Tuesday, September 29, 2009

General Hospital Is The Devil

Mini-Me has had a cold this week, and whenever he is sick, he likes to sleep in the same bed as Friz. They have kind of a mini-campout, and it makes him feel better.

Our bed is big (king-size) but it’s not big enough for ME when he’s sleeping there, given that he tosses and turns so much that I will often wake up with a foot in my face, so on these “mini-campout” nights, I usually just go sleep in our guest room.

So, last night when it was time for bed, I gave my little one a kiss, and then I proceeded to give Friz a goodnight smooch.

Imagine my surprise when, as I am doling out one of my sweet, sexy, sought-after, kisses, my son starts chanting…..

“Now Get Naked and Kiss!”

“Get Naked and Kiss!”

“Get Naked and Kiss!”

Immediately, my FIRST thought is, “What the HELL has this kid seen?” I’d like to think we are usually pretty good about keeping that stuff nice and private-like.

So, trying to regain my composure, I asked him, “Where the heck did you get THAT from?”

His answer?

“GENERAL HOSPITAL”!!!!!!!!!!!

Apparently, he was watching GH with Friz the other night, when two characters started rolling around in bed and kissing with no clothes on.

So NOW, because of that ass-hat of a show, I’ve gotta deal with this shit at 11pm at night.

At least I’ll get to hold this over on Friz for a while. She CONSTANTLY gives me crap for letting Mini-Me watch some of my horror movies with me. Meanwhile, it’s this soap-opera shit that REALLY turns kids into degenerates…..

I mean, I grew up watching horror movies with my dad, and look how fucking normal and well-adjusted I turned out…..

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Of Dreams Unfinished

Does anyone else out there have the problem where they never get to actually FINISH anything that is happens to them in their dreams?

I’ve spoken before about how I NO LONGER HAVE NIGHTMARES, but this is different.

No matter WHAT I’m dreaming about, I NEVER, EVER, EVER get to see the dreams’ original intention realized. I honestly don’t think I can ever remember ‘finishing’ a dream.

Last night was a perfect example:

I was having a dream where an old girlfriend had come over to visit me. We were sitting on the couch and we started to make out.

Then, the dream steers away from the obvious conclusion from where it was going. She proceeds to tell me that she visited me because there is something she desperately needs to tell me.

I keep trying to get her to go back to the sexing, but she refuses to do so until she tells me what she has to say. So, she starts going in to this long story (which I’m honestly having trouble remembering now…I forget a lot about my dreams after I wake up), but I do remember that it was a GOOD story and I wanted to hear the end of it.

Then, suddenly, some friends of mine show up, wanting to watch a movie with me. I keep trying to get them to leave, SO she can finish her story, SO I can have some sexytime, but they won’t take “no” for an answer.

We all sat down to watch the movie. I remember thinking the movie was awesome, but halfway through it, the phone rang and I had to pause the DVD to answer it.

I don’t remember who was on the phone, but I DO remember just trying to get them to tell me whatever they had to tell me, SO I could go back to finishing the movie, SO I could get this chick to finish her story, SO I could have her molest my bathing-suit area.

Seeing a pattern here?

It’s even WORSE when it comes to sex dreams (which I guess this one ‘kinda’ was). I just can NEVER seal the deal. I always hear stories of people who have these wild sex dreams, and it just doesn’t happen to me. I have a lot of “beginning sex” dreams, but just as its getting good, the girl will tell me to ‘run to the kitchen and get me a drink first’. No sooner do I get to the kitchen, when a tiger will break into the house and first I have to get rid of it, before I get the drink, before I can find the girl.

You get the idea. Same pattern again.

And it happens EVERY TIME I dream. It’s really quite maddening to not being able to see ANY kind of dream to fruition.

I’m sure it tells something quite revealing about my psyche that I am unable to complete anything in any of my dreams, but I just can’t analyze myself to figure out what the Hell it is.

I’m sure that little minx Mrs Hall will have something to say on this, but what say the rest of you? What the Hell is up with me?

