Too crazy to classify

Someone help me – I’m afraid of turning into my father!!!

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In honor of Father’s Day, here’s to you Dad!

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

Unlike The Incredible Hulk who changed immediately, one of my greatest fears is that fate will sneak up on me and I’ll undergo a slow and painstaking transition into a heightened version of my father. Some people might think this is a compliment, but I’m not sure the world is ready for another one like him. To know my father is to laugh because he is crazy and hysterical (even if it is at and not with him), but for people that don’t know my father, let me explain.

To say that my father is one-of-a-kind is to do a disservice to unique glacial formations created to bring beauty to the world. My father was actually created in another era from spontaneous combustion. He was one of ten children and called Baby Boy at the hospital. They literally named him Baby Boy. Every time he presents that birth certificate…

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Suh-Mash update: Hi Kai, Why oh why did you kill that guy?

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kai

 

I saw this and couldn’t help but update you on our favorite misunderstood hero. In case you missed it, here’s the original post:

https://immodiumabuser.com/2013/04/16/my-brother-was-on-the-news/

 

It’s not a Village People concert, but grab your ax and start the “Free Kai” chants now!!! This story with him gets so much wilder the more we hear about him. Since he is innocent until proven guilty or admits that he smash, smash, SMASHED Jesus with a tomahawk again– I’ll reserve judgement.

Village-People-Fancy-Dress-

Here’s the latest story about his arrest:

http://www.cnn.com/2013/05/16/justice/new-jersey-hitchhiker-murder-charge/index.html?hpt=hp_c3

 

shirt

Thoughts?

NY Post finally caught on to me…

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3609_picture_of_an_excited_woman_speeding_with_her_wheelchair

I saw this article about New York families hiring disabled people to come to Disney with them and although I am not usually a big fan of the NY Post, I got a kick out of it. I don’t pretend to think of myself as a trend-setter but come on people! I was using a wheelchair inappropriately at Disney years ago – now they catch up? How stupid am I to not realize that money was to be made on it though? I guess I should take notes because not one of these people were propelled skyward into a crowd, peed their pants or were mistaken for a retarded person yet….If you don’t remember my famous Disney story when I was mistaken for a retarted person TWICE in less than a half hour – read it here!

Here’s the article:

http://shine.yahoo.com/parenting/disney-world-scheme–entitled-families-hire-disabled-guide-to-bypass-lines-194555620.html

Here’s when I was mistaken for a retarded person TWICE in less than a half hour: https://immodiumabuser.com/2011/01/11/when-i-was-mistaken-for-a-retarded-person-twice-in-less-than-a-half-hour/  If you haven’t read this – you’re in for a treat. If you have already read it – it’s worth another read…

A little game called “Hey Hooka – How Much?”

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hey hooker

 

Sometimes once you do something a few times it kind of loses its luster and tends not to be fun anymore – let me tell you about a little game that never happens with: Hey Hooka – how much? This isn’t Cranium people – you don’t just play it with anyone. It’s strategic and well-timed – like crop-dusting in the workplace. As is the case with most amazing inventions like Imodium AD and the shoe horn, this game popped into my head and I hit it out of the park one oppressively hot July day a few years back.

 

The first car I had with Air Conditioning

The first car I had with Air Conditioning

I was on the way to work and had the air conditioning cranked as far as it would go like Scotty giving it all she’s got with the Starship Enterprise. When I drive in hot weather (anything over 68 degrees) I have every vent in the car positioned towards my face with that delicious cold air blowing as hard as it can. On longer car rides, my face actually starts to get numb from the extended cold air rushing against it; my own personal form of botox. That’s also the reason that I have such soft cheeks that are as supple as a newborn’s buttocks. I know what you’re thinking and I don’t care; I will literally get gas every day if it rund out because of the constant ac usage and I don’t care if it goes to eight dollars a gallon. I will not ride in the car April through October without my air conditioning. Anyway, stop distracting me so that I can finish.

 

sweating

 

I had already sweat through one undershirt and dress shirt while walking the dog that morning and I was schvitzing like cottage cheese left outside at a picnic again. I was speeding as usual and cursing the hot weather when something caught my eye on the passenger side of the road…

 

I immediately threw that car into the far right lane and slowed to an ever-so-slight crawl as I rolled up on the crowded bus stop…I knew it was a huge risk to my health rolling down that passenger window in such extreme heat as it was close to a hundred degrees outside, but I chanced it once I saw her: one of my coworkers named Shalan. She was leaning against the bus stop pole in all her nine months pregnant glory; sweating like a Whore in church. If I had a sonogram machine in the car at that very moment, do you know what it would have showed? I’d have seen that tiny fetus wiping sweat off its little brow too as it was that hot!

 

This Hooker didn't take Shat from anyone!

This Hooker didn’t take Shat from anyone!

