The most Sponge-worthy book of the year is here: Seinfeldia is available now!!!

July 6, 2016July 6, 2016 / www.immodiumabuser.com / Leave a comment

Seinfeldia by Jennifer Keishin Armstrong

Rare is the occasion that I find myself taking up valuable real estate here in the Immodium Abusing landscape to talk about and promote someone else – yet here we are! I am literally Tickled like that new documentary that there’s a new book launching today called Seinfeldia by Jennifer Keishin Armstrong ( https://www.amazon.com/Seinfeldia-About-Nothing-Changed-Everything/dp/1476756104/ref=zg_bsnr_books_18).

This book has awoken in me a fervor that I haven’t felt since Imodium AD stormed back onto the shelves late last year; Seinfeldia is a can’t miss book for every fan of Seinfeld about the making of what became arguably the best show ever!!! Now I know what you’re thinking; what could she have promised him for promoting the new book? Full disclosure – because it will probably come out sooner or later – Jen shaved my back in return for an honest-to-goodness plug for the book. Don’t let that stop you from getting a copy because I have really short arms so I couldn’t reach my upper back and more importantly, it’s actually a great book! Quid Pro quo Clarice.

I know you’re scared, the very thought of actually reading a book..with pages full of words…just for fun – is frightening. I hear you, but it’ll be OK. What? You don’t know how to read yet? Well, isn’t this the perfect little tome to start you along the path to phonetic understanding? It’s a literal Hooked on Phonics covering everything from A to Yada Yada!

The best part of this is that Jennifer Armstrong isn’t too big for her britches yet so she’ll respond to tweets and Social media shoutouts! Go ahead – get the book and test it out! Let the world know what you think of it. Tell your friends and just maybe next time you’ll be invited to Armstrong’s Festivus Seder too!

Three months from now when she’s all famous and hosting her own White Party in The Hamptons and dancing like Elaine – you can say you knew her back when she was just Jenny from the block. Do you want to be the only one there with shrinkage that hasn’t read it? Also, it’s not just a name to her – Jennifer really does have Strong Arms. Start carrying this book to the beach this Summer and you can too!

Still here? What the hell are you waiting for? Click here to get this breathtaking book now and start reading! Not sure you want to pull the trigger yet –preview the first few pages and you’ll want to drape yourself in velvet if it were socially acceptable too!

Don’t believe me about how great the book is? Here’s The NY Times review.

The Perks of being Regular

June 28, 2016October 3, 2016 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 9 Comments

No, this post isn’t about pooping! Come on people, not every post is about that – give me some credit will you! I’m the number one Immodium Abuser, but it seems like you’re the one focusing on Number Two. When I say being regular, I mean keeping the same routine and eating the same things…

As my wife can surely attest, my OCD has been known to get in the way every so often, but also it has helped in a few ways. For instance, when I find something that I’m able to eat, I stick to it like glue and don’t veer off path. I will eat the same thing day after day; you know I’m all for a good routine.

Saying that I’m a picky eater is kind of an understatement; I’m a downright pain in the ass. I have accepted it a long time ago and can admit it. I’m not being dramatic either – I’m annoyingly ridiculous when it comes to food. I don’t eat anything sweet, sour, spicy, ethnic, fried, battered, flavorful, tangy, zesty, poached, powdered, etc. Basically if the menu has an adjective when describing the entree – I know it’s not for me. The blander the better and I mean Senior citizen, nursing home food kind of bland.

My absolute favorite meal is white rice! Seriously – not ice cream, not pizza – white rice is my jam! Besides the fact that it’s binding (which is a gift in itself) it’s easy-to-make and it’s filling. I don’t mean that I like rice and people think “why don’t you just eat brown rice because it’s more nutritious” or wild rice because it has more flavor. No way! Plain white rice is better and I’ll tell you why: If you’re eating a bowl of white rice and you happen to look down and see something black you know immediately that it isn’t rice and you stop eating. If you’re eating brown rice or wild rice, you can’t tell if something crawled or fell into the bowl. It’s dark and crunchy but, was that a bug or a kernel of rice? If it’s white you know it’s safe to continue on. It may sound crazy, but you’ll thank me the next time you look down into your bowl and see a little black fleck trying to burrow through your warm scoop of rice…

It’s not so much that I have a food allergy as it’s a food avoidance because I’m terrified of the consequences. For me taking Imodium before I eat anything is the equivalent of having insurance on your car. You wouldn’t drive a car without insurance would you? Same principle and remember: no one likes the guy on the train that shits his pants in a suit no matter how funny he is! Remember Along Came Polly with the Ferret? That’d be me. If you haven’t seen that movie – go get it on ITunes right now!

I’m a creature of habit, so if I can find a place that can put up with my pain in the ass ways – I’m loyal and don’t change. As in, I’ll seriously eat there every single day loyal. At work, my friend Beena turned me on to a Chinese restaurant that was really clean and had good food. I was suspicious of her because the last time I listened to her, we went to a Chinese restaurant where they had “traditional” seating and we ended up sitting on the floor like stray dogs and we were forced to take off our shoes.

I’m not sure what was scarier: the seating arrangements on the floor, the waitress slipping while trying to serve soup to the people sitting on said floor, or of Beena’s footwear of choice for the lunch: Khaki pants short enough to showcase her white tube socks with black Michael Jacksonish looking slip-on shoes…It was a brave fashion choice: not a good choice by any means, but a brave one nonetheless.

