major corporation. He has admitted that this is his first real job outside of internships. Apparently he went to Redd Foxx’s School of Monosyllabic Speech with featured internships on a Brooklyn street corner. Sure, I could chalk his actions up to being young and dumb, but I don’t think he is going to change.
I don’t say these things to be mean to people. I truly believe they need to learn so they can be an upstanding member of society. I am not looking for a world full of robots, but of respectful people that aren’t so ignorant. It’s my utopia.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Careful What You Say
As the parent of a soon to be 4 year old girl that shows signs of potential superior intelligence (at least she is smarter than me), my wife and I are learning that you really have to be careful what you say around your children. Even though their attention span is slightly longer than a doorknob’s, you really can’t ever tell when they are actually listening to what you say.
Case in point…this weekend my wife was helping my daughter do some painting. As she whipped up yet another colorful montage of spots she asked for a different paint color. My wife, struggling to open the jar, made mention of the difficulty she was having to my daughter. Our innocent little 4-year-old responded by slamming her fist on the table and yelling, “Dammit!” Yea, she did.
Being the parents we are, punishing our kids for something like this is virtually impossible because it is so damn funny. We usually have to leave the room after these incidents so they do not see us laughing hysterically. It is the best we can do to not encourage this behavior.
So, just remember, even though they are constantly in their little world, you never know when they are listening. We were lucky, my daughter blurted out her verbal slur in the comfort of our own home. For you, it could be the grocery store or church. Just be careful what you say 'cause they are taking it all in.
Case in point…this weekend my wife was helping my daughter do some painting. As she whipped up yet another colorful montage of spots she asked for a different paint color. My wife, struggling to open the jar, made mention of the difficulty she was having to my daughter. Our innocent little 4-year-old responded by slamming her fist on the table and yelling, “Dammit!” Yea, she did.
Being the parents we are, punishing our kids for something like this is virtually impossible because it is so damn funny. We usually have to leave the room after these incidents so they do not see us laughing hysterically. It is the best we can do to not encourage this behavior.
So, just remember, even though they are constantly in their little world, you never know when they are listening. We were lucky, my daughter blurted out her verbal slur in the comfort of our own home. For you, it could be the grocery store or church. Just be careful what you say 'cause they are taking it all in.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Letters from Prison
Everywhere you go in this country, or even this world, you can find a postcard of that place. Even if you are in the most backwards, hillbilly town. Everyone has a chance to let someone else know where they have been no matter where they go. I think this should go for prisoners also.
Doesn't seem fair that they cannot let loved ones know where they have been with a colorful descriptive note. Maybe something that shows their facilities or a picture of their cell. They could have clever notes on them like "Wish You Were Here," or "My Son and My Taxes Go To San Quentin!" I believe this will help with rehabilitation.
Other possible prison postcard slogans:
"My Prison Bitch Can Beat Up Your Prison Bitch"
"Prison: THE best place to find Jesus"
"Three hots and a cot beotch"
"Prison: The birth place of soap on a rope"
"I miss you. See ya' in 3 to 5"
Doesn't seem fair that they cannot let loved ones know where they have been with a colorful descriptive note. Maybe something that shows their facilities or a picture of their cell. They could have clever notes on them like "Wish You Were Here," or "My Son and My Taxes Go To San Quentin!" I believe this will help with rehabilitation.
Other possible prison postcard slogans:
"My Prison Bitch Can Beat Up Your Prison Bitch"
"Prison: THE best place to find Jesus"
"Three hots and a cot beotch"
"Prison: The birth place of soap on a rope"
"I miss you. See ya' in 3 to 5"
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Sex Education
No one ever really taught me about having sex. I had to learn it all on my own. I wasn’t too worried though. No one taught me how to masturbate either, but I pretty much conquered that.
The best my parents could do was a brief speech after my Mother attended an informative session about teens and sex at our church. She got home and said, “Brian…don’t ever have sex.” Apparently, they talked a lot about STDs and it freaked her out. That was the extent of my birds and bees. I didn’t really try and listen to her, but apparently it stuck with me for a while!
We had sex education in high school. I never understood the point of that. What do they expect teenagers to learn by showing hilarious pictures and movies while you are surrounded by all of your friends. They should just give everyone a hooker and let someone with real life experience direct the lesson.
The best my parents could do was a brief speech after my Mother attended an informative session about teens and sex at our church. She got home and said, “Brian…don’t ever have sex.” Apparently, they talked a lot about STDs and it freaked her out. That was the extent of my birds and bees. I didn’t really try and listen to her, but apparently it stuck with me for a while!
We had sex education in high school. I never understood the point of that. What do they expect teenagers to learn by showing hilarious pictures and movies while you are surrounded by all of your friends. They should just give everyone a hooker and let someone with real life experience direct the lesson.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The Truth About Meteorology
How come the weather people on the news are always wrong, yet they get to keep their jobs? Day after day they predict the weather and are consistently wrong, but each day they return to their post at the news desk. How is this possible? No one else has this kind of security in their professions. It’s not like a pilot can drive his plane off the runway right before take off and his boss tells him, “That’s o.k. Bill. Just take the 4:15 to Chicago.”
No, only weather men. This has got to be the best job in the world. You can be constantly wrong and never lose your job. It’s perfect. I have a theory about this. I believe that when these people go to college, somewhere in their second year or so, their professors bring them all into a room and lock the door. Then, they reveal to them the big secret.
