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

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?

I WAS ON THE SET OF STAR WARS EPISODE VII!!!

September 26, 2014September 26, 2014 / www.immodiumabuser.com / Leave a comment

Spoiler Alert: This post contains crucial plot points and unauthorized photos from Star Wars Episode VII set. I did promise JJ Abrams that I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I can’t hold it in anymore – Sorry JJ.

Here’s a picture of me and a storm trooper:

And here’s a shot of my son test driving a Rebel Tie Fighter:

OK, OK…so maybe that’s not really a picture of my son in an actual Rebel Tie Fighter and I wasn’t on the Star Wars set per se…but it is me with a storm trooper – he just happens to be patrolling the Boardwalk of Ocean City, not the Forest of Endor!

Now that I have your attention, I wanted to remind you that I’ll be running the NYC Marathon on Sunday November 2nd! Now you’re smiling and thinking “Wow, that’s great! Run Forrest Run!” But I’m not that selfish and this isn’t all just about me – Here’s where you come in: The only way I could get a spot was by fund-raising so this is my not-so-subtle pitch for assistance because I’m way off from my goal. If I don’t reach my fundraising goal by next week, I’ll have to pay for it myself and will, unfortunately, be forced to resort to selling one or more of my kids to do so…Do you want that on your conscience? Remember kids – it takes a village.

The way I see it, you have three options:

1: Go and donate now – you don’t have a dollar for a great cause? No amount is too small and every donation makes such an impact.

2: Like this and share it on your facebook/twitter/Instagram/tumbler/blender/coffeepot/hashtag/sunburn/earlobe – or on whatever social media outlets you’re using! Share it and spread the word Yenta!

3: You need a third option? Those two weren’t enough? Now you need a third option? Go back to option one and donate!

I’m running with Team for Kids and it’s actually a really great Organization that brings free running programs and wellness events to schools and neighborhoods. Their youth programs already serve more than 200,000 children in hundreds of underserved schools and community centers; the fundraising helps to increase the reach and impact on the kids who need it most.

Running the Marathon last year was such a life-changing experience for me so to be able to do it again and give back in the process is amazing! All the money goes towards the kids and the programs they run, so you really are helping to make a huge difference! I was originally going to fundraise for a new toupee, but this isn’t about me guys – its for the kids and will do just as much good for the world than me with a new set of locks.

For those that would like to come out and cheer on Race Day while I hammer through all 26.2 miles with a smile and enough Imodium AD pumping through my veins to stock a small country it’ll be quite a show! 🙂 For those that can’t make it, I’ll expect a ton of positive energy and prayers that I can stay upright on two feet for the duration of the race!

Here’s the link if you’re so inclined – please help if you’re able – every little bit will go a long way and a lot of little bits make a huge difference! Every dollar raised helps the kids, so any amount is appreciated!

http://www.runwithtfk.org/Profile/PublicPage/17718

Donate today – the deadline is less than a week away!

Thanks,

Talk about a crappy party!

July 29, 2014 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 2 Comments

I know it might sound mean to say that my niece’s first birthday party was shitty – but please understand that I’m being literal here, not figurative! I love that little tiny pickle for all she’s worth, but mark my words here – her first birthday celebration will cause the creation of at least a couple Immodiumabuser-like blogs in the years to come. The incidents that transpired last weekend will be recounted on multiple therapy couches for decades to come.

