Archive for the ‘lessons’ Category

real women shower with babywipes.

if there’s one thing ive learned about humans, it’s that over 80% of the population is made up of people who have never given thought to the idea that they might be a complete piece of shit. it’s always everyone else’s problem. much like the fat lady who almost killed me and my kids last week, some people dont find compassion or respect for people you dont know very high on their list.
now before i get rolling, im not saying that im always the perfect representative of the preferred human being, but id like to think that im concious of how i act in public so as to offend the least amount of people possible.
so this morning i witnessed, in line at dunkin donuts a woman take a babywipe container, put in on the trunk of her car, and proceed to take a fucking shower.
no, she wasnt under any water, and no she wasnt attractive by any means, no.
this broad started by carefully taking off her flip flops and stepping onto a paper bag behind her car, SHE DIDNT WANT TO TOUCH THE ICKY GROUND.
she then shimmied out of her cut off jean shorts, which were about the circumference of a 50 gallon drum (EACH LEG), and proceeded to yank out multiple babywipes. thankfully her smooch & chute were out of my view, but she used about 8 babywipes and threw each of the used babywipes near her feet on her “shower mat”.
i ordered my coffee at this point so im not sure if she put on new shorts or if she just yanked up her old ones thinking that if a babywipe is good for a baby, a babywipe is good for where the baby could probably walk the fuck out holding the placenta like a bowling ball bag.
so i turn my attention back to this lovely human specimen as she reaches to her hip and grabs the sides of her tank top, which were more of a roll top if you can pick up what im layin down, and pulls up as she sashays back and forth to get it around each layer of love and her gargantuan sasquatch terts. these terts werent bare, no. but they couldve been for the transparency of her undergarments left little to the imagination and resembled an armpit stained undershirt worn by beetlejuice over a victoria’s secret little diddy.
so she’s standing there, on a paper bag, wiping her arms, her armpits, in between each finger, her neck, behind her ears. then she grabs maybe 4 or 5 new wipes and proceeds to lift up rolls of fat and wipe under them. alternating sides and never using the same wipe thrice.
so she finishes her rolls and grabs a lime green little number from the backseat, stretching her legs out straight so as not to have to step off her papermat.
just as she gets the shirt over her ginormous yams she looks straight ahead and sees the entire line of cars facing her.
she has to realize that about 2 dozen people just saw her change and shower with babywipes right?
no.
she just realized theres a fuckin dunkin donuts over there! wooooo!
and she walks towards those of us in line pondering just what she’ll devour in front of some other poor soul.
i didnt lose my appetite this morning, but i lost a bit of my innocence.
if you are ever considering giving yourself a babywipe shower, please do so at bonaroo or some other outdoor festival so as to stay away from the rest of us.
now im going to go put on “lady in red” and have myself a nice glass of ether to forget the whole ordeal
love,
dad
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the guy with the 13.1 stickers aka toolbox mcassface

everyday, monday through friday, i take the same 2 or 3 ways to work depending on the time i leave the house, if i have to drop off some kids at day care, if i want to take the scenic route, etc.
everyday, monday through friday, i see this same fucking jeep with the 13.1 stickers. not just two or three. im talking every other week this fucking jeep gets a new 13.1 sticker. meaning, the guy that drives this thing is obsessed with people knowing how many kilometers he runs on the reg.
everyday, monday through friday, no matter which way im taking to the pharmacy, this jeep is trying to pass me
everyday, monday through friday, before i had kids, i would challenge this pissant for lane supremacy for no other reason than to shove my position in front of the semi with the manure in his taught and well manicured FACE leaving him to ponder why i have an artichoke sticker on my truck. (WHY DO I HAVE AN ARTICHOKE STICKER ON MY TRUCK? because artichokes are fucking delicious.)
everyday, monday through friday, since ive had kids, ive been off and on with my fuckery and this jagbag. sometimes i fuck with him for the thrill of causing road rage, sometimes i let him pass and make the jack off motion at him from the safety of my truck.

this morning everything changed.

for.
ever.

today is like any other day, except that is fucking gorgeous outside. today is a day where i appreciate everything from my family and friends in real life, to my internet friends, to the tiniest ground squirrel that im pretty sure is burrowed under my concrete stoop in my back yard.

so as im driving to work this morning, windows down, sun roof open, some black keys on the manpod, the sun is shining, the sky is blue as a married man’s balls, the clouds are wispy…
WISPY!