“Meteorology is all a load of crap,” they explain. “It always has been. There is no real way to predict what the weather is going to do. But…if you listen to what we say and do what we tell you, you will have a very long and successful career and get to be on television!”
They swear to secrecy and all their dreams come true. As soon as they graduate, they are placed at a news station somewhere in the country, completely based on looks and personality. Here they will sit as a minor celebrity in that town for as long as they want as long as they keep the secret.
Now, think about it. These guys rarely come close to getting the weather right. They use vague statements and ambiguous predictions. 80% chance of rain…they are right either way! If it rains, they can say I said there was an above average chance. If it doesn’t rain, then they can say, “I said there was a 20% chance it wouldn’t.” Or people don’t care because they are just happy it’s not raining.
Partly cloudy? If there is even one cloud in the sky, that’s partly cloudy! And again, if it is a cloudless day, oh well. It’s perfect outside and who cares if they are wrong.
Doppler radar? Tell me that is not a made up word and a made up piece of equipment. Oh sure, they have some kind of radar system, but any jackass can look at a radar and be able to tell if there is a storm coming. Oooh, a green blob…what is that?
You may be asking, “But Brian, I have seen turnover at the meteorologist position on my local news television station. If this the most perfect job, how do you explain this?” Simply, don’t you think I would thought of that?
Whenever a weather person leaves a position, it is explained in one of two ways. Either someone retired and a position opened in a larger market and the next most qualified person, again based on looks and personality, moved into this spot. Everyone moves up a spot across the nation.
Or, the worst thing a weather person can do has happened. They let the secret slip. They talked and got busted. Check next time and see if this person was ever heard from again! Also, check to see if the person they blabbed to can be found! The people in charge of the world of meteorology are not to be messed with. This conspiracy ranks up there with Area 51, JFK and the Da Vinci Code! You can never talk…not to friends, not to family, not to anyone. I know it sounds outrageous, but there is no other legitimate explanation.
How do I know all of this and I am still alive and have the balls to publish my theories? Not totally sure. Check to see if I have any more postings after today. Maybe they don’t know about me yet. Or, more likely, they know that no one has ever taken me seriously and no one will listen to me. That, and there is a good chance I don’t have any readers! But, until then, I am here and I will be spitting the truth like hot fire! Stay tuned.
No, only weather men. This has got to be the best job in the world. You can be constantly wrong and never lose your job. It’s perfect. I have a theory about this. I believe that when these people go to college, somewhere in their second year or so, their professors bring them all into a room and lock the door. Then, they reveal to them the big secret.
“Meteorology is all a load of crap,” they explain. “It always has been. There is no real way to predict what the weather is going to do. But…if you listen to what we say and do what we tell you, you will have a very long and successful career and get to be on television!”
They swear to secrecy and all their dreams come true. As soon as they graduate, they are placed at a news station somewhere in the country, completely based on looks and personality. Here they will sit as a minor celebrity in that town for as long as they want as long as they keep the secret.
Now, think about it. These guys rarely come close to getting the weather right. They use vague statements and ambiguous predictions. 80% chance of rain…they are right either way! If it rains, they can say I said there was an above average chance. If it doesn’t rain, then they can say, “I said there was a 20% chance it wouldn’t.” Or people don’t care because they are just happy it’s not raining.
Partly cloudy? If there is even one cloud in the sky, that’s partly cloudy! And again, if it is a cloudless day, oh well. It’s perfect outside and who cares if they are wrong.
Doppler radar? Tell me that is not a made up word and a made up piece of equipment. Oh sure, they have some kind of radar system, but any jackass can look at a radar and be able to tell if there is a storm coming. Oooh, a green blob…what is that?
You may be asking, “But Brian, I have seen turnover at the meteorologist position on my local news television station. If this the most perfect job, how do you explain this?” Simply, don’t you think I would thought of that?
Whenever a weather person leaves a position, it is explained in one of two ways. Either someone retired and a position opened in a larger market and the next most qualified person, again based on looks and personality, moved into this spot. Everyone moves up a spot across the nation.
Or, the worst thing a weather person can do has happened. They let the secret slip. They talked and got busted. Check next time and see if this person was ever heard from again! Also, check to see if the person they blabbed to can be found! The people in charge of the world of meteorology are not to be messed with. This conspiracy ranks up there with Area 51, JFK and the Da Vinci Code! You can never talk…not to friends, not to family, not to anyone. I know it sounds outrageous, but there is no other legitimate explanation.
How do I know all of this and I am still alive and have the balls to publish my theories? Not totally sure. Check to see if I have any more postings after today. Maybe they don’t know about me yet. Or, more likely, they know that no one has ever taken me seriously and no one will listen to me. That, and there is a good chance I don’t have any readers! But, until then, I am here and I will be spitting the truth like hot fire! Stay tuned.
Monday, March 17, 2008
The Ultimate Underdog Story
This is one of my favorite times of the year. It’s March Madness. The NCAA basketball tournament is one of the best sporting events all year long. It is the best chance an underdog has to become a Cinderella story. Each year, there is always one undermanned, underskilled team that steps out into the limelight and sits upon the top of the world for a few brief moments. This year has turned out to be no exception. The ultimate underdog appeared from the shadows of the overpowering giants to stand alone as this year’s Cinderella story.