The on-and-off rain should have been a foreboding warning of things to come at the party, but who knew the worst part of the day wouldn’t be the shutting down of the jumping castle? Who could have guessed that my wife entering the jumping castle and then proceeding to slip and fall wouldn’t be the highlight of this post? Certainly not me or those four kids she wiped out as she flew back down the ladder and wiped them out like a tsunami through a small village. Granted the castle was slippery from the rain, but it sure as hell was funny to see her take those kids out and I don’t mean to the ball game. Don’t worry, the kids were ok – save for some slight bruising…

As a general rule, infants and really young kids can’t help their digestive system and aren’t yet in control of their bowels, so they’re exempt from judgment. Sure they stink and no one wants to be around them, but even I don’t hold it against them. On the other hand, older kids who are like seven or eight should be able to recognize that all-too-familiar gurgle in the pit of your stomach that tells you not to make any sudden movements. One faulty sneeze can mean the difference between new shorts and new friends…

I don’t know many things for certain, but one thing I know for sure when I see it is a crop duster. One young party lass has been taught the art form very early, but she hasn’t quite mastered the stealth part of it yet…It started innocently enough with a little circling in the den but that game turned dangerous very quickly…Without giving a blow by blow, she couldn’t hold in her excitement for the party any longer and turned the powder room into a literal shit storm.

Everyone knows that I’m an Imodium vending machine always willing to share my stash with anyone in need. Imodium is the great equalizer and I am always stocked to the brim. After the events of this past weekend, I am starting to realize that I need to make an announcement whenever I enter a party, sort of like a flight attendant, advising the correct course of action for anyone in gastric distress. I actually think a better solution for the future generations is to add this site and it’s teachings to grade school curriculums nationwide so that our children know what to do in an emergency. Forget Stop, Drop and Roll! Knowing when to say when you need Imodium is way more essential than the fire drill line up routine and three times as likely to be necessary than any fire drill they’ll ever go through.

You think your disgusted hearing about this, imagine how her mother felt – she had to clean up that kid, clean up that bathroom and then do the walk of shame out the front door with the clothing and bathroom contents in a hazmat bag. And the girl that exploded was like seven or eight years old – that’s some adult sized shit right there. That is not a toddler quick swipe and your done – that’s a huge mess on aisle two that might need reinforcements and a bottle of Lysol. Who says “I’ll wash the hand towels and bathmat and return them?” about the bathroom linens their child just destroyed? It was nice to offer, but if ever there was a clear sign that you need a new bathroom floor mat – that was it! And really, how much could hand towels cost? For all that is holy, throw them out and get new ones! There is not enough Tide in the store to wash that out…And do you think I’m ever going to use the linens in that house again? How will I know if these are the tainted ones? You can tell me that you washed them ten or twenty times, but come on. No way Jose!

Forget the birthday girl; the only real winner in this weekend’s lottery was the plumbing in the walls by dodging that bullet! Roto Rooter would have definitely been paying a visit to their house if that malotav cocktail made its way through those pipes and not splashed across the floor and the walls!

I’m wondering what Martha Stewart would advise you to write on the thank you card for the family that brought a child that exploded in your bathroom? Do you even still send a thank you note? I mean, no one is glad that little bitch showed up and does it matter what gift she gave? There is no gift that you can open that would make up for the “special” memories that little girl created at the party.

Three Quick Things

November 22, 2013November 22, 2013 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 16 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

November 2, 2013 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 27 Comments

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

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

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

No pressure – feel free to not even give me a second thought as I pound the pavement, mile by mile by mile by mile, never giving up, always enduring, profusely sweating like a Jello pudding pop left out in the sunlight for too long at a family barbecue…putting my body through the rigors of 26.2 miles…26.2 freakin miles!!! No big deal at all – enjoy your weekend. What were you doing this weekend anyway? Oh, just raking some leaves? Cleaning out some closets? Oh, that sounds nice too…

Just kidding, some people had asked about tracking me and I’m not sure that NY Road Runners has developed the technology yet that will be able to track someone like me that’s fast like lightning, but here is the option anyway:

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

There is a text to phone option but the one listed below that option is online and FREE. My bib number is 69382…

Wish me luck and if I end up face down on the pavement with a bloody nose again or if they open the streets back up before I even get to mile ten – no judgements…

This is the back of my Marathon shirt!

This is the front of my Marathon shirt.

