No One To Blame But Myself…

These are the crazy things I did (almost always when drunk) so I can’t pin the blame anywhere else.

If you’re laughing at this, my wife probably isn’t – Part One

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Reposting this tribute to the most amazing person I’ve ever known – my beautiful wife on her birthday. She’s crazysexycool like TLC and has great taste – I mean she chose me right? She’s the most supportive and considerate person I’ve ever met and she still rocks me like a hurricane all these years later! Happy Birthday Honey!

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I know that it might seem hard to believe given some of the foolishness I have taken part in, but whenever I start to second-guess my mental stability I’m reminded of a very comforting thought: I may be off the wall, but my wife willingly chose this. Who’s really the nutty one, you might ask? She’s calm, cool, collected and most importantly, not crazy. While I’m way out there, she’s at the normal end of the spectrum and it gives us a nice balance.

My wife’s a High School Guidance Counselor and understands the inner workings of fragile minds – thus the attraction to me…At first thought, one would think that I was an independent study or possibly an internship for her Master’s Program. Hell, I’m so wacked out – she should have enough credits for her doctorate by now.

My OCD Rituals, superstitions, neurosis, positive energy crystal worshipping, endless…

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TuTu much craziness: Why they changed the name to (Go F Your) Self Magazine!

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Desmond in a Tutu protesting Self Magazine

Desmond in a Tutu protesting Self Magazine

I’m shocked at the whole tutu madness from the past few days but most of all because I’m embarrassed to tell you that I didn’t even realize the honorable Desmond Tutu wrote for Self magazine…I guess his workload got a lot easier after they banned apartheid and all… What’s next? Sri Sri Ravi Shankar lashing out against peep-toe shoes?

Apparently, The Art of Living is just a cool breeze up the back of your caftan...

Apparently, The Art of Living is just a cool breeze up the back of your caftan…

Speaking of titles – how come I’m not referred to as the Honorable Immodium Abuser? Like I had nothing to do with ending Apartheid? OK, in fairness I literally had nothing to do with ending it, but I certainly wasn’t helping to spread it so that’s gotta be worth something…maybe I should be referred to as The Eminent Immodium Abuser? I‘m not a whore for a title, but just a little something to spice up my business cards.

The Eminent Immodium Abuser!

The Eminent Immodium Abuser!

In all seriousness, here is a snapshot of what’s going on: Self magazine made and ass of itSelf when they published a photo of a woman running a marathon in a Wonder Woman costume and tutu WHILE SHE WAS BATTLING CANCER! Running a marathon is grueling and enormously hard, but while fighting cancer? And she started the company that makes the tutus to donate money to cancer foundations…Forget the bad PR move they made – it’s just kinda reminds you of the crappy people out there in the world. She’s got a real great spirit and is taking it like a champ and I hope that this media attention gets a lot of support for her company and her charitable acts because they’re significant and inspiring.

monica tutu

I don’t want to diminish how serious this is or try to divert any of the attention off of her, but let’s talk about who really looks good in a tutu! The bright spot in this media shitstorm has been the widespread publication of this little nugget:

Daniel Day Purvis

Abusers, meet Daniel Day Purvis! I know exactly what you’re thinking as you look at this photo: a) Does this guy even lift? b) This guy is straight? For the record, yes and he’s married with kids not that there’s anything wrong with that if he wasn’t…c) I know, I know – but how did he get that perfectly ruffled tutu dyed exactly the same shade as his tye-dye shirt? Only he and Karl Lagerfeld can say for sure…

do you even lift

This is not a picture that was just taken to get on board with the recent controversy – this is an aerodynamic running machine showing us the true way to rock out and run a race from a while ago. It takes balls of steel to actually put something like this on, nonetheless run a race and be photographed in it while wearing spanx under a tutu. Understandably, his wife is nowhere next to him in any of these photos and set a personal track record as she ran like lightning to get away from him. True story, just as many people were cheering “Run Tiffany, Run Away” to her as were cheering “Run Daniel Run” to him.

spanx

Now the local media will have Self Magazine this story highlighted as they should, but I wanna start a petition to get this man on The Ellen Show. Don’t worry, he’ll definitely wear the tutu and dance with her – he’s got more rhythm than a young Marlon Jackson crossed with an older Ike Turner! Let’s start a movement with the Eminent Immodium Abuser carrying the torch and leading the charge to get this man the attention he deserves. “Start your yellin’ and get him on Ellen” will be our battle cry!