During the SEC Tournament in Atlanta, GA, at the Georgia Dome in downtown Atlanta, a tornado swept through the heart of the city and ripped off part of the dome’s roof during a game. There was mass confusion and excitement. As the dust settled and the chaos lifted, there stood, on top of it all, a small, but proud group of people that no one thought ever had a chance…the Mobile Home Community.
They were sitting there laughing and cheering, “It’s ‘bout gosh durn time,” as the urbanites ran around frantically, desperately trying to find the number of their insurance agents. Finally, the fine folks of the portable housing community, the ultimate underdogs, won one. It’s been years in the making, but it was bound to happen. As far as tornados touching down, the score is Downtown – 3243, Mobile Homes – 1.
I don’t know what scientific phenomenon attracts tornados to trailer parks, but it does. Perhaps it is divine intervention. Perhaps God is thinning out the herd, taking care of the mistakes he made when he left the oven on too long during creation. Maybe this incident was his way of letting the mobile homers feel special for a day…or just screwing with their heads giving them a false sense of security. I would think my God has a sense of humor!
Only time will tell how big a story this Cinderella team will turn out to be. They have a long road ahead of them and will have to face a lot of book smart opponents. Tune in next week as they face their next natural disaster gone awry, a Tsunami in Ohio.
During the SEC Tournament in Atlanta, GA, at the Georgia Dome in downtown Atlanta, a tornado swept through the heart of the city and ripped off part of the dome’s roof during a game. There was mass confusion and excitement. As the dust settled and the chaos lifted, there stood, on top of it all, a small, but proud group of people that no one thought ever had a chance…the Mobile Home Community.
They were sitting there laughing and cheering, “It’s ‘bout gosh durn time,” as the urbanites ran around frantically, desperately trying to find the number of their insurance agents. Finally, the fine folks of the portable housing community, the ultimate underdogs, won one. It’s been years in the making, but it was bound to happen. As far as tornados touching down, the score is Downtown – 3243, Mobile Homes – 1.
I don’t know what scientific phenomenon attracts tornados to trailer parks, but it does. Perhaps it is divine intervention. Perhaps God is thinning out the herd, taking care of the mistakes he made when he left the oven on too long during creation. Maybe this incident was his way of letting the mobile homers feel special for a day…or just screwing with their heads giving them a false sense of security. I would think my God has a sense of humor!
Only time will tell how big a story this Cinderella team will turn out to be. They have a long road ahead of them and will have to face a lot of book smart opponents. Tune in next week as they face their next natural disaster gone awry, a Tsunami in Ohio.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Eliot Spitzer: Who's at Fault Here?
The big news is New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer’s involvement with a prostitution ring. It was found that he visited, at least once a month, with a prostitute at about $3000 a pop. Lots of questions have stemmed from these events. Did he use public funds? Did he cross state lines with the prostitute? Should he resign? Should he remain? Will he get divorced?
Having the mindset that I do, I rarely take things at face value. Things are rarely as simple as they seem, I think. So, the main question that came to my mind when all of this began to unfold was “Who is really at fault here?”
It couldn’t just been all Spitzer’s fault, could it? Is he just a horn dog that needed it so badly that he forgot about his civic duties? Was he driven into the arms of a prostitute or was he unable to avoid the siren’s song?
Maybe his wife did drive him to this. Maybe if she had been more nurturing, Spitzer would not of sought another woman’s comfort outside of his marriage. Maybe if she had just put out more he wouldn’t of gone this route! Of course I don’t know this for sure, but it has happened to a lot of men.
Is it possible that this prostitute was so alluring that he couldn’t resist her? I think most men would agree that they have met a woman that they couldn’t get out of their mind or someone that made them feel a certain special way. I doubt they are usually whores, but from time to time they must be. Maybe she was just that good. Maybe she did things to him that blew his mind, or certain body parts, and he couldn’t stay away. I did see a picture of this woman and she wasn’t bad. Definitely on the upper echelon of whores…at least compared to the ones at the Bunny Ranch outside Vegas. Saw it on HBO. That is all I happen to know about whores, I swear it.
One of the most ironic parts of this whole ordeal is that Spitzer, when he was the Attorney General, prosecuted this exact type of case. He even pushed for a law that brought charges against the men that paid for sex with prostitutes. Not very good foresight on the Governor’s part there!
I am not sure I agree with Spitzer having to resign. I recall a certain person in a high profile position having sex with an intern, admitting to it and getting to keep his job. Does it all depend on the job you have that determines your ability to sustain it amidst crisis? Based on all the public figures that have lost their jobs due to similar scenarios, I guess being President is the only protection you could have to secure your job.
Bottom line, whether I agree with what he did or what becomes of it, Spitzer screwed up big time. He tried hard to conceal it and he got away with it for a while, but he forgot that if you are a public official, you cannot ever do anything wrong. The media gets bored and feeds off the littlest indiscretions. Something of this magnitude can destroy a person. So, in closing, I say, way to go dumbass. You were governor of the most powerful state in the union and now you might go to jail for breaking a law you created. Very, very, very dumb. You may have been pushed or drawn into this predicament, but in the end, it is entirely your fault.
Having the mindset that I do, I rarely take things at face value. Things are rarely as simple as they seem, I think. So, the main question that came to my mind when all of this began to unfold was “Who is really at fault here?”