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I’m in Zhu Zhu Hell!

I can’t be the ONLY parent out there who is pulling their hair out trying to get these damn things, am I?

Let me back up a bit.

About a month ago, Mini-Me called me over to the TV to show me a commercial for this new toy, called Zhu Zhu Pets.

They are these little battery controlled hamsters that have small sensors on them that tell them what part of the habitrail they are currently in. So, for instance, they know to make car sounds when they are driving in their little car. That kind of thing.

From the first time my son saw these little fuckers, he was hooked. He PLEADED with me to get them.

So, being the most awesomest dad in the world, I set out to put a smile on his face.

Easier said than done.

In case you haven’t seen, these things have become THE hottest toy on the planet. Stores are selling out in literally SECONDS after opening, and Amazon and Ebay prices are DISGUSTING right now, as asshats all over the country buy out whatever they can find, and then mark up the damn things by about 500%.

Seriously. The hamsters alone sell for $7.99 a piece at Toys R Us. Right now the CHEAPEST Amazon is selling them for is $20.00. Some real humanitarians are charging as much as $50.

But I, being SUPER-DAD, have not been daunted. Never being one to back down from a challenge, I have actually been going to local Toys R Us’s before they open, and waiting outside.

It’s usually just me and about 10 other housewives, which is nice since, I’m pretty sure in a fist fight I can take 2 or 3 of them at once.

Anyway, it’s been a rough few weeks, but I am actually making progress. I have been able to get almost all of the tracks, and 2 of the hamsters. My son is in absolute Zhu-Zhu heaven, playing with them every night and being the envy of all his friends who clearly don’t have dads nearly HALF as fucking cool (or hot) as me.

Anyway, most people seem to think that Zhu Zhu pets will be THE impossible-to-get toy this Christmas, and I’d just as soon finish getting the entire set now before these get even HARDER to find.

I don’t normally do stuff like this, but if anyone out there can find me either the big blue ramp accessory, the Hamster Ball, Mr Squiggles, or Chunk, I will fly to your house, reimburse you for the items, and then have mind-blowing sex with you. I Promise.

The above offer is only redeemable if you’re a chick. Offer not good in Idaho, or parts of the country where people are inbred.

Sigh.

Oh Hell, I’m desperate. Let’s compromise, shall we? If you’re a guy, I’ll blow you. Is that fair?

But just this one time, ok?

(Seriously, if you find them for me, I will gladly pay you for your trouble. You will also have my undying thanks. That’s gotta be worth SOMETHING, right?)

Friday, September 18, 2009

Ernie Likes Chickens

Ok, this happened last night, but since it's already burning up the interwebs, i figured i might as well put it up before most of you have seen it already.

Ernie Enastas, who has been a staple of New York City Newscasting for as long as i can remember, really stepped into a big pile of poo last night during the nightly live newscast.

During a seemingly innocuous segment where they are discussing different ways to cook a chicken, Good ol' Ernie attempts to josh around with the other dude, and TRIES to tell him "You keep plucking that chicken!"

Emphasis on "Tries".

My 2 favorite parts of this video?

1) After Ernie makes his colossal blunder, the dude on the right just smiles and says "OK!".

"OK"????

You know the dude was sitting there thinking, "Shit, did Ernie just tell me to go fuck a chicken? No, SURELY i MUST have heard that wrong. What do i do? I know! I'll just say 'OK' and play it off!"

2) The look on the chick to the left is PRICELESS! After Ernie tells the dude to keep fucking the chicken, her eyes pop out of her head like that little shrunken dude in Beetle Juice.

Seriously, i could watch this all day.

Happy Friday, all.


Keep Plucking that Chicken News Fail - Watch more Funny Videos

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

The Doody Protocol


I got together with some old friends the other night, and as we usually do, the alcohol started flowing, and some old stories started flowing as well.

