imodium

CelebriTuesdays: Beauty and the Beard! Taylor Dayne & Zakk Wylde!

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beauty dn the beard two

 

Two musicians that could not be more different were both visiting Sirius and who knew it was their lucky day: they got up close and personal with the Immodium Abuser! None other than 80’s big voice, big hair, and big ballad legend Taylor Dayne and former Ozzy Osbourne guitarist and Black Label Society founder Zakk Wylde.

 

Taylor 2

 

Taylor Dayne is a legend of big 80’s ballads and bigger hair, and she was all bundled up to brave the winter chill, still took time to meet and take pictures when she was on her way out from visiting Sirius. “Taylor, my wife and I saw you in Aida on Broadway a few years ago” I said as we met. She laughed and looked at me with a big smile and there was that famous big voice: “That was way more than a few years ago.” We both chuckled, then I actually had to go back and look it up and that was way back in 2001. She’s right that was way more than a few years ago which begs the obvious question – how does she still look so good and I look like Charlie Brown’s father?

 

 

Where the hell did the time go? I feel like it was just yesterday that she was signing Tell it to My Heart and I’ll Always Love You, but apparently that’s now called musac. Most of her songs are older than kids currently graduating college and that my friends is exactly why getting old sucks! But she was really cool and I was stoked to meet her!

 

 

Zakk Wylde on the other hand truly lives up to his name and certainly is a Wylde man. He’s the former guitarist for Ozzy Osbourne and founder of the band Black Label Society. I asked for a picture and as we were taking it, he looked at the way I was standing and said “No way Dude – you gotta pose like this with your fist!” Who was I to say no to a request like that? My wife thinks this picture makes me look tough and since they just announced a casting call for the West Side Story that Steven Spielberg is remaking, maybe I’ll use this as my headshot to illustrate my street cred…

 

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Full disclosure, if I wasn’t terrified that Zakk would have kicked the shit out of me I would have asked him to drape that flowing beard over my head so I can see what I’d look like with hair – now that would have been a great picture! Also, the man was wearing a chain. I don’t mean he was wearing a chain like MR. T – I mean he was wearing a chain like the kind that Mr. T would lock his gates with!

 

 

FullSizeRender

Giving new meaning to the expression “Yanking my chain!”

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know a lot about fashion, but a chain like that definitely makes a statement. What statement that is exactly, I’m not sure, but I certainly couldn’t pull that off. For one thing, how strong must your belt loops be to hold that baby up? Seriously, what kind of special pants are they – the chain weighs more than a toddler and yet he’s rolling though like its business casual. I’m tired walking to my car just holding my head up so I’d be exhausted hauling that thing around all day.

ZakkOzzy

 

How does one even sit down with that chain on? It’s almost like there should be a gigantic pocket watch attached to the end of it just to show how absurd it is – but on him it works! The real challenge I see is if you’re walking by and your jam comes on: You Can’t Stop the Feeling when those hips start shaking. One wrong hip shake and you’ll see exactly what LL Cool J meant in Mama Said Knock You Out!

 

Mama said knock you out music video

 

Either way, it was my very own version of Beauty and the Beard without the teapot! Wylde man was awesome as was the Dayne with the Mane and at the end of the day, couldn’t we all use just a little more Taylor Dayne in our day?

 

beauty dn the beard two

 

CelebriTuesdays: Anthony Anderson – The Tony or A Golden Globe Award; which one is the real prize?

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gg ad

 

Receiving a Golden Globe Nomination for Blackish this week is a great honor, but let me tell you about another memorable day in Anthony Anderson’s life – meeting me.

 

blackish

 

Sure, you can get fame and glory and international recognition with a Golden Globe, but it’s only just a nomination right now – not a win. To be featured along with this Imodium abusing superstar – now that’s the real prize!

 

Anthony 1

 

Anthony was promoting Blackish on Sirius and rushing out to his car, but did stop for a few quick snaps. He was telling us to take them while he walked with us so they’re not perfect, but he was really cool and nice. It’s also hard to be a jerk when you’re in your comfy clothes rocking Sweatpants and Gold chain casual for your interviews. Comfort is key and that gold chain is probably worth more than my car! He may be a trained actor, but these shots aren’t his best work. On the positive side, look at how well my bathroom selfie practice is paying off: My pics are on point and I owe it all to that midnight mirror practice.

