What Would YOU Do?

One of the reasons why I am so damn irresistible is that, aside from having the body of a Greek god and my jaw-dropping good looks, I also love spending time with children (don’t even go there, Earl!).

It’s true. I love just getting on the floor with the little munchkins and acting all the clown so I can get them to laugh their little buns off. I can spend hours playing with kids, when I usually can’t stand most adults for more than a few minutes.

But this past weekend, I believe I finally met my match.

We were at a 4th of July party this weekend at a friend’s house. One of our friends is in the process of going through a pretty bitter divorce with what I can only call one of the biggest assholes I have ever met (and I’ve met a lot of them).

Seriously, one time a group of us went away for the weekend to the Hamptons, and this guy, a grown man in his 30’s, told me how we loves to just get into random fights with people to let out his aggression. He told me how he does it all the time, and tried to convince me to start a fight with some poor schlub who we were walking past in a 7-11 while getting beer. Apparently, he’s seen FIGHT CLUB one too many times.

Anyway, she’s dumping him, which is Aces as far as I’m concerned, but the thing is they had 2 kids together, and because this guy is a royal jack-off, he now thinks its funny as hell to raise the kids as badly as possible on the days he has them, just to give his ex some extra headaches.

And it’s working. Their oldest son, who is 6, is quickly becoming just about the meanest kid you could ever imagine. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it. He spent the day Saturday jumping in the pool, trying to land on the littler kids who were splashing around in swimmies, just to dunk them. His mother was beside herself, and repeatedly tried everything from time outs, to screaming, to giving him a good swat on the ass, but nothing would stop this kid. He was being a right dick to everyone at the party.

At one point, I saw him sitting down on a blanket with a bunch of other kids, so I figured I’d try to be nice to him. I sat down with them and said cheerily, “So guys, what’s going on?”

This kid, this little monster, looks at me and says, “You know, those glasses you are wearing make you look like an idiot.”.

He’s SIX!!!!

I told him that wasn’t very nice, and he promptly told ME that he didn’t care. Then, my temper got the best of me, and I proceeded to tell him that the hat he was wearing made him look like a dope.

The other kids laughed, and I guess this little Hitler didn’t imagine that the tables could turn on him so fast, so he reached out, grabbed my sunglasses, and started running away with them.

I looked around for his mom, but she was in the house and nowhere to be seen. I tried to calmly ask him to give back the glasses, but he wouldn’t. When I went after him, he ran away.

Finally, I cornered him, and when I went to reach for the glasses, he threw them to the ground, and stepped on them.

I saw red.

I grabbed the hat on his head (it really DID make him look like a dope), and once again his expression told me that he didn’t see THIS development coming, either. He started SCREAMING at me to give it back. I told him I would give it back to his mom after I told him what he did.

Then he hauled off and PUNCHED me.

At this point, people were staring. Although I outweigh this kid by about 150 lbs and 35 years, I decided it would probably be wise NOT to beat the shit out him, no matter how much I wanted to.

I ALSO didn’t want to embarrass his mother more than she already was, so when I ran into her, I just handed her the hat back without explaining what happened. But last night I learned that the host of the party, who saw the whole thing, couldn’t contain herself any longer and ended up calling this woman and telling her everything her son did. Then the woman called me, very upset and apologizing up and down, saying that she knows how her son is, and she doesn’t know what to do.

All I could do was listen and mumble “don’t worry about it” when she offered to pay for my glasses…

But all I WANTED to do was scream at this woman and tell her that she needs to nip this behavior in the bud NOW. This kid is already 6. By the time he’s 10, at the rate he’s going, he’ll be on the road to being a juvenile delinquent and I don’t think anything short of a military academy would correct it.

So, what would you do in that situation?

ROFLMAO! WHERE R U? K THX BYE! : )

If you come here often enough (and really, why wouldn’t you?), you have PROBABLY gleaned that I am a bit of a techie geek.

I’m all for being the first kid on the block to get the latest techno-gadget. I just can’t get my hands on them fast enough, and I’m usually willing to pay a lot more to own whatever the latest blinking, beeping, piece of shit is, months before anyone else.