Actual first date photo of Daniel Day and Tiffany

Actual first date photo of Daniel Day and Tiffany

Share this photo and like this page and then head over to the fitness page he’s managing and like the crap out of it! There’s a lot of useful stuff on there if you’re into learning and all that jazz, but more importantly, there are a LOT of meme’s on there. Him and I once had a rapid fire meme contest and he was shooting them off like a semi-automatic artillery rifle. My little Imodium ads were no match for him – he just had tutu many…

Purvis two

St. Patrick Swayze Day: To all my pasty white brothas and sistas – It’s our time!!!

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Goonies

St pats day banner

Like the Goonies said “It’s our time down here!” Today is the day that we unite and stand up; This is the one moment out of 365 long ass days in a year when our pasty white, ghost-like, pale complexions won’t get random stares and snickered at. You think you can go out in jeans and a sweatshirt today? Sweet Brown told ya people “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” This is the day where tacky doesn’t exist: Plastic bowler hat – Check. Green adhesive handlebar moustache – testify! Kelly green spandex booty shorts – Guilty as charged! In case you’re not familiar with the rules of fashion, the general rule of thumb with picking the right booty shorts for guys is to find the size that makes the indentation of your lucky charms so tight that you’ll need to lube yourself up with olive oil to get into them and then grab the next size down. Sure you’re risking cutting off circulation, but it’s not the pain that matters today…

sweet brown

Don’t scratch your head and look puzzled – you all hear me and know what I’m talking about. My people may be quiet and easily knocked down every other day, but our silent suffering and cries will not be heard today…If you’re like me and can’t go out of your house between April and October without an umbrella or a woman’s wide-brimmed hat to protect you from the sun – I’m talking about you. If the pallor of your skin only knows two shades: Albino pale and red-as-a-Smacked-Ass with nothing in-between – I’m talking to you brother! Dare I mention the most ridiculed and tortured of all God’s creatures on this planet – the Gingers? I hear your cries loudest of all my misunderstood flock of Red Robins! Stand up my brethren and let us tear some shit up out there! Until the break of midnight signals a brand new day, we will be the ghetto fabulous green gangstas out and about today.

sunburn from flash

If you’re interested in finding me today, I’m back from Chicago where they dyed the river last weekend and the whole city opened their arms and embraced my pale complexion like I was a rock star. Well, everyone except that homeless guy outside my hotel that called me crazy; but in his defense when a man sitting on a cardboard box living on the street calls YOU crazy – some serious self-reflection might be in order….

dyeing the river

Maybe I’ll see you out there tonight, I’ve pre-scheduled this post and am probably face down, ass up at my local watering hole right this very minute…You think I’m kidding? Here are some of my other shenanigans from my St. Patrick’s Day highlights reel…

CLICK HERE

AND

CLICK HERE

St pats day banner

It’s not how big your Glock is that matters, it’s where you put it!

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i love my glock

I know that some guys are only fixated on the size of their Glock and not too picky about where they stick it. Some are obsessed with their piece, but for those that are a tad more discreet about where they conceal their weapons – have I got news for you! The new locker room chatter isn’t about how big your Glock is, but the bolder the holder you’re packing it in!