If there was absolutely one person in town more miserable than me at that moment, it was her. Like divine intervention the game took shape in my mind and before I knew it, I was shouting out the window: “Hey Hooka – How Much?” I was laughing hysterically as I rolled by like a snail looking at all the people looking around at who I could be yelling to. She was waving her arms and yelling something to me as I rolled up that window and waved back. As I sped away down the street giggling, I couldn’t help but pat myself on the back a little for creating such a great little game back there.

 

As I got to work, I immediately went to tell my friend Tsunami about how funny I am. Once I stopped laughing enough to repeat what happened, she wasn’t laughing and looked at me like I was crazy and said “You didn’t stop the car and offer her a ride? It’s a hundred degrees out and she’s waiting at a bus stop nine months pregnant!”

 

I thought for a moment “You know, it didn’t even occur to me to ask her – it all happened so fast…”

 

“You had time to slow the car down, pull over, roll down the window and then yell Hey Hooka – how much? Yet there wasn’t time to ask if she wanted a ride? Were you running late and couldn’t stop – What’s wrong with you?”

dunkin

 

“No, I wasn’t late at all. I actually went to Dunkin Donuts after it happened and almost told the guy at the drive thru about it because I was still laughing to myself about it.”

 

Guess who arrived about forty minutes later and didn’t think it was funny either? Some people are just sensitive I guess. She was telling everyone like I was the bad guy here. It’s not like she was in labor and I passed her…then I can see her being mad.

 

I did make it up to her a few months later when I saw her on a different street corner and slammed on the brakes to offer her a ride. How was I to know that she was standing in front of her house that time, but it was the thought that counts…I am going to reserve judgement and glaze over the fact that every time I saw her outside of work she was, literally, on a street corner. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

out window

A

nyway – I broke that game out again this past weekend. It had been far too long since playing it and like the groundhog, this is a game that knows when to poke its head up out of its hole. I was dropping my wife off for her mommy’s night out dinner with friends when we saw our crazy friend Ann walking downtown. Immediately, I went into stealth mode and the game started. I was beeping the horn repeatedly while I opened the window and shouted: “Hey Hooka – How much?” Shockingly, there was no response from her at all. Like Glen Close in Fatal Attraction “I won’t be ignored” so I turned that car around and sped back towards her.

 

I pulled the car right in back of where she was walking and screamed again. “Hey Hooka – How much?” while beeping the horn twice as much this time on the off chance that she’s hard of hearing and I had just never noticed it before? All of a sudden she whipped her head around to call me an asshole and laughed hysterically when she realized who it was.  She then got into the car and said that the first time she didn’t respond because she couldn’t tell who was being yelled at so she ignored it thinking that it was just some asshole. She also said that it sounded like a Hispanic guy yelling to her which I found to be the funniest part. My voice is pretty distinctive as you may have heard so to be mistaken for any accent at all is ridiculous – nonetheless Hispanic. Needless to say we laughed hysterically as we dropped them off to talk about what an imbecile my wife is married to over dinner.

 

Please feel free to start playing this game and share it with your friends. Consider it my gift to the world and use it wisely. And to our crazy friend Ann – you are a great sport and officially post-worthy!

 

 

 

 

My brother was on the news???

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Hitchhiker

Forget what’s on NBC – this is the only Smash you should be watching! If you miraculously grew his hair back and slapped a peace sign du-rag on that noggin – this could have been my brother Anthony. It sounds like I’m kidding, but I’m not. And the cursing? My brother has had more F-Bombs in and out of his mouth than most porn stars!

Randomly, the first thing I thought of when I saw this video was my brother retelling us a story about driving his friend Matt home one night when the guy started screaming like a little girl on the verge of tears and him laughing hysterically. What Anthony omitted from the story was that Matt was screaming because the pickup had picked up all right: he was screaming because it was going about 95 mph and was now airborne over the railroad tracks, thus the screaming. Similar to the hitchhiker in the video below, Matt was about to meet Jesus. 

My brother before he needed Rogaine...

My brother before he needed Rogaine…

Back to the reason we’re here – look at this video:

http://firsttoknow.com/hitchhiker-gives-greatest-interview-ever-after-saving-woman-from-being-smothered/?utm_campaign=hitchhiker-gives-greates-21734&utm_source=o_tw

I’m not sure what it is with me and these man on the street interviews lately, but I do get a kick out of them. I love that Kai starts out with a Dr. Phil type motivational message “you’re lovable and worthwhile…” before telling us what happened when he used his hatchet to save that woman. The guy’s a straight-up hero, should be a part of Oprah’s Angel network AND the streets are a whole lot safer because of Kai and his super-powered du-rag! 

One can only hope that if I’m ever being smothered by a reincarnated Jesus Christ that a Good Samaritan like this comes along straight outta Dogtown and lends a hand – or a hatchet – for me!  Smash, Smash, SMAAASH!!!