I bought my first Tivo back when the damn thing was still in beta production and wasn’t really even being sold yet. I had gotten my first DVD player when they only had about 2 dozen movies out for them. Ditto for my GPS, Ipod, Wii, you name it.

Point being, I am always pretty much ready and eager to chomp down and take a bite out of the latest technology.

But ladies and gentleman, I have finally met my match.

Try as I might, as much as I WANT to, I just cannot for the LIFE of me understand cell phone texting.

My nieces text me ALL the time. My friends text me. Friz texts me. Shit, even EARL texts me.

Every time my cell phone beeps me that I have a new text, I then proceed to look like a Neanderthal for the next 10 minutes as I try to use the miniscule buttons on my cell phone to attempt to type in a 3 word message that I could have spit out in a 15 second fucking phone call.

It was pissing me off so much, that I finally broke down and got one of those “flip” cell-phones, so now I have a full keyboard for texting instead of having to hit each fucking button 3 times just to type the letter “c”.

And you know what? I STILL don’t get it.

I’d much rather just pick up the phone, say what I have to say to you, and then hang the Hell up, than to sit there and hunt and peck at this thing for 30 minutes back and forth just to find out that you thought this week’s “LOST” was good and we should hang out tomorrow.

I just don’t get it.

Texting is the first (and so far only) technological “advancement” in my life that honestly makes me feel old.

I feel like any minute now I’m gonna violently swing my cane at some passing texting kids and yell “You young whipper-snappers! In my day, we didn’t have these fancy “Cell Phones”. NO Siree! No, when we wanted to talk to someone, we would call them up on these big, clunky phones attached to our kitchen walls! And we didn’t have these namby-pamby push buttons, either! No, when we wanted to call someone, we had to get a pencil and stick it in the holes in the phone and actually dial the number! Just dialing someone’s number took 30 fucking minutes, and we LIKED IT!”

I really hope that this “texting-aversion” I have is just an anomaly, and that this isn’t the first sign that I am starting a slow slide into old age and senility.

Because, as we all know, this body of mine is WAY too sexy for me to be going senile. It just wouldn’t be fair to you guys.

p.s. I know, I know. I’ve been a bad boy this week and have not visited any of your blogs. I’m just all honked up at work right now, and haven’t had the time. Hopefully I can make things right with each of you next week, with a nice slow massage, and a bubble bath. Call me.

Rocky

Contrary to the banner picture, this is NOT a post about Rocky Balboa.

Interesting side note though: Being a child of the 80’s, and a dude, I grew up on the Rocky movies. Whenever I knew I was soon to be getting into a fight in high school (which was pretty damn often… other kids tend to like to punch smartasses), I would play “Eye of the Tiger” on my cassette player over and over again while I worked out in my basement to psych myself up for it. Pretty lame, I know, but I’m still here to talk about it so I guess there IS something to be said about being confident in the face of someone wanting to knock your head off.

I seem to drift off more and more in my old age… What the Hell was I talking about again?

Oh yeah.

Mini-Mi just completed his first T-Ball season. I’m so proud of the little guy… I honestly didn’t think he’d take to it, but he seemed to really enjoy it.

One of the reasons that I think he liked it so much was that he really could give two shits about the game, he had much more fun just goofing around out in the outfield…..

… and collecting rocks.

For SOME reason, he would completely ignore the game, and search the outfield for any manner of rock or pebble he could find…. the bigger the better. Then he would proceed to shove them down his pants pockets.

By the 3rd inning, he usually had enough rocks in his pants that he could barely move.

When it was his turn to bat, he was more concerned about not losing any of his rocks than actually hitting the ball.

After he did finally manage to hit the ball, he would start running around the bases, but his pants were so heavy with rocks that he would have to hold them up while he ran.

After a few times of this, the crowd started chanting “ROCKY! ROCKY!”, every time he got up to bat.

He kinda became the team mascot. The crowd would woop it up and chant “Rocky!” every time he took to the field….

… and he loved every minute of it.

I’m not sure if I managed to get any video of him actually running around the bases with 40 pounds of rocks in his pants, but I’ll look.

Best. Commercial. Ever.