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

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

Audio Post:Rugby Bulges lead you here??? Now I’ve heard everything

July 29, 2013July 29, 2013 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 2 Comments

As funny as it is to read about rugby bulges, it’s even funnier to hear me read about them to you!!! Keep searching people – there’s no judgement from your old friend Immodium Abuser!

www.immodiumabuser.com

Hope you enjoy my first audio post!

View original post

Hasn’t New Jersey been through enough?

July 8, 2013July 8, 2013 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 8 Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

April 22, 2013April 14, 2016 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 11 Comments

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 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.

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!

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?”

“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.

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!

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

April 5, 2013 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 12 Comments

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!!!

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!

A higher calling or are the standards falling?

January 22, 2013January 22, 2013 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 2 Comments

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!

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…

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.

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?

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.

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

August 3, 2011August 19, 2011 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 161 Comments

Forget about the Government Debt Ceiling Bill or MTV turning 30; I have an update on a dangerous epidemic sweeping the nation that’s going shamefully under-reported by the media: The Imodium Ad shortage of 2011.

I first shared my concerns here in June and my wife joked that maybe my mass Imodium consumption had caused a shortage of some sorts and it appears that might be the case. After striking out in my local stores, I branched out. Three different CVS managers and a Wal-Mart employee plus an employee from a Pennsylvania supermarket have told me that there was a recall on Imodium AD, but I can’t find anything about a recall online, in the farmer’s almanac or with Ask Asa. I doubted them because I figured that of all people, I would know if there was a recall, it’s not like they wouldn’t publicize it or spread the word. Have you ever heard of a secret recall? No – they spread the word like Officer Bird and tell people everywhere if something is wrong! That’s how things get recalled – they let people know. And don’t tell me to get the store brand – it’s not the same! After scouring three states to no avail, I got strategic and went on the website for Imodium AD and called the Consumer Care Center at the number listed.

Before you even ask – No, I am not a crazy person nor am I a junkie looking for a fix…I’m just a concerned citizen looking for answers. OK, maybe I am a junkie looking for a fix – but this is getting suspicious and don’t judge me! I can tell you with absolute certainty that I now know what they meant in May with all that Rapture and the world ending talk. If I’m lying in my bed, covered in sweat while trembling in fear and this is only a nightmare – PLEASE WAKE ME UP!!!

Let me just start by saying that the Imodium customer service agent was the absolute coolest and nicest lady ever! She assured me it wasn’t a recall and that it was a shortage of supply to fill the demand. Take that in and let me repeat it – it’s a shortage of supply. She was reassuring me that everything would be OK and we were on the way to becoming besties, when the call suddenly took a wrong turn and veered downhill.

Agent: “Sir, can I get your contact info and we can put you on our mailing list for coupons and then contact you when Imodium AD is available back in your area again?”

I proceeded to give her my phone number, address, and then told her my email address.

Agent: “Sir, can you repeat your email address for me?”

Me: “immodiumabuser (at) yahoo.com”

Agent: “Sir, Stop it right now, I don’t believe that. Is that really your email address?”

Me: “Of course it is, why would I ask you to contact me and give you the wrong email address? What kind of person does that? Email me while we’re on the phone and I’ll email you back.”

Agent: “Sir, are you kidding with me?”

Me: “I’m being serious, why would I waste my time to call you if I wasn’t looking for help here? I’m not a lunatic – I just want to know when and where I can get my Imodium.”

I then filled her in on how I can’t go anywhere without my Imodium, take it 24/7 if I need to leave the house, how this site is a love letter to Imodium AD, and basically how it saved my life and made me a productive citizen. Needless to say, her end of the line got a lot quieter.

Agent: “Sir, how much Imodium do you take? How many have you taken today?”

Me: “5 pills”

Agent: “Sir – its 11 AM! Why have you already taken 5 pills?”

Me: “Maam, I work almost an hour from home…”

Agent: “Sir, Please don’t take any more today…”

Me: “Maam, I won’t be able to eat lunch if I don’t take anymore.”