It couldn’t just been all Spitzer’s fault, could it? Is he just a horn dog that needed it so badly that he forgot about his civic duties? Was he driven into the arms of a prostitute or was he unable to avoid the siren’s song?
Maybe his wife did drive him to this. Maybe if she had been more nurturing, Spitzer would not of sought another woman’s comfort outside of his marriage. Maybe if she had just put out more he wouldn’t of gone this route! Of course I don’t know this for sure, but it has happened to a lot of men.
Is it possible that this prostitute was so alluring that he couldn’t resist her? I think most men would agree that they have met a woman that they couldn’t get out of their mind or someone that made them feel a certain special way. I doubt they are usually whores, but from time to time they must be. Maybe she was just that good. Maybe she did things to him that blew his mind, or certain body parts, and he couldn’t stay away. I did see a picture of this woman and she wasn’t bad. Definitely on the upper echelon of whores…at least compared to the ones at the Bunny Ranch outside Vegas. Saw it on HBO. That is all I happen to know about whores, I swear it.
One of the most ironic parts of this whole ordeal is that Spitzer, when he was the Attorney General, prosecuted this exact type of case. He even pushed for a law that brought charges against the men that paid for sex with prostitutes. Not very good foresight on the Governor’s part there!
I am not sure I agree with Spitzer having to resign. I recall a certain person in a high profile position having sex with an intern, admitting to it and getting to keep his job. Does it all depend on the job you have that determines your ability to sustain it amidst crisis? Based on all the public figures that have lost their jobs due to similar scenarios, I guess being President is the only protection you could have to secure your job.
Bottom line, whether I agree with what he did or what becomes of it, Spitzer screwed up big time. He tried hard to conceal it and he got away with it for a while, but he forgot that if you are a public official, you cannot ever do anything wrong. The media gets bored and feeds off the littlest indiscretions. Something of this magnitude can destroy a person. So, in closing, I say, way to go dumbass. You were governor of the most powerful state in the union and now you might go to jail for breaking a law you created. Very, very, very dumb. You may have been pushed or drawn into this predicament, but in the end, it is entirely your fault.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
I Got Poop On Me!
Raising kids has been the nuttiest experience of my life. I never knew you could love something so much and want to Shaquille O’Neal their asses in their crib all at the same time. The whole process is exhilarating and exhausting. Watching them grow and know I created them is the greatest honor of my life. Having them test every last ounce of my patience has been the single biggest challenge of my life.
The problem I have learned with raising children is that there is no true “manual” for doing it. Your parents totally lie to you. They either have blocked out the memories of you as a child or they just aren’t willing to tell you everything so that you can go through exactly what they did. My parents never really told me what to expect as a parent, but on several, upon several times they have laughed in my face as I struggled through my experiences. Thanks for everything Ma and Pa.
My first child was a girl. I always wanted a girl, but I was not prepared for it. In my mind, I always thought I would have a boy. I did, just not first. I am not very good with girls. Never have been. To be honest, I cannot explain why my wife is still with me. At first, I am sure I was charming and fun, but I know me, that had to have worn off by now. Not sure that says much for her!
Back to the daughter thing…so there I was, May of 2004 changing my daughter’s diaper, or any diaper, for the first time. The idea of having a daughter still had not completely sunk in yet. I was standing there over her cute little naked self and I couldn’t help but notice there was no penis there. The thing that was there was something that is still a mystery to me today. I had to call my wife and ask her the rules for this situation. What can I and can’t I do here? It was all very confusing to me. I remember thinking this would be so much easier if she were a boy.
Well, I got my wish. April 2007 my son was born. And naturally, I got to my first diaper change with him soon after he was born. I undid the dirty one and there it was…something that I am much more familiar with. And then it hit me, what are the rules here? What can I and can’t I do here? Turns out, nothing had changed except the gender.
So, now I have two kids and I can all but guarantee that will be it. I love them dearly, but I am scared to death that there could be another one. I can tell inside me that I don’t have what it takes for more children. I was meant to have two and that is it. I got very lucky having a girl and a boy. To me, that was a very clear sign to not have any more.
For all you guys out there that are curious or scared about a vasectomy, having your limit in children will answer any questions or doubts you might have. I have no fear anymore of having surgery on my junk. It is a primary goal in my life. I just need to figure out a way to get it covered under insurance. Maybe get a note from a psychiatrist that says a third child will cause me to go frickin’ nuts. Dahmer crazy. I think it easily could.
Don’t get me wrong. I would gladly give my life for my kids, but just these two. I am afraid of having a third and being angry at it for exisiting. I know, I know, that sounds horrible, but you probably don’t have kids. And if you do, then I bet, at least deep down, you agree with me on some level.
Let me tell you which rumors about having kids are true:
-Yes, at some point you will literally have poop everywhere.
-Yes, your social life will diminish.
-Yes, your son’s little pointer will be aimed at your face from time to time.
-Yes, most kid’s cartoons will melt your brain.
-No, your family won’t always be there to help out.
-No, you can’t die from a lack of sleep…die naturally that is.
-No, you should not leave your kids unattended in a full dishwasher.
-No, your kids really aren’t that interesting to other people.