I'm kinda pressed for time today, so unfortunately its gonna be YOU guys that get the short end of the stick.

Hey, I'm really sorry, but until ONE of you finally agrees to let me be their sex slave and starts paying the rent for our new sugar shack, these things are going to just happen from time to time.

Anyway, I have no idea if this commercial is real or not. The place where I first saw it said that it IS genuine, but Budweiser didnt ever have the balls to actually run it.

Either way, I got a good laugh out of it... enjoy.

Genius At Work

God, how I hate those pretentious, Yuppie snobs that work at the Apple store.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my Ipod. It is one of the best 3 gadgets that I have bought in the past 10 years. I just can’t stand the whole Apple-Geek mentality that goes along with it… its like a weird little nerdy subculture. They are all such a band of know-it-alls, and I want to punch them all in the face.

Case in point:

Last week, I noticed that my Ipod’s battery was starting to wear out too often, so, after 4 years of using it pretty much EVERY day, I figured it was time to get the battery replaced.

Now for those of you who have never experienced the joys of buying an Apple product, you probably don’t know the hoops you have to jump through to do something that should be as simple as replacing a battery.

The first thing to know is that you cannot change the battery on your own Ipod. You have to pay to let THEM do it, or else your warranty expires. Oh yeah, and it costs 70 dollars, too! Yeah, that’s not TOO much of a racket, is it?

But it gets even better. You might think that you could just walk into an Apple store, hand them your Ipod and 70 bucks, and get your battery replaced. If you thought that, however, you’d be dead fucking wrong.

First off, you need to make an appointment through their website! Their technical department is called the “Genius Bar”, and at the time of your appointment you get to sit at a techie table and talk to some Izod-wearing preppie douchbag.

To make things better, they don’t actually “replace” your battery. No, that would be far too fucking normal. They take your Ipod, and then give you a refurbished Ipod with a new battery. Then you can take somebody else’s old shitty Ipod home, where you get to re-install all of your 1 million songs back onto it.

As an Ipod owner for 4 years now, I KNEW all this. And yet, I found myself last Friday trekking out to my local Apple store to wade through the bullshit and get my new Ipod.

Or so I thought.

I made my appointment, and got there at the 10 minutes-early “recommended” time, where I proceeded to wait for 25 minutes before a chipper Asian girl called my name, and walked me over to the Genius bar.

I handed over my Ipod to her, and she attempts to turn it on.

“I haven’t charged it in a week”, I told her. “The battery is currently dead”

“No problem,” she told me, “We cant honor the warranty unless we see that the unit is actually working, so I’ll just plug it in and charge it now”

So, she proceeds to plug the Ipod into a charger, and starts making all sorts of weird faces.

“What’s wrong?”, I asked her.

“We can’t honor your warranty. This Ipod doesn’t work.”

“Yes it does, I just used it 2 days ago”

“Well, it’s not charging. I’m sorry but we can’t honor the warranty if it’s not charging”.

“It charges. I have charged it every week for the past 4 years! It just fucking charged last week. Believe me, it charges”.

Then this bitch turns my Ipod over, looks at the charger on the bottom of it, then smugly looks at me and says,

“Ah, I see the problem. You see this little bit of green on your charger? That’s called “oxidation”. THAT’S why this unit isn’t charging. I’m sorry sir but we can’t honor the warranty.”

That’s about the point where I exploded.

“Listen, I KNOW this thing charges. Do I need to take it to my car and charge it myself?”

“You could do that, but then you will have to reschedule for another appointment.”

“Are you fucking kidding me! I’m on my lunch hour here!”

I was about to absolutely POP, when I saw it.

“Hey Chicky, I know I’m not a ‘Genius’ or anything, but with the little technical background that I have, I’m FAIRLY certain that the FUCKING POWER PLUG NEEDS TO BE PLUGGED IN TO AN ELECTRICAL OUTLET FOR IT TO CHARGE ANYTHING!!”.

That’s right… the plug was just dangling off the end of her workbench, not plugged in.

“Oh, yeah”, she says, and plugs it in. “Oh ok, yeah there we go.”

THERE WE GO?

