It’s Bubbe’s Berfday

It’s a holiday kids! I don’t mean Tito Puente eating paste al dente or the one that starts with sparklers and ends with a bang: It’s Bubbe’s Berf Day!

Unlike a parent that can’t admit that he likes one of his kids more than the others – I wanna wish a very Happy Birthday to my Number One fan: Bubbe!

There are so many reasons she’s awesome – but isn’t the fact that she loves this site more than life itself reason enough! She’s obviously smart, funny, and has great taste!

While other peeps frown on all things piling up on the outer regions of the “internets,” she’s blazing a trail and making her way to bring happiness to the masses!

Me and Bubbe making cream puffs!

Also, did I mention her cream puffs? Obviously that isn’t meant as dirty as it sounds, but homegirl can cook too!

We might just do a Vlog with us cooking up some treats one day which is sure to wow the masses! We’re a match made in heaven: she’s sweet, witty, and caring and I’m just funny to look at!

Please google “Annie smack that Fannie” right now!

In all seriousness, one moment doesn’t define someone’s lifetime, but for all intents and purposes – Bubbe literally broke the mold when she hatched Annie-Smack-That-Fannie! Yes folks, the awesomeness carried over when she birthed the holiest of all pigeon-pooping-people and has raised a smart, funny, caring, Immodiumabuser obsessed woman in her image! Take it from me when I say that the internet is forever grateful for that and one only needs to google “Annie smack that Fannie” to see why!

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree…and the poop didn’t fall far from the pigeon!

For all these and many more reasons – I celebrate you today and always! You’re truly a special lady and I hope you have a great day!

Also, did I mention those cream puffs?

And for your birthday – here’s a shot of me and Darryl Strawberry, right before our dance off.

Ok one more. Here’s one of me and Hal Prince to make you feel young again – you look like a teen next to him!

He’s 91 years old and has ten times the energy I do!

Guillermo and his Amazing Dreamcoat

sweating meme

As I was sweating my balls off in this ungodly heat today on Metro North, I started dreaming of winter and how refreshing the cold weather can be and it made me think about a former colleague, Guillermo, and his winter wardrobe.

If you’ve never seen a hustlin’ seventies pimp in real life before, head over to Accounting to take a gander and you won’t believe your eyes. If only Ben Affleck had consulted Guillermo for wardrobe ideas before they started shooting The Accountant, the movie probably would have done a lot better. He’s short, mid-fifties, wears big glasses and looks like Super Mario’s brother Luigi. I don’t want to be mean and say he was fat, but when the police eventually draw his chalk outline, it’s going to be a circle….Now add a huge fur coat on top of this and he looked like a cartoon character. Forget Joseph’s Technicolor Dream – he wore a fur coat and matching hat that made him look like the product of a hot three-way between Luigi, Huggy Bear from Starsky & Hutch, and an actual Grizzly Bear.

accounting department outing

Our Accounting Team

As the seasons turned and the winter breeze crept into the air, it’s normal for most people to gradually work longer sleeves and sweaters into their wardrobe, but not Guillermo: he went balls out straight to the fur! The best part was his matching hat which made him look like a Yeti covered in fur head to toe. You just couldn’t look at him with a straight face. At first, I thought that he might have accidentally worn his wife’s coat, but day in and day out, he rocked it like a Hurricane. My wife has informed me that normal and mature people don’t stare or make comments in situations like this, but I’ve never been mistaken for normal or mature.

Guillermo was a nice man, but I couldn’t get past the coat. I had to know where he got it and why he wore it and how the hell he wasn’t sweating like crazy in it. I have very lite self-control in situations normally, but this was putting me over the edge. He felt like people were making fun of him (Newsflash – we were!) and didn’t like to talk about the coat, but curiosity was getting the better of me and I just knew that had to try it on. I’m OCD and the thought of being inside that pelt skeeved me out big time, but I knew I needed to step up here and that it had to be done.

joe namath

Guillermo Namath

I was leaving the company to work at another company and I knew it would be my only chance, so I casually started talking about the coat and was leading up to me trying it on for a picture. He randomly told me the story of how a homeless man attacked him on the subway trying to steal it, yet he fought him off with all of his might causing the left arm to be ripped off the coat. It took his tailor three weeks and the skins from two raccoons and a squirrel to mend it, but apparently it was good as new. I was picturing his subway Fight Club in my mind as he was telling me, but all I could think of was the Wampa cave scene with Luke Skywalker in The Empire Strikes Back. Apparently, G isn’t Star Wars fan…

wampa

At first, he was playing hard to get and didn’t want to let me try it on. “Stop it, now give me that coat” I said which forced him to explain to me what his hesitation really was: apparently, not every man can wear fur because not everyone has that certain swagger needed to pull it off. AS IF! “G, are you asking me to wear this down Fifth Avenue? OK, now it’s on!” With that I put on the coat and we headed for the elevator!

kramer

Now this is swagger!

What I failed to realize, was just how heavy the coat was actually going to be. It was literally as if I had crawled up inside a bear’s ass and then walked around carrying the bear. It was also hotter than the sun inside that coat by the way. I felt like Han Solo when he cut the Taun Taun open for him and Luke to sleep inside and keep warm. I mean, I sweat excessively in just a t shirt and shorts, but I didn’t have that coat on for a full minute before I was soaked right through. I don’t know how the hell he wore that around and didn’t pass out! It gets cold in New York, but for Christ’s sake – global warming people…you don’t need fur! Forget about mistreatment of animals and that it’s wrong to wear fur or that it’s just mean; what’s mean is making a person sweat like that from a coat!

taun taun

G looked at me and said “how does it feel?” as if I were test driving a Ferrari and I’m not sure if it was my spirit animal literally engulfing me right there in the office, but I said “it makes me feel like this!” It was at that moment that I chose to jump on the conference table and pose like Burt Reynolds in Cosmo and show him who had swagger. While the ladies in my office thought it was hysterical, Guillermo felt I was crossing line and was now being disrespectful to the coat as if that point hadn’t been passed long before. With that, I told him we’d take it to the streets and we headed for the elevator so I could prove my swagger on the streets!

Conference Room Table

Swagger to spare!

The winter Holiday scene in the lobby of our building had a nice display featuring polar bears, snow, and penguins – the perfect winter scene scape for me in the fur! I proceeded to do what every sensible person does right about then and get into the displays and frolic with the wildlife until security sent us on our way.

coat in lobby 010

I did rock that coat and prove my swagger, but he was right – not every man can pull of a fur coat. I probably could and should have gotten one of my own just to spite him, but I’d have died from heat exhaustion like I do on Metro North each day I commute, so no fur for me. I did get a few strange looks, but being that it’s NYC, no one cares about this idiot strutting around inside a carcass. The moral of the story is be careful what you wish for or you’ll end up hot and sweaty on your knees with a bunch of penguins and not the good kind of hot and sweaty either!

For all my homies to get to know mes

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!

Forget the Mountain, she Brokeback Christmas?

z-happy-birthday

This time of year always makes me think about the close family and friends that may not be with me in person any longer, but are never far from my heart. That being said, I thought I’d honor the memory of my Aunt Margie in the only way I know how!

She was very special to me and I loved her dearly…If she were still with us, she’d be celebrating a birthday and the holiday this December yet she’d say the story that I really should be sharing is when my Aunt Beanie Vote ruined her Christmas.

Z-rows

The Holiday Season was upon us and it took Aunt Margie weeks and weeks and weeks of looking through many many many stores in order to find the perfect artificial tree and yet mere minutes for Aunt Beanie Vote to crush the woman’s Christmas Cheer. The tree was all assembled and we took a step back to admire it – but it was slightly slanted. We cocked our head from side to side to make sure, but it was definitely crooked. I thought it might be the stand or the fact that it was on a carpeted floor, but Aunt Beanie being The Christmas Tree Whisperer saw the problem immediately: The mini tree that fits into the pole and rests on top of the tree to form the peak was ever so slightly slanted off to the side. She grabbed a hold of that tree and started to Bend it like Beckham. A little to the left didn’t do it, a little to the right didn’t seem to straighten it a bit and then one bend too many snapped that mother right in half. I’m not saying she was a little to rough with the branches as I’m not a Christmas Tree Whisperer like she is, but maybe she shouldn’t have gone all Rambo on the tree topper

Aunt Beanie Vote takes down another one "I wish I knew how to quit you!"

Aunt Beanie Vote takes down another one
“I wish I knew how to quit you!”

As these situations usually do tend to bring out the best in me, I fell onto the couch laughing like the immature child that I still am all these years later. She stood there holding those branches aloft not daring to turn around and make eye contact with Aunt Margie, who was definitely not laughing…Despite her Meryl Streep in The River Wild physique, Aunt Beanie Vote really doesn’t have super-human strength or anything. She just bent the top part of the tree a little bit too far and it just so happened to snap. It was so random that she probably couldn’t do it again if she tried, which makes me all the more glad for witnessing it.  

My helpful grandmother (who was always one to generously stir the pot) took in the attack on their tree like a champ and in her beneficial way yelled at me “Come on, don’t laugh or she’ll hear you!” I guess she didn’t realize that since Aunt Margie was actually standing right next to me she could already hear me laughing. She was about two feet from me and had already seen me collapse into a hysterical mess onto their couch before she stormed into the kitchen for her black coffee and cigarettes without a sound…

To be fair, Aunt Beanie Vote was the one who drove her to all those many many many stores and spent weeks and weeks and weeks taking her to look at countless trees and never got frustrated or mad. She was much more patient than I would have been. I’m not even sure what the difference was in any of those trees since they were all green and pretty much looked the same, but Aunt Margie would know “The One” when she saw it. She knew she would find the perfect tree; there was a voice calling to her like the one Kevin Costner heard in Field of Dreams except she wasn’t building the tree and Beanie Vote was no James Earl Jones. Her voice was apparently trying to warn “If she bends it it will break” but you know how unreliable the voices can be…I say this not to make fun of her, but to stress the point that Aunt Beanie Vote was the absolute last person in the world who thought it was funny that the tree broke because now she’d have to pack up the pieces and go back looking for a new tree with my aunt all over again so she wasn’t laughing either.

Aunt Margie did get over it eventually and this happened a hundred years ago when I was seventeen, but I can still hear Aunt Beanie Vote gasping and see her standing there after that tree snapped all these years later and it still makes me laugh hysterically…

That’s the shortened version, because you know how I don’t like to embarrass anyone or blow up their spot…Love ya Beanie!!!

 

This one’s for you Aunt Margie!

CLICK HERE FOR TRIBUTE!

SPECIAL ELECTION DAY REPOST ABOUT THE REALLY IMPORTANT ISSUES FACING US!

No photo retouching at all – this is all Jimmy!!!

 

I am not just reposting this important message because there is an Election Day Party with Jimmy McMillan (The Rent is Too Damn High guy) tonight and I am not reposting it because I’m going to see him at that party tonight. I’m reposting this because he is informed, he has a clear vision, he is smart…Who am I kidding? I’m reposting this because he is freaking hysterical and if you don’t know who he is, go and look him up right now! Seriously, you’ll thank me later and your life will be a little brighter because Jimmy is in it.

 

 

No on really cares about the Republicans or the Democrats or the ecomomy or unemployment – all the other campaigns skipped right over the most imortant issue of all. Click HERE to see the really important topics that no one else has covered and see why Immodiumabuser.com is vehemently supporting Jimmy MacMillan in this and every election!  

 

https://immodiumabuser.com/2010/10/20/the-no-means-nose-hair-movement/

 

 

Tell my wife that I’ll pretend to be surprised, but I’d really like to see this under the tree this Christmas: My very own Jimmy McMillan action figure. Forget G.I. Joe, I want the real American hero action figure! (Click here and buy one for that someone special on your list this Holiday Season)

 

Forget G.I. Joe, I want the Real American hero Action Figure!

 

 

 

 

For all my Homies to get to know mes


Of all the questions that people ask me about this site, nine times out of ten there is some variation of “Your poor wife, how does she do it?” as the very first question. The second question is which is the best post to read if you’re new to this site and haven’t had a chance to catch up on all the older stuff posted here. If you fall into the latter category than today is your lucky day!

I’ve created a list of what I think are the essential posts you MUST read in order to get to know this site. Others are really funny as well, but this is where you should start. These are in no particular order, just a random collective to get you up to speed. I must advocate caution while ingesting these posts, as some of them are really funny. In the lab, some of the test subjects were known to lose control of themselves while reading – so avoid liquids while consuming them at all costs!

As an added treat, I will be reposting some of the oldies in between new posts here on the site….if you’ve already read them, it’ll be a refresher. If you’re an Imodium virgin and this is your first time getting a piece – Enjoy it! If your favorite isn’t listed here, let me know in the comments which one you’d have picked…

 

When I was mistaken for a retarded person TWICE in less than a half hour!!!

Assaulting Tom Cruise-Part 1: Hit and run

Assaulting Tom Cruise-Part 2: Great, now Rosie O’Donnell thinks I’m a scumbag

Just for the Holiday Season: My Famous Baby Jesus Story

One of my many Ah-Shit Moments (Literally!)

Who does this shit happen to?

Like I’ve heard so many times before “Wow, That’s a long one!”

Wanna hear something ironic? Imodium AD actually tried to stage an intervention with me!!!

Our Honeymoon Part One: Ain’t no joke, our bed broke (Twice!!!) and I had to call a bloke who was sippin’ on a coke; All because I gave her a poke!

Our Honeymoon Part Two: Forget finger lickin’- my masseuse was testicle flickin!!!

Drop a note below and let me know which one is your favorite.

My relationship with St. Patrick’s Day: It’s nothing to shake your shillelagh at!

I am the proud owner of a festive little green speedo, but circumstances have forced me to stop using it to show off my shamrocks on March 17th. As a side note, the Metro North conductors have also stopped me from showing off my lucky charms in it. I was almost charged with assault in a crowded train car when my Irish polka combined with the speed of the train didn’t mesh well last St. Patrick’s Day. My jig went horribly off-course and I almost did polka an old lady in the eye with my shillelagh when I lost my balance. Tea bag one old lady on the train and suddenly no one is proud to be Irish anymore.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to carry tokens for the subway dressed like this?

 

In as much seriousness as I can muster, I am kidding about the above paragraph. Anyone who has seen this body in motion knows that I have rhythm and smooth moves like Justin Timberlake and will not hesitate to compete in a dance off on a train if challenged. That being said, I am serious here – I’m not going out on St. Patrick’s Day; I just can’t do it anymore.

When I was Studying Abroad in London, two of my friends from college were on the same program. While that often lends a sense of familiarity to the proceedings, it might have been too much for me. Baby M (not THE actual Baby M from the 80’s, but a close second in my mind.) was always a cool bean. She is a calming presence at all times except that one time when that hairdresser snapped some of her hair off of one side and left her with an awkwardly short sprout pointing upwards. I could describe her to you with words, but a cartoon character has her down pat, so I will just show you:

She doesn't knit, so pretend the yarn isn't there. Other than that, Gwendolyn is the spitting image of Baby M.

 

Yes my friends, she has the absolute sheer fortune to look just like the Gwendolyn character from Wallace and Grommit. I actually had to buy the keychain in the photo above when I saw it due to the uncanny likeness. As little as she appreciated that, she would get even more annoyed when I would show people in the bar and ask them if anyone in here looked like the keychain I was holding and nine out of ten people would look around and point right at her. The other person would usually run off because Baby M would see what I was doing and scream across the bar that she didn’t look like that. Her reaction always encouraged me to show more people when they asked about the yelling. I might have dropped it after a while if her mother hadn’t gotten her a stuffed version of that doll that Christmas. Far be it from me to argue with your mother (I actually love her mother – she’s a cute little peanut) but if she says you look like the doll, then you look like the doll!

The wild card was always Mary because she is insane. I’m not kidding and I didn’t change her name for two reasons: One, she is a LUNATIC and doesn’t mind people knowing it. Two, every woman of any age that I have ever met with the name of Mary has been crazy. No lie – show me a Mary that’s not crazy and I’ll show you a Mary you don’t really know. This Mary, Motown Mary, ZXO Mary, Old Lady Mary that looks like Stefano Dimera from Days of Our Lives, – they’re all nuts.

My friend Lisa from college. She would fill up on green beer before French class and all of a sudden she was fluent!

 

So, we went out for St. Patrick’s Day and as is my habit, I started talking to all of these randoms in the bar. One particular guy that we met was named Mohammed and he was apparently very wealthy. He was buying us drinks because he thought we were funny and then he actually let Mary use his cell phone to call our friends in college. She thought nothing of using his cell phone to call Upstate New York from London and what it would cost. We hung around with him and a bunch of others for a few hours and then as we were about to leave Mary came busting up, grabbed me by the shoulder and swung me around:

“Did you tell that Arab guy Mohammed that I was your girlfriend and that I would go home with him for Fifty Pounds? Why would you tell him we’re going out? Why are you trying to sell me again?”

“Mary, it’s not like I’m not going to split it with y…“

With that I didn’t even get to finish my sentence before she hauled off and punched me in the face. Literally, close fist, punched me in the face like she was Marky Mark in The Fighter. She doesn’t look it, but that bitch is strong!

Marky Mary regulating big time in London!

 

No sooner had she struck me before she switched personalities, forgot the assault and then said calmly “Come on, we’re leaving!” As I might have mentioned before, I have actually never been in a fight before and don’t count this incident as one but I always stand a little further away from her since that day. Also, this is not me being demeaning to women – this is me being a friend: friends try to sell their friends to Arab men. It’s what we do!

If I had known it would result in her giving me a pop to the chops like that, I would have held out for a hundred pounds from Mohammed. She was more offended that I said we were dating than me trying to sell her. Needless to say when she announced that we were leaving, he tried to follow us out and come too, but she gave him the stink eye real bad and he beat a hasty retreat. Probably a safer bet for him than going home with her if you ask me because that bitch was strong and left marks!

As an isolated incident, one might veer towards taking Mary’s side of the situation, but not anyone that knows her. I will go into greater detail about her at a later date and link back to here because that girl is a force to be reckoned with and should have reality cameras following her 24/7. She is mucho loco and wears her straight jacket like it’s from Prada.  

I couldn’t decide between this and another St. Patrick’s Day incident, so I split them into two different posts. Come back on Thursday and read all about how I tasted a brick wall sandwich and then mistook a family gathering as my intervention and you’ll understand why I just will not go out on St. Patrick’s Day again!