Help Your Bowl get that GOLD!!! America’s Best Restroom Contest!

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Loo

 

Forget any of the singers on The Voice – click HERE and vote for something important in The Battle of the Bowls: Cintas’ America’s Best Restroom Contest.

 

www.bestrestroom.com/us

 

Whether it’s where you work, where you leave the building you work in to “think and take a call” or whether you proudly strut down the hall like the pimp that you are in your office with a newspaper proudly tucked under your arm – we all have a favorite Throne. I have a 24/7 IV drip permanently attached and pumping a steady supply of Imodium AD into my bloodstream, but just in case – even I have a spot laid out if an emergency strikes!

 

This is one game of poker where the flush always wins!!!

cards

 

Forget Washington D.C., real change happens when we come together and vote on important issues like these, so please go and do something important today – vote for your bowl to rock and roll!

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If you thought part one of my St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans might have been an isolated incident. Read on to find out why I’m under house arrest today. Go out and have all the drunken fun for me and I’ll live vicariously through you…

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

You’ve heard one example of my version of March Madness and now here’s another reason why St. Patrick’s Day sometimes hurts – literally. I don’t mind the crowds and all the tacky lime green clothing, but the real truth is that I keep getting injured on St. Patrick’s Day. I am clumsy normally, but my dilapidated sense of coordination is heightened on that day more than others for some reason and I always end up face down – ass up covered in bruises.

I will tell you the event that actually was the tipping point of why I can’t go out on St. Patrick’s Day anymore. My wife was pregnant and had no interest in hanging out with a bunch of drunk fools (i.e. me) so she went out for the day without me. If you think this is leading towards me blaming her, it isn’t.  I have tried blaming…

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Three Quick Things

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1 – This shirt is Awesome!

dyslexia

2 – Have you liked my Facebook page yet? What are you waiting for? Get over there and do it right now before people think there’s something really wrong with you…

like my page

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. Tis the season for those beret wearing cookie pushers to start peddling their wares again so HERE’S a little deep cookie action for all the Girl Scout Cookie fans out there…

 

girl+scout+cookies-500x290

For all my homies to get to know mes

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hearye hearye

 

I posted this a few months ago for all the newbies – and it appears the time is ripe for it again. I’ve gotten a ton of new followers since then and I want to make them feel right at home and steer them down the right path. With so many posts on here, it’s hard to know where to start and unless you’re dedicated like Crazy-Annie-Smack-that-Fannie, you might not go back and start at the beginning to read them all…

Click here to start the ride and get caught up!

You’ll Look Dope! This Ride was pre-owned by the Pope!

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popemobile 1

I know what you’re thinking “OH God! He’s talking about religion so it will be immature and offensive and he’s crazy and I’m insulted by that. Believe it or not, it is possible for me to have a mature discussion about a serious topic. This is not it, but I can have one if I wanted to…  

The Pope gave his last official address in front of 150,000 people in Rome. The Catholic part of me is sad that he’s retiring, but the selfish part of me is wondering how to ask if I can have his car…Just kidding, but I really do wonder – he gave up the Papacy for lent, does he have to give up the car too?

I’m actually being somewhat serious here – there is no better ride known to man than the Pope mobile. It’s a Mercedes – Boom! You always have a driver to take you wherever you want to go – Boom! You’re sitting in a very, very comfortable chair while you drive – Boom! Did I mention that it’s bulletproof and bomb-proof – Boom! Boom! You are cruising around like a true Superhero! If Batman had only been born a Catholic, it’s what he’d be driving.  

From a car-making perspective, the Pope mobile is universal. Call it the POMO for short and we’ve got a winner. That POMO is one sweet ride that appeals to all car-buying age groups. Teens and college students – is there a better car made today to Hotbox with your friends in? Married Couples – forget pulling the sheets over her head; this car was invented for the Spousal Dutch Oven! Menopausal women – you can change the heat and A/C back and forth and back and forth and back and forth as many times as you need to. Seniors and handicapped people – there’s a hydraulic lift in the back to get you into the chair. (That last part also works if you’re just lazy like me…)   

If you can't afford the souped-up POMO,This is the slightly lesser expensive model

If you can’t afford the souped-up Pope Mobile, here’s the slightly lesser expensive model

What about drive thru dining you may ask? Yes, you can still go. The helpful agents of obesity will just have to reach up a little bit higher to hand you that McRib sandwich and Shamrock Shake. No time to stop for food you say? Not to worry, because the upgraded POMO can be customized with a microwave installed right at your fingertips. There would be an additional cost for that, but isn’t your happiness worth it? Is there anything better than making popcorn or a Smart Ones entrée while you’re stuck in traffic on I-95? Yes – a cold pop for Sweet Brown! Good thing there’s a fridge in there next to that microwave! You can’t do that in your Prius! With all the publicity surrounding the Pope’s retirement lately, I’d wager to say that there are more than a few pimps out there that are considering trading their Escalades for some new wheels…

In terms of parking, do you classify the POMO as an SUV or a sedan? The height restriction can be cumbersome in an underground lot, but other than that? I guess you might need shades for a sunny day and you have to really watch out if you flip someone off in traffic, but you take the good with the bad.