Not “Oh Sorry”, or “My Bad”, or even “Hey, I’m a fuck-up”….

….Just “There we go”.

Want to know the BEST part?

She then took about 15 minutes to punch all my serial number info and shit into her computer, and then proceeded to tell me:

“I’m sorry, but we can’t give you a replacement unit. Our store is closing for a month, starting tomorrow, for renovations. We don’t have a replacement in stock and won’t get one in until we re-open.”

AND SHE COULDN’T HAVE FUCKING TOLD ME THAT WHEN I FUCKING WALKED IN?

It seems to me like the word “Genius” doesn’t quite mean what I THOUGHT it did…..

Should I Be Concerned?

I had some things going on this past Saturday, so I was out of the house pretty much from 9A.M till midnight or so.

The point being, Friz was alone in the house all day.

Or so I thought……

Because when I got home late that night, what did I spy with my sexy little eye on our kitchen island but THIS………..



Now, I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions here, but there’s only a handful of things that I can think of that involve the 2 items damningly left on my kitchen counter, and since I wasn’t involved in any ONE of them, I thought that the girl had some fucking explaining to do.

Upon waking her up, Friz stammered out some half-assed excuse that they were left over from her “Girls Book Club”, which I had forgotten had met at our place while I was gone.

Quickly, I went from angry, to extremely turned on.

Friz is APPARENTLY going to stick with the story that the items were just leftovers from a salad and some desserts that they had whipped up, but my mind is now swirling at the prospects of the breakout Book-Club-Turned-Lesbian-Orgy which took place under my own roof while I was out and about. I never knew what FREAKS these chicks were!

Someone needs to get me a book fast!

Anyone know where they sell those things? I think that MIGHT be what a “library” is for, but I can’t be certain. Maybe I’ll Google it.

You Like Me, You Really Like Me!

The best part about being a world-famous cyber-celebrity is that it gets me tons of sex.

Well, not actual “sex”, but it DOES get me thousands of women all over the world who desperately want to be with me. When you compound them with all the women (and men) LOCALLY who want to get with me, the number becomes ASTRONOMICAL! Probably more than 8!

What was I talking about again?

Oh yeah, the fact that you all cant seem to get enough of me.

Case in point: Over the weekend I was presented with TWO, count ‘em, TWO awards from chicks who can’t live another moment without professing their naughty love for me.

But really, can any one of us blame them? They’re only human, after all. You all HAVE seen my picture, right?

Listen, lets just all agree that women all over the world, regardless of race, creed, religion or cup size all are dieing to get in my pants, and move on, shall we?

Anyway, first I was honored with an award by the lovely and talented Faiqa

I’ve been reading Faiqa’s site for about a year now, and it never fails to disappoint. She’s a great writer. Much better than I’ll ever be, but I guess that’s not much of a compliment. Anyway, I always enjoy reading her well-versed take on things from family, to religion, to her unending love of Angel.

I would have given her even MORE praise, but she had to go and tarnish my award by comparing me to a girl! OHHHH, if she were here right now I’d just scratch her eyes out! Hissssssss!

No sooner did I recover from the honor above, then right afterwards I got an award from Chris.

Chris is from New Zealand, which apparently is NOT the same thing as Australia. Yeah, I know… news to me, too.

Chris left me a voice message up top, a few weeks ago. Anyway, I’ve probably revealed this before, but I think people’s accents from that part of the world are just about the sexiest damn thing since sliced bread. Irish accents come in a close second, but I as far as I can tell, I don’t have any Irish readers, so fuck Ireland.

Chris always amazes me with how often she writes. I think my head would explode if I tried to blog that much, and it’s always good tidbits about what’s going on with her family and stuff. And with all the work she puts into her blog, she still finds the time to come here and comment on just about every one of my stupid posts. It’s noticed, and much appreciated.

Anyway, now that the floodgates are open, I expect the rest of the Free World to follow suit and adorn me with their laurels and accolades. It’s really the LEAST you all could do to make me happy.

I need as many kind words and compliments thrown my way as you can muster. I’m not sure if you have gleened this about me, but I have a bit of an ego problem.