If you are thinking of having kids, I won’t tell you not to, but I will ask that you really, really think about it and, at the very least, do some research. I do believe that having children is a privilege, not a right. Don’t do it because someone else tells you to or because you feel pressured to fit in...do it because you, and only you, know it is the right thing to do. Ask questions and get real answers. It might save your life.
The problem I have learned with raising children is that there is no true “manual” for doing it. Your parents totally lie to you. They either have blocked out the memories of you as a child or they just aren’t willing to tell you everything so that you can go through exactly what they did. My parents never really told me what to expect as a parent, but on several, upon several times they have laughed in my face as I struggled through my experiences. Thanks for everything Ma and Pa.
My first child was a girl. I always wanted a girl, but I was not prepared for it. In my mind, I always thought I would have a boy. I did, just not first. I am not very good with girls. Never have been. To be honest, I cannot explain why my wife is still with me. At first, I am sure I was charming and fun, but I know me, that had to have worn off by now. Not sure that says much for her!
Back to the daughter thing…so there I was, May of 2004 changing my daughter’s diaper, or any diaper, for the first time. The idea of having a daughter still had not completely sunk in yet. I was standing there over her cute little naked self and I couldn’t help but notice there was no penis there. The thing that was there was something that is still a mystery to me today. I had to call my wife and ask her the rules for this situation. What can I and can’t I do here? It was all very confusing to me. I remember thinking this would be so much easier if she were a boy.
Well, I got my wish. April 2007 my son was born. And naturally, I got to my first diaper change with him soon after he was born. I undid the dirty one and there it was…something that I am much more familiar with. And then it hit me, what are the rules here? What can I and can’t I do here? Turns out, nothing had changed except the gender.
So, now I have two kids and I can all but guarantee that will be it. I love them dearly, but I am scared to death that there could be another one. I can tell inside me that I don’t have what it takes for more children. I was meant to have two and that is it. I got very lucky having a girl and a boy. To me, that was a very clear sign to not have any more.
For all you guys out there that are curious or scared about a vasectomy, having your limit in children will answer any questions or doubts you might have. I have no fear anymore of having surgery on my junk. It is a primary goal in my life. I just need to figure out a way to get it covered under insurance. Maybe get a note from a psychiatrist that says a third child will cause me to go frickin’ nuts. Dahmer crazy. I think it easily could.
Don’t get me wrong. I would gladly give my life for my kids, but just these two. I am afraid of having a third and being angry at it for exisiting. I know, I know, that sounds horrible, but you probably don’t have kids. And if you do, then I bet, at least deep down, you agree with me on some level.
Let me tell you which rumors about having kids are true:
-Yes, at some point you will literally have poop everywhere.
-Yes, your social life will diminish.
-Yes, your son’s little pointer will be aimed at your face from time to time.
-Yes, most kid’s cartoons will melt your brain.
-No, your family won’t always be there to help out.
-No, you can’t die from a lack of sleep…die naturally that is.
-No, you should not leave your kids unattended in a full dishwasher.
-No, your kids really aren’t that interesting to other people.
If you are thinking of having kids, I won’t tell you not to, but I will ask that you really, really think about it and, at the very least, do some research. I do believe that having children is a privilege, not a right. Don’t do it because someone else tells you to or because you feel pressured to fit in...do it because you, and only you, know it is the right thing to do. Ask questions and get real answers. It might save your life.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Dance Tips for Bad Dancers
My wife and I have a lot in common. Might be the reason we are still together. We both like the same kind of movies, same music, same foods. One thing we differ on is dancing. She grew up dancing competitively and for fun. I did not. Unfortunately, I was affected with a disease at birth that cause you to be tone deaf and without rhythm. It’s called “caucasionitis.” There is no cure for the disease, but you can learn to live with it.
Having a wife who likes to dance could make our nights out difficult with my affliction. But, being the loving husband that I am (please refer to my roast of my wife!), I always went along so we could have fun together. I learned a lot about myself during these outings. But, mainly, I was able to develop some tips that can help you if you are one of the millions suffering from caucasionitis.
First, always take a drink on the floor with you. This keeps one arm occupied. That is one less limb that can flail around and hurt someone or your own rep. Also, if you are attempting to dance and you feel the rhythm slipping, you just stop dancing, take a step back and get a pull off your drink. Looks like you meant to. WARNING: Too much use of this tip could lead to drunkenness and accidentally hitting on the wrong wife!
Second tip is called “The Face Touch.” This one is pretty simple. While dancing just touch your face or head a lot. Brush your hair or do the cocaine nose rub, maybe even that funky little John Travolta from Pulp Fiction sideways peace sign over the eyes. The goal of this move is to draw attention away from your legs which are usually doing the opposite of your upper body. It’s a distraction technique. Works well.
Finally, the last tip is called “The Fake Bump.” If used correctly, it can get you out of some potentially embarrassing dance situations. Basically, what you do is, while you are out on the floor doing your thing and you feel the groove slipping again, you simply fake getting bumped by someone next to you. You then continue to get in this person’s face. “What the hell bra? Why don’t you watch what you are doing! You almost spilt my drink (nice use of tip #1). Come on honey, let’s get off the floor!” See, not only do you get to look tough in front of your lady, you get to stop dancing and everyone is safe.
If you can learn to master these three rules, you too can enjoy a night of dancing despite suffering from chronic caucasionitis. Now, go out and impress your girl by taking her to a club. Good luck and god speed.