so i see this fucktard creepin on a come up in me rearview. i sees hims.
i notice that my grip on the steerin wheel tightens and i get that feeling in my stomach like i just saw a hot chick in jr high and my skater haircoif is in my eyes.

today im not in a mood to fuck with anyone so i stay at my usual 2 or 3 mph over the speed limit cause i have nowhere i need to be besides work and who gives a fuck if im 5 or 15 minutes early or late?
im in the left lane, approaching a semi in front of me in the right land, when i hear him PFFFFFRRRR up on my right, YANK his jeep into the left lane in front of me barely missing me, step on the gas hard as hell, and accelerate and then YANKING his jeep back in front of the semi
the semi guy with the CB radio, the trucker hat, the mustache, the cigarette and the orange vest (completely fulfilling all of my trucker stereotypes) (im lying, i didnt see him) kind of gets freaked out and slams on his brakes and swerves to the right
im directly on his left and see the little curly q of a cable between the trailer and the truck itself wobble at me in my right window
i speed up to avoid whatevers about to happen and get into the center lane to avoid getting smashed up by the ensuing catastrophe that jagface created with his 13.1 stickered yeep yeep.
the semi is now REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEing with a potential jackknife and all traffic behind me is now braking hard and urched forward on its front wheels.
i quickly cross two lanes of traffic and pull to the right side of the road and take a breather as the scene calms down

this fucking jag bag almost killed an entire population of early morning drivers for no good reason, and the light is fucking red up ahead, the dude is fucking STOPPED and has saved no time but has completely freaked a shitload of people out!

as i pull back onto the road in front of the semi who was driving like 20mph after the whole thing, i see two cops wizz past me with their lights on headed towards assface

the feeling of community with people i dont know was awesome for a few minutes here. we all approached the intersection where the cops had cornered him going about 20 in a 45mph zone.

have you ever seen about 20 cars all flick off some asshole at the same time WHILE there are cops there? im fucking INSPIRED! i want to find more jagbags (without the near fatal collisions) and publicly chastise them too!

the moral of the story?

dont be a fucking asshole when you have nothing to gain but potentially hurting innocent people. and slow the fuck down you fucking assclown, what the fuck is the fucking rush you fuck?

and if you have a 13.1 sticker on your car, your penis is fucking small or your breasts are fucking nonexistent and youre compensating by showing off something that noone fucking cares about, you pickle tickler.

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Lawn Care

you lazy fucks:

yea yea yea, alot of you folk are city dwellers and aint have no need nor essperience with the idea of lawn maintenance, but im here to tell ya a few things about yer lawn ok ese? even if you aint have one, its important to realize what goes into one should you ever have the need to cut yer mammies lawn while she’s out biddin on alpacas at some ranch auction down mexico way.

so when you’re in yer 20s or 30s, you buy a crib and start to realize all the shit that goes into making the house, not necessarily look awesome, but look unnoticeable. you dont want to be that chauncey ass chauncey with the weeds waist high or the shutters peeling or the basketball hoop with no basketball hoop – just a rusting black festivus pole.

the easiest way to not have your neighbors think you a chauncey ass chauncey is to fucking MOW YOUR SHIT on a regular basis. on top of that, if you actually have GREEN grass, you’ll get a cool nickname too like “ol green grass over there” or “mowie mcmowsalot” or “john deere greene, on a hot summer night, he wrote billy bob loves charlene, in letters three foot high” (I LOVE YOU JOE DIFFIE!)
ive come up with a quick lesson for all the dumb fucks who think the lower you mow, the less frequently youll have to do anything to the lawn
if you dont have a lawn and want to skip this, please skip to the area below where it says **********************
** raise that mower deck bitch: i learned from an amazingly green lush lawn having neighbor at my first house the following mantra for lawn care:
the longer the blade
the deeper the root
the deeper the root
the greener the grass
the greener the grass
the lusher the carpet
the lusher the carpet
the more ass you get cause your lawn look BANGK INS!
** weeds n shit yo: weeds dont need water to grow. weeds need sunlight. so another reason to have tall grass is to choke the fucking chauncey ass chauncey ass weeds out from their food source. the worst thing you can do is mow short (for most types of grass in my area at least, so fuck you zyosa having bitches with your 1/2inch mowhawk grasses) cause the weeds be like “yo open baaarr! let’s crash this chauncey ass chauncey’s lawwwwn yo!”
** fertilizer: unless you bought a 30 year old house with an established weed-free lawn, you actually have to apply fertilizer about 4 times throughout the year. early spring is the first one, then about 6 weeks later do another one, then during the hot months dont put shit down cause that shit burns the mothafuckin grass like a chauncey ass chauncey. then put the shit down just as it starts getting tolerable again (in chicago this is late august/mid september). then do one more application when you’re wearing a coat. like end of october. that makes the following spring BANGIN as you have green grass when all those chauncey ass chaunceys have brown shits.
** infestation: if you got more weeds than grass you need help. but dont get weird and start digging everything up. thats when you call true green or some lawn company to do their weekly treatments for a season. it takes time for shit to get back to homeostasis and look good, but you gotta work at it once it gets back from the brink by fertilizing and mowing high.
** seeding: i do this once a year right when summer actually starts. buy the small bag and mix that shit with dry soil. then spread with a taco bell cup with a hole in it.
** incidental weed control: buy a fucking WEED HOG. go head, google that bitch. you should be pulling the occasional weed every time you get ready to mow. some people throw them pulled up chaunceys in a bag to get picked up as lawn waste, but i just toss em into the lawn and mow over em. chauncey ass chaunceys.
i wager i spend about 3 hours a week on my yard throughout the week. before it got it all pimp and chauncey free it was about triple that. now i just mow and sing journey songs as i ride my john deere. i get so much ass its pathetic.
************************* go forth to love and to kick some serious chauncey ass chauncey ass ass
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tha zoo yo.