Cover

I know what you’re thinking; maybe your pistol isn’t as big as mine. Have no fear my friend because no matter the size of your piece, we have something for you: UnderTech Undercover.com. I don’t usually do company endorsements, but had to make an exception just this once when I got their catalog in the mail today.

glock meme

No matter the occasion, UnderTech Undercover has something for you. Grandma’s got a birthday coming up? The Terrain Hobo Concealment Purse comes in Black, Brown, or Saddle! Your Mother got a promotion at work? How about the under desk concealment Plate? Your friend Jared got engaged? UnderTech Undercover giftcards are the perfect fit for any registry!

shorts

Ladies, I know that sometimes you want to be in charge and show him where to put his Glock – How about these black Travel Safe Short Shorts? You take control of that Glock and show Tony Danza Who’s the Boss! They come in Black or white in everything from extra small to extra large – just like the many sizes and colors of those Glocks you have in the nightstand next to your bed.

whos the boss

Let’s be honest girls, you know that one place you won’t let him ever put his Glock? Get him his own Thunderwear and you’ll never have that conversation again. The tagline says it all “These ain’t underwear, they’re Thunderwear!” The best part is that you can get Thunderwear in assorted sizes to conceal any Glock from a cute little mini one mini up to a large caliber barrel so you’ll find the perfect fit for your man.

thunderwear

Guys, aren’t you tired of buying her boring gifts she just doesn’t get excited about? Here’s a gift idea that’ll make you the hero – what woman wouldn’t rather get a pair of Black Concealment Short Shorts than jewelry or flowers? She’ll have all the girls at the gym jealous when they get a peek at her changing in the locker room.

short shorts

The website offers many more products and multiple shipping options so check them out and click here to have your own catalog sent. Taking care of your Glock is serious business, they’re not just for playing with anymore!

meme nightstand

The things a little prick will do…

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Was just telling a friend about this at work, so in case you missed it…

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I was in a friend’s wedding and went for a fitting at the tuxedo shop. Easy peasy right? Wrong.

Once the sales guy handed me a yellowish, sweat-stained shirt to try on, I should have known there would be an issue. I set him straight immediately and made him give me a brand new shirt which annoyed him to no end. Sorry if filth bothers me, but I am certainly not trying that dishrag on if it’s covered with enough sweat and God-only-knows-what to make it look yellow. As I came out of the dressing room with the shirt on, the sales guy winced and looked at me with a very confused look on his face and said “Where is all that blood coming from?”

Having no idea what he was talking about, I looked down and was caught off guard because it looked like I had…

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Three Quick Things

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cinnamon

1. Glozell’s Cinnamon Twerk video is absolutely awesome. She’s taken her Cinnamon Challenge to another level – and it’s hysterical. Check her out and then look around her you tube channel – she’s got some crazy stuff on there…

rent

2. The Mayor of Toronto Rob Ford is my second favorite politician. (No one will ever top The Rent is Too Damn High Guy – Jimmy McMillan. Besides buying crack from Somali drug dealers and getting filmed smoking it, he rammed into a lady like he was one of the bulls in Pamplona, and he gave a fantastic press conference extolling the virtues of marriage while denying kitty cat snack accusations (watch the second video clip below and this will make sense). If he is not the next reality show superstar – a great injustice will have been done. Ron Burgundy sang a reelection song for him and had Kanye not already got down on bended knee and already proposed, Kim KarTrashian would have been stuck to him like wallpaper…

rob ford crazy eyes

It makes me a little sad that the Surreal World isn’t still on. Can’t you just see Mr. Mayor, Chuck Norris, Mr. T, Flavor Flav, Charo, and David Hasselhoff all trying to just get along and live together?

surreal

YOU MUST SEE HIS GREATEST HITS VIDEOS HERE AND HERE!!!

running assist

3. I am grateful and thanked my wife for supporting me through the NYC Marathon training and on Race Day, but there is another thank you that is due: I want to take this moment to thank the makers of NipEaze.

nyc_finisher-225x225

When they say that this product discreetly conceals and protects nipples, they mean it. I was so confident that I felt like I had my own security team guarding my guns. Not to be gross, but I have been that guy with the blood soaked shirt. I walked in from the park one day and my shirt looked as if I had just taken two gun shots to the chest in a driveby. Unbeknownst to me, I was running around rocking a sweaty tee with giant red stains through the park. Who knew nipples bled and who knew nipples bled that much? I mean, there was a lot of blood…