Sweet brown

Worried about repairs and maintenance? Do you honestly think that there is an auto body shop out there that will screw over the pope mobile? You’ll get a fair estimate, only the necessary services, and honest repairs every time – never underestimate the power of Catholic guilt!

I can just imagine the inevitable Craigslist ad to sell it:

“You’ll look dope! This ride was pre-owned by the Pope!”

It’s gonna take more than a few Hail Mary’s to go from Hoopdie to Holy and park this bad boy in your garage. Serious inquiries only because the price is non-negotiable: Would you feel good about yourself trying to haggle with the holiest man on earth?

I do joke and make light of this, but I know that faith drives us and leads us through change. If the Catholic Church isn’t something you agree with and believe in – that’s fine too. It’s something I was brought up in and I can appreciate the history, the rituals, the ceremony and the splendor of it. Like politics, it’s not for everyone and I don’t force religion on anyone, so this is all in jest to bring about a smile in a cray cray world.

Years after the Cold War thawed, Air Raid Drills were still nabbing casualties

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cause and effect

People, let’s talk about cause and effect! This story doesn’t end well for a certain little girl with Leukemia, but I’m not the one to blame here. Leukemia isn’t even the one to blame here. Like many others here on this site, this particular story doesn’t paint me in a very good light, but I’m willing to risk that to get right up on my soapbox and tell you about the effect Air Raid drills had on the children of America. (If you don’t know what an Air Raid drill is and never had to duck and cover read this LINK HERE before you go any further or I’ll just sound crazier than I normally do).

Air Raid

My being a neurotic mess didn’t happen overnight; I was the only newborn in the maternity ward kvetching over the fold in my swaddled blanket – Why does my blanket have stripes – he’s got one that’s plain blue, why can’t I get plain blue? Why did he get a second tuck? When is that nurse gonna start warming her hands before she changes me…But this isn’t about a newborn – fast forward to that neurotic mess as a teenager…

swaddle

My friend MariaElaina was like my partner in crime. If there was a box of Entemann’s cookies in my hand, her hand was covered in crumbs as well. If there was a sixty-five year old woman to play cards with, she was right there shuffling the cards while the old bag cheated us for pennies…If she had a flour baby in Health Class and mistakenly let me babysit, I was the one that got it kidnapped…As with everyone, High School can be tough – so we used to combat that by cutting classes and attending the other person’s class with them to make it bearable.

MariaElaina was enrolled in a vocational program that was teaching her practical skills to become a dental hygienist and so for half the school day, she was bussed over to a satellite school for the program. It was career and technical programs, so you only went there if you were enrolled in one. Always up for a road trip, I ditched my classes for the day and got on the bus with her to learn the tricks of the dental hygentistry trade. The bus ride over was about twenty five minutes to a half hour and without incident. I had never been there before, so it was fun to see the facility and get out of my school for the day.

dental hygenist

We went into her classroom after arriving and were stoked to see that it was a substitute teacher for the day. Now we figured that there wouldn’t be anyone the wiser for me being there when I wasn’t supposed to. Little did I know…

Of course, all the kids were fooling around and being High School kids as the Substitute took attendance. We figured that if I just didn’t answer she wouldn’t know anything; we were all just standing around anyway so she wouldn’t realize I was extra. As MariaElaina and I were chatting it up, I was starting to get a headache from my eyeglasses so I took them off and held them in my hand. One of her classmates started over towards us and I couldn’t help but squint and stare because I didn’t have my glasses on but that girl was obviously sick. She wasn’t walking okay and she was literally the palest person I have ever seen in my life. Translucent if you will. Knowing I cannot be trusted to not say dumb things, MariaElaina tried to blow her off and get her away from us as soon as possible, but the girl couldn’t take a hint. She kept talking to us and asking questions: Are you interested in dental hygentistry? Is that why you’re here with us today? It was almost as if I was all of a sudden going to don a pair of rubber gloves and ask to scrub in…