 

congrats

 

Wishing Anthony Anderson much luck with the Golden Globes and when the Screen Actors Guild Nominees are announced tomorrow, expect him to be there too! Still not better than getting the Tony, but it is a great honor…

 

 

Anthony 3

Not the best shot, but seriously – I look pretty good!

 

CelebriTuedays: Jimmy McMillan – The Rent is Too Damn High guy is Super Fly!

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They say don’t meet your idols because they’ll never live up to your expectations, but when I met Jimmy McMillan, I was floating just as Damn High as the Rent! Welcome to the CelebriTuesday Time Machine; buckle up because we’re travelling back in time five years to a much gentler time with a much fatter and much balder me…

 

rent is too damn high

 

If you don’t know who Jimmy McMillan is – stop right now and educate yourself about one of the founding fathers of New York City Politics! Forget about Hamilton and learn about something important! You can’t go wrong backing a candidate with a background featuring careers as a Karate Expert, R & B Artist, Stripper, Private Investigator, AND creator of The Rent Is Too Damn High Political Party! Get the facts – Jimmy got your backs!

 

 

jimmy kaate

Get the facts – Jimmy got your backs!

 

 

It was New York City – Election Night 2012: The world was a different place and politics were politics, but you didn’t actually feel dirty watching the politicians as you do nowadays. Of course, nothing mattered to me as much as the guest of honor at the election night party I’d be attending: none other than Jimmy McMillan! The Rent Was Too Damn High and he was out preaching about it! I was prepped and ready to meet the man, the myth, the legend!

 

 

JIMMY mcmillan

Taking No Shave November to a whole new Level!

 

 

I’d written about Jimmy before and was a fan, but I went with limited expectations as sometimes with these networking events, you don’t actually get to meet the person; who knew my humble dream was about to come true! I got to meet Jimmy and snap a few pictures with him and he was charismatic and funny, and a literal chick magnet as tons of hot young girls were just hanging all over him! He was crazy as all get out, and the longer I stayed and chatted, the more stories he told; I was captivated and hanging on every word. He was crazy and outrageous, and the stories were unbelievable, yet I couldn’t turn away from him or his handler (yes he had a handler, a man who during the day was a professional working for JP Morgan, but working for Jimmy is his “passion project” whatever the hell that means).

 

passion project

 

I told him that I’d written about him and that I was the Immodium Abuser. He asked what I’d written so I showed him – not remembering that in the very first paragraph I’d compared his goatee to two giant fuzzy white testicles resting on his chin and said he was wearing OJ Simpson gloves. Anyone else might have had the sense to stop reading, but when did sense ever stop me. Besides that, he thought it was hilarious. That’s when the true irony of the situation struck me like a lightning bolt: there I was explaining to a crazy person as if I were the sane one – that I call myself Immodium Abuser and write crazy stories and then I proceed to read him something I’d written about him and his nose hair. Basically he was watching the train wreck the same way I was: we each looked across and instantly saw another lunatic just like us realizing that crazy really does radiate towards crazy!

 

 

Jimmy asked me if I knew why he hadn’t been in the public eye so much lately and I told him that I just assumed it was because he lost the election, but he leaned in and said it was much more serious than that: he’d had major surgery to remove shrapnel in his stomach. “Oh my God” I said – “did you get shot?” “No” he told me “it’s from an old wound from the Vietnam War…They had to put magnets down my throat to get that shrapnel out. The magnets were tied to a string and they had to go in and out and remove them one by one that way. I was awake the whole time.” The handler kept nodding along and interjecting throughout the story adding “mmmhmmm – I was there – it was touch and go – mmmhmmm – we almost lost him – touch and go.”

 

touch and go

 

“What?” I asked “How was it touch and go? He just said he was awake the whole time? That’s not touch and go. Also, what kind of magnets were they using – they must have been really strong…and what kind of string were they tied to? Like kite string? Yarn? How did they get it down your throat? Who did this surgery – are you sure they were a doctor?” I had a million questions that I was shooting out rapid fire to try and clear it up and make heads or tails if what they were telling me, but the answers seemed even more incredible and crazy than the original story and the two of them kept laughing at me as if I was the crazy one there…Seriously though, what kind of string could they have used? I was just picturing him lying there while the doctor was using a kid’s toy like this:

 

fish magnets

 

We had a blast and laughed a lot but the night was coming to a close as Jimmy was telling me how he was getting a car sponsored with The Rent is Too Damn High logo wrapped around it and I was thinking I should get one with Imodium Abuser on it. Then I think that I actually might have offered to volunteer for the next campaign (which I would do in a heartbeat by the way) as we said our goodbyes…I was drunk and had a long train ride home ahead of me, but I knew deep in my soul this was a great night that I’d never forget. I thought he would be crazy and fun in person, but he was out in orbit and I loved every minute!