Having a wife who likes to dance could make our nights out difficult with my affliction. But, being the loving husband that I am (please refer to my roast of my wife!), I always went along so we could have fun together. I learned a lot about myself during these outings. But, mainly, I was able to develop some tips that can help you if you are one of the millions suffering from caucasionitis.
First, always take a drink on the floor with you. This keeps one arm occupied. That is one less limb that can flail around and hurt someone or your own rep. Also, if you are attempting to dance and you feel the rhythm slipping, you just stop dancing, take a step back and get a pull off your drink. Looks like you meant to. WARNING: Too much use of this tip could lead to drunkenness and accidentally hitting on the wrong wife!
Second tip is called “The Face Touch.” This one is pretty simple. While dancing just touch your face or head a lot. Brush your hair or do the cocaine nose rub, maybe even that funky little John Travolta from Pulp Fiction sideways peace sign over the eyes. The goal of this move is to draw attention away from your legs which are usually doing the opposite of your upper body. It’s a distraction technique. Works well.
Finally, the last tip is called “The Fake Bump.” If used correctly, it can get you out of some potentially embarrassing dance situations. Basically, what you do is, while you are out on the floor doing your thing and you feel the groove slipping again, you simply fake getting bumped by someone next to you. You then continue to get in this person’s face. “What the hell bra? Why don’t you watch what you are doing! You almost spilt my drink (nice use of tip #1). Come on honey, let’s get off the floor!” See, not only do you get to look tough in front of your lady, you get to stop dancing and everyone is safe.
If you can learn to master these three rules, you too can enjoy a night of dancing despite suffering from chronic caucasionitis. Now, go out and impress your girl by taking her to a club. Good luck and god speed.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Kissing a Chipmunk
Sometimes you just gotta step up and be a man. Yesterday my wife had to have emergency oral surgery. No, that doesn’t mean she was altered to service me. It means she had an old root canal that got infected and had to have it fixed right away. Apparently it was pretty messed up and she was in a lot of pain. Having never been to a dentist in our new home yet, it was problematic.
She managed it though. She is still in a lot of pain and looks a little funny, but she is better. She looks a little like she is storing a pretty good sized walnut on one side of her mouth. Being me, I find it difficult to not make fun of her. I make fun of everything in almost every situation. I try to hold back, but it is hard. I know she is pain and not in the mood for me, but sometimes I can’t control myself. For her not redirecting her immense pain into the urge to kill me, I thank her.
I do find ways to make up for my verbal mishaps. I have to take charge of everything going on in the house. That means cleaning, feeding and most all, the kids. This is no easy task considering we have an extremely mobile 11 month old boy and a very stubborn three year old girl. You never realize how much they can test you until you are all alone with them, regardless of your barely conscious chipmunk life partner crashed on the couch. She is there and in and out, but can’t is pretty much useless (just right then, not usually!).
Nothing wrong with this though. It is these times that you relearn what being a good husband and father are all about. Stepping up when you have to. Not meaning to toot my own horn here. I didn’t want to do anything more that sit on the couch and watch TV or be on the computer. Maybe I was secretly cussing my chipmunk, but I doubt it. Not saying it was my pleasure to take the reigns, but it was what I had to do, so it was just fine with me.
She managed it though. She is still in a lot of pain and looks a little funny, but she is better. She looks a little like she is storing a pretty good sized walnut on one side of her mouth. Being me, I find it difficult to not make fun of her. I make fun of everything in almost every situation. I try to hold back, but it is hard. I know she is pain and not in the mood for me, but sometimes I can’t control myself. For her not redirecting her immense pain into the urge to kill me, I thank her.
I do find ways to make up for my verbal mishaps. I have to take charge of everything going on in the house. That means cleaning, feeding and most all, the kids. This is no easy task considering we have an extremely mobile 11 month old boy and a very stubborn three year old girl. You never realize how much they can test you until you are all alone with them, regardless of your barely conscious chipmunk life partner crashed on the couch. She is there and in and out, but can’t is pretty much useless (just right then, not usually!).
Nothing wrong with this though. It is these times that you relearn what being a good husband and father are all about. Stepping up when you have to. Not meaning to toot my own horn here. I didn’t want to do anything more that sit on the couch and watch TV or be on the computer. Maybe I was secretly cussing my chipmunk, but I doubt it. Not saying it was my pleasure to take the reigns, but it was what I had to do, so it was just fine with me.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Proper Cell Phone Usage
Some one needs to say it. Someone needs to let these people know. Stop wearing your cell phone on your belt! Your pocket is about an inch away. Just put your phone in there. It’s not like you are carrying around one of those original cell phones that are the size of a pay phone. These things have been designed small just so they are indiscreet and handy. Put them in your pocket, please. Not only do you not look cool, you look stupid.
Ok, maybe about 12 years ago when cell phones were new and fancy and you really needed everyone to know that you had one and you were cool, wearing them on your hip served a purpose. Granted, it was to inflate your extremely low self esteem, but it did have a purpose. Now, everyone has a cell phone, the purpose no longer exists. It has no bearing on a person’s importance or monetary standing any more. Kids have them, old folks have them, no one is special anymore. Stop it.