Commuting nightmare
NipEaze, you have earned your rightful place next to Imodium AD in my life. What you have given me can never be repaid and the extent to which I appreciate you can never be fully verbalized…They’re sweat proof, breathable, discreet, and really stay on there. I sweat like a whore in church, but those little anchors were firmly in place for the duration. They even come in two sizes, but remember that for best results, NipEAZE should not be larger than the outside diameter of the areola.

pacman

I know what you must be thinking “what’s the big deal and why is this fool talking about his nipples so much?” and before I was a runner I didn’t understand and appreciate my nips either. Like the Shakira song says “These Nips Don’t Lie.” I took them for granted and abused them when I ran a half marathon over the Summer and thought a Pacman band aid could do the job of a mighty hero. It was no use, these poor little nips were hurt, sore, and irritated like nobody’s business. It was as if I got a super-sized purple nurple by King Kong nine times in a row.

This is an actual picture of me resting after finishing the marathon...

This is an actual picture of me resting after finishing the marathon…

Don’t even ask about the pictures they take on race day either. My shirt was sweaty and stuck to me like saran wrap around chopped meat so badly that my nipples were protruding through my shirt like a meerkat on sentinel duty. I looked like a third string extra from Baywatch…Did you ever see Meatloaf in Fight Club – that was me! I was actually looking at the pictures taken at the race when my friend Beena came rolling by and took one look at them and told me that I needed to call the photographer immediately and threaten legal action if he didn’t delete those shots immediately. Not my best moment…

fight club

Either way, I appreciate the support (literally) and wanted to thank them. If anyone had told me six months ago that I’d be parading running tights, a du rag and nipple shields publicly and proudly through Central Park, I would have popped them right in the chops but here I am today sharing my bits and pieces for the world!

As if being married to me wasn’t thank you enough… (My NYC Marathon thank you)

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thank you shout out

I am working on a full recap but I’d be remiss if I didn’t devote a little space and time to give a shoutout to the amazing support system that got me through not only the 26.2 miles of the NYC Marathon but also the hundreds of miles logged leading up to that race day. No, this is not just another shameless Imodium AD plug – although I do owe them a thanks as well – this is a testament to the amazing, funny, crazysexycool, gorgeous, inspiring woman that just happens to be my best friend and wife.

 

logo nyc marathon

 

 

Unless you count the night of our Honeymoon when we broke the bed twice, I’ve never really been congratulated for my physical prowess. I started running about year ago and famously ended my first race getting popped in the chops by a fence while face planting into the pavement with a bloody nose and then getting trampled like Mufasa did by the wildebeasts in The Lion King from the rest of the runners. Talk about a sign to not take up running – those were obvious red flags that I ignored.

This and the NYC Marathon finisher medal are the only trophies in my sports case...

This and the NYC Marathon finisher medal are the only trophies in my sports case…

 

I’m a Klutz through and through, so when I took up running, you can just imagine my wife’s concern. After all, I’m the guy that broke the same ankle two years in a row on the same day, sprained ligaments in the other ankle last year because I didn’t have my glasses on and walked into the bathroom door, fell face first into a brick wall and recently got a black eye when I tripped while chasing my son in our kitchen and fell into the garbage can face first. Basically there’s not a single speck of coordination running through my body but she’s been nothing but encouraging. And this is from my wife who had never heard of me running in my life except for the time I went for a run in Hyde Park while studying abroad in London and got so winded that I got an ice cream cone and took a cab back home – not the tell-tale signs of the track star I’d turn into.

 

lion king trampled

 

 

Through every run – long and short – she’s been a constant source of positive encouragement and believed in me fully without question when I cooked up this NYC Marathon pipe dream. Whereas I didn’t fully think I could do this until about nineteen miles into the Marathon on race day – she was always my loudest cheerleader. I struggled and doubted while she massaged sore feet and applied the icy hot…Each and every mile became possible because she believed in me and that was contagious.

 

True-to-life rendering of me in all my athletic glory.

True-to-life rendering of me in all my athletic glory.