 

Rent-is-too-damn-high car

 

Although Jimmy McMillan isn’t running for Mayor again, he is running for City Council in New York City today, so what better time to revisit that night we met…Hopefully you voted today and remembered the reason for the voting season: The Rent is Too Damn High!!! I don’t get any special compensation if you buy these, but these dolls make a great Holiday gift for everyone on your list:

 

jimmy doll

 

LINK TO THE ABSOLUTE BEST JIMMY McMILLAN MUSIC VIDEO EVER!!!

BARBEC – YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

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I'll take it medium-rare!

Just released: The newest George Foreman Grill!

 

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

 

 

squirrel

 

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

 

 

bbq gun

 

 

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

 

 

match

 

 

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

 

 

Is this a barbecue or a foosball table?

Is this a barbecue or a foosball table?

 

 

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

 

bbq fireball 2

 

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

 

 

chicago fire

 

 

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

 

 

bbq fireball

For all my homies to get to know mes

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hearye hearye

 

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

Click here to start the ride and get caught up!

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

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

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

My OCD Rituals, superstitions, neurosis, positive energy crystal worshipping, endless supply of toiletries and taking handfuls of Imodium at every turn might come off as amusing to some people, but not if that was your life 24/7. Every time someone meets my wife and says “He’s so funny” I can see the look on her face and hear it before she even opens her mouth and says the inevitable “you don’t live with him.” I don’t want to make it like she’s a saint here, because Homegirl has gotten a little Cray Cray at times too – but compared to me, she can’t help but come across as the normal one.

As I go through my days, I constantly try and find ways to make her laugh, because there is nothing more infectious than her laughter…usually I can get her to smile and a snicker here and there, but I’ll tell you a few things that she most certainly DID NOT find funny:

When she was pregnant with our first son and I took her to the midwife’s office for a check-up. While she was half undressed because she was changing into the gown for her examination, I shot past her and hopped up onto the exam table. I forced her to take a picture of me in the stirrups so I could text it to my brother-in-law while she looked at me in amazement/disgust. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best timing for my photo shoot; it should have been all about her and the baby (and it really was) but I just couldn’t resist. Like a dog dry humping a still leg, I just couldn’t help myself. Her rolling eyes reminded me that it was blackmail evidence and I maybe should have used my phone instead of hers for the picture. Also, it’s probably best not to push a pregnant woman out of the way while racing to see who can get up in the stirrups first…but lesson learned.

“Smile and Say Cheese…”

I don’t fully understand why, but guess who was annoyed when I Skype-recorded a fart so I could play it back and listen to myself…No further explanation necessary: farts are funny and come on, don’t try and pretend that you haven’t done it too. Isn’t that what Steve jobs had in mind for the Ipad all along? You can get a fart scented candle, but you shouldn’t record your own? Something is wrong with that kind of thinking. Is it OK to wire tap someone else farting? I know you can’t record other conversations, but where is the line on the recording of farts? These are the real questions people should be looking for clarity from our public officials this Election Day.


Do I even need to bring up the Rosie O’Donnell incident
again?  Now that was something she certainly didn’t find amusing then and she still doesn’t now…

Tune in next time as I go over some more of my shenanigans at my wife’s family weddings and holidays…Nothing brings out the full-on crazy like a wedding or holiday celebration. The hits just keep coming and every great once in a while, I can get her to laugh along at the craziness too…

For all my Homies to get to know mes

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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.

Hypochondriac or just a High Maniac?

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I have been a hypochondriac for as long as I can remember and that behavior never changed as I have gotten older. True story: When I was born, I actually burst out of the womb in a tiny yellow rain slicker and I immediately started questioning whether the birthmark on my right arm wasn’t actually a malignant melanoma? In grade school I wasn’t allowed in the nurse’s office because I would read the symptom posters on the walls and get convinced I had diabetes or whatever poster was up at the time. High School was worse because I had been gifted with a medical dictionary on my birthday, so my maladies weren’t just limited to the common diseases anymore. When I was in college, it was only a matter of time before I wasn’t allowed in the Health Services Office – but not for the usual reasons…This time it was different. 

