THE SUNDAY NIGHT STORY PRESENTS: THE GREAT DISAPPEARING ACT

Friendship can be a grand thing. It can fill your days and nights with peace of mind in knowing that there are others out there like you. And having a best friend can be even more heartwarming and comforting. This is the friend you feel that you would stand behind no matter what the circumstances, and they would do the same for you. Well, sometimes the bounds of friendship can be pushed. And I do mean pushed. And my best friend doesn’t just push them, she shoves the living hell out of them each time she disappears.

Now, when I say “disappear,” I don’t mean it like, “Hey, that boil on my ass disappeared.” I mean, Suzy, my friend, will slip out of sight when we are out somewhere, and what happens after that is pure mayhem and madness. Suzy likes to have fun when we are out somewhere, and if wherever we are at starts to become dull or tiresome, she feels it is her job to correct the situation, and correct it fast. How does she do this, you ask? She does this by slipping out to her car and putting on a costume, and then returning to whatever we are doing.

I suppose I should go back to the first time it happened. Suzy and I were supposed to go to our friend’s thirtieth birthday party. Well, Suzy picked me up, and we headed off to the party. Now, at the party, everybody there was having a great time. We were all chatting and drinking and eating and carousing and puking—you know, your typical party. Eventually, though, the party started to slow down to a crawl for some reason. It was here that I noticed that Suzy had disappeared. I walked around and looked for her. I asked people if they had seen her, but no one had seen her for a bit. All of a sudden, I heard a scream coming from the direction of the front door. I quickly ran over to see what was the matter. It was here that I found Suzy, and she was dressed up as Gumby.

I couldn’t believe it. She was in a full-on Gumby costume. At first I chuckled, like most everybody else. But then she started walking around talking like Mr. T., saying stuff like “I pity the fool who don’t wanna party with Gumby.” I thought people were going to ask us to leave, but everybody seemed to enjoy this disturbance actually. I couldn’t believe it, but the party started to pick up. I guess I never realized that everybody loves Gumby. Next thing I knew, Gumby was in the kitchen pouring shots and cursing up a storm. Suzy was actually insulting people, and they were loving it. She actually saved this party. Later on when we were driving home, I asked Suzy where the hell she got a Gumby costume and what possessed her to put it on. She just looked at me and winked. What kind of answer was that?

The funny thing about this event was Suzy and I never discussed it again. I figured it was a one-time deal for our friend’s birthday party. I mean, really, I didn’t wanna think I was best friends with a person whose alter-ego was Gumby. That would not be good at all, because eventually people would start referring to me as Pokey. And Pokey was nothing more than a glorified jackass, and I don’t see how I could live with being called a jackass, especially since I just happened to be a victim of circumstance. This would really be pushing the boundaries of our best friendship.

A few months down the road one of our friends was having a coed baby shower. Both Suzy and I were invited. To be honest, I really didn’t want to go. I hate these things. It’s usually so corny and everybody is just uncomfortable being there. And then we have to play stupid games like “baby bingo.” But Suzy told me we could go together and we will only stay for a very short time. So I agreed.

On the day of the baby shower, Suzy came by and picked me up. I made her promise we would only stay a short while. She agreed we would leave before too long. When we got to the house where the shower was taking place, it was already full of our friends’ relatives and coworkers. There was actually hardly anybody there either one of us knew. I thought, great, we’ll be in and out before things get too hokey.

We immediately dropped off the present for our friends’ baby and said our congratulations. Then we decided we would eat and adjourn to the living room where they would be opening gifts. A short while passed and they had almost finished opening all the presents. Suzy and I were on the couch surrounded by people we didn’t know for what seemed like forever. Well, the last present was opened and I was happy. I knew we would soon be leaving. I mean, this party was getting more and more boring with each passing second. I turned to Suzy to get her to leave, and that’s when I noticed she had disappeared.

At first I thought maybe she was in the bathroom. But then about five minutes passed and I started to wonder. Then all of a sudden I heard my friend’s mother gasp and I knew something was amiss. And before I knew it, Suzy reappeared at the shower…dressed as Gumby. I was like, what the hell? And just like before, she started talking like Mr. T., saying crap like, “I pity the fool who don’t wanna play baby bingo.” I was like, don’t bring up that game! Our friends were noticeably uncomfortable as Gumby strode through their party like some big green Nazi. And then Gumby decides to start holding one of the babies at the party. And then, to make matters worse, Suzy starts singing to the kid. She starts singing the Gumby theme song. Well, the baby starts bawling, my friend’s mother takes the baby away, and I’m positive we’re about to be escorted out. Then my friends ask Gumby if she would help hand out the baby bingo cards. I was like, you gotta be kidding me. We’re never going to leave! In fact, we were the last ones to leave!

By the time we did leave, I am pissed! We are driving home and I turn to Suzy and say, “I thought you promised me we would be in and out of there. We were the last damn ones to leave!” She just said that it would have been inappropriate to leave early. Inappropriate? I said, “How could it be any more inappropriate than dressing up like Gumby at a baby shower and making all the babies cry? Answer me that, Gumby!” And do you know what she did? She just looked at me and winked. What kind of fucking answer is that?