 

I’m not sure if you know how many people come out and line the streets for the NYC Marathon, but out of those two million people – there was no bigger smile or louder cheer to be found than hers at mile 18 & mile 23. As I made my up to mile 18, I glanced up and there they were – my wife, my two sons and my mother-in-law – with huge smiles and tearing eyes like an oasis in the desert. Shouting, screaming, waving a big orange balloon and beaming with pride – there they were. A big hug, a quick kiss, a fast photo and they made me feel ready to conquer anything.

mile 18

 

As I darted away, knowing I’d see them again in five more miles I started to wonder why I hadn’t believed in myself when they so overwhelmingly and unequivocally believed in me. Why was I the only one who didn’t think I could do it? Their excitement was contagious and the proud looks in their eyes carried me through. I never cared about the timing – just that I could finish the marathon and have fun with it, and after seeing them there was no doubt that I could and would make it through.

running guy

As I arrived at mile 23 – there they were again screaming and even more excited than the first time. Kisses, hugs and smiles all around and then I headed off again to finish. They navigated the crazy, busy, crowded streets and subway system with a two and a four year old in order to see me in two different spots to encourage me along the way when they knew I’d need it and never once complained or thought about anything but how happy they were for me. They gave me the encouragement and the strength to finish strong and to believe in myself as much as they did.

nyc_finisher-225x225

I know that it might sound like the start of a joke to say I looked up and saw my mother-in-law’s face in the crowd, but she’s my Boo and they was such a sight for sore eyes. There she was – standing with my older son while my wife wore his brother like they were in Dagobah – he was Yoda and she was the young Jedi in training Luke Skywalker…At that exact moment there was no better sight that I could see then the four of them right there on the street! Granted, the last time I wrote about my mother-in-law it was about inappropriate movies and stuff so hopefully, this post is a little tamer…

Luke and Yoda

This is a different type of post than I usually write, but I didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to thank them for pushing and encouraging me. They’ll never know what their smiles, cheers and laughter did for me. I think of how much my wife sacrificed over the past few months to encourage me and my crazy pipe dream while I ran like a madman training run after training run, day after day, night after night…I certainly couldn’t have gotten through it without her encouragement, support and love. Here’s to you honey – I love you!

 

 

I’m running the New York City Marathon tomorrow!!!

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Got my number - check. Got my Shirt - check. Got my Imodium AD 72 pack - CHECK CHECK CHECK!!!

Got my number – check.
Got my Shirt – check.
Got my Imodium AD 72 pack – CHECK!

I’m sure that every one of you will be on the edge of your seats all weekend absolutely consumed by thoughts of my five borough trek, so here’s something to make it a little more bearable for you: The link to the runner tracking page.

http://www.ingnycmarathon.org/spectators/trackmyrunners.htm

marathon
No pressure – feel free to not even give me a second thought as I pound the pavement, mile by mile by mile by mile, never giving up, always enduring, profusely sweating like a Jello pudding pop left out in the sunlight for too long at a family barbecue…putting my body through the rigors of 26.2 miles…26.2 freakin miles!!! No big deal at all – enjoy your weekend. What were you doing this weekend anyway? Oh, just raking some leaves? Cleaning out some closets? Oh, that sounds nice too…
logo nyc marathon
Just kidding, some people had asked about tracking me and I’m not sure that NY Road Runners has developed the technology yet that will be able to track someone like me that’s fast like lightning, but here is the option anyway:
nyrr
There is a text to phone option but the one listed below that option is online and FREE. My bib number is 69382…
Any idiot can run
Wish me luck and if I end up face down on the pavement with a bloody nose again or if they open the streets back up before I even get to mile ten – no judgements…
Look out for this guy on the course!!

This is the back of my Marathon shirt!

This is the front of my Marathon shirt.

This is the front of my Marathon shirt.