One of the things that my friends always bust me on, is my psychotic temper. The problem with me is not that I have a “bad” temper exactly. It’s just that I have no “middle ground”. I am a notoriously meek pushover, until I have been pushed to a certain point, and then I go all “Wolverine Berserker” at the drop of a hat. It’s true. If “Anger” has a scale from 1 to 10, MY internal anger management skills would keep me at 1 for a looong time, and then instantly skyrocket to 50. Maybe it’s just my hot Sicilian blood.

Anyway, I hadn’t thought about this story in years, but to a select few, this tale will be known till the end of time, as The Doody Protocol.

A few years back, a good friend of mine asked me to spend the week with him out on Block Island, on his father’s luxury sailboat.

His dad had his boat moored near his home out in Brooklyn and he was sailing it up to Block Island to spend some time there. He said we could take the Montauk Ferry out to Rhode Island to meet him there. He would then take a car home so we could have the boat to ourselves.

What 20-something WOULDN’T jump at that opportunity?

Anyway, when we got there, we discovered that the boat was docked out in the ocean. We had to TAKE a boat to GET to the boat!

The boat was STUNNING. It was a dead ringer for the one in DEAD CALM and the whole scene reminded me of that film (except that I’m much better looking than Billy Zane, and my friend was NO Nicole Kidman).

Anyway, as we were settling in to our new nautical home, I started exploring the ship.

When I happened upon the bathroom, I walked in and was surprised to discover a BIG sign affixed on the wall over the toilet:

“Do NOT attempt to flush paper of ANY kind in this toilet. Thanks!”

I left the bathroom, puzzled, and searched out my friend.

“Hey, I just checked out the bathroom”

“Yeah, pretty cool boat, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I gotta ask… what’s with the sign?”

“What sign?”

“The sign that says, don’t throw any kind of paper into the toilet”

“Oh yeah. Well, the boat operates on a bilge pump for the toilet, and it’s not strong enough to flush paper products”.

“ANY kind of paper?”

“Yeah, anything.”

At this point, I stood there waiting for him to realize what exactly had me so puzzled. He still wasn’t getting it.

“Ok, but what do we have to do if we need to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh, that’s fine”

“How can it be fine? You just said we can’t put paper of any kind in the toilet”

“Yeah, we really shouldn’t.”

“OOOOH-Kay, then how the Hell do we go to the bathroom?”

“What do you mean? You just go”

“But I can’t put any paper down the toilet”

“Right”

I was getting frustrated. “You really don’t see what I’m getting at here?”

“Not really, no.”

“How do I … take care of all my bathroom ‘needs’, if I cant put paper down the toilet?”

“I told you, NO paper down the toilet. You’ll clog the whole fucking thing.”

“I KNOW. You keep saying that, but you aren’t explaining what I need to do if I have to go to the bathroom on this piece of shit boat”

“What is your problem? If you have to go to the bathroom, just go! Why are you being a such dick about it?”

And there, ladies and gentlemen, was where I hit my famous boiling point.

I jumped up, ready to kill someone. I grabbed him by the shirt, threw him up against the wall, and screamed into his face….

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WILL YOU JUST FUCKING TELL ME WHAT IS THE FUCKING DOODY PROTOCOL ON THIS FUCKING BOAT?”

“Oh, that. Toilet paper is ok”

Then we just looked at each other and broke into 20 minutes of hysterics.

But that’s how it is (or at least, should be), with old, good friends.

Anyway, over the years the story has been told so many times, by so many different people, I’m surprised the Lifetime channel hasn’t optioned it for a movie yet.

I’m not sure what part Melissa Gilbert would play, but she’s ALWAYS in those fucking things.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Screw You, FedEx!


Have you ever ordered something that you wanted to arrive at your house SO freaking badly that you didn’t know how you are ever going to survive until it gets to you?

Well, that’s “ME” pretty much every time I order ANYTHING.

What can I say? In terms of being patient and reserved when it comes to buying nifty gadgets, I have the intellectual maturity of a 10 year old.

And I’m fine with that. Really.

EXCEPT, when I’m not.