so wifeys about to get back to work finally after having been on bedrest from skanksgiving until the birth of the monsters in january and followed up by a nice maternity leave (6 paychecks worth of no paychecks YAY!). we wanted to award our 2 year old with a little mommy/daddy time by taking just him out to the zoo for some giggles and LOOKIT!’s.
we went this past thursday to chicago’s brookfield zoo. beautiful day. huge rhinoceros balls. you name it. it was bad ass.
but i noticed something that maybe alot of my guy friends dont realize when i say “we’re at the zoo dude”.
they think “ah shit, that sucks.” and it might, had i not had sunglasses on.
see, the zoo is where moms take their kids when theyre still in strollers. when moms are comfortable taking their kids out in a stroller, it means theyre becoming more comfortable with their bodies after childbirth.
which means theyre pushing their wardrobe to the limit.
i cannot tell you how many luscious mammaries were flaunted in front of me at the seal & sea lion tank, how many flowing white skirts jiggled in front of me on the way into the Swamp exhibit, how many tanned shoulders and breasticle crevasses cooed in my direction outside the lemur encasement. if you were wondering, lemurs are cute. which means that mommies get low with their hands on their knees and point, causing an erotic show of scrunch and release which to my non-sex-having-ass was pure delight.
so im recommending the zoo with sunglasses on to all of my friends who just had kids and their wives are still moody all the time. you can stare and oogle the sights without getting slapped by your wifey figure.
there is nothing wrong with being a creep, so long as you keep your inner creep bottled up where you cant offend anyone, be a poor role model to your kids or get arrested.
long live the creeps.
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Healthcare BITCH!

so the healthcare thing passed, which means that eventually, i will be either out of a job or i will have to fire more people to do more work for even less money.
which got me thinking about how people are entirely too reliant on other people to fix their shit. im not talking calling your neighbor to go take a look when you’re at work and your wife is flipping out about a piece of your roof blowing off (TRUE STORY! THANKS TO MY NEIGHBOR BRANDON FOR SAVING ME YESTERDAY!). I’m talking about hearing half of a story about “free healthcare”, not caring to research it or pay attention to the progression of its fineprint, just taking it as something that you can add to your list of things that “are owed to me”.
fuck you.
as a dad (with a huuuge penis mind you) i am now in possession of a responsibility to take care of my kids and one of the things that i was taught and will teach them is that medicine can’t always cure what laziness can cause and awareness couldve prevented. taking a pill for fixing something that you brought on yourself with either poor diet, a sedentary lifestyle or just poor decisions is fucked up. not fucked up because you dont deserve to be able to fix yourself up once you’re fucked up, but fucked up in that those people that were fucked up dont do enough to remind the people that aren’t fucked up to NOT ALLOW YOURSELF TO GET FUCKED UP FROM THE BEGINNING!