In college, I refused to take classes on Mondays or Fridays so that I could have a more flexible schedule and so all of my classes were on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I didn’t really need a flexible schedule for a job or really any specific reason other than laziness, but it was the principle of the matter. During my second sophomore year, my 11:3o class on Tuesdays and Thursdays was Geography of something. Throughout the first two months, I only made it there on time twice which I thought was a pretty good start. The professor was from Africa with a very thick accent and she would constantly hold me after class to tell me that in her country they take education very seriously and would think it was disrespectful to show up late. I would say it was not going to happen again, and then continue with my pattern. She didn’t seem to be a big fan of mine and one day she actually attacked me in front of the whole class about the lateness. Granted, I was waltzing into the room over forty-five minutes after the class had started, so she might have had a point; what can I say, when I’m late – I’m late. My theory was that as long as you showed up before the class was over you weren’t really late, right? She apparently didn’t feel the same way.

In her super thick accent she started yelling at me “What are you doing? You cannot keep doing this!” At first, I didn’t realize she was talking to me and then when I did, I tried to ignore her and pretend as if she wasn’t, but that’s really hard to do when twenty other people are smirking and hanging on her every word. Also, she was yelling at me and no one else was talking so it was really awkward…”You think you’re mad – How do you think my 10 o’ clock teacher feels– I never make it to that one…” Before she could even respond to my sarcastic stupidity, I muttered “I’m sorry, it couldn’t be helped” I figured that would be the end of it and tried to take my seat when she came marching over to me. “This is disruptive and you come late to every single class – Why do you bother showing up at all?”

At this point, a normal person would have thrown themselves to the wolves, admitted they were wrong and apologized – but not me. Very softly I muttered “Listen, I’m really sorry – it couldn’t be helped because I’m sick. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it before because you’re from Africa and all, but I have a little something called Mono and that’s really serious. I feel lucky that I can make it out of bed and get here at all.” In my mind, I was celebrating how quickly that I had thought of that and how smart I was, figuring that she would apologize and see the error in her ways.  Of course, I was delusional and should have realized that she, and everyone else in the class for that matter, could see right through me and tell that I was lying. That’s when she really let me have it and for a second I felt like her strong accent fell right to the wayside so she could yell at me in perfectly clear English.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been teaching for a long time and do you really think that you’re the first person to try and tell me that they have Mono? Of course I know what Mono is, I’m not an idiot – where’s your Doctor’s note?”

Once again, a normal person would have admitted defeat and let it go at that, but not me. “How dare you! What kind of a person do you think I am? I am so insulted, who would make that kind of thing up? I’m a sick person (ironically, this was the only true statement that I had made all morning) Do you think I’m crazy? Go to Health Services and ask them in there! How dare you question me?” Now as a side note, I was as positive as one of Maury‘s paternity tests that I didn’t have Mono and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me except for laziness, but if I didn’t at least get defensive she would have immediately known that I was lying.

Sure as can be, she was disgusted with me and dropped it and I got the stink eye from half the class. The other half could have cared less about the scene I was making. The girl who sat next to me was just staring with that look of disgust that usually takes people getting to know me for a few months before it develops and I looked at her and then rubbed my stomach to motion to her that I was sick. She rolled her eyes to motion to me that I was an idiot. 

I got the hell out of there after class and ran down to the Health Services Office. I had actually never been down there before because they don’t prescribe anything besides aspirin and I had learned to self-medicate with my prescription for any malady: Imodium AD and beer.  (It worked every time and if it didn’t work I’d add a joint to the mix and be at 100% in no time.) Actually, that’s still my go-to remedy and you know what? It still works. Your stomach hurts? You take Imodium and you’re OK. You have a headache? Take Imodium, you’re OK. You break your ankle? Yep, you guessed it. Works like a charm.

I didn’t have faith in any of the people working in that Health Services office, but I needed to make sure that if my professor ever did check up on my stupid Mono story, there would be a record of me going there. I went in and really milked it for all I was worth. I was leaning on the counter, moaning, and generally trying to look as sick as I could (that was the only time my naturally albino-pale complexion has been a positive thing in my life) so they would think I had Mono.

The numbskull there had me lie down on the cot and tell her my symptoms so of course I laid it on really thick:

ME: I feel like it’s just too much. I have no energy to go to class and it’s just every day…It’s Mono, I just know it

HER: Are you taking any medications? Drugs? Alcohol?

ME: Not me. No way that I would ever do that. I’m here to study and I just wish that I could get out of bed and make it to class. Can you give me something? I just know it’s Mono

HER: We can’t be sure what’s going on until we run some blood and urine samples, but it’s probably not Mono…

ME: (interrupting) Of course it’s Mono. I know my body.