Agent: “Sir, How many days have you been taking that many?”

Me: “Days, it’s been since 1994. I never would have been able to go to Woodstock in 1994, or college for that matter…”

Agent: “Sir, that is not OK. We do not recommend that many pills to be taken for that period of time and we don’t test on that dosage. We test on the dosage listed on the back of the box. You can be causing internal damage to your organs and…”

Me: “Maam, I’m sure I don’t even have internal organs anymore between all the Imodium, the alcohol and everything else – I’m convinced that if you were to X-Ray my body, it would go straight from Esophagus to Anus with nothing in between…”

Agent: “Sir, have you taken anything else today?”

Me: “Just some Tylenol, why…”

Agent: “How many of those have you taken and which kind?”

Me: “I took three Tylenol Extra Strength because I had a headache when I woke up.”

Agent: “Sir, Legally I now have to give you the number for Poison Control because you have exceeded the recommended dosage on those products. We also make Tylenol – do you have a pen? 1-800-222-1222. Please repeat it back to me so I know that you wrote it down.”

Me: (laughing) “1-800-222-1222 (which really is the number for the American Association of Poison Control Centers) I got it but I don’t need that number. I don’t care if you tell me that there’s gasoline or pesticide in Imodium and that it’ll kill me by New Year’s Eve – it works and I’m gonna take it either way! I didn’t call to get you nervous and I’m not looking to sue you guys or anything – I just need the Imodium to be available again!”

Agent: “Sir, this is not OK and I am really concerned. Obviously I cannot tell you not to take Imodium AD, but I must caution you that we do not test it in the quantity that you take it in.”

Me: “Listen Maam, I love Imodium AD more than anyone out there and I can guarantee that you will never find anyone more loyal to it than me. It has changed my life and I want to be the spokesperson for you. How can I get my face on the box – can you help me with that?” (we both laughed at this) “My wife wouldn’t let me send in my testimonial. Seriously, I just need it back on the shelves.”

None of these are available? What's going on?

I reassured her that I was fine and just wanted to find the Imodium and she was able to help me find 5 different locations (ShopRite, A & P, Food Emporium and 2 K-Marts) with Imodium AD in stock. Forget the Amber Alert – she had a listing of stores within 30 miles of my house along with their phone numbers so I could confirm before I went. She could tell if they had 6 packs, 12 packs, or 24 packs – unfortunately no one had the 72 packs in stock, but who was I to complain? I don’t know why the White House didn’t have these guys looking for Bin Laden, because with their pin point accuracy and precision – they could have bagged that fool years ago!
She really was a very nice lady and told me that she would go and check out this site when she got home from work that night. I’m sure she probably thought that I was a lunatic, but later that night I did see a small spike in hits… I’m sure they record those calls and will probably play my call at their holiday party so everyone can have a good laugh at my expense.

The best part was that my boss walked into my office while I was on the phone and asked who I was on the phone with and didn’t believe me when I said Imodium. He shook his head and then he looked at me like I was crazy. As he sat down to listen to me, he realized that I really was on the phone with them. He also didn’t expect (and neither did I – to be honest) that I would be on the phone for over forty minutes with them either.

As if that wasn’t enough, I got a letter and authorization form in the mail a couple of days after the call requesting my medical records. How crazy is that? I just want my Imodium on the shelves and they want to talk with my doctors. They haven’t requested my photo for the box yet, but I’m sure that letter should come any day now. When it does and my picture on the box makes me the international face of Diarrhea – I’ll remember each and every one of you!

Imodium Letter 1

Imodium Letter 2

The Saddest Thing I Ever Saw!!!

June 1, 2011 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 8 Comments

You think your day sucks? I went to CVS and low & behold I got hit with a ton of bricks:

And you thought you were having a bad day?