Case in point: Last week I finally decided to chuck my old Tivo, and get myself a brand-spankin’ new 1080p Super High Definition DVR before the new season of TV starts next week.

By Saturday morning, even though I only ordered the unit (hehe.. I said ‘unit’) TWO days prior, I just HAD to call the company and ask them why my package (wee, I said ‘package’) hasn’t arrived yet. Wow, 2 penis references in 1 paragraph! I want you all to know that I sat here for 10 minutes trying to cram another one here, but I came up empty (yay, I said ‘came’. Mission accomplished!).

Anyway, they told me that their shipments always take 5-7 days, and I shouldn’t expect my DVR until next Wednesday at the earliest.

So, it was with a heavy heart that I finally resigned myself to having to wait for my new techno-bling, and took Mini-Me to McDonalds for lunch.

We were gone about 40 minutes.

Imagine then, my utter shock when we came home to find a little FedEx sticky-note on my door saying, “Sorry we missed you! The package we were trying to deliver is ‘Signature Required’. We’ll try another time! Bite me!” (Ok, maybe it didn’t say bite me, but it was sure as Hell “implied”).

So, I quickly called the number on the note, thinking that the truck can’t be more than 10 minutes from my house, and I could still get my hands on my new toy.

“Hello, Fedex. How can I help you?”

“Hi, I just missed your truck, and I’m expecting a very important package (she did NOT laugh when I said package… bitch!). Can they drop it off?”

“I’m sorry sir, we can’t do that”

“Ok then, can I drive by the warehouse tonight and pick it up?”

“Sorry sir, we don’t do same-day pickups. We can try dropping it off again on Tuesday”

“No, I have this thing called a ‘job'. I work Tuesday. Can I grab it tomorrow?”

“We are closed on Sunday”

“Ok, Monday then?”

“We’re closed Monday too”

“You have GOT to be kidding me! When the Hell can I get this thing?”

“We can probably get it to the warehouse by Wednesday”

So, in the end, the dude I first talked to was right: I am NOT going to be getting my new DVR before Wednesday, but it’s solely because FEDEX IS FUCKING INCOMPETANT!!!!

The final insult came as I was hanging up, when the cheerful bitch told me that I had better CALL THEM Wednesday morning to make sure it got to the warehouse, before I head out there.

Because, it might be asking a lot from them to drive my package sometime in the next 5 days to a warehouse that is 10 DAMN MINUTES AWAY FROM MY HOUSE!

Seriously…. I could hold my fucking breath and almost make it there before I pass out!

Thanks for nuthin’, FedEx.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Yellow Menace

I’m a big fan of watching “uncomfortable” moments.

I don’t mean “sex in the back of a Volkswagen” uncomfortable (although I’d happily watch that too!), I mean that I enjoy watching cringe-worthy moments.

I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s as simple as just being really fucking happy that it’s not ME.

Anyway, I heard about this one the other day, and it cracked me up.


Isn’t that an absolute pisser?

I can just picture that girl’s parents, pleased as punch with their little wunderkind, sitting back stage rooting their little girl on, and the look of abject HORROR on their faces as their little one embarrasses the shit out of them on national television.

Then of course, I imagine things would get worse when they looked over to the little Asian boys parents, who were probably staring them down like they just planted a burning cross on their front lawn.

Good times.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Slyde’s Pet Peeve # 6 – Storefront Sellers

I haven’t done one of these pet peeve thingies in a while, but DAMN IT if this didn’t happen to me again over the weekend, and it really PISSES me off!

I absolutely cannot fucking STAND people who decide it would be a good idea who put up a little table in front of a store that I need to enter, and try to sell me some piece of shit that they are selling.

Does that completely irritate anyone else out there?

Sometimes I see them as soon as I’m walking across the parking lot towards the store: Usually a group of little kids, or old men……. Anything to just try to pull on my heart strings.

Sometimes, they want me to take a “quick” survey. More often than not, however, they want me to either buy some piece of garbage souvenir or shitty piece of candy, usually in the name of some charity or organization.