Runners – as you’re making your way through the course you’ll be overwhelmed trying to remember all the hydration and fueling tips and advice you’ve learned and gotten over the last few months, but there is one important thing you need to have front of mind as you approach that finish line in Central Park. There is always someone faster than you and you’re not going to come in first place, so there is absolutely no excuse for a bad finish photo. The winning male and female are the only acceptable runners that can look like shit on marathon day. As you finish the 25th mile, you have mere minutes to paint the absolute biggest smile you can on your face and make it big. It will hurt, but you want to know what hurts more? getting bad picture from your big day. Those fugly shots can be brutal! No one wants to see the girl who just gave birth’s picture on their Facebook feed – you may not have had a baby – but that’s what it looks like. I am a helper and here to offer my sage wisdom for free so as you finish up the last leg of the race, scout around for the ugly people, the sweaty ones, the fat ones and the hairy ones and sidle up close to them until you pass the finish. This may sound mean or shallow, and it is,  but I guarantee that you’ll thank me for this when you check your email a few days later and see how good you look next to a real hot mess slumped over trying to catch their breath. no matter how sweaty, how hot or how ready to throw up you are – there is always someone worse off than you. Full disclosure, I’m usually that person that’s worse off, but I digress…

Good luck out there tomorrow and although it goes without saying, I’ll be packing extra Imodium AD if anyone needs!

How have I not had the shit kicked out of me yet?

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The fact that I can mosey along through life in my delusional bubble and still haven’t gotten and ass-woopin’ reaffirms my conviction that I’m either so funny and charming that it makes me irresistible or I’m so cheeseball crazy that people just assume most of what I’m saying is nonsense and ignore it…
Thoughts?

 

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As hard as it is to believe for anyone that knows me, I have never actually been in a fist fight in my life. Many, many, many, many times, I really should have had the stuffing knocked out of me, but by some grace of God – I have eluded the fisticuffs (although there have been a few scuffles). I never got to throw even one punch in any of them, but that’s not really the point I guess. Not even when I went up to that girl in The Dark Horse Tavern and told her that her face looked like diarrhea because I thought I was helping her out, not even a slap. Of course, I was drunk and slurring my speech when that happened, but she got my meaning and just as an FYI: if someone is trying to help you, I think you should at least hear them out! 

In Elementary School, I used to incite the…

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If you’re laughing at this, my wife probably isn’t – Part three: Does it still count if it’s her aunt I mount?

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CommentPolicy

 

I got a comment from Celtic illumination, aka the loveliest pair of legs in Ireland about something I mentioned off-handedly in this post. Those legs are off on a secret cabal to become the Master Candle Maker in the world and considering that the double top secret world of candle making is extremely cutthroat, I’m offering support where I can. There are way too many pairs of legs gyrating through Ireland to blindly classify one set as the loveliest, but I’m going to give the benefit of the doubt here and choose to believe my new friend. Anyway, here’s the comment she left:

 

You mention ‘accidently mounting your aunt,’ are we talking taxidermy here?

 

Shame on me for assuming that the term that “mounting” was universally understood. I thought that people would realize that when I said that I “mounted” her it was pretty clear that I ended up straddling her. I know it’s hard not to think of straddling as a sexual thing, but this truly wasn’t that kind of story. When I read the comment to my wife, she laughed out loud and I said “who would think I was trying to stuff your aunt and mount her on the wall?” to which she replied “Please don’t try to stuff my aunt!!!” which definitely had a sexual connotation to it and not the intended taxidermy slant.

IRISH

 

So, to clear up any lingering confusion, here is the official non-taxidermy related version of the incident. It was my wife’s family Christmas luncheon and we were at her Aunt Lynn’s house. There was about fifteen of us scattered around, but the majority of the group were having drinks and catching up in the living room. The kids and my wife’s grandmother were opening their gifts when her aunt gave us a gift (even though we weren’t supposed to be exchanging). Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t raised by animals so I got up to go over and say thank you while my wife was walking towards the kitchen to refill drinks for everyone.

 

Her aunt was lying on the couch across her mother and grandmother as I walked over to her. They were positioned like this: her aunt’s head was on the throw pillow at the end of the couch and her legs were stretched the length of the couch on top of my mother-in-law’s lap and my grandmother-in-law’s lap. As I leaned down to give her a kiss, I said “I really want to thank you…” and that’s when it all happened in an instant. As I was bending down to her, her uncle Gary (who was walking by me at the time) pushed me. This normally might not have been a big deal if I hadn’t lost my balance from the nudge he gave me and ended up right on top of her. When I say I was on top of her, I mean that I was now straddling her. If that is not any clearer, I mean to say that my junk was lined up with her funk! She was, of course, caught off guard by this strange way of being thanked at a family gathering and she said “Oh…your welcome” as she was laughing at me.