Also, people need a lesson in proper cell phone usage. Being as prevalent as they are, it is time to review social graces. Stop being rude! If you are in an elevator, on a bus, at dinner with friends or family, don’t use the phone. Don’t force people to hear your conversations. Don’t text or email when you are supposed to be socializing. If you really need to do these things, then step away from the polite people around you or just simply wait till later. It really isn’t that hard.
Have you ever been on the bus, or somewhere else that presents a cramped environment, and the person next to you answers their phone. And not just a whispering hello, but they launch in a loud, boisterous conversation about how their man ain’t got no sense. Yea, I am sure you have experienced this. Here is what you do next time this happens near you…let them get nice and involved in their chat. Then pretend your cell phone rings and answer it:
“Hello,” you say very loudly. “What’s happening? Yea, things are cool. What?,” you yell. “No, there is nothing wrong with my phone. I just wanted this asshole next to me to see what it was like to make everyone listen to your pointless business. Yea, right next to me. No, he’s looking right at me. Yea, he looks just like an asshole!” It’s all about sending a message.
Of course, you need to be a little careful. If this person is dumb enough to be so rude, then they may be the fightin’ kind. Best of luck to you making the world a better place!
P.S. While I am at it, if you are not making a call, put your stupid looking Bluetooth ear piece in your pocket. Having this equipment does not make you cool. Stop it. Also, if it is not sunny or you are inside, take off your damn sunglasses. And, if it is not cold or you again find yourself inside, take off your damn knit hat. A quick reminder…If everyone else is doing it, you are not unique or special, you are a lame follower.
Ok, maybe about 12 years ago when cell phones were new and fancy and you really needed everyone to know that you had one and you were cool, wearing them on your hip served a purpose. Granted, it was to inflate your extremely low self esteem, but it did have a purpose. Now, everyone has a cell phone, the purpose no longer exists. It has no bearing on a person’s importance or monetary standing any more. Kids have them, old folks have them, no one is special anymore. Stop it.
Also, people need a lesson in proper cell phone usage. Being as prevalent as they are, it is time to review social graces. Stop being rude! If you are in an elevator, on a bus, at dinner with friends or family, don’t use the phone. Don’t force people to hear your conversations. Don’t text or email when you are supposed to be socializing. If you really need to do these things, then step away from the polite people around you or just simply wait till later. It really isn’t that hard.
Have you ever been on the bus, or somewhere else that presents a cramped environment, and the person next to you answers their phone. And not just a whispering hello, but they launch in a loud, boisterous conversation about how their man ain’t got no sense. Yea, I am sure you have experienced this. Here is what you do next time this happens near you…let them get nice and involved in their chat. Then pretend your cell phone rings and answer it:
“Hello,” you say very loudly. “What’s happening? Yea, things are cool. What?,” you yell. “No, there is nothing wrong with my phone. I just wanted this asshole next to me to see what it was like to make everyone listen to your pointless business. Yea, right next to me. No, he’s looking right at me. Yea, he looks just like an asshole!” It’s all about sending a message.
Of course, you need to be a little careful. If this person is dumb enough to be so rude, then they may be the fightin’ kind. Best of luck to you making the world a better place!
P.S. While I am at it, if you are not making a call, put your stupid looking Bluetooth ear piece in your pocket. Having this equipment does not make you cool. Stop it. Also, if it is not sunny or you are inside, take off your damn sunglasses. And, if it is not cold or you again find yourself inside, take off your damn knit hat. A quick reminder…If everyone else is doing it, you are not unique or special, you are a lame follower.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Quotes To Live By (And Some Others)
“Give me the biggest guy in the world, you crush his knee, he’ll fall like a stone.”
-Patrick Swayze, Roadhouse
“My lips hurt real bad”
-Napolean Dynamite
“Forget the curveball Ricky, give ‘em the heater”
-Coach Brown, Major League
“You tellin’ me Jesus Christ can’t hit a curveball?”
-Harris, Major League
“If I don’t see you, keep on…keep truckin’.”
-Frank the Tank, Old School
“These boogers are hard to get out!”
-My Daughter, age 3
“Where am I? And why am I in 2/3s of a hospital room?”
-Gob, Arrested Development
“What do you think of the name Sudden Valley?” “It makes me think of salad dressing, but for some reason, I don’t want to eat it.”
-Michael, Arrested Development
“The things you own begin to own you.”
-Tyler Durdin, Fight Club
“A flute with no holes is not a flute. A doughnut with no hole is a Danish.”
-Zen Philosopher, Basho
“Forget gun control. We should have bullet control. We should make bullets cost $5000 a piece. If bullets cost $5000, there wouldn’t be any more innocent bystanders!”
-Chris Rock
“Don’t eat red meat. Don’t eat white meat. Fuck that…don’t eat green meat.”
-Chris Rock
“Hold your fuckin’ moment.”
-Some random thug in a Vegas strip club
“You are sooo good looking!”
-Seinfeld
“Well it’s hard to do anything with Captain Cuckoo Bananas in charge.”
-Homer Simpson
“Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
-Ron Burgundy, Anchor Man
“Jelly doughnut comin’.”
-Doug McKenzie, Strange Brew
“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.”
-Leslie Nielsen, Airplane!
“Pain don’t hurt.”