the healthcare debate isnt about people being fucking up, getting fucked up and unfuckingup themselves, its about who’s paying for the services for the people who cant afford to unfuckup themselves and trying to bring down the costs of unfuckingup for those of us who already pay out the ass for health insurance. (take my kid’s recent 6 day hospital stay, which is adding up to $130,000 and they didnt even figure anything out that i couldntve done with an internet connection, some barium, x-ray vision and dry hands from too much hand warshing)

so if the healthcare debate isnt about health, ill fucking tell you how to fucking stay healthy.
TRY MUTHERFUCKER.
TRY TO STAY THE FUCK HEALTHY.
PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR DIET, GO WALKING, CUT DOWN ON SUGAR, CUT DOWN ON FAST FOOD, SMILE, LAUGH, HAVE SEX, PET PUPPIES, READ BOOKS, MASTURBATE IN MOVING VEHICLES AND ON MOUNTAINSIDES, TAKE RISKS, SPEED WALK AT THE MALL LIKE REGGIE, JUST FUCKING DONT TELL ME I HAVE TO PAY FOR YOUR SORRY ASS’S UNFUCKUP WHEN IVE BEEN PAYING FOR MY OWN VITAMINS AND VEGETABLES WITHOUT ASKING FOR MONEY FROM YOU.

and as always,

love,
dad

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Empathy, A Tale

when i was 7 years old, i was riding my bike around the neighborhood and saw a friend of mine’s family in the yard staring at the front door as movers were taking large pieces of furniture out and loading them into a truck.
i saw my friend holding on to his ma’s leg and her arm around his shoulder.
i had this idea that they were being evicted or having hard financial times or some shit
but i pedaled home and told my mom and she basically gave me the “aww that’s too bad” face with the scrunched up chin and the head tilt. i thought that there was something i had to do for my little buddy so i quickly went through my baseball cards and found all my doubles and hopped back on my bike and drove over to the baseball card store and asked for cash for my dubs.
the owner gave me what i remember to be something crappy like 8 bucks for a good 20 cards, but it was my only option at that particular juncture. so i pocketed the cash and got back on my bike and hightailed it over to my buddy’s house to maybe save their house with my 8 dollar donation.
by the time i pulled in the driveway the moving truck was sealed and there was no one in the yard acting sad. so i rang the doorbell.
the mom came to the door, and i remember her from many of my early nocturnal emissions – man she was a doll, she came to the door like nothing was wrong.
so i asked for my buddy and when he came towards the door i took the 8 bucks out of my pocket and thrust it out towards him and his mom.
“what’s this joel?” the hot mom in the tight white fuzzy workout pants before they were fashionable says.
“it’s all i could raise on such short notice. i dont want you to lose your home”
she gave me this confused slash “maybe i should take off my shirt for you joel” look and tilted her head at me and said “what are you talking about?”
so i looked up into her hazelnut eyes, shooed out the thoughts of her washing my bike on a windy day with really cold water and said “i saw the moving truck here taking stuff out and i saw you guys looking sad and…”
i stopped talking as she put a fist on her hip with all of her weight on her right leg and said “joel, we’re not moving. we got new furniture. come look.”
as she walked away her backside called to me “rose bud. rose bud. rose bud.” i will never forget those hips in those pants for as long as i live. but i followed her alongside my friend and walked into the living room and saw their new furniture.
it was my first experience with a “microfiber” couch, with scotchguard. the recliner wasnt a pull lever, it was a fucking button!
nice couch.
but i went home and my mom asked me what is going on with my friend and his family and the moving truck and i told her i was mistaken and they were just getting new furniture and getting rid of the old stuff.
my mom, in a very mom way, told me what i experienced was empathy. while misplaced and completely wrong in every way, i discovered that i have an innate ability to feel what i think other people are feeling and i find myself using it alot.
i have a hard time with people suffering. if a friend of mine is in pain, or a kid i know is in pain, or going through a difficult time, i find myself empathizing with them and thinking positive shit for them. i know i cant always give all my money or time to someone and fix all of their problems, but i give it thought quite a bit.
even though i made an assumption and it was incorrect, i still empathized with my friend and his family because i didnt WANT that bad shit to happen to him and the only way i knew to help was to give something of mine to help their situation.
i hope my kids think like that when they get older.
cause every time they do, ill think of mrs. tight white fuzzy workout pants before they became fashionable and her hips that, to this day, give me pause to adjust myself.
*shrugs*
*adjusts pants*
*waves*
*makes “call me” hand sign and puts to mouth and ear in telephone like precision*

when i was 7 years old, i was riding my bike around the neighborhood and saw a friend of mine’s family in the yard staring at the front door as movers were taking large pieces of furniture out and loading them into a truck.

i saw my friend holding on to his ma’s leg and her arm around his shoulder.