 

get off my sister

 

Uncle Gary immediately helped me even further by shouting “Hey, get off my sister like that!” which in turn made my wife spin around to see me still on top of her aunt. She looked at me with that all too familiar look of puzzlement/annoyance that I have come to know and love after all these years as she said “Get off my aunt like that!”

 

As I tried to gently dismount her and regain my composure, I tried to explain that her uncle had pushed me and that I wasn’t just some pervert looking for a little something to fill my Christmas stocking. It wasn’t like I was the crazy one in this situation, but needless to say it was another family gathering that I made an impression at similar to the game of Cranium when I was paired up with my wife’s grandmother and had to hum “Like a Virgin” to her. When I realized the next clue I had to draw for her was nipple I gave up with no hopes of winning that game. Sometimes you gotta know when to cut your losses if you can’t win. At least it wasn’t like the time I got punished and was forced to leave the table during Thanksgiving Dinner and sit upstairs alone, but that’s a story for another time…

In-Every-Family-Is-One---Witch-Cat-Ate-Your-Prozac---

 

Keep those comments coming! I have a tendency to ramble on like a yenta and have been known to go off on incoherent tangents from time to time…

Hasn’t New Jersey been through enough?

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toll booth

Forget Sandy, Snookie, and Soprano’s Swan song, New Jersey has had another awful disaster worse than the tanning mom: A man was arrested for defecating in a New Jersey Tollbooth!

http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2013/06/22/Man-arrested-after-exiting-car-and-defecating-in-Holland-Tunnel-booth/UPI-79161371957477/

Forget No Tresspassing - this is the sign they need to hang in there!

Forget No Tresspassing – this is the sign they need to hang in there!

I must credit my friend Ja for notifying me of this, but the first thing I thought of when hearing this is “Was he in the EZ Pass Lane?” That doesn’t sound very EZ to me? And why on earth don’t they lock those toll booths? Can anyone just enter and have your way with the booth? Who stops to go in them, but even if you live out in the boonies, you lock your doors. Not to be gross, but did this clown leave his special package on a chair or on the floor or on the desk; how big is this booth? More importantly, who has to go to work the next day and use that booth? They might clean it up and spray a little Febreeze in there, but I don’t even let people use my desk phone without cleaning it off, so there is absolutely no way that I would ever go back to work and step back into that booth. My favorite part is that he was arrested for trespassing. If someone takes a dump in the tollbooth – that’s a lot more than trespassing!

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This of course reminded me of a story about my friend “Al”. Not many people will cop to as many embarrassing stories about themselves as I will, so he is a good sport for sharing this one. He was about eighteen at the time and was driving on the Expressway in his friend’s station wagon when his stomach started acting up. The Expressway always has traffic and can back up in a heartbeat and since Al was having the exact opposite of a backup, he made them pull that station wagon over.

He got out to squat in between the guardrails separating the two lanes and since it was summer, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just khaki shorts and sneakers. As he was squatting and holding onto the guardrail for some semblance of support, he was crouching and doing his business while his shorts and tighty-whiteys were around his ankles. This is not an agile man by any means, nonetheless on the side of the road in a well-trafficked area and thus – his business ended up landing with a thud right into his pulled down tightie whiteys and his shorts. Now, if that wasn’t clear I cannot draw you a picture or explain it any further, so just go with me here. The way it landed, he might as well have never gotten out of the car in the first place because his clothing was ruined.

If you don't know this is Smokey from the movie Friday then I'm not sure we can continue to be friends...

If you don’t know this is Smokey from the movie Friday then I’m not sure we can continue to be friends…

Realizing he was in a bad state, Al stepped gingerly out of his underwear and shorts so as to avoid any and all contact, and then he crouched down in between the guardrails for coverage as he thought about what to do next. It was after about ten seconds that he did what anyone might have done in that position: he shot up like a rocket, jumped over the guardrail, and ran for all he was worth. Well, he then found out that his running was worth about ninety cents because his friends had been watching the whole time and once they saw him shoot up naked and start running towards them, they gunned it and sped away as he gave chase.