Well, time marched on and the event was forgotten. Then something happened that I suppose eventually was going to happen-- Suzy and I started dating. We just had so much in common and did almost everything together, why not start having sex together? So we did. Now we went to occasions as a couple. This was quite nice. And the next occasion we would be attending was the wedding of my friends Jim and Laura. I had known them since I was a kid but hadn’t seen them in such a long time. Actually, Suzy had never met them. All were excited to finally meet one another.

The day of the wedding came and Suzy picked me up in her new car. She looked absolutely radiant in a beautiful green dress. I was so happy we were now fornicating. I am a lucky guy. Well, we get to the wedding and notice the future in-laws outside the church arguing with each other. I ask Jim what is going on. He then tells me that his parents don’t like Laura and Laura’s parents don’t like him. I thought this is going to make for one hell of a time at the reception.

Fortunately, the wedding went off without a hitch, and it was on to the reception. I figured the reception would be a good time for Suzy and Jim and Laura to finally meet. Upon arriving at the reception, Suzy and I took our seats and chatted with the other people at our table. Eventually dinner was served and we all got our plates filled and began to eat. I was thinking that maybe soon Suzy and I would be getting married. I don’t know. There was just a nice feeling in the air.

That nice feeling went away rather quickly. All of a sudden Jim’s parents got into it with Laura’s parents and all hell broke loose. Things were getting really heated. Other guests were trying to calm them down. Then Laura’s dad made his way over to Jim and started calling him a “loser” and a “drunk.” Well, Jim took exception to this and told Laura’s dad to leave immediately. Then Laura got into the act. She got up and yelled at Jim for telling her dad to leave. Then Jim started yelling at Laura. Well, Laura’s dad didn’t like someone yelling at his daughter, so he promptly took a swing at Jim. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I turned to Suzy to tell her, “Can you believe what is happening?” when I realized she wasn’t there. Suzy had disappeared.

My first thought was, “Oh, fuck.” But then I thought she probably went to the restroom. I mean, she doesn’t even know these people. And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of green whiz by the windows heading towards this reception area. Then suddenly a door opened and Gumby appeared. Laura’s mom actually screamed. Everyone then looked to the direction she was screaming at to see what was going on. And then Suzy, in her best Mr. T. voice shouted, “I pity the fool who fucks up a reception!” Then Laura’s mom screamed at her, “Get out of here, you psycho! Get out!” Suzy seemed to take exception to this. And before I knew it, she started chasing Laura’s mom who was now screaming for her life.

So there they are running all around the reception area. I don’t know why Laura’s mom kept screaming, but she did. Laura’s dad started screaming at Jim again like he was a part of this. Jim’s parents started screaming at Laura saying this was one of her stupid pranks. And then I noticed that Laura’s mom was actually crying and screaming as Gumby chased her. So Laura, in her full white wedding gown, started chasing Suzy yelling at her to stop. Laura’s dad started in on the chase too, with Jim chasing Laura’s dad for hitting him earlier. What a freaking mess!

Gumby was very close to grabbing Laura’s mom, when suddenly Laura’s mom lost her footing and slammed right into the wedding cake, all the while still screaming. And what does Suzy do? She jumps right on her, and this causes Laura’s mom to let out the loudest blood-curdling scream I have ever heard. Finally, they drag Gumby off Laura’s mom. I have finally made my way over there and I help Suzy up. I ask her, “Why? Why did you do this?” Well, Jim hears this and immediately turns to me with a shocked look on his face and says, “You know this person?” I just said, “Jim, Laura, this is Suzy, my girlfriend.” Well, Laura starts screaming at me that it’s just a miracle her mom didn’t have a heart attack. I said, “Why was your mom freaking out so much?” It is here that she informs me that her mom has a deathly fear of Gumby. She has had nightmares about him for over 30 years. The second she finishes screaming this at me, I notice security come charging in the room. Everyone is pointing to Gumby and I. I immediately started panicking. I thought maybe we should make a run for it. I was really worried. We could go to jail for this!

Well, security calmed everyone down and listened to their complaints. Then they immediately rounded Suzy and I up and took us to their car to wait for the police to arrive. I now had my fill of Suzy and decided she should take the heat for this whole thing. When the police arrived, I explained to them that I didn’t do anything. But security told them I had masterminded the whole reception sabotage plan. So the police took us both Suzy and I to the car. I said to them, “I didn’t know she was going to do this! She acted on her own! You’ve got to believe me!” And the officer in charge just turned around towards me and in the snidest tone he could muster, he said, “Pipe down, Pokey.” I knew it! I damn well knew this would happen.

So we’re in the police car and they are transporting us to the station. I had never been arrested before. I had never even gotten a ticket. I was pissed, scared, nervous and morbidly afraid of being anally raped in the holding cell by some over-sexed repeat offender. I turned to Suzy, who was still dressed as Gumby, and noticed she was smiling! I just screamed at her, “How can you be smiling at a time like this? Do you find this funny? I am going to jail because of you! Damn it, I can’t go anywhere with you! Why would you do this?” She just kept looking forward with that stupid smile on her face like she was having a grand time. So I screamed, “Well, Gumby, what do you have to say for yourself?” Finally, she slowly turned towards me. Finally, at least I’ll get some explanation and the cops will hear it and know that I am innocent. And what does she do? She just looks at me and smiles and winks. I fucking hate you, Gumby. I wish you would disappear!

FRIDAY'S DRUNKEN RANT PRESENTS: IS THERE SOMETHING ELSE ON BESIDES THE OSCARS, HONEY?

Tonight’s drunken rant is brought to you by Red Bull and vodka ‘cause nothing says complete liver damage like these two drinks mixed together.

The Oscars? Where has my excitement gone for these award shows? I’ll tell you where it’s gone—straight to hell, like my virginity! Oh, the Catholic guilt. Maybe it’s the hype that these media outlets are giving them. Maybe it’s just me. Yeah, right. It’s all the talk about something that eventually doesn’t live up to the hype, and that is the Oscars. (But if you ask my girlfriend, this could also apply to my sexual prowess)

First off, I can’t stand hearing about the damn Oscars every time I turn on the damn TV or radio. I’m not entirely psychotic. Tell me twice about it and I’m bound to remember the topic. I don’t need to be bombarded with news that the Oscars are coming up. And when I do sit through some kiss-ass on the radio talking about the Oscars, I end up wondering if it just wouldn’t have been more fun to give myself a skin disease on the ass rather than listen to this. I mean, usually it’s some ultra-hip wannabe actor/waiter who rambles on and on about the Oscars and what he feels is going to win “the big prizes.” Like I need to listen to some guy who thinks he’s in with these celebrities to lecture us about his insightful jargon about Leonardo or Jamie Foxx or whatever. Hey, buddy, go have another enema and Oil of Olay bath and schmooze up to a grip who might know somebody who might see your head shot! Oh, yeah, and if you could play “Shadow Dancing” by Andy Gibb before you go, that would be wonderful.

Another reason I get serious period cramps from the Oscars is because of the pre-Oscar show and all the talk about what “they” are all wearing. Do I care what designer dress some actress is wearing? No! I’d rather know how much coke they did before they got out of the limo or how much they beat their kids before they left them with the nanny. Now that’s entertainment. But what really used to get me was…Joan Rivers and her genetically incorrect daughter. Oh, those two actually give me nightmares, only in my nightmare they’re both circus clowns driving around in those little tiny cars… and they’re naked. See, I told you it was a nightmare. Nothing’s worse than seeing these two go back and forth from talking to people walking up the red carpet. Going back and forth between them is like going back and forth from crapping and puking when you have food poisoning. You know, the more it happens the more it starts to burn coming out both ends. Well, that is what these two Cro-Mags do to me. (I apologize to any Cro-Mags who might be reading this)

Finally, the Oscars themselves are usually a letdown, like going to see a Bette Midler film and not finding any full-frontal nudity-- that kind of letdown. I mean, usually the awards go to something or someone that makes me think, “What jackasses voted for that?” And then when somebody wins, I know eventually for their next movie I will have to listen to some guy for the trailer saying, “Also starring, Academy-Award winner…” Tacking that on to someone’s name is like when parents put that sticker on their car, “My Child Is A High Achiever At St. Holy Crap Elementary School.” You see, what that sticker doesn’t tell you is that their kid still craps his pants once a day and is ashamed of his fat-ass, hillbilly, Thunderbird-swilling dad and his trick-turning, hygienically unsound mother. That’s what the Academy-Award winner crap is telling you.

I wish I could get over this hostility and find my way back to loving the Oscars, but I just don’t see it happening, at least not without some strong pain pills and an anal-relaxing cream. I should care if Scorcese wins or not, but it has gone past caring. Does he deserve to win? Who cares! He seems to retain a stronger sense of dignity without winning an Oscar. I mean, imagine if he wins, do you think he’s going to go, “Yes! Now finally I’m in a class with Ron Howard”? I don’t think so. I say forget watching the Oscars and come over here and we’ll make sweet love as we watch Nascar.

TOP TEN TUESDAYS PRESENTS: TOP TEN WORST FIRST DATES I HAVE EVER BEEN ON

1. Now, this date seemed to be going along great. We were getting along well at dinner. We even shared our order with each other (we had two different pasta dishes). We had some drinks to go along with dinner. Damn, we even ordered a piece of chocolate cake with raspberry dressing on it. We were hitting it off. We ventured on after the dinner to a classy bar for a martini. Then afterwards we went to my car. Well, we got in the car to leave and before I started the car, she leaned over and started kissing me. This was going great! We were making out for about a minute, and then all hell broke loose. All of a sudden, she leaned back and started puking all over my car. And this wasn’t some itty-bitty puke. She was spraying puke out like a geyser. By the time she was done, the car and I were covered in everything that she had consumed that day. By the looks of it, she had an abundance of corn earlier. And then to make matters worse, she leans over to try to start making out again. That’s when I knew this girl was a sick bastard!

2. This next one was a doozy. This girl and I go to this nice restaurant for dinner. She actually picks me up for the date. Well, we get to the restaurant we approach the host desk. Well, the host says hi to my date like he knows her, and then gives me a dirty look. Whatever. We get our table and the second we sit down she starts looking around for something. A second later her eyes light up as she sees this waiter. Then instantly she starts sobbing. I mean, loudly. The waiter sees her, comes straight over to her and starts yelling at her, “What are you doing here? How could you bring a date here? I can’t believe you’re already dating! We’ve only been broken up 2 days!” Then she starts blubbering, “I want you to give me another chance! I’ll change. I will!” I’m just sitting there, quietly resigning myself to the fact that this date will not end up in sex.

3. The movies are always a good choice for a first date. Or at least I thought. My date and I decided to go see “American Psycho.” Well, in this movie, before he slaughters some people, he gives a lengthy speech on how great Huey Lewis and the News, Phil Collins and Whitney Houston are. Well, each time he does this I am dying laughing. My date, though, does not see the humor in this. Finally, the movie ends and we’re in her car and I proceed to tell her how hilarious I thought his speeches were. I said what moron would like Huey Lewis and the News? As I finish saying this I begin to notice a few Huey Lewis and the News Cds lying on her dashboard. She then tells me quite sternly that Huey Lewis and the News is the greatest band ever and that I don’t know what great music is. I just calmly looked over at her and said, “Contrary to what you may have heard, it isn’t hip to be square.” I pretty much walked home from there.

4. I still don’t know what this next girl was thinking. I know there’s some uneasiness on a first date, but to bring someone with you on a first date is unacceptable. Well, this girl did. She brought a guy along with her. And no he wasn’t her chaperone. He wasn’t even an ex-boyfriend. He was just her gay male friend. So, all three of us are at dinner, and they are both ordering very expensive meals. I just let this go without comment. He is talking the whole time. And then I see her look at me kind of funny and then start rubbing my leg from under the table. I thought, weird, but okay, as long as it leads to sex, I’ll let it go. Then she gets up from the table to use the restroom and the damn rubbing of my leg is still going on! That damn guy was doing it the whole time. That was it! I claimed that I had to use the restroom too. But I walked over to our waiter and paid for my portion of the meal and left without ever saying good-bye. I immediately went home and showered my leg.

5. The notion of this first date sounded good, This girl invited me over to her place. She gave me directions to her house. She said she was going to cook me dinner. I thought, good deal. The chance of sex would be higher on her home court. But when I got to her “home court,” I rang the bell and some old couple answered the door. I thought, damn, she’s got some old roommates. Then my date comes to the door and says, “I would like you to meet my parents.” I just smiled and thought to myself, “Fuck!” I walk in and there’s her whole big-ass family at this long dinner table waiting for me to sit down. So I give a half-ass smile and sit down at the table at the seat with my name card. For the next half hour I am grilled about my intentions with their little daughter. What a great date. I got Granny Goose on one side of me, Father Time on the other, and my date’s brothers and sisters all dressed up like they were going to church. I did get the hell out of there early by claiming I had a curfew because I still lived with my parents. For some reason, they seemed to find this admirable. Needless to say, I didn’t get the sex I was looking for. I don’t think Granny Goose would have found this acceptable.

6. This date was just sickening. I invited this girl over for dinner. Yes, I was going to cook for this date. Well, she arrived and we chatted while I finished up the cooking. We both had a beer and chatted some more and then she excused herself to use the restroom. Well, after she came out of the restroom, dinner was ready and I started serving it. Well, we were eating and laughing and having a grand old time, and then I had to excuse myself to use the restroom. As I walked to the restroom, visions of sex danced through my head. Well, all that came to a screeching halt when I arrived in the bathroom and lifted the toilet lid to pee. It was there that I saw the hugest dump of my life. I started dry heaving. The funny thing is I don’t ever remember hearing the toilet flush. Well, I immediately flushed it, while continuing to dry heave. I was so sickened I couldn’t even pee. I went back out to my date and sat down. And what does she do? She starts getting on my case about flushing the toilet and wasting water. It was then that I realized that she purposely left that sick crap in the toilet. It was here that I walked her to the door and said good night. I told her even animals bury crap like that.

7. This next date was in the same fashion as the number six girl. I too invited this girl over so I could cook her dinner. Well, she arrived in timely fashion and we sat down and chatted. She told me she wasn’t really hungry, but she might nibble. Okay, as long as she’s here, that’s the most important thing. Well, she excuses herself to use the restroom. Now, this would be a recurring sequence for the next hour. She must have used the restroom like 10 ten times. Finally, on the tenth time I couldn’t take it. I pretended like I had to use the restroom after her and I actually went in there and started sniffing around to see if she’s crapping her brains out. There was no smell. I just thought, damn, she pees so much she must be part horse. All of a sudden my friend pops by and sees my date. He then asks to speak to me in the kitchen. I oblige and go in there and ask him what he wants. He tells me that my date, who is now back in the bathroom, is a coke head. My reaction is one of relief. I was worried she was fouling up my bathroom. He then informs me cokeheads have the worst-smelling craps ever! Just then she moseys on out of the bathroom and the smell that followed her was ghastly. So I led her and her rotting insides to the door and my friend and I finished the meal I made.

8. So, I arrived to take this girl out for dinner. Now, this was a blind date. I was a little nervous to say the least. I had never been on a blind date before. But my friends assured me this girl had a great personality and was real cute. I mean, this all sounded good, right? Wrong. I got to her door and rang the bell. Then this cute girl answers the door—a real cute 6’5” girl. She was tall as hell. I mean, I felt like a midget next to her. I had the feeling she was going to be quite unimpressed with my normal size penis. Whatever. Well, we drive to the movie theaters after the restaurant where we had dinner. While walking up to the theater, she starts holding my hand. Now, this should have been a nice feeling, but she was so tall I felt like a little kid holding his mother’s hand. Then to make matters worse we run into a 6’8” guy, and she knows him. But of course. She doesn’t only know him, she used to date him. Now they start talking while I am actually in the middle of them and she is still holding my hand. I think all of the people who were walking by probably thought they were my parents and I was their little boy. And then to make matters worse in the theater, it was so crowded, we couldn’t sit together. So where does she sit? Directly in front of me. I couldn’t see a damn thing! To this day I still wonder why she wore heels on this date too.


9. Another date and another restaurant. Only this isn’t as pleasant as the rest of the stories. No, my date and I were out at a nice chain restaurant and we started ordering. No, wait a minute, I started ordering, she started just reading off the menu. I mean, she was ordering almost the whole menu. I thought at first she was joking, but when the waiter left I knew my date was a hog. And when the waiter (make that waiters) did return, they had some interesting combinations for her. She was eating like lasagna and sushi together, chili and orange chicken, a crepe with turkey pot pie. And she consumed every last one of these. Then she washed it all down with about eight cups of coffee and a root beer float. She even had the nerve to eat off my plate. I’m surprised she didn’t start eating one of the other patrons after she was through. I mean, she ate so much they took her damn picture and put it on the wall. And the weird thing about this scene was she was a small girl who probably only weighed about 130. The only thing I could think was she must take huge dumps. Dinner ended and I took her home. I told her maybe tomorrow I’ll pick her up and we can go to an all-you-can eat. She seemed to like this idea. I bet you would, you hog!

10. I remember being in a rush for this last date and I didn’t want to be late picking her up. We were going to a party. I rushed out the door and drove off to get her. Well, I got her in the car and we sped off to the party. All of the sudden I smelled a faint body odor. I must have forgotten to put on deodorant. Great. Well, the smell kept getting worse and worse until I knew she must have smelt it, so I had to apologize. I told her I was in such a rush I forgot to put on deodorant. She replied with, “That’s all right. I just got back from a run and I didn’t have time to shower or change.” I thought, “What the fuck?” That smell ain’t coming from me. It’s her putrid smell! Well, we still had another 15-minute drive and I swear, every minute her smell became more and more atrocious. It got so bad I considered trying to fart to at least freshen up the smell. By the time we got to the party I could swear she was rotting. Before I could get out of the car, she leaned over and tried to start getting busy with me. I mean, she got on my lap and started rubbing on me. But she was still rotting! She kept this up for about five minutes. I damn near passed out from the fumes. And I still couldn’t fart! Then finally she got off my lap and proceeded to get out of the car. Well, I also got out and then realized my clothes now smelled of her-- her filthy, urine-smelling ass. And do you know what she was doing? She started smelling her pits! I started throwing up here. I took the garbage queen immediately home and burnt my clothes later.

THE SUNDAY NIGHT STORY PRESENTS: MY PORNOGRAPHIC DOG

They call him man’s best friend, but not when he does something this deliberate. I mean, to ruin a man’s good time like that, it’s just uncalled for. But maybe I’m jumping a little ahead of myself here. I suppose this story would make a lot more sense if told it from the beginning, but I just didn’t want to rehash the day that my dog became man’s worst enemy.

I had been having some very stressful days at work as of late, what with my new promotion to waiter from host. It used to be I just had to write down someone’s name and then sit back and watch them squirm for an hour waiting for a table. Sure, sometimes the diners-to-be would start getting a little irate and start ranting at me, but that would just cause me to bump back their time a little more. Well, whatever. The point is I was stressed out now and I needed to unwind after work.

Some people have a glass of wine to unwind, some put on classical music, some smoke pot, some exercise. I watch pornography. Smut to the layperson. Hey, it’s just what I do. It relaxes me, it soothes me, it releases me. The one problem with watching porno where I live is that I have roommates. More to the point, nosy roommates. Oh, and did I mention that my girlfriend lives with me? Yeah, well, it’s a full boat at my home. So having enough privacy to even watch porno usually takes some stealthy doing.

So on this fateful day, I arrive home to a crowded house and a dog eager for his before-dinner walk. No time for unwinding for this guy. Not one damn second. So I get the dog’s leash, strap it onto him and we both head for the not-so-great outdoors. Now, mind you, I have had a most stressful day today. Working with that lunch crowd really takes a lot out of a waiter, even though we are only open for two hours for lunch, then close down to get ready for the dinner crowd. Still, this boy is wound too tight today for this dog-walking business. I should have gotten a cat.

Now, of course, on this walk this dog wants to sniff everything, including his own ass, but what he does not want to do is listen. So on today’s walk, he is walking me. If only for one day he would just be content with lying his ass on the floor, I’d be one happy pilgrim. Sometimes on these walks, people who happen to be out for their early evening constitution love to just pet the little pooch. But today, it seems like everyone and their bratty kids are out and about, and they all want to pet this damn dog. And, oh, boy, is he loving it. It basically got to the point where I had to tell these people to get their filthy grubby hands off my dog. Damn, I needed to unwind, and I can’t do it with every jackass on the street acting like they’ve never seen a damn dog before!

After much delay with our local village idiots, I finally arrive home. I rush into the kitchen with the hound and start getting his food ready for his dinner. So even after that walk, after all the time I just spent escorting his ass all over the neighborhood, what does he do now? He takes a big crap in the kitchen right in front of our kitchen door. I’m standing there digging out his food when a horrible smell washes over the kitchen. I turn around to find him wrapping up a horse-type dump. Then he kicks his back legs like he’s trying to cover it up or something. Yeah, like that linoleum is really gonna work there, Lassie.

My first reaction, I believe, to this situation is a normal one. I scream, which then immediately turns to gagging. And then on top of that, my gagging turns to full-out hurling. It’s finally happened. Man’s best friend has sickened me to the point of oral expulsion. So what happens next, you ask? Imagine, if you will, the absurd, and there you have it. The dog saunters over to his dog dish. I am in disbelief that he is even thinking of eating after all that, but he does eat. He stops at his dish, looks back up at me, and then leans to his right and starts eating my puke.

I just remember at this point screaming the word “no.” It was also at this same time that I heard my roommates coming towards the kitchen. I’m thinking to myself, good, some help at this point will be nice. I stopped thinking this the second they opened the kitchen door. See, we have a swinging kitchen door, and upon entering the kitchen, you usually swing the door open. Well, they did just that, and in so doing, dragged the stinking pile of feces that was festering in front of the door all across the floor. So now we have the worst smelling dog dump in the world spread far and wide in the kitchen, two people staring at me like I did this and a dog munching down on fresh human bile. It better be one hell of a porno for me to unwind from this. I should have gotten a cat.

Once I restored order in the household and assured my roommates I did not intentionally make any of the proceedings happen, I retreated to my room and locked the door. Finally, I was alone and the unwinding was soon to begin. I had to first retrieve my pornography from my secret hiding place. See, the thing is, my girlfriend does not really appreciate those types of movies or magazines. You may call her a feminist or a moralist. I call her a prude. Anyway, she is the reason for the hiding place. To access my hiding space, I have to move my desk away from the corner. On the backside of the desk I have a briefcase screwed to the desk. It fits into a groove I cut out from the desk. And the briefcase can only be accessed with a key that is hidden in my sock drawer in my thick wool socks that no one will ever wear. I am a freakin’ genius.

After opening said briefcase, I locate the appropriate porno for the occasion, Whale Riders – Skinny Guys and Fat Chicks. I gently caress it into the VCR, and now the unwinding can begin. Now, just as things get going and I am beginning to relax a little, my damn dog starts whining at my door because he wants me to let him in. I choose to ignore him at first, but then he steps up his efforts. He now starts scratching at the door and barking. I am at this point forced to let the fleabag in or else my roommates will start to come over and ruin my chances of watching my movie with the sound on. Damn dog!

Well, I let the asshole in, and he promptly comes right in the room and stands in front of the TV. At first I sit down on the floor and resume playback, but realize my view is obstructed. I yell at him to move and he does. Yeah, he moves, but he comes directly over to me and starts trying to sniff my area. Now, I have to use my free hand to push him away, but he does something even more repulsive. He starts licking my freakin’ face. Now all I can smell is puke. I smell like my own sick. But what can I do? I’m not going to get up and wash my face at this point. I have to unwind completely first. I have to!

I finally get the four-legged prick to move his vomit-eating ass and again I’m off to the races. Now everything is going smoothly for a couple of minutes. I begin to think this may actually happen with no more hang-ups. I even turn the sound up a little. On the screen, you know what we have—two people who love each other very much who are moaning quite passionately. Their moans are really intensifying. I am loving it. I am about to unwind fully when all of a sudden my dam dog starts howling.

Needless to say, this scares the crap out of me. At first I thought someone else came into the room. I become so flustered I pause the movie. He then stops his howling, thank God. I look at him for about 30 seconds, and then resume my voracious viewing. Once the movie starts, five seconds later that damn dog starts howling again, and this time it is even louder. I immediately hit pause and immediately he stops. I push play and he starts howling again. I push pause he stops. What the fuck is going on?

At this point I am getting ready to throw him out when both my roommates knock at my door and ask if everything is all right. I realize at this point the unwinding is not gonna happen. I assure them everything is okay. I tell them the dog is howling at some yodeler on the TV. They seem skeptical, but they go back to their rooms. I turn off the movie and give the dog a glaring look. What an asshole. Now I am more stressed than ever and I smell like puke. It is about here when I realize what time it is. I am supposed to pick up my girlfriend from work in about ten minutes. She told me not to be late again today, but I think that is now out of my control. I quickly put on my pants, throw the damn dog outside and jet off to pick her up.

I eventually pick my girlfriend up, though I am about 15 minutes late. She is none too pleased. I think you could go as so far to say she was livid. The whole ride home she lectured me about how I just don’t know how to manage my time and that I am unreliable. Basically, just a whole bunch of female nonsense. I finally did calm her down by explaining to her about the dog. I did have to make up a story about how the dog stepped on a thorn and was howling until I took the time to remove it from his paw. She suddenly forgot all about me being a tiny bit late and said that was so sweet of me to do. It wasn’t really a lie. I mean, there was a thorn—it was the dog and it was actually in my side!

Upon arriving home, we both adjourn to our bedroom only to find the two roommates and the damn dog in there! They are inspecting the dog as if they are some kind of damn vets. I ask them what the hell they are doing. This is when they begin to tell my girlfriend the story of how the dog would start howling really loudly and then stop all of a sudden, and then resume howling about 10 seconds later. She of course told them of how I rescued the dog from sheer agony by removing a thorn from his paw. They all think this so great. They’re all agreeing how that is one of the nicest things they have heard of someone doing. It is here when my girlfriend comes over to me and gives me a great big hug. But in the midst of this hug, she starts sniffing. I ask her what the hell she is doing. She says I smell a little like puke. My roommates come over and start sniffing me too. This has to be the most embarrassing and awkward moment of my life.

So here am I about to explain why I smell like puke when all of a sudden my roommate darts out of the room and says he has got something to show us and for us to stay right where we are. He reappears in 30 seconds with a videotape. He said my mom came by and left it. She said it is of me when I was five dressed up like a pumpkin for Halloween. Okay, now I am about to have a new most embarrassing moment. My girlfriend tells my roommate to put the tape in. Then she rushes over to me and starts using words like “darling” and “precious.” She is just gushing over me while my two roommates turn on the TV and get the tape ready to play. One of them mumbles something to me about “checking something else out,” or it may have been “getting something out.” I have no idea. Suddenly a tape starts playing, but it’s not me dressed as a pumpkin. It is the damn porno I left in the VCR. My roommates start laughing and my girlfriend actually gasps. The couple on the screen are moaning like there’s no tomorrow. They all turn around to look at me. They all had perplexed stares on their faces, like I had done something wrong. And then the damn dog starts howling along with the people moaning. They all turn to the dog and then turn back to look at me with their jaws almost hitting the floor, or so it seemed. I hate that dog! I really, really hate him! I should have gotten a cat.

FRIDAY'S DRUNKEN RANTS PRESENTS: ROCKY III vs. RAGING BULL

Tonight’s drunken rant is brought to you by tequila and Squirt. Just a frothy margarita to make me all sweet-a.


I was at a bar tonight and got into an argument with my friend over movies. Well, two movies. This fool had the ignorance to say that “Raging Bull” was the best boxing movie ever. Obviously, my friend had too much to drink and probably would regret all this in the morning. I quickly corrected him by yelling out those three polite words that let people know I would now like to enter the conversation-- “Why, you asshole!!!”

Why did I yell this at him? Because “Raging Bull” is an okay movie, but when it stands up against the greatest boxing movie ever (and one of the best movies, period) it ends up looking like a student film—a third grade student film. The greatest boxing movie ever is “Rocky III.” There is really no comparison. The tagline for “Rocky III” is “A fighter, a lover, a legend.” Damn straight.

“Raging Bull” was shot in that horrible black and white while “Rocky III” is shot in beautiful Technicolor. Why, its colors are so vibrant they almost jump right off the screen and onto your crotch. And look at both of the stars from the movie. Robert De Niro in certain parts of “Raging Bull” chunked himself up. That is just disgusting. In “Rocky III,” our star, Sylvester Stallone, looks as ripped as any guy I’ve ever seen changing in any locker room.

“Rocky III” just had it all going for it. While “Raging Bull” is so depressing, “Rocky III” is a get-out-of-your-seat-and-cheer kind of movie. Movies should only have happy endings. I mean, really, what could my soberly challenged friend have been thinking? He wasn’t! No sane human would even think like him, unless they were on crack.

And talk about the acting. De Niro comes off like he is reading off cue cards. He didn’t even seem like he prepared for this role while Stallone, I heard, dug deep into his Shakespearean background to deliver the performance of a lifetime. How Stallone did not get a nomination for Best Actor is a crime. How De Niro got one just smells like some dirty Italian tactics in the Oscar pool. It just goes to show you that if you give a few hand jobs at a Hollywood party, you’ll get an Oscar.

I mean, how can you deny the swirling soundtrack music from “Rocky III” and how it is still sweeping a nation? When someone tapped the legendary rock group Survivor to pen the tune “Eye of the Tiger,” they must have known greatness would soon be ringing in their ears. “Raging Bull” is no match when in the eye of the tiger. After the movie came out, “Eye of the Tiger” spent, I believe, a staggering 40 weeks at number one in Billboard’s Top 100 singles.

The characters in “Rocky III” were actors who were all trained on Broadway and were just venturing into the movie business while their plays were on hiatus. You had Hulk Hogan, fresh off of “Death of a Salesman,” starring as Thunderlips, the Norwegian/Chinese wrestler who dares attempt to battle our hero, Rocky. Then we have Mr. T., who had just finished playing Hamlet on Broadway for a record five years in a row, as the dreaded, yet always sexy, Clubber Lang.

Of course, we had Burgess Meredith, father of Meredith Baxter Byrney, who had portrayed one of the most well known villains ever, Topol, in “Fiddler on the Roof.” To hear him sing that classic song from there, “If I Were a Jewish Man” was always a treat. I just will never understand why Adam West was picked to play his viciously hairy wife. Once again, hand jobs, probably.

You also have Talia Shire as Rocky’s hourglass-shaped wife. I mean, her jiggly nature in those tight tops was just the right combination of taste and filth to please an overwhelmingly female audience. Carl Weathers, Rocky’s new squishy companion, plays Apollo Creed. Mr. Weathers was coming immediately off the German stage where he was portraying Colonel Von Trapp in “The Sound of Music.” I’m sure the hills were alive in Germany when Carl took the stage. And portraying her brother, Paulie, was… some fat guy. I think he was the caterer who got lucky with the job. But nothing is worse than a caterer giving hand jobs to get a part when he is supposed to be handling the food.

And as our star, Rocky Balboa, the one, the only, Sly. He is your classic hero from literature in the likes of Holden Caulfield, Hamlet, and Schneider from “One Day at a Time.” Sly was fresh off the British stage where he had just been portraying Macbeth. I heard for his last performance the audience was so thrilled they were throwing change on the stage as hard as they could. That’s what you call love and admiration.

Sly had to overcome fantastic, and I do mean fantastic, odds to triumph at the end. (I’m sorry if I’m spoiling the movie for anyone who has not seen it. I just didn’t think there was a person alive who hadn’t already enjoyed this feature.) I mean, he starts off as the world heavyweight champ, and then loses the title to Clubber Lang. But then help arrives in the manly shape of Apollo Creed. And together they train and train until Rocky is ready for the ultimate point of no return—the rematch against Clubber Lang. The best part of the training sequences is when Rocky finally out-sprints Apollo on the beach. Both men are so excited they immediately run in the water, wearing the shortest shorts ever worn by grown men on the silver screen, and start laughing and hugging each other. This scene reminded me of the scene at the end of “Casablanca” where Bogart says to Bacall, “We’ll always have Paris.” Fucking beautiful.

Well, Rocky eventually wins back his title and all is right again in his world. By having Rocky win this rematch the audience is provided with much needed closure in an upbeat kind of way. The message you get from seeing this movie is one of positive morality. This is just good Christian fun, with a message for the children: The white man always wins in the end while getting the black man to train him. And that is why “Raging Bull” will always be an okay movie, but never one of this caliber.

TOP TEN TUESDAYS PRESENTS: TOP TEN GUYS FOR LADIES TO AVOID

Tonight's list is for the ladies. Here's a simple guideline to help you out in that post-Valentine dating field.

1. Captain Stubbing
You should be able to see this guy coming for miles. It’s real hard to miss. He loves to wear all white clothes. He loves wearing shorts that are so short that if a gentle breeze blows, you could see his sickening stump. And to boot, this kind of guy likes to wear knee-high white socks with white shoes. Also, he seems to be going through some perpetual Captain phase. You know, the Captain from Captain and Tenelle. Only you don’t wanna be around when this captain takes part in his “muskrat” love. Someone should have this guy arrested.

2. Batman
This guy is great if you’re looking for a platonic relationship, but if you want more, you may be out of luck. This guy secretly likes to wear tights and big gaudy belts. He’d much rather hang out with his friend who wears tights like him down in their “cave” if you catch my meaning. Better to steer clear of any romantic involvement with this one, unless you’re a glutton for punishment.

3. Knight Rider
Well, this guy may sound cool and mysterious, but he’s a jackass. While you may desire his affection, he will not be around to give it because he will be in his car talking to the car. This guy loves his car so much that he actually names his car. He might look like a swinging hipster, but a guy who spends most of his day in his car even though the car is not running is not one for you. I can only imagine what he is probably doing with the gearshift.

4. Chachi Arcola
What we have here is a boy who may have a cooler, older cousin, but he’s a dork. You can quickly identify this jerk-off by the bandana tied around the leg. Trust me on this one, ladies, this boy thinks he’s suave and dapper, but he’s only going to get worse from here. And if you’re looking for a good future, this kind of guy is destined to become a male nanny for some white family. Just avoid the guys with stupid nicknames that actually allow themselves to be called this. Imagine if you have a kid with this guy, what he will want to call it—Potsie or something idiotic like that.

5. Reggie Jackson
Now, ladies, this guy will be hot at the start of the relationship, but as time wears on you’ll come to realize all this guy shoots for is sex. Eight months down the road when you want to just cuddle or hold his hand, he’ll be trying to hit a homerun with you, each and every time. It doesn’t matter where you are. You could be at your parents’ house, in church, taking a dump and this guy will inappropriately maul you while swinging for the fences. Now, if you like having sex while evacuating lunch, then maybe this is the guy for you.

6. The Incredible Hulk
You may swoon at his bulging muscles, but that’s all he is—muscles. The brain took leave of this guy long ago. You can clearly see this guy coming because you will be overtaken by the smell of steroids and flatulence. Unknown to most