HER: OK, let’s run the blood and urine and see what’s going on and you can come back in a day or two for the results. It’s too soon to say what it could be or if there’s anything wrong with you at all.

ME: Oh, I know there’s something wrong with me (The only other true statement I uttered that day!)

After the urine sample, she tried to take blood and I got light-headed and had to lie down to recover while she got me a cookie and soda. That was the only real symptom I had the whole time I was in that office and it had nothing to do with Mono – it was because I am a major pussy and I pass out from needles! I left there feeling mighty victorious and went home to celebrate how smart I was.

I went back a couple of days later and as I was waiting for her to go over the results with me, I was laying it on thick again and had her go and fetch me some water just to make it look good. I knew that there was a better chance of her telling me that I was going to be Valedictorian than there was of her telling me that I had Mono, but I had to make it look real. She came in with her associate, shut the door, and pulled their chairs right next to where I was laying on the cot. They didn’t say anything and looked at each other and then finally:

HER: “It’s not Mono…” before she could get any further, I grabbed my chest and said “Oh my God, its Hepatitis isn’t it?” knowing full well that there was no way it was.

HER: “Why would you think you have Hepatitis? Have you been in contact with someone who has it?”

ME: “You never know…”

HER: We know what’s going on here and you know that you don’t have Mono. I think you’re a very depressed person and it’s very serious. We’ve seen it before and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

ME: (Hysterical laughing) Whoa sister, I’m not depressed. I may not have Mono, but I’m not depressed.

HER: Really, then how do you explain the tiredness, achiness, not going to class, the excessive sleeping, we ran your blood and urine remember? Your triglyceride count was through the roof which means you are drinking so excessively that it’s triple the count of what it should be. And the imaginary symptoms and thinking you have major illnesses is another sign. How do you explain the drugs in your system? This is depression, plain and simple. I know it when I see it.

ME: OK, seriously…I knew that I didn’t have Mono and joking around about Hepatitis is not funny.  I get that, but here’s what happened: I always come late and so I lied to my Geography Professor and told her that I had Mono so I needed a record of me coming here to be treated for it in case she checked because she didn’t believe me. I didn’t think she even knew what Mono was; she’s from Africa for God’s sake. There’s nothing wrong with me – I’m just lazy. I realize just how stupid this sounds as I hear myself say it out loud, but it’s really true.

HER: Really? Do you think we believe that? That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard. What kind of person would do something like that? You’re depressed and you need to talk to someone. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I already called your father and…

ME: WHAT!!!! YOU DID WHAT??? ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? My father is a lunatic and that is the last thing you should have done. What about my privacy? I’m not fucking depressed, I’m pissed off. You’re nuts lady – I’m outta here!!!

Of course she called my father and he is a fucking crazy person to put it mildly: I have already expressed my wishes that he never be near me in a medical crisis and that is especially true when it is a fake medical crisis that I have just made up!!! This is how the call went after she asked for him and introduced herself:

HER: Sir, I’m calling about your son. I think he’s depressed. He came to the Health Services Office pretending to have Mono and we…

HIM: Lady, we’re all depressed, what do you want from me? The Mets are on – and then he hung up on her! Yep, that’s my Father! Good thing I wasn’t on a ledge somewhere…

I tried to go on my merry way and forget any of this had happened, but then I got a call from the Dean’s secretary a few days later to come to her office immediately. I had run-ins with the Dean on numerous occasions and had accidentally told her daughter that I thought she (the Dean, not her daughter) was a Fat Fuck just a few days earlier so I wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted from me.  (I didn’t realize it was her mother until I said “What is that Fat Fuck doing here?” and she said “What Fat Fuck?” And I said “What Fat Fuck? The Dean, who else” and she said “That Fat Fuck happens to be my mother!” and I said “That Fat Fuck is your mother?” and she said “Yes” and I repeated “That Fat Fuck is your mother?” which just made it worse. I don’t know why I thought she would be kidding, but I didn’t believe her. Needless to say, she did not think any part of it was funny. Also, it was in front of about ten people in the lounge, so she really didn’t think it was funny but it wasn’t like I could take it back at that point.
Needless to say, I had to explain the whole situation to the Dean because the hookers from the Health Services Office had gone running to her after my father hung up on her. Those bitches actually tried to block me from being able to register for classes until I went and saw a counselor so she wanted to talk to me and hear my side of the story. Talk about eating humble pie – thank God she knew I was an idiot. She knew that I was telling her the truth and she did threaten to make me go to the counselor out of spite, but did chuckle a little bit at the situation and said “Only you, anyone else and I would never have believed that kind of stupidity…and then we both laughed.