They irritate me so much that if I happen to see them before I park my car, I will just drive to another store that sells what I’m looking for rather than to have to deal with them.

But, more often than not, I usually don’t spy the little bastards until I’m too close to the store to turn around and not have me look like Rainman, so I trudge forward.

Usually, I’ll try to look for a fat person also going into the same store as me, and try to hide behind them so the hawkers won’t see me. That doesn’t work too well. It’s pretty rare to find a chubby enough person who just happens to be walking right in front of me.

So, I inevitably get accosted with some little cherub running over to me and asking:

“Hey mister, want to buy a candy bar for charity?”
“Hey sir, care to donate for the Veteran’s fund?”
“Hey you, can you spare 10 minutes of your time to take this quick survey?”
“Hey fuckface, give me 10 dollars or I’ll key your car!”

Ok, that last one doesn’t happen too often, but you get the point.

Anyway, I usually stammer out something really clever like, “Sorry, I don’t have any money on me!”, and then run into the store.

One minute later, It never fails to amaze me how fucking pathetically stupid it sounds to tell someone that I have no money, as I’m running into a store to obviously BUY something, but that the Hell? I never said brains were my strong suit.

Anyway, going INTO the store is never the hard part. If the anxiety I feel when I have to LEAVE the store, knowing full well that they are out there, waiting to accost me.

I usually try to loiter around the exit, looking to again employ the admittedly-not-too-successful “Hide behind a fatso” strategy, but more often than not I just put my cell phone to my ear, and run out the door pretending that I’m talking about something very fucking important.

Its not that I don’t believe in giving to charity. I do, and probably do it more often than most. It’s just that I like to give away my money the way all socially maladjusted people do…. by clicking a paypall link on some website in the anonymity of my bedroom.

I know that I have social anxiety issues (a subject for another, MUCH longer post someday), but these miscreants really piss me the Hell off.

I can’t be the only one, can I?

Friday, September 04, 2009

Another Year Older



Sorry I haven’t been around much this week. I took most of the week off because the thought of having to get up early and go to work on my Birthday makes me physically Ill.

If you’ve been coming here for awhile, then you already know that I DON’T DO BIRTHDAYS VERY WELL.

Last year was particularly painful for me. Hitting the big 4-0 was a pretty big head trip that honestly took a little while to get my head around.

All things considered, my birthday this Wednesday was pretty much a non-issue, which, by my standards, was pretty much a huge mental success as far as birthdays go.

As I said, I didn’t go to work, opting instead to sit around the house in my underwear and play video games all day. I’m not sure if I could make a decent living off of that, but I think I would like to give it a try. I liked it so much, I had a repeat performance and did it again on Thursday. I know that yesterday I was a whole other year older, but as far as I can tell, I didn’t notice my faculties or video-game-playing slowing down very much between Wednesday and Thursday, so I think I’ve still got a few decent years left in me.

Actually, the whole idea of getting older probably won’t bother me too much again until I hit 46 or 47. I can currently handle being in my “early 40’s”, and I think I can do “middle 40’s”, but “late 40’s” just isn’t going to work for me.

And don’t even get me started on 50.

Anyway, since in some cultures its customary for the person who’s birthday it is to be the person who GIVES gifts out to everyone they know, I decided to treat you all with the picture above of me strategically holding my birthday cake.

Thank goodness it was a big cake.

Anyway, for all of you wonderful people who gave me some birthday salutations on Facebook or through email, I say to you, thanks so much. Really.

I WILL say that I was slightly disappointed that no one sent me any sexy pictures. In some cultures, the birthday boy is showered with pornography from all the hot chicks he knows who read his blog. Ok, not really, but lets START that fine tradition, shall we? I’ll forgive you if you send me a picture a few days late.

I’ll give you a hint of what I’m looking for here. This fine girl must REALLY like the blog she sent THIS picture to.



Oh, how I wish I had fans like that……