As we were talking, we were standing in the doorway of the classroom. MariaElaina and I were in the room and Leukemia Girl (I call her that because she had Leukemia and quite honestly, I can’t remember her name) had her back to the doorway facing us. As Leukemia Girl was overstaying her welcome and ignoring my confused stares, there was a random girl passing by the open doorway of our classroom. I gave it no notice until another girl about a minute later started down the same hallway screaming out to her. I will swear until the day that I die that she screamed “AIR RAID” and not “ADRIAN” to the girl that passed by before her, but I have been told repeatedly since then that I am mistaken. I don’t know if it was my late 1970’s grade school training to move fast to duck & cover in the hallway, but I hit the Holy Shit button big time and freaked the freak out! It was almost as if a bolt of lightning shot right into me and my body jerked into action mid-conversation. Thinking back about it, I can see it in my mind in slow-motion: me screaming at the top of my lungs “AIR RAID!!!AIR RAID!!!” and then proceeding to throw my eyeglasses out of my hand like a World Series Pitcher and then those airborne eyeglasses smacking right into the young lady with Leukemia Girl’s forehead with a thud resulting in her first bruise of the day and then me bum-rushing for the door screaming “AIR RAID!!!AIR RAID!!!” as I knocked her out of the way and onto the floor in order to get into the hallway and down on all fours with my hands covering my neck.

duck and cover

Needless to say, since this wasn’t an actual drill – no one else took part in the safety precautions and just stared in disbelief at first, then disgust as I accidentally assaulted the girl with Leukemia. As I lay there crouched on the floor, she was writhing in pain on her back like a turtle turned upside down and carrying on like she had been shot…

MariaElaina was, of course, laughing hysterically and rolling on the floor as the substitute teacher shot up like a rocket screaming. She made sure Leukemia Girl still had a pulse and had someone was take her to the nurse and then turned on me: “What is wrong with you? Come with me – You’re going to the Principal right now!”

“The principal? I don’t even go here…” it slipped out before I could even hold it back…MariaElaina looked like she was about to wet herself right there. Tears streaming down her face and just bellowing. Her laughing wasn’t helping because it always made me laugh even harder and this was no exception. I was escorted to the front door and told to leave immediately.

“But I don’t even know where we are? How am I going to get back? I took the bus here – is there another one going back to the High School?”

“There’s another bus in in two hours when classes are over for the day – but you can’t wait in here.”

Guess who had to sit outside the front of the building for two hours and wait for the bus as MariaElaina and the kids in her class looked out the window hysterical laughing at him? Did I forget to mention that it was raining and I didn’t have an umbrella or even a coat on?  I didn’t really mind it and it wasn’t so bad until the girl with Leukemia popped her bruised head into the window and proceeded to give me the finger…I was literally sitting out there on a cold slab of concrete they were calling a bench for two hours soaking wet and laughing to myself like a psycho at the absurdity of it all.

I guess I did kind of deserve that one...

I guess I did kind of deserve that one…

I’m not saying she was milking it or wasn’t really hurt, but come on – it’s not like I was a linebacker. Even though she was sickly and paper thin, she still definitely had more muscle tone than me and they were eyeglasses that I hit her with – not nunchucks!

If you’re wondering the lesson I learned from that – it’s obviously that the Air Raid drills work because I have literally been in a house on fire twice and didn’t move that quick but you mention Air Raid and I’m off like a prom dress…

prom dress

I just fell for a girl named Glozell and my wife thinks its swell!

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Shouting

When you find something good you want to share it. When you stumble upon something crazy – you want to shout it. Consider this me shouting. Immodium Abusers, meet Glozell!!!

Glozell 1

I am not one to tell anyone to stop reading this site to head to another site, but today I’ll make an exception: Glozell is an icon with over 1000 videos on Youtube. One glance will have you spending the rest of your afternoon trolling through her site. Her cinnamon challenge is my absolute favorite and has gotten over 25 million views. Granted, at least a third of those are from me and my coworkers, but still…Her ghetto hunger games video will make you forget all about Jennifer Lawrence and beg for her to be recast in the next film, her interpretation of Maya Angelou’s work will leave you speechless and don’t even try to tell me her Beyonce lip syncing isn’t hysterical…

glozell teeth jpeg

Check out the Cinammon Challenge video for a starter and then check out her Youtube page and if you’re not convinced after all that, you might be dead. Anyone that can pull off Green lipstick like this (even if it might be nail polish and not lipstick) is hysterical and makes me look like a sane person. Her sense of humor reminds me of a young Nicole Kidman in The Hours…OK, she is nothing like Nicole, but anything that reminds me of this picture again can’t be that bad now can it?

For some strange reason, my wife doesn't believe that I got this magazine to read about Celine's Floridian getaway...

For some strange reason, my wife doesn’t believe that I got this magazine to read about Celine’s Floridian getaway…

Check out Glozell and let me know what you think of her. If you’re already a fan – tell me which video is your favorite. If you don’t like her – there’s something wrong with you. If all else fails, your welcome for the Nicole Kidman picture…Here is her Cinammon challenge video (LINK HERE) and here is her Youtube page – Enjoy!

A higher calling or are the standards falling?

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Right, this doesn't seem like an accident waiting to happen...