He was literally running on the side of the road chasing them wearing just a pair of sneakers and a gold chain around his neck with one hand giving his friends the finger and the other holding his junk. They’d slow down just til he got just close enough to almost reach the door handle and then gun it – laughing hysterically as they watched the show out the back window of that station wagon. Even if he ran like Usain Bolt, there was no way he could have caught them!

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About a mile down the road they finally let him in the car and agreed to take him home. Guess who didn’t think it was funny while they laughed their asses off? If you think that was the worst part of his day, then you should have seen the look on his face as they pulled off on his exit about forty minutes later. He almost lost control of himself again when he realized that his abandoned shat-on-shorts were still housing his wallet containing his fake ID and house keys in the pocket.

He made them drive him back to the scene of the earlier crime, but with traffic getting back there and actually finding the exact spot again, about two hours had passed by in that oppressive August heat. He was afraid of a repeat incident with them pulling away again (although now they had given him a towel to wrap around himself for modesty or to protect the seat from a bare ass in summer) so he took the car keys with him as he left to retrieve his wallet.

Who could predict the massive swarm of flies that would have been surrounding that awful pile of clothing laying there in the mid-day heat, but he needed his fake ID out of that wallet so he dug through and got it. He sprinted back to the car but not before throwing up on the side of the road. This was way before the days of Purell, so I’m sure he stunk to high heaven…

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The moral of this story isn’t “be careful who you hang out with because friends can screw with you and this can happen to you.” The moral of the story is “Take Imodium AD and this CAN’T happen to you!
For all parties involved, thank God this was way before camera phones as no one should bear witness to that.

In all seriousness, this is the exact reason I am addicted to Imodium AD. I take toll roads, I commute on a train, I travel highways…I wouldn’t be able to leave the house because every misstep spreads like the wildfire through the internet that I’d be a viral sensation the next time I have something other than white rice for lunch.

A Patriotic Tribute

/ www.immodiumabuser.com / 9 Comments
They took one look at me in fatigues and changed their mind...

They took one look at me in fatigues and changed their mind…

On this fine day when we stand in tribute to the great men and women of our armed forces who fight each and every day for our freedom to abuse Imodium AD and write a crazy blog like this, I went to the local recruiting station. Writing this blog is providing an essential service to the country, but I started to question whether I was doing enough and considered enlisting in the Marines. After a quick glance at me in the fatigues, the recruiter thanked me for my interest but assured me that my enlistment wouldn’t be fair to my wife and kids, wouldn’t be to my fair to my friends and colleagues, and above all – it wouldn’t be fair to the Marines! He saluted me and asked that I promise to continue my vital work on this site so here is a tribute to the Marines and all the other armed service men and women risking life and limb the only way I know how:

https://immodiumabuser.com/2012/08/31/me-at-parris-island-with-the-marines-no-good-can-come-of-this/

Fat Camp

/ www.immodiumabuser.com / 1 Comment

As we all go about planning our family events for the 4th of July next week, I cant help but think back on a memorable family get-together a few years ago…Typical chaos ensued and of course it ended up with me getting assaulted and embarrassed, but what else would you come to expect from me? Enjoy this and enjoy your planning!

 

family plaque

www.immodiumabuser.com's avatarwww.immodiumabuser.com

It’s funny, because when I used to talk about my aunt owning a fat camp (a weight loss summer camp for kids) and having worked there, people never believed it. It sounded crazy and I was constantly accused of making it up until I actually brought people there. I was in good shape and used to go to the gym every day, so I guess it was a stretch.  But now, whenever I talk about the camp, people believe every word because they look at me (I have probably doubled in size since those days) and nod with that look that says “Of course you were at a fat camp and by the way, you really need to go back. There are many many many Fat Camp stories, most are entirely inappropriate for anyone’s gentle ears – but let’s start with this one:

My friend Weezie (Now talk about a Hooka with a capital “H”…

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