I ended up sweet talking that little African princess and she passed me but it was close. I had to lay on my charm and actually had to show up on time a few times…The lesson we learn here: The problem with health care is not the idiots faking illnesses to get out of something, but the crazy bitches that need to learn how to keep their traps shut!!!

As a postscript to this, a few months later they thought my aunt had Tuberculosis (seriously this time) and I needed a TB test immediately. Obviously I couldn’t go back into that Health Services Office after faking Mono and Hepatitis and tell those nitwits that I needed a TB test so I had to go to the local hospital for it. If you’re thinking of writing in the comments below about the boy who cried wolf – don’t! No one like a smart ass!

Watching Dirty Movies with my Wife’s Mom

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My little Black Swan Natalie Portman was waking up and feeling a little bit frisky so she decided to follow that old yellow book slogan and let her fingers do the walking. It was dark in her bedroom and she went to work as the camera panned down slowly, but I couldn’t appreciate it. Don’t get me wrong – she’s a “Hit That” hottie, she was down to her skivvies, and the mood was right. All that was missing was some red wine and scented candles, but nothing. 

Looks like Padme has gone over to The Dark Side

Don’t get nervous, you’re not reading the start of my testimonial for a performance enhancer. And no, I have not traded up my Imodium for Viagra. I am all for independent women showing that they don’t need a partner for everything, but I’m not sure why this keeps happening. Black Swan was the THIRD time that I was at a movie where a woman on screen proved that she wasn’t the Queen of the Castle – while I was sitting next to my Wife’s Mother!!!

Three times! I know this might sound like the intro to an episode of The Maury Povich show, but it’s not like we’re going to a peep show to see these films. For God Sakes, it was an AMC Theatre!    

Mila munching makes many malapropos moments ...

Looking back on the first time that it happened, it almost seems like it was her fault and I’m not usually a finger pointer unless there’s a fart involved. Me, my wife, and her mother were at the movie theatre heading in to see Dinner Rush (a great movie with Danny Aiello that you should put at the top of your Netflix Que if you haven’t seen it yet.) It got great reviews but her mother heard that it was violent and doesn’t like those types of movies, so we got tickets instead for Innocence  and we headed in…

Seems innocent enough, but looks can be deceiving

None of us knew anything about the movie, but it was about a couple reuniting after many years apart, so we went for it. Who knew it would turn out to be geriatric porn? All of a sudden, the 70-something year old actress in the movie got naked on her couch after a phone call with her former lover and then gave herself a “touch up.” DID I MENTION THAT SHE WAS NAKED! AND IN HER MID 70’S!!! When I tell you that the old lady on that couch wasn’t the only one violated that day, I mean it. I squeezed my equally as repulsed wife’s hand and whispered in her ear “Oh my God, why did your mother choose this movie?” She had no idea that would happen, but I also couldn’t get that horrible sight out of my mind. I wasn’t so much embarrassed that I saw that in front of my mother-in-law but that I saw that at all. There are certain things that one should never be subjected to and trust me when I say that there is nothing more disturbing than the sight of a saggy, old, AARP tittie wiggling around while an old lady works it on her sofa…

If the first time was her fault, the second time was definitely mine. I have a well documented obsession with Nicole Kidman and Margot at the Wedding had just opened so my wife and I were on the way to see it. Her mother called and she was leaving lunch with her grandmother near where we were seeing it, so we invited them to go to the movie with us.

Not now - her Grandmother is watching!

Everything was going along swimmingly until Nicole got in bed and then started getting restless under the covers. Once again, I couldn’t fully enjoy the situation. I got a knot in my stomach and looked over at my wife, who looked over at her mother, who looked over at her grandmother, but Gran apparently had no idea what was going on. Thank God – she just thought Nicole Kidman was having trouble falling asleep. We all left the theatre quietly after the movie and all I could mutter was “I didn’t know…I didn’t know.” As weird as it was with my Mother-in-Law – it felt ten times stranger with her mother there too…   

Needless to say,  it doesn’t matter if me or my mother-in-law are both over 17 – I don’t need the MPAA ratings to tell me that it isn’t OK to see Blue Valentine with her – it’s off the list. Tangled, here we come! 

Blue Valentine - Absolutely Not!