Right, this doesn’t seem like an accident waiting to happen…

Sort of how Moses was chosen to come down from Mount Sinai with the commandments, my higher calling in life is to deliver unto you crappy stories – literally. I am here to deliver all the poop that’s fit to print!

math

These things don’t happen to most people – except for lucky me. I’m not sure why I’m a turd magnet, but apparently I am. One of the earliest times was in eighth grade math class when Ms. Dickinson wouldn’t let a classmate named Rob out of the room to use the bathroom because she thought he would go smoke instead. She learned never to doubt again when he proceeded to march into her storage closet and take a shit four feet from her in full view. I bet she never made that mistake again – they suspended him for it, but he did ask her nicely for the pass so I kinda think she got what she deserved on that one…

As you can see, my love for the gym started at an early age...

As you can see, my love for the gym started at an early age…

One time at Fat Camp, there was a camper we all hated and he got one of his counselors in a lot of trouble when he ratted Dave out for being wasted during the day. I felt kinda bad because I was the one that made Dave drive me to the bar for happy hour in the first place but he was wasted and at least he didn’t sell me out too…The kid was only there for three weeks and Dave kept saying he was gonna get back at him, but we didn’t pay it any mind. When the kid’s parents came to pick him up, Dave walked him to the car and loaded his duffle bag personally into the trunk and hugged that kid as if they were brothers – very suspicious mind you. We realized why he was so over the top with them when we heard the blood-curdling screams from the kid’s mother moments later. Apparently, Dave got back at the kid by opening his packed duffle bag and hovering above it after lunch to send him home with a souvenir he’d never forget. Who could predict that the kid’s mother would reach into the bag to get his Walkman out for the car ride home before they left camp and she put her hand right into the duffle of defecation…I know the kid was a bastard, and I felt bad for the mother, but I couldn’t help but smile because I knew there was no way that family would ever set foot in the camp again!

What happened to Jordan Catalano? He ate hibachi...

What happened to Jordan Catalano? Hibachi fire…

My wife and I were meeting another couple out for dinner at a hibachi restaurant and we were running late because I was trying to force her to stop for food on the way. I don’t like a regular ethnic restaurant, nonetheless one where they cook it in front of you – without gloves mind you – and throw it around: They’re all like “Here, let me throw this shrimp in your shirt pocket” and I’m all like “Here, let me throw this shoe at your face.”  Also, doesn’t really seem safe now does it? Get a little too close and your face and eyebrows will melt off like my Aunt Wink. We meet up with the other couple and went to the hostess for seating. Since there would be a short wait, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to hit the little boy’s room and wash my hands.

who throws a show

As I walked in, I was overwhelmed with how bad the room smelled. I couldn’t immediately decipher if it was the odor of the bathroom or the spices being used in the kitchen. I went into the stall to get some toilet paper to blow my nose and stopped dead in my tracks. A dead body would have been less shocking, but right there in the stall was a pair of dirty men’s boxer shorts on the floor right in front of the toilet. When I say that there were dirty boxers on the floor, I don’t mean that they had a sweat stain on them; what I mean by dirty is that someone had shit their pants in a major way and left the boxer shorts in front of the toilet with the eggs still in the crate if you know what I mean.

As a person that has also lost their shit many times as if it was a hobby or my minor in college, I can empathize with the situation. What I cannot understand is how an animal might do that in a restaurant and then step out of the boxers and then leave them on the effing floor. Who does that? Did he go back to his table? Was he on a date? Imagine how lucky that lady is… Was there a patron in the dining room now going post-deuce commando? More importantly, did he seek medical attention, because that guy probably wasn’t OK after that…

After gagging in the sink, I ran out of the bathroom – lest anyone see that explosion in there and think it was my doing. I ran straight over to the hostess and explained. “It was not me! I have underwear on! I have underwear on! (At this point I lifted my shirt and pulled out the elastic of my underwear to show her and prove I wasn’t going commando.) She was looking at me like I was crazy as I tried to explain the disaster I just witnessed – but she glared at me almost mad with half suspicion that I was crazy and half disgust that I was telling her something so nasty. “Call housekeeping, call the police, or call your mother lady, but for God’s sake call someone in there right now!”