Leary of finding a piece of cat mixed in with my grilled chicken, I was afraid to try another place she recommended, but relented after I did a drive-by to check it out. It was busy, seemed really clean, had nice soap to wash my hands in the bathroom, and an A grade in the window! I went in expecting it to be bad, but low and behold, I was blown away. Beena and Imi know how I eat, so they ordered for me and all of a sudden, the clouds parted and the sun shone down one me: All at once I had found the Cheers to my Norm! It was like a dream as Joann the waitress put down my plate with a beautiful stack of white rice scooped and sculpted ever so gently next to a perky little stack of steamed vegetables lying alongside a gloriously plain pile of grilled chicken drier and blander than my last boss’ personality! It was perfection on a plate that I had been searching eons for. I’m not sure what type of feline special Imi and Beena were eating that day because I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides my lunch; I was captivated by that entrée. I had never been a big fan of Chinese food before, but I was converted that day!

One bite and I was hooked; we started going there two and three times a week. I actually took a picture of that delicious meal so I could show it to the waitress the next time in case they couldn’t tell what I wanted, but in just a matter of days the legend was born: The Tony Special. When I walk in now, it’s like a scene out of Entourage and I’m Vincent Chase – no menu necessary!!! I sit down and they all know what I want. I literally never need a menu again because it was a given what I’ll be ordering. Do you have any idea how nice that is? It’s the closest I’ll ever get to being treated like a celebrity.

The Famous Tony Special!

Next time, forget the perks – we’ll explore the perils of being a regular…

Master Yoda – why does it Bern when I vote?

June 22, 2016June 22, 2016 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 8 Comments

They laughed at first because they didn’t understand or take him seriously, but Yoda proved to be a small force mightier than some of the toughest warriors. Such seems to be the case with Bernie Sanders, now doesn’t it? His powers have stormed the galaxy like a certain little green Jedi Master did a long time ago in a galaxy far far away…

Don’t get nervous people – this isn’t a political post or me trying to pick a side or buck the establishment – Immodium Abuser ain’t got time for dat! This is me saying that whether you’re “Feelin the Bern” more intense than your last yeast infection or you’re a non-bernliever: You can’t deny the obvious: Bernie’s a force to reckon with! He’s literally everywhere! It’s only a matter of time before he stops by for carpool karaoke with James Corden singing the Elton John classic: Bernie and the Jets!

You don’t need fancy new glasses like these to see what’s really going on here…

People are all up in arms because of the Chewbacca Mom getting her own Star Wars action figure, but a) she’s awesome and I’m happy for her and b)she’s not the first one to get a figure made of her. I was with my kids in Toys R’ Us last weekend and stopped dead in my tracks on the Star Wars aisle because I seriously thought we accidentally stumbled into the Democratic Caucus! I looked over and saw Bernie Sanders staring right back at me from the shelf:

It’s obviously not made to scale as Bernie’s eyes are brown, but if this little doll doesn’t make you Feel the Bern nothing will!

Now in all the things people talk about, how come no one is wondering why his title is Junior Senator from Vermont? He’s been around a long, long time and has ketchup older than 80% of his most ardent supporters, yet he’s still Junior? Strange, no?

This isn’t me being mean because I’m not one to throw stones about people’s looks, this is me trying to understand how he’s struck such a chord that resonates with so deep with so many people. It’s unimaginable, but Han Solo was right on the money in The Force Awakens when he said: “The Jedi, The Force, The Bern: It’s all real”. Full disclosure: I showed a picture of the doll to a colleague at work and she thought it looked exactly like me. Don’t you think if that doll looked like me I’d be handing them out on the street or wearing it around my neck like I did with the Pope doll?

Here’s me and Hann introducing AJ Ross of ABC News to The Pope Doll.

It’s a head scratcher kids…Let’s see how this plays out over the next few months and remember that famous quote: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do to promote the Immodium Abuser to all of your friends!!!”

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

April 15, 2016June 21, 2016 / www.immodiumabuser.com / Leave a comment

IN HONOR OF HER SON’S BIRTHDAY – I THOUGHT I’D SHARE ANN’S FANTASTIC STORY ONCE AGAIN! KIDS GROW UP SO FAST AND THEY SHOULD KNOW WHEN THEY HAVE A CRAZY MAMA! PLUS IT’S STILL A FUN GAME EVEN AFTER ALL THIS TIME!!!

www.immodiumabuser.com

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

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…

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True Confession – I made a senior citizen shit her pants!

January 19, 2016June 21, 2016 / www.immodiumabuser.com / Leave a comment

STRANGE AND DISGUSTING AS THIS MAY SOUND, I WAS REMINDED OF THIS INCIDENT AS I WAS MAKING ONE OF MY AUNT MARGIE’S FAVORITE DESSERTS: CHOCOLATE PUDDING IN AN OREO PIE CRUST. STRANGE HOW THE HUMAN MIND FUNCTIONS, HUH?

I ACTUALLY DID FEEL A LITTLE BAD FOR MY AUNT WHEN IT HAPPENED, AND IN TRUTH, I ACTUALLY BLAME MY SISTER FOR THAT WHOLE MESS (LITERALLY). HER STOMACH ISSUES ARE AS WELL-KNOWN AS AL ROKER SHARTING AT THE WHITE HOUSE, SO SHE SHOULD HAVE INTERVENED WHEN SHE SAW WHAT WAS GOING DOWN. NO, I DON’T MEAN WHAT WAS GOING DOWN MY AUNT’S LEGS – THAT WOULD BE GROSS. ANYWAY, ENJOY READING AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT THE PUDDING RECIPE!

www.immodiumabuser.com

It’s not something I’m extremely proud of, but I once made my 75 year old Aunt Margie shit her pants! Shortly after eating lunch, there was a rumble in the jungle going on in my stomach and like Madonna said – I needed to Express Myself. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one straddled with a quick-hitter after lunch, because while my sphincter was rocking, my Aunt Margie came A-knocking. She was at the bathroom door asking me if I was almost done and her voice was kind of shaky – but at 75 it was always shaky and she never came back so I didn’t give it a second thought. Big mistake on her part.

She unfortunately found out that a senior citizen shitting her pants in the hallway and then trying to quietly change out of those soiled undies with the five other people in your small two…

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IF YOU ONLY READ ONE THING THAT I EVER WRITE – LET THIS BE IT!

January 4, 2016 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 11 Comments

This is something very different for me: I’m actually going to share some real feelings. No hidden subtext or punch lines and sarcastic innuendos, just some feelings. I never share anything personal and I have lived most of my life running away from and not allowing myself to feel when it gets overwhelming. I’ve hidden my way through so much loss – sometimes with alcohol, sometimes with drugs, sometimes by hiding out in a casino or a movie theatre – but today I feel like I don’t have anywhere to hide. My dear friend MariaElaina died two days ago and I just can’t process it.

MariaElaina and I at the Prom (we’re the couple that’s at least foot shorter than everyone else)

To call her a friend doesn’t seem like enough. I’ve known her my whole life and we’ve been through everything in the past thirty years. We’ve had so many amazing times and laughed our asses off during so many great days as much as we’ve fought and been down crying through so many bad ones. She cried with me when my mother died and I held her when her little sister Laura died. I felt like my mother died all over again when her mother died and she was there for me when my grandmother died. I was there when she lost both of her grandparents and I was standing next to her when she got married. She was with me when I sideswiped two cars with my father’s car when we were trying to “borrow” alcohol from her sister Annie. I was there for sauce every Sunday with her family where we all watched as her father stood watch like a sniper pretending to shoot their neighbor’s dog that never stopped barking. She was my partner in crime through so many adventures and so much of our lives have been intertwined that it’s just not enough to say she was just a friend…

We didn’t see each other all the time as life and miles have gotten in the way, but we were always like a movie on pause and the feelings have never gone away. Whenever we’re together, it’s like a moment hasn’t passed and we never miss a beat. I’ve been drowning in memories since I heard and thought the best way to honor her might be to share her with you.

In my life, I’ve heard a lot of people laugh, but no one laughs like MariaElaina. That’s what I’m thinking of now and what I’ll always remember – her hysterical, contagious, gut-busting laughter. Everyone will remember her in different ways, but for me – it’s her laugh. We were attached like two dim bulbs in a lamp and we’d go everywhere together. We used to skip school, grab a box of Entemann’s cookies, and sit on the curb in a random parking lot for hours just talking and laughing about nonsense. What wonderful nonsense it was though – it really is true that you never know during any given moment what will become a memory someday. We would make up stupid songs, shoot silly videos in her kitchen, and tease her younger sister Laura whenever a celebrity died. In my life up to and including today, I have never seen someone cry as hard as Laura did when Lillian Gish died in 1993. When John Candy died, I could understand when she threw the phone down bursting into tears, but Lillian Gish was 99 and Laura didn’t even know who she was.

Random images keep flooding back – when it was a rain storm and MariaElaina and her mom dressed me head to toe in garbage bags so that I could still ride my bike home. Who could have known that the loose bags hanging down would get caught in the bike’s chain and throw me from the bike two blocks away? When we were playing Indiana Jones on her father’s flimsy home-made car lift in the backyard that collapsed almost on top of us the second we tried to rappel down the rope. The two of us getting yelled at on the overnight bus to Atlantic City by all the people sitting around us because we were laughing and fooling around and everyone around us just wanted to sleep. When we got yelled at in the movie theatre seeing Dumb and Dumber because we couldn’t stop laughing…When we went to a sleazy bar in a ghetto neighborhood that had about four patrons in it and the whole front was boarded up with wood. We had no idea that there was a drive-by shooting just a few hours before; of course no one would hang out there – it was practically still a crime scene! Common sense was never our strong suit. When her Grandfather used to steal things from the senior center and hide them under his cowboy hat or under his shirt.

We used to go and visit with an old lady named Mary and play cards. Old Lady Mary wasn’t your typical sweet grandmother type – she was crazy, used to feed us expired food and she used to cheat then steal Maria’s change when we played cards. Maria used to sneak and turn on her Air Conditioning because her house was always hot like an oven and I used to dance around in Mary’s ratty old underwear that being a child of the Depression, she saved and dusted with when they could no longer be worn. We were always doing crazy things to make each other laugh and Old Lady Mary was always a willing participant.

The way MariaElaina used to food shop was ridiculous. She would write a list and then she had to go in order item by item as listed and put things in the wagon one at a time checking them off as she went. I’m OCD and no one to throw stones, but she would walk past things three or four times until she got to it on the list. One time in Shop Rite I tried to put a can of Maxwell House coffee in the wagon and she freaked out and ran away because it was down about five spots on the list from where she was. She literally grabbed the wagon and ran away from me so I did what any sane person would do in that situation: I threw the Maxwell House coffee can like I was the Eli Manning but missed her shopping cart by a mile and took out about thirty glass jelly jars covering her and the wagon. We both laughed like idiots forever after that one…You couldn’t take us anywhere.

Here’s something I wrote about the two of us that was typical of the shenanigans we used to get into.

Air Raid Post!!!

I just reread it and it’s like I can see it all over and can see the two of us laughing our asses off…We were like Dumb and Dumber except Maria had the higher Aquanet hair! It’s not the best thing written, but it has a comment that she wrote when I posted it which I’d forgotten about until today. It caught me off guard and made me smile because it was like I could hear her voice again…

Here comes the part where I ask you for your help. MariaElaina didn’t have life insurance and her sister Annie is an amazing single mother having a really hard time financially. She’s going through so much right now and they just lost their father a couple of months ago. There’s a Go Fund Me page set up https://www.gofundme.com/sah39q44 to cover her funeral expenses and anything you can contribute would help her family immensely. People always wants to help make a difference to someone’s life and here’s a way to really make a difference to someone so desperately in need. The cost of your latte could do so much – please consider helping them out; any amount is significant.

Go Fund Me for MariaElaina

MariaElaina is a one of a kind woman and has been a pillar in my life. She’s had sickness, pain, and rivers of tears, but what she’s had more than anything throughout her life is laughter and love. She never gave up fighting and was always finding the humor and the laughter through it all. She lived for her family and friends and brought so much love and happiness to so many people. Bitterness never took over even though she was in and out of the hospital constantly and although MariaElaina isn’t leaving behind a legacy of riches and fame – she’s leaving a legacy of love and laughter – so much laughter!

I am lucky to have so many wonderful memories of her and until I see you again my friend…

Sister, please tell me about the Baby Jesus…

December 10, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / Leave a comment

Pretty the Kitty sends her holiday wishes to everyone!

For the past week, I’ve been talking about my sister and it feels just a little bit wrong in a way. Not wrong because I wrote nutty things about a crazy person, but wrong because I held back and like Vanessa Williams: Went and saved the best for last. When talking about my itty-bitty, cray-cray sister and celebrating her Birthday Week, there is no more accurate portrayal of her in anything I’ve ever written than the famous Baby Jesus post! It would almost be irresponsible and selfish of me not to share it with you!

Once again, she was causing bedlam in the bathroom and although this was one of the few times that no cats or walls were shit on, it also outlines her stint as a local vigilante worthy of the Master himself: Guardian Angel Curtis Sliwa! That’s not even to mention the time we were driving in the back of a parking lot one night and came upon a drug deal and she started holding the horn down, flashing her brights, and shouting out the window! I did what any real man does in that situation – I dove into the back seat and ducked for cover on the floor screaming like a little girl. Curtis, put her on patrol man, she’ll clean up the streets in no time.

I was in Home Depot last week and saw a nativity set that I almost bought to revisit Kim for a reenactment, but didn’t because my sister is pretty sure she’d press charges this time. Either way click here for The Famous Baby Jesus Story and hear a most amazing tale about me, my sister, and the absolute true meaning of Christmas!

The Famous Baby Jesus Story

Is it really the thought that counts or what the f*ck were you thinking?

December 4, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 1 Comment

CHOO CHOO – My sister’s Happy Birthday locomotive is coming through!!! Here’s hoping that out big brother changed his ways and all of a sudden gave Marlene a good gift. OK, no way that would happen! Keep us posted the next time you guys do a puzzle together and what you get for your Birthday… 🙂

www.immodiumabuser.com

spongebob

People say that it’s the thought that counts when receiving gifts – but do you know who really says that? The people who don’t get the crappy gift! When you are the one who actually receives and opens the shitty gift, you never think “Oh, it’s the thought”…you think – “What a douche”…

summers eve

If you don’t agree with that last statement then you obviously have never been given a bath towel that has a white side marked with the word Face and a brown side marked with the word Butt by your father-in-law for Christmas. He said he saw it and thought of me instantly. Not sure what that means exactly, but I never took it too personally because this is the same man who carried one of his wife’s old purses through Europe so he had all of his things at the ready on the plane trips. It’s not even like it could pass for…

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SHE GOT DOWN TO THE NITTY GRITTY ALL OVER THAT POOR KITTY!!!

December 3, 2015December 3, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / Leave a comment

Continuing with my December kickoff tribute to my sister’s Birthday, I wanted to wish her a year ahead full of many wishes coming true including never again evacuating her bowels on a cat! Yes, Happy Birthday Carlotta, my sister is the one that shit on a cat! Read the original The pretty kitty got all shitty before you go any further:

The Pretty Kitty Got All Shitty

I originally wrote this post about my sister shitting on a cat and thought it was really funny but I showed no regard for a certain special someone’s feelings and for that, I was wrong. I want to go back now and give her a chance to clear the air, so to speak, and after all this time to finally be able to tell her side of the story. This is a first for me, but without any edits or interference at all – I present you with a very special guest post written by none other than Pretty the Kitty. I try never to get into any he said/she said battles and I’m not taking sides, but a feline with a grudge after she was covered in sludge should not be ignored.

(I transcribed the following as Pretty dictated to me. Come on, she’s a cat – did you really think she could type?)

It was a regular day and I was just chillaxing by my litter box when I heard a huge commotion in the next room. I had no idea why there was screaming and banging, but I jumped onto the toilet to have a better look when all of a sudden, I was abruptly thrown off my seat. Who does that? I jumped right back up determined to stand my ground when this crazy girl just started screaming and then shot off like a firework display worthy of July Fourth.

It was as if a confetti cannon went off in the room – all of a sudden she was like the Black Eyed Peas with that BOOM! BOOM! POW! I was just so terrified for my life with the sheer amount of explosions going on in there and the liquid shrapnel pelting every part of my body. It was relentless like Hurricane Katrina when the levees broke; it just wouldn’t stop. All I kept thinking was, “Why doesn’t she have to use the litter box too? That doesn’t seem very fair, now does it?” I’ll have you know that I’m a Vietnam “PET“eran but even I I haven’t seen incoming like that since the Viet Cong unloaded during the TET Offensive!

One minute I was just minding my business like I always do and in the next, I get screamed at, physically assaulted, and dumped on by a literal dump truck! And then she yelled “PRETTY NOOOOO” as if I were doing something wrong. Hey Girlie – you did me dirty – not the other way around! Whoa Nelly did she pound me though!

In all fairness, she did offer to clean me, but how could a shower make up for a chocolate prom scene reenactment from the movie Carrie? You think a cat like me wakes up and looks this fluffy and inviting by accident? I’ve been licking this left paw all afternoon to get that gentle curl you see here. And you know what else Bitch? How about a hot iron and some straight pins – You ever see a pussy look this good just using just a comb? I don’t think so!

So there you have it folks, two different sides and two different versions, but one thing we can all agree on: That’s a cat that won’t get shit faced and just let it go! Also, I don’t see her wishing my sister a Happy Birthday anytime soon either, but here’s another one from me: Happy Birthday Cray Cray!!!”

They say it’s your Berfday…

December 2, 2015December 2, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 2 Comments

While trying to think up the best way to start December off with the spark it needs, it took me all of two seconds to realize that I should launch a Birthday week celebration for my little sister Marlene. Now, don’t get concerned that Immodium Abuser has gone soft on you – there’s nothing mushy to be found here. I love her, but Homegirl has some of that way down deep crazy that you usually only see in the movies. In her honor, I’m celebrating her by sharing three of the best things I’ve written about her and on that note, I’ll just drop this little nugget right here:

https://immodiumabuser.com/2012/11/13/senior-spotlight-on-my-younger-sister/

More to follow later in the week – Happy Birthday Week Cray Cray!!!

Work life balance or how I learned to use my keyboard instead of my belt

November 18, 2015November 18, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 6 Comments

If there’s one quote I’ll like to be known for – it’s that “I write so that I don’t strangle anyone.” I was fortunate enough to realize early on in my career that it’s always a better idea to use your keyboard instead of your belt with bosses and coworkers. Many a blog post or a late-night journal entry has kept me in check and enabled me to keep things in perspective as opposed to the stress forcing me into a full-on cage match in my cubicle.

As a general rule, most people will drive you crazy if you carpool with them – so don’t let them in. There’s always going to be traffic, there’s always going to be work meetings, there’s always going to be people texting and not paying attention, there’s always going to be family commitments that you don’t have enough time for, and you’re very rarely (if ever) going to be appreciated at work! Get control over it or it will overtake you!

The key to happiness isn’t a big revelation people, the key is to be able to identify and create a little, protected zone where you have something that’s just for you; it’s that simple. Even if it’s just for a few minutes here and there, those little escapes will maintain order and sanity in your life. When I enter my zone and get pulled into a favorite book, am able to grab some wine with my beautiful wife, or just sit and play Star Wars with my sons – I get a sense of calm and meaning that the rest of the day can’t give me.

I write a humor blog not because I’m so funny and I just need to show everyone – one glance at my face tells them that. I write because it gives me a sense of meaning and accomplishment and I take a lot of pride in what I write. It’s an escape where I can take a few minutes and get into some deep keyboard action where no one else exists except for me and that keyboard. It’s my party and I’ll type if I want to!

Once I post something I’ve written, there’s a great feeling of accomplishment that’s hard to duplicate. It’s sending a little piece of me into the vast internet galaxy and hoping that someone out there seeking a new experience and few good chuckles will find my message in a bottle.

This isn’t something I get paid to do, but I love it more than anything in my work career. It fulfills me in a way that defies explanation. I know what you’re thinking: When I’m already so busy, who wants added work to write something, edit the piece, find a couple of silly pictures to accompany it, post it, and then start anew? It isn’t work to me – it’s a labor of love. Sure, I have lazy times when I can’t be bothered with it because life has gotten in the way and overloaded me, but like a devoted pup or an aging bottle of scotch, it’s always there waiting when I need it.

If someone reads something that I’ve written and laughs or likes and shares it with their friends, that’s a feeling you can’t describe. I write to create something and hope that people like it and as a byproduct of that it resonates with someone. Being funny is all in perspective and my sense of humor might not be for everyone, but sometimes you strike a cord and people just connect with your words.

Truth be told, some of my friends and some members of my family don’t even bother to read it, but I take solace in the fact that there are a bunch of strangers that follow me and look forward to things I write. They like it and they share it and they comment on it and they follow me and they encourage me. There are days at work when I literally wanna place my junk into a metal fan because it’s so bad, but when I write – it immediately takes me to another place which makes up for the worst day in my office anytime!

I start writing something and it transports me away and then I go back to it later on or move onto another topic, but it’s that escape that keeps me coming back. It’s the feeling of satisfaction that fills a need and makes everything a little better. I’m like everyone else, I dream of walking into work one day and saying “screw this, it isn’t what I love and I won’t do it one more day!” but of course I don’t really do that – that’s what dreams are for. They let you imagine a world of your own creation where you’re in control and life is what you make of it. I’m extremely lucky to have this positive outlet, when I see so many people bogged down and struggling to get through the day to day.

The issue of course becomes how do I maintain a blog about embarrassing shitting stories and experiences where I come off like the combination of equal parts George Costanza and Larry David with a hint of Woody Allen mixed in without sacrificing my professional reputation at work? Simple, I use a pen name – Immodium Abuser. It’s my super hero secret identity and protects my career while giving me the freedom to write honestly and put it out there without having to worry if people see it. The insecurity and fear doesn’t rule me the way it would if I published under my real name. Can you imagine if I had to explain to my boss why in the world I tormented my brother’s girlfriend with a life-size, plastic Baby Jesus, why people from Imodium AD tried to stage an intervention with me or tell him about my sister shitting on a cat? Some things are just better left out of the office…

ANN WENT WITH A DOPE AND WE SAW THE POPE!!!

September 30, 2015September 30, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 2 Comments

When I got tickets to last week’s Papal procession through Central Park, I knew it would be a special event, not to be missed. When my friend Annie Smack That Fannie said she’d go with me, I knew it would mean we’d probably need adult supervision as she’s crazy with a capital C! We were actually debating in Central Park over which one of us crazier, but she finally conceded. After all, this is a woman that literally carries a megaphone in her car to shout out the window through said megaphone to shame and stop passing cars from texting while driving. I love her, but Homegirl’s got the deep down crazies inside of her if you know what I mean.

The thought of waiting in line for hours and then cramming into Central Park with 80,000 other people might have been a deterrent for others, but it was worth it for a chance to see The Pope. This is an amazing man that transcends religion, embraces everyone, and the world just loves him! He’s an inspiration and he doesn’t like me to tell everyone, but he also reads my blog too; who am I to argue with a man with such good taste?

We met across from Grand Central and plotted our course. This was of course after 77 texts back and forth as she braved Metro North and then risked her life by eating a steak sandwich from the food court in Grand Central. Take that in people and ponder if you will the sanity of a woman that would willingly choose to eat a steak sandwich from Grand Central, of all places, and then venture off to be locked in Central Park with 80,000 people and no access to restrooms! That is either amazing bravery or obscene insanity! Apparently, she’s got the constitution of a brick house! I know not everyone has the same stomach issues that plague me, but that’s just some crazy kind of mystery meat to be trying down there…It’s like ordering General Meow’s Chicken at the Chinese restaurant – you just don’t do it!

General Meow’s Chicken

Miss Smack That Fannie likes to have single every detail of every single minute of every single day plotted out and didn’t think that I knew where we were going. I’ll defer to history being on her side with my poor directional skills and all, but I really did know where we were off to. For God’s sake, it’s Central Park. If you don’t see the entrance you’re supposed to go into, circle the block. I actually run in Central Park quite a bit because of my NYC Marathon training, so I knew where we were going. We abandoned the directions discussion once I realized that she had been dive-bombed and covered by a passing pigeon. We hadn’t even entered the line to go in and she’d already been shit on.

I can only keep replaying this priceless image of her getting bombed like Pearl Harbor in my mind as if it were a scene from my favorite DVD; it was priceless and that bird really got her. You know why? The bird also ate a steak sandwich from Grand Central causing said gastric explosion! I don’t think I can accurately describe how much this bird unloaded onto her without a graphic, so see the picture below and contemplate because that bird was shitting for all it was worth. Sort of like when your four year old drops a dookie the size of a Teddy Ruxpin and you have no idea how so much could possibly come out of such a small little body – it was like that!

That’s not lucky…

I was laughing and offered up the requisite “It’s supposed to be good luck” but when the female cop about three feet from us looked over at us with disgust, shook her head and replied “That’s not good luck – That’s just some shit on your shirt!!!” I just lost it. That was actually good luck: it was good luck that it happened to her and not me or I would have headed straight to the nearest hotel to shower and scrub my body – Pope or no Pope!!!

So now we’re outside Central Park and she’s covered in bird shit with nothing to clean it off. I had a bunch of napkins in my pocket because I had a runny nose, but didn’t want to give her any. I wasn’t being selfish, it’s just that we were gonna be in the park for a few hours at the very least and what was I going to use for my runny nose if I gave her all my napkins. I conceded and gave her two napkins because I’m a gentleman, and she did what she could to remove it from her shirt. Now as we’re walking, crazy train is clutching those filthy napkins like they’re gold bars and wouldn’t toss them away. She didn’t want to litter and there were no garbage cans for security reasons, but if there was ever a time it’s OK to litter, this was it. Finally she conceded, but I was like “you’re holding bird shit in your hand – throw that out!” Now not only did I have to worry about navigating us through the crowds, I also had to watch out that she never tried to touch me with that shit-stained hand!

As we lined up and snaked through the line to make our way to security and the metal detectors, chatty Cathy herself decided that she’d strike up conversations with about 87 people along the way. I was trying to be my usual moronic self and tried to sell her to an Indian man and then told another woman that thought we were a couple I could do better than that. We were laughing up a storm through it having a blast – even when this same couple of old ladies that were pushing through the line kept pushing people and then saying “did you just push me?” She bumped me and then Annie exposed her game to multiple people on line and eventually they ditched us and pushed up through the line. Actually almost every person that we chatted up made a run for it shortly after including the tall guy that she kept calling her tall glass of water. I’m all for boosting someone’s self-esteem too, but compared to us there are some grade school kids that tower over us so tall is subjective…

We finally made it through security almost three hours later and arrived at the metal detectors. She went through and it was fine but for some reason, my magnetic personality kept setting it off. The security guard pointed at me and waved me over to her. I went over casually knowing I’d already emptied my pockets and had nothing on me; I was expecting maybe a pat down, but who knew I’d have to turn and cough? She started out fine enough scanning my upper body, but the wand started beeping like crazy as she circled my crotch and her internal Amber alert went off. I’m not sure what she was expecting, but she proceeded to grab the waist of my pants and belt and yanked it forward. Of course, having the maturity level of a teenager – I looked her in the eye and said “That’s not where I keep my Imodium, Honey!” We all had a good laugh at that one and she sent us on our way. Usually, you have to pay to get grabbed like that in Central Park, but I guess it was my lucky day.

Is that an Imodium in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

We scoured around to find the best available viewing spot and tried out a few spots before we finally found a good vantage point. This is also when Mrs. Smack That Fannie literally ventured off the path and went into a bush and pushed back branches because she thought it was a better view. I repeat, she was literally inside the bush like a sniper and thought I’d join her in there. I, of course, declined her offer and felt confident that I’d be able to see from a normal spot. Unlike the kids sitting on branches in the trees like little monkeys, I had no intention of communing with nature or risking ticks or poison ivy in the park.

The procession came and went by and was over as fast as the drive-by shitting with the bird from earlier, but it was amazing to be that close and see him. You can’t describe the experience and how cool it is to actually see The Pope. We were so lucky to get to experience something so cool and it was just such an awesome feeling!

What I have neglected to mention before now, is that I was wearing a mini Pope Doll around my neck in tribute to His Holiness. It got quite a few looks and attracted many followers. I thought for sure there’d be a ton of people wearing Pope Dolls, but I didn’t see any other one except for mine. I had gotten it at the Jersey Shore a few weeks ago in anticipation of the Papal Visit, but wasn’t sure until that morning how to properly display it. I originally planned on sewing it to my shoulder, a la an angel on my shoulder, but the hands kept messing with my hair so I clipped it to a lanyard and wore it like a necklace.

As we navigated out of the Park, there were a ton of people that wanted to take pictures of the Pope Doll, so I made Annie take their pictures with me as well. An older Spanish woman came up and just kept shaking The Pope Doll’s hand and I didn’t want to ruin it for her, but someone should have told her it was only a doll and not really The Pope’s hand she was shaking!

What good is a Pope Doll if you’re not going to bless the crowd with it? Here I am blessing a woman’s crucifix.
Annie was getting mad because she needed to rush back to Grand Central (allegedly to catch a train, but I suspect she wanted to get another sketchy steak sandwich!) and like The Pontiff, I was a man of the people wanting to stop for every single person that wanted a photo with the Pope Doll. She finally drew the line at the elderly nun passing by and wouldn’t let me take any more pictures.

Here’s us introducing AJ Ross of ABC News to The Pope Doll.

Here’s us with AJ Ross, news reporter for ABC. She was interviewing a man crying because he was so overcome with emotion after seeing The Pope, yet crazy train was trying to have the Pope Doll photobomb that poor guys interview…Even I was a little more respectful than that.

I'll give you a shocker, we met Gregg Mocker!!!

I’ll give you a shocker, we met Greg Mocker!!!

We eventually got to Grand Central to be on our way home, but what a day it was. It’s been suggested that the moral of this story is – hang out with me at your own risk. Apparently, that there should be a parental guidance warning that comes prior to spending time with me, but I think the same goes for Annie – thoughts?

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

September 24, 2015September 24, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / Leave a comment

IN HONOR OF THE POPE’S VISIT TO NEW YORK, LET’S DISCUSS HIS PREDECESSOR’S HOT WHEELS…

www.immodiumabuser.com

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…

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Hasn’t Baltimore been through enough?

July 21, 2015July 21, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / Leave a comment

One of the best perks about working in Sales, is that I get to do fun things with clients and spend other people’s money to do it! A group of us used to take Washington DC clients to a Baltimore Orioles game as a great way to spend time with them and develop better relationships with our clients. OK, come on it’s the Orioles, no one ever really cared about the game – we just drank and had a fun time. Here’s a few highlights from our last trip.

We would go with about ten to fifteen people from different areas and invite about a hundred clients so it was always a big crowd. The last time we went was an absolute disaster; the forecast was calling for a washout, the sky was black and it was a torrential downpour! Rain like that only exists in the movies so I should have known that shenanigans would be on the menu.

We were taking Amtrak for convenience to avoid the airport and also so that we could enjoy the bar car on the way. As we were dodging the downpour on the platform waiting for the train, we saw the train heading down the tracks. I couldn’t wait for the train to arrive to get out of this heavy rain and also to get away from the woman standing next to me. She was on her phone chatting away louder than loud and complaining about the rain as if her holding that phone in her hand instead of an umbrella was the smart thing to do. As the train stopped and the doors opened, the girl in front of us marched up to get in the train still chatting away like a little yenta. As she was gabbing and not paying attention to anything but her conversation, low and behold she didn’t mind the gap and fell in between the train and the platform. It was a combination of the heavy rain, the conversation, but mostly it was the hooker boots she was rocking on the platform. I can see wearing those in a club or on the runway, but on Metro North in a rainstorm? It’s no wonder she fell.

It was like it happened in slow motion in front of me. Boom: the doors open, boom: she’s stepping forward, boom: she’s in between the train and platform, boom: she’s still on the phone screaming “Oh my God, I fell in the tracks, I’m in the tracks.” At this point she landed with a heavy thud on her elbows and her legs were dangling down under the platform – yet she didn’t stop talking or put the phone down! The New Yorker in me did what any normal person would do in the face of commuter roadkill: I started hysterically laughing and lifted my bag and stepped over her to get a seat on the train as she was staring up at me screaming “What the fuck are you doing?” and then back into the phone “Can you believe this guy just stepped over me? I’m in the tracks.”

At this point, the conductor had arrived to see what was going on and help her up and as I was walking to my seat I looked back and realized that my friends hadn’t moved and were staring in disbelief that I had just done that? As the conductor went above and beyond to help that nitwit on her phone, we got seats on the train. We couldn’t stop laughing at how she never missed a beat on her call when we look up and where is the only available seat on the train for her to sit: right across from us. I couldn’t stop laughing and staring because she was soaking wet head to toe and yet she still stayed on that phone for another hour after that giving me dirty looks the whole time.

So we got to Baltimore and the weather wasn’t letting up. Out of a hundred people confirmed, only about nine brave souls showed up. We sat in our empty section since no one showed up and there was a long rain delay. When the game went on, we just drank to make the best of it. As my friend Karen and I were talking, she just freaked out and started screaming at the top of her lungs like a psycho. I didn’t even get the words out of my mouth “What the fuc…” before this rocket flew right in between the two of our heads and hit the seat in back of us. A pop fly that was inches away from clocking one of us in the noggin and neither of us were paying attention! The ball landed with a thunderous boom and the guy in back of us snatched it. We were freaking out as everyone laughed their asses off and then the guy wouldn’t give us the ball. I was like “dude, that almost hit us in the head!” and he was like “dude, if you were paying attention instead of gabbing, you would have gotten it.” Forget being on TV, if that hit us we would have been hospitalized or dead…

After the game, we tried to make our way through the crowd and out of there. If you’ve ever been to a baseball game, you know that the crowds are crazy and mostly drunk and it takes forever to get out of the stadium. I was walking with Amy, a colleague I’d just met earlier that day, and my impatience took over. I’m not sure exactly what came over me, but I knew that this crowd just wasn’t doing it for me. I linked arms with her and leaned in close so we were face to face and asked “How fast can you go?” “What are you talking about?” she asked and looked very confused and not expecting me to start shouting at the top of my lungs: “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!!! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!! SHE JUST SHIT HER PANTS!!!” and I started pulling her fast through the mass of people. It was as if the crowd parted like the Red Sea and I just kept shouting “SHE SHIT HER PANTS – GET OUT OF THE WAY” and people were moving like hotcakes to get away from us. She tried to pull her arm away and was pissed “What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy – stop pulling me” “You wanna stay here instead?” as we looked at people staring at us and then I started screaming again.

Some drunk guy tried to help us and pointed as he shouted “Dude, there’s a bathroom right there, take her in there.” I screamed back “DUDE, SHE SHIT HER PANTS AND SHE’S COVERED – SHE NEEDS A SHOWER” which parted the people ever further away from us. When I tell you that we made it out of that stadium and back to our hotel faster than a speeding bullet, I’m not exaggerating. We had three drinks in the hotel bar by the time the rest of our group got back.

As we were waiting for the others to meet up with us, she was obviously annoyed at me. I thought she was being a little bit ungrateful as I had just gotten us out of the crowd like a streak of lightning, but she was embarrassed. She tried sitting across the bar from me, but it was no use because there was no one else in there. Her phone rang and she started chatting away, and I leapt into action. I ran right over next to her phone and started screaming again “Amy, get your clothes on someone’s at the door!!!” and started hysterical laughing. She was pissed before that, yet this pushed her over. “Come on, It’s my mother. It would be funny if it was my husband, but it’s my mother for god’s sake.” I thought she’d think it was funny, but she absolutely didn’t and you know who thought it was even less funny than Amy? Her mother who started screaming “Where are you? I thought you were at a work event? Why are you undressed? Who is that? Where are you?” and Amy stormed off into the corner trying to explain “Mom, I’m not undressed…he’s an idiot…It is a work thing…”

At this point the bartender was laughing at what I’d just done and I was in the middle of telling him about how we got out of the game so fast when our friends arrived and we were telling them. Amy was pissed at me and didn’t really want to move past this and be friends with me for some reason…She was mad that everyone was laughing at the antics instead of taking her side and a few drinks later she admitted that she thought it was funny too…but she would have thought it was funnier if I did it to Sue instead of her. Needless to say, it was a fun trip and we made the best of it despite the weather and if you’ve learned one lesson from this post it’s this: Don’t wear hooker boots in a rainstorm on a train platform – no good can come from it!

BARBEC – YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

June 23, 2015June 23, 2015 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 4 Comments

Just released: The newest George Foreman Grill!

I know this is going to sound crazy, but what’s the deal with guys and their barbecues? I get it that it’s summer and people like to eat off the grill but come on…I’m all for food on the grill once in a while, but some people think summer means grilling every single day. Good lord people – moderation. I hate the summer heat as it is so the absolute last thing I wanna do when I’m that hot is to be near an open flame. Hello – that makes no sense at all.

I’d like to pause and set the record straight here before we go any further: I don’t have unnatural fears and phobias that are made up. These things come from something that has happened to you; PTSD if you will for OCD peeps like me. For example, I check the oven to make sure it’s been turned off multiple times during the day. I don’t do this because I’m crazy and irrational, I do this because my wife has left the oven on so many times and I don’t want the house to explode. When I see her mom leave the burner on the stovetop turned on after she uses it – that confirms that good looks aren’t the only thing that run in that family…Another example, I don’t eat outside or with my hands because I’m not a squirrel…Practical reasons people, such as why I won’t get close to the barbecue anymore. This is the reason I won’t barbecue anymore.

It was a few weeks after my oldest son was born and my wife was holding him while I went onto the deck to throw some burgers on the grill. I turned on the propane and pressed the ignition switch but nothing happened. I could smell the gas so I knew that the propane tank was open, but there was no flame in the barbecue. I looked at her with a mixed expression of half annoyance and half just-plain-dumb as to what to do. She told me to light a match and the ignition would catch. My spidey senses should have been tingling at this point, but the new-baby euphoria/tiredness had me all out of whack. I went in to the kitchen to find the matches and light this mother up cause we were hungry.

Neither one of us smokes, so we never have matches. It took me about five minutes to find some matches that we had been given as a favor from a wedding and I finally went back out to get this party started.

Is this a barbecue or a foosball table?

When I got back to the grill, my wife was talking to me through the screen while holding our son and I lit the match to start the barbecue. As the match ignited, all of a sudden a huge fireball erupted and flew from the match, across the barbecue, up my crotch, up my shirt and then up the hedges and up the side of the house. Once I heard the WHOOSH of the fireball, I did what every brave, manly-man does and proceeded to scream like a little girl with a lost puppy and turned to my wife for assistance of any kind and what did she do? She slammed the sliding glass doors leading into the house. At this point I was facing the glass of the sliders shouting every curseword I know when I happened to hear the laughing crowd of people behind me. All of the people outside on their decks were hysterical at how I was screaming and carrying on over the fireball. Not one of them asked if I was OK, but in case they were wondering some leg hair got singed, my eyebrows got an unexpected trim, my nose hair was all but gone and my Imodium was certainly put to the test, but no serious burns. Unless you count the humiliating pain from their laughter as I tried to turn the propane off.

When my wife finally unlocked the sliders, I went inside to get a beer, change my underwear, and to ask why she’d close the door when I was almost shish-kabobbed on the deck. I was one second away from throwing myself over the railing and into the hedges to stop, drop, and roll before she finally let me in. Full disclosure, my only experience in this area is what I’ve learned watching Chicago Fire, but normally people offer assistance in some form of another or they call 911; they usually don’t lock the burn victim outside. Her thinking was to protect the baby, but my thinking was that once the door was shut the locking part doesn’t offer any additional protection to the person not getting hit with a fireball…

To be continued next time as this has just reminded me of another fire-safety themed episode/cautionary tale of two different occasions when I slept through a fire! Actually, maybe it should be an investigation of my wife because who’s around this many fires when I’m ALWAYS inside directly in harm’s way while she’s awake and safely in the street waiting for the authorities? No one would blame her but she’s either very lucky, got a severe firemen fetish, or is actually an arsonist…hmmmm…

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!

Hey Yenta - tell your friends!