They better raise the terror alert to orange because this is some scary stuff right here. People are gonna freak out and start panicking and it could get messy… OK, I’m probably the only one panicking, but something is definitely up here and if I’m not able to get my Imodium it might actually get messy! This is the third CVS I went to over the past few days that didn’t have Imodium AD. One store might be a stocking issue, and two might be a coincidence, but three stores not having it? I’m not trying to get anyone nervous but if you ask me, this seems like the cruel and hurtful things that would be the work of a vast terror network that rhymes with Hal Shmyda.

I know this sounds nutty, but my immediate reaction was that I might be using too much Imodium and they can’t keep up with me…then I came to my senses and got the manager. I asked what was going on and he looked at me like I was crazy, then pointed at the sign and told me to buy the store brand, as if that was the solution. I leaned in close and whispered “Is something else going on here? You can tell me, don’t worry I won’t tell anyone else” and that’s when he really looked at me like I was crazy and walked away. As if other people aren’t getting the manager and asking the same thing – come on.

Before you even suggest that I use the store brand; you wouldn’t use wrapping paper if toilet paper wasn’t available would you? Would you put Crisco into your gas tank instead of going to Shell to fill up? No and you better not! I am not gonna try an untested substitute when I know very well that Imodium is what works andwhat I need. If it’s not the AD – it’s not for me! As a side note since you mentioned Crisco, I have a friend that actually used to be called Crisco by her family. I was at her house for dinner and asked why her father had just said “Crisco get the ketchup” and she said “You know – fat in the can” and pointed at her backside. You gotta love families, building self-esteem day by day.

Speaking of families and gas stations, did I ever tell you about how my brother Angelo got run over by the same guy twice? He was at the gas station walking back to his car after prepaying with the cashier when an old man ran him down the first time. Realizing he had hit something, the old guy immediately backed his car up (once again driving over my brother). All the while, my brother was on the ground screaming for the attendant to give him his money back because he had prepaid for the gas. An ambulance finally showed up and they immediately started attending to the old guy instead of my brother – who was still on the ground writhing in pain. Apparently, the old guy had suffered a stroke a few months back and shouldn’t have been driving anyway. Sure, he really did get hurt and the old guy tore up his leg real bad, but I still can’t think about it without busting out laughing…on the plus side, it gave me a great anecdote for his wedding toast “Marriage is like getting run over twice by the same guy in a Merit Gas Station – sometimes it hurts.”

I’ll check in with the media outlets and update the progress on my Imodium investigation as I find out more. Before you roll your eyes at me, they say if you see something say something and they don’t just mean that for the people I work with who got suspicious when our Fedex guy’s truck broke down in the parking lot. The poor guy was out there transferring his packages into a rented U-Haul truck so he could finish his deliveries when my two coworkers got nervous and called the Popo. When the police showed up imagine how funny the Fedex guy did not find the situation. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t our regular guy, but he’s here almost every day and now it’s a little bit awkward…some people hold a grudge, I tell ya…

It’s not a Murse – I prefer to call it my Mocketbook!

May 4, 2011 / www.immodiumabuser.com / 4 Comments

If Indy says it's not a murse, who am I to argue?

I came to a realization at work today: My black messenger bag has turned into a full throttle purse. I’m sure that it’s the real intention Kenneth Cole had when he designed the bag, but no one else will admit it. Why do they even call it a messenger bag anyway? Have you ever seen a messenger deliver something with a bag strapped across his chest? Of course not.

While searching for a pen, I had to remove two sets of ipod headphones (an extra in case one break) a tide to go stick, Burt’s bees hand sanitizer, six loose quarters, three dimes and four pennies. That was just in the front pocket. So I looked further and here are the items currently residing in my bag:

-Money clip

-Ipod

-2 granola bars – mind you I don’t even like granola bars

-Pack of tissues (unopened and actually forgotten about)

-11 loose napkins

-Ipod portable speakers

-Extra pair of cuff links

-Small bottle of Purell hand sanitizer

-Napkin note of a website I might one day visit for discount eyeglasses that I know I will never use but can’t throw out, just in case.