i had this idea that they were being evicted or having hard financial times or some shit

but i pedaled home and told my mom and she basically gave me the “aww that’s too bad” face with the scrunched up chin and the head tilt. i thought that there was something i had to do for my little buddy so i quickly went through my baseball cards and found all my doubles and hopped back on my bike and drove over to the baseball card store and asked for cash for my dubs.

the owner gave me what i remember to be something crappy like 8 bucks for a good 20 cards, but it was my only option at that particular juncture. so i pocketed the cash and got back on my bike and hightailed it over to my buddy’s house to maybe save their house with my 8 dollar donation.

by the time i pulled in the driveway the moving truck was sealed and there was no one in the yard acting sad. so i rang the doorbell.

the mom came to the door, and i remember her from many of my early nocturnal emissions – man she was a doll, she came to the door like nothing was wrong.

so i asked for my buddy and when he came towards the door i took the 8 bucks out of my pocket and thrust it out towards him and his mom.

“what’s this joel?” the hot mom in the tight white fuzzy workout pants before they were fashionable says.

“it’s all i could raise on such short notice. i dont want you to lose your home”

she gave me this confused slash “maybe i should take off my shirt for you joel” look and tilted her head at me and said “what are you talking about?”

so i looked up into her hazelnut eyes, shooed out the thoughts of her washing my bike on a windy day with really cold water and said “i saw the moving truck here taking stuff out and i saw you guys looking sad and…”

i stopped talking as she put a fist on her hip with all of her weight on her right leg and said “joel, we’re not moving. we got new furniture. come look.”

as she walked away her backside called to me “rose bud. rose bud. rose bud.” i will never forget those hips in those pants for as long as i live. but i followed her alongside my friend and walked into the living room and saw their new furniture.

it was my first experience with a “microfiber” couch, with scotchguard. the recliner wasnt a pull lever, it was a fucking button!

nice couch.

but i went home and my mom asked me what is going on with my friend and his family and the moving truck and i told her i was mistaken and they were just getting new furniture and getting rid of the old stuff.

my mom, in a very mom way, told me what i experienced was empathy. while misplaced and completely wrong in every way, i discovered that i have an innate ability to feel what i think other people are feeling and i find myself using it alot.

i have a hard time with people suffering. if a friend of mine is in pain, or a kid i know is in pain, or going through a difficult time, i find myself empathizing with them and thinking positive shit for them. i know i cant always give all my money or time to someone and fix all of their problems, but i give it thought quite a bit.

even though i made an assumption and it was incorrect, i still empathized with my friend and his family because i didnt WANT that bad shit to happen to him and the only way i knew to help was to give something of mine to help their situation.

i hope my kids think like that when they get older.

cause every time they do, ill think of mrs. tight white fuzzy workout pants before they became fashionable and her hips that, to this day, give me pause to adjust myself.

*shrugs*

*adjusts pants*

*waves*

*makes “call me” hand sign and puts to mouth and ear in telephone like precision*

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hard work

Hard Work
i took all accelerated classes until i found out that accelerated classes didnt count for anything. i discovered that by chance, after overhearing a conversation between a recent graduate and the high school band director.

i walked past, tilted my head at the comment “if ida known my high school gpa was so important to get into college, i woulda stayed in the regular classes and aced em vs. taking the accelerated classes and getting low Bs.” to which the band director stated: “yeah, in public schools theyre scored differently, but we dont have that in place so yeah, its more work for a smaller grade.” or something to that effect.
i walked into my accelerated physics class and after struggling through another class of an impossible set of notes i made a plan for my next period in accelerated english. our teacher, all i remember is her turkey gobble wiggling below her chin, was telling us how the next semester would shape our high school grades and that we needed to really focus and get all of these papers and essays in to get the grades we all knew we could earn. i raised my hand and asked “what is the regular english class doing differently than us?”
the whole class looked at me and then stared at the teacher waiting for an answer. i guess she wasnt expecting such a frank question and kind of stuttered and sheepishly said “well, on your syllabus they’re hoping to complete modules 1 and 2″
the syllabus was two fucking pages for this class with like 5 modules. “you mean they do less than half of what we do and earn grades just the same?”
silence.
i was told to go speak to the dean, which i did after i detoured to the guidance counselor’s office and switched all of my schedule to regular classes. my junior year i got a 3.2 and i was streeeeessssssssssed. my senior year i got a 4.0 and with my free time learned how to skip school, distribute drugs on a city wide scale and recorded two albums with two different bands.

moral of the story? always find out why you would ever do more work for the same reward.
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