-Dalton, Roadhouse
-Patrick Swayze, Roadhouse
“My lips hurt real bad”
-Napolean Dynamite
“Forget the curveball Ricky, give ‘em the heater”
-Coach Brown, Major League
“You tellin’ me Jesus Christ can’t hit a curveball?”
-Harris, Major League
“If I don’t see you, keep on…keep truckin’.”
-Frank the Tank, Old School
“These boogers are hard to get out!”
-My Daughter, age 3
“Where am I? And why am I in 2/3s of a hospital room?”
-Gob, Arrested Development
“What do you think of the name Sudden Valley?” “It makes me think of salad dressing, but for some reason, I don’t want to eat it.”
-Michael, Arrested Development
“The things you own begin to own you.”
-Tyler Durdin, Fight Club
“A flute with no holes is not a flute. A doughnut with no hole is a Danish.”
-Zen Philosopher, Basho
“Forget gun control. We should have bullet control. We should make bullets cost $5000 a piece. If bullets cost $5000, there wouldn’t be any more innocent bystanders!”
-Chris Rock
“Don’t eat red meat. Don’t eat white meat. Fuck that…don’t eat green meat.”
-Chris Rock
“Hold your fuckin’ moment.”
-Some random thug in a Vegas strip club
“You are sooo good looking!”
-Seinfeld
“Well it’s hard to do anything with Captain Cuckoo Bananas in charge.”
-Homer Simpson
“Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”
-Ron Burgundy, Anchor Man
“Jelly doughnut comin’.”
-Doug McKenzie, Strange Brew
“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.”
-Leslie Nielsen, Airplane!
“Pain don’t hurt.”
-Dalton, Roadhouse
Monday, March 3, 2008
Signs of Aging
Each and every day, I am constantly reminded of how old I am getting. My bones ache, my joints creak and my body is shifting in ways that appear to be irreversible. I understand that this is a natural process of life, but I am frickin’ 32 years old. It just doesn’t seem right.
To the outsider looking at me, my first sign of aging is clearly my hair. I am grey and balding. I emphasize the “ding” part of that word. I am honestly not one of those guys that is holding on to his remaining scraps of hair. I haven’t tried to grow it out for the comb over effect or go for that oh so fashionable Garfunkle look…yet. Besides, I am married. I don’t have to impress anyone anymore.
I don’t see my balding so much as a hair loss, but more of a relocation. I say this because about the same time my hair began leaving my head, it started showing up in other places. I constantly hear a gentle rustling, I have an enchanted forest growing on the small of my back and my ears are warmer. Not only that, I get what I call mutant hairs. I get these random, single hairs that grow out of my eyebrow…overnight. Seriously, I wake up in the morning and there is this 1 ½ inch long grey hair growing out of my brown eyebrow. It wasn’t there when I went to bed. Oh, and to further emphasize my theory, the mutant eyebrow shifted to my ear the other day. What the F is that all about?
And what the hell is with the adult acne? Again, I am 32. I honestly thought that zits went away when you turned 18. Now, I get super zits. They are bigger, uglier and more powerful, like a genetically engineered Lex Luther. They are evil and have impeccable timing as to when to show up and create a crisis on my face. When I was a kid, you could just pop those things, go to bed and when you wake up they are gone. Now, if you dare mess with it you risk a bloody scab spot for weeks. And, of course, the acne is in new places. Sure the back, but the scalp too! This sucks. These are mega zits that can’t be taken care of and can no longer be hidden by a thick mane.
But, to this day, the clearest sign of aging I have come across is when your boys hang lower than your captain. In case you can’t tell what I am talking about, I mean when your balls hang below the tip of your penis. This happens faster for some unfortunate guys, but it is a sign of aging regardless.
To the outsider looking at me, my first sign of aging is clearly my hair. I am grey and balding. I emphasize the “ding” part of that word. I am honestly not one of those guys that is holding on to his remaining scraps of hair. I haven’t tried to grow it out for the comb over effect or go for that oh so fashionable Garfunkle look…yet. Besides, I am married. I don’t have to impress anyone anymore.
I don’t see my balding so much as a hair loss, but more of a relocation. I say this because about the same time my hair began leaving my head, it started showing up in other places. I constantly hear a gentle rustling, I have an enchanted forest growing on the small of my back and my ears are warmer. Not only that, I get what I call mutant hairs. I get these random, single hairs that grow out of my eyebrow…overnight. Seriously, I wake up in the morning and there is this 1 ½ inch long grey hair growing out of my brown eyebrow. It wasn’t there when I went to bed. Oh, and to further emphasize my theory, the mutant eyebrow shifted to my ear the other day. What the F is that all about?
And what the hell is with the adult acne? Again, I am 32. I honestly thought that zits went away when you turned 18. Now, I get super zits. They are bigger, uglier and more powerful, like a genetically engineered Lex Luther. They are evil and have impeccable timing as to when to show up and create a crisis on my face. When I was a kid, you could just pop those things, go to bed and when you wake up they are gone. Now, if you dare mess with it you risk a bloody scab spot for weeks. And, of course, the acne is in new places. Sure the back, but the scalp too! This sucks. These are mega zits that can’t be taken care of and can no longer be hidden by a thick mane.
But, to this day, the clearest sign of aging I have come across is when your boys hang lower than your captain. In case you can’t tell what I am talking about, I mean when your balls hang below the tip of your penis. This happens faster for some unfortunate guys, but it is a sign of aging regardless.
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