At that point, I tried to explain to my wife and the other couple because they thought I was fooling around. Who fools around and makes something like that up I do not know, but the restaurant sent reinforcements in right away. I didn’t want to eat there beforehand, but now that I had been traumatized, less so. Then I couldn’t stop fixating that it might be one of their employees so I was eyeing every waiter, bus boy, and cook up and down to see if anyone was walking strangely or seemed suspicious…Needless to say not a good night to be eating out…

As if that weren’t enough to make me sick, today at the gym it was de ja vu! I went to wash my face off after my workout and walked past the shower stalls when low and behold – there was a deuce in the stall. A deuce in the shower stall! I stopped dead in my tracks because I couldn’t believe that someone would do that not even ten feet from the bathroom stalls. Who shits in the shower? That can’t have possibly happened on accident – who accidentally shits themselves in the shower? I know it’s probably too late for me not to be disgusting, but it was a solid turd – there is no way that slipped out without someone knowing. If you really have no control of something like that happening, please consider a diaper if you run on the treadmill…Now who still doesn’t think they need flip flops in the gym showers?

flip flops in shower

I’m not condoning these actions because some of them are pretty gross – I’m just reporting it.  I am literally, giving you the turd’s eye view of the situation. This is just a sampling, but I think we need to start handing out Imodium on the street like pamphlets- it’s an outright contagion and I have to watch my step – literally.

A Stain by any other name…

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buck rogers

As I heard about this crazy story and it randomly made me think of my college friend Weezie and her “guy.” Nothing as tragic, but you’ll see the connection…But first – let me tell you that this is the exact reason I will not commute without my Imodium AD!!!

I know that in college that it’s a different world and you live by crazier standards than you do in real life, but banging someone named “ShitStain” is sort of like watching the Wendy Williams Show sober – it’s never a good idea! He was a great guy and all, but it didn’t matter – his name was “Shit Stain.”

Wendy Williams is a Wonder allright!

Wendy Williams is a Wonder allright!

If you were to ask Weezie, she’d tell you he looked like Brad Pitt, but I think he looked more like Nat from The Peach Pit. I’m not trying to be mean here, but they weren’t even officially dating so it is hard to know what to call them; I’ll just say they were “friends” and leave it at that. I liked him, he was a cool guy. My question was never about him or his looks or anything – it was his name. Hear me out: I am not one to normally pry about anyone’s nighttime fun – but I couldn’t help but ask: What did she say during the sex? Seriously, what do you yell out when you’re having sex with someone named ShitStain?

“Give it to me ShitStain”

“Me love you long time ShitStain”

“If this stain’s a rockin, don’t come a knockin”

You get the picture and you can understand my curiosity – something just ain’t right about that…

watson

I’m sorry to report that there was no happy ending for the two of them and the relationship didn’t progress to the point of registering for linens monogrammed with ShitStains, but I did I see him once after Graduation. I was up at the Fat Camp when I randomly saw him walking with his mother in the mall.

As I walked over, I yelled out “Hey ShitStain, What’s going on?” to painful looks of confusion on his mother’s face as if she didn’t know who I was talking to. She was looking around side to side as if there might be two ShitStains in the mall at the same time. It was then that I realized that I didn’t actually know his real name and she apparently didn’t know his stage name. OK, so it was his Fraternity name and not a stage name, but does it really matter? His mother was like:

“What did you just call him? That’s not his name!”  

Blank stare back from me – I couldn’t even guess at a real name…

“Do you not know his name” she asked me…“It’s John.”

“Really? I don’t picture you as a John…”          

She turned to ShitStain “Why did he just call you that? How do you know him?”

“What?” I said “Everyone calls him ShitStain…” It’s not as if I would walk up to strangers calling them ShitStain for no reason…

“Who calls you that John? Why do they call you ShitStain?” she questioned as they walked away…Not really much of a question if you ask me…I never actually asked him why, but I always had a pretty good idea of how he got that name…

open mouth

Once again, open mouth and insert foot! I can only imagine that car ride home…

“John, I’m telling your father that people call you ShitStain…”

Don’t you miss college sometimes???

Rats All Folks!

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Any day that I can slip in a photo of Jimmy McMillan is a good day in my book!

Any day that I can slip in a photo of Jimmy McMillan is a good day in my book!

Marlene and I just saw a crazy guy in Times Square with three rats on his body taking pictures with tourists. One rat sat on each shoulder and one on his hat. As if that wasn’t novelty enough, they were all dyed neon colors…I was disgusted and as I walked away wondered exactly how one goes down that career path; he had a line of people waiting for him like he was the famous political genius Jimmy McMillan…  Anyway, it skeeved me out and reminded me of another instance when I was traumatized…

When I was in High School there were two sisters that I was friendly with that were so ugly it was a sin. I’m not an attractive person in any way, so this isn’t coming from a place of arrogance – it is coming from a place of consideration. I’m not exaggerating, those poor girls were butt ugly. I have seen malnourished, third-world refugees that have a better shot of getting laid at the local pub on a Saturday night. I’m telling you this from the standpoint of a compadre because if I wasn’t funny, there would be nothing going for me and I’d still be single!

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

Anyway, the sisters were into Theatre too, so we were always in the school plays together and we became pretty friendly. One day after rehearsal was over, we were heading out the doors and it was raining cats and dogs. Their mother pulled up and as they got into their station wagon, she asked if I wanted a ride home and I gratefully accepted.

As we were heading out of the parking lot, I got a good look and couldn’t help but realize that their mother was actually a decent looking woman. She wasn’t a MILF or anything but, truthfully, I might have hit that on a drunk night in college given the chance or the right amounts of alcohol. She introduced herself and invited me over for dinner which I accepted. I couldn’t help but think that she absolutely couldn’t be more pleasant and I wondered where the attitude on these two sisters came from; It must be their father, I thought. As we drove to their house, I looked sister to sister, and then back to mom, and then sister to sister again and then back to mom and I just truly, truly hoped for both of their sakes, that this was only an awkward phase that they were going through.

MILF

Rats all Folks…

When we got to their house, I met their father, his mother who lived with them, and their younger brother. Amazingly enough, all of them were just as appealing as the sisters. You could see the resemblance to their father immediately, and that is not a compliment or something any girl should ever have to go through. We were making small talk and I took a seat on the couch next to their sweet little grandmother. As we were talking, their mother was looking over my shoulder shaking her head no, but I wasn’t paying attention to her because I was captivated by their grandmother. She was telling me about how both of her granddaughters were so funny and so beautiful. She repeated it three times and I laughed along with her thinking she must be kidding around because neither of those two qualities could be used to describe either sister on their best day – but she was serious. I was questioning to myself whether dementia had settled in with her…when at that moment everyone got quiet.

I thought I heard something jostling around behind me and turned my head to see a rat racing across the top of their couch towards me! A FUCKING RAT! As it crawled across the couch and up to my sleeve, I nearly dropped dead right there! I thought that I must be hallucinating looking right at this gray little rat shooting across the couch like a rocket – dragging the biggest set of balls I have ever seen in my life. Yes, when I say balls I mean balls. Seriously, I haven’t seen balls that big on adult men in gym locker rooms, but here was this little fucker charging across the couch at me – proud as can be! My first reaction was absolute shock and terror at being this close to a rat. My second reaction was about the sheer size of that rat’s balls because they were probably ten percent of his body weight. It was just Shocking!

I was overcome with paralyzing fear and lost control of myself and did what any self-respecting man in my position would do: I started screaming hysterically like a little baby girl. “CALL 911 – THERE’S A FUCKING RAT ON THE COUCH! WHAT THE FUCK!!! GET THAT FUCKING RAT OUT OF HERE!!! (at this point they were hysterical laughing and said it was their pet – one of four rats they kept in the house.) As the rat was advancing up my arm now, getting closer to my face I lost it: “HELLO, WHAT THE FUCK!!!YOU UGLY FUCK, GET THAT FUCKING RAT AWAY FROM ME!…WHAT DID I JUST SAY???…THE FUCKING RAT IS ON ME…YOU UGLY BITCH…THAT…FUCKING…RAT…IS…ON…MY…ARM!!! GET THAT FUCKING THING OUT OF HERE NOW YOU UGLY FUCK!!!”

With that, the room fell dead silent and their brother scooped up the rat. All eyes were on me and no one was saying a word as I tried to nonchalantly check and make sure that I hadn’t just shit my pants on their couch. My heart was racing a mile a minute and I was looking around the room, not to see if they were all staring at me which they were, but to make sure there were no other rats out…The sister that had put the rat onto the couch was closest to me and she gave me the full stink eye and said in a very nasty tone “He’s harmless and you’re being such a little baby. And by the way, my mother thinks I’m beautiful!” As I tried to calm myself and catch my breath, I offered “Who keeps rats in their house? Get that fucking thing out of here. You don’t put that on people! What’s wrong with you? That’s disgusting! Hello, it’s a fucking rat! And also, your mother is a fucking liar!” That last bit came out a lot harsher than the way I actually meant it, but I was just attacked by a rat so my emotional state was shaky at best and I shouldn’t have been held responsible for anything that I was saying.

Great, now my hair is gonna frizz up...

Great, now my hair is gonna frizz up…

Their mother turned from cute to crazy in an instant and lashed into me something fierce. She really let me have it. I don’t know what happened to that pleasant, sweet-as-can-be woman from the earlier car ride, but this crazy bitch went off. She tried to make it like there was something wrong with me (if you can believe that) and that I had been the one out of line – as if it’s normal to put a rat on someone – and she actually wanted me to apologize. I couldn’t tell if she meant for me to apologize to the rat or one of the sisters… With that, my invitation for dinner was rudely revoked as was my ride home and they told me to get out immediately. Not only did I have to walk in the pouring rain, but they lived even further away from my house than the school was, so it took me twice as long to get home. Needless to say, I never went back to that house again – nor did I ever receive another invitation for a ride – but that’s not the point. Who puts a rat on someone? What is wrong with people?

The lesson we learned; Even though she might be a cute mother – there’s probably something wrong under that cover…