-Extra six pack of Imodium AD (do I even need to explain that one?)

-1 package of Sweat blotting forehead strips (sometimes the noggin gets oily midday – sue me)

I can't help it - I glisten!

-Ipod AC power adapter

-Autozone receipt for replacement alternator belt

-Blackberry wall charger

-Chapstick

-1 straw (By the way, I don’t even use straws – there’s nothing masculine about straws anyway! People do not take you seriously as you’re sitting there sucking that plastic for all your worth.)

-2 AA Batteries

-1 red pen

-9 Cross pens – silver

-Receipt for CVS for Easter card for my wife

-1 immodiumabuser.com pen

-Extra key to my office

-Master key for the doors at work

-4 packs of Listerine breath strips

-49 business cards

-6 quarters

-4 dimes

-3 pennies

-Ford Focus shaped jump drive

-A handwritten quote from the crazy facilitator at last month’s training session that says “I like to have my eggs poached really hard” with the word really underlined to stress his inflection.

-Another Tide to go stick

-Pocket pal calendar

-Small leather reporter-style notepad with important notes that I took in August 2010 and forgot about

-Large Leather notebook with important notes I took in September 2010 and forgot about

-Portable mouse pad

–Wireless mouse

-4 White collar stays (in case the current ones give way or get stolen mid-way through the day)

-3 paperclips

-Toilet seat covers (even thought I never shit in public – JUST IN CASE)

-Miniature roll of toilet paper (it’s a small roll but having it in there is a Big relief – you never know)

–GQ Magazine with Zach Galafanakis on the cover

I don’t care for the word “murse” either. I think it’s demeaning and it really doesn’t convey the true value and convenience or the emotional significance that my mocketbook affords me. I can relax and feel comfortable knowing that anything I need is right at my side. It’s my very own relaxation station. Sure, it does get heavy after a while, but I’ll bear that burden if it means that when (not if) I stain my tie at lunch, I can dab it out immediately.

Besides the shoe horn, is this not the best invention ever?

At least I’m not like my wife’s father who actually does carry a purse when he travels. He uses her step-mother’s old Coach bag to carry his stuff through the airport. At the very least, my bag is black, it is NOT a woman’s bag, and is at least functional! He’s carrying a small colorful pocketbook for God’s sake – and how much can that even hold? I have a beer holster strapped to my leg that can carry more than his bag can. I don’t know how he isn’t afraid of purse snatchers… Not to sound sexist, but is it still called a purse snatching when the carrier of the purse is a man?

My wife carries a diaper bag for my son, yet I try to put one or two (or ten) things into it and all of a sudden I’m a bad person. That bag is bigger than the both of us, yet I can’t get a tiny corner for my essentials? It’s not like we can’t take his stuff and mine together in the bag – there’s not a space limit or weight restriction that I don’t know about is there? Why not get a bag with wheels anyway? It’s much more convenient to drag than carry it…

While we’re on the subject, I’m not even sure there is a difference between my son’s diaper bag and my mocketbook anyway. The bottom line is that we both have emergency supplies for cleanup on the off chance one of us shits our pants! Am I wrong? Believe me, if I could fit a change of clothes and toiletries in my bag with all my other shit, I would.

You're telling me there's no room for a few of my things in there?

If you’re reading this and thinking that I’m ready for my Hoarders audition, just imagine what my office looks like! This is coming from the same person that keeps an extra bottle of febreze in my car just in case a fart gets trapped in there…

I’m all for having something handy in case there’s an emergency, but this is ridiculous – even for me. The bag is heavier than my coffee table and yet I cannot think of one of these things that shouldn’t be in there or that I don’t absolutely need. I realize that I am being obsessive and at this point, excessive, but this shouldn’t count – I need these things. What’s a guy to do? And guys, what random things are you carrying in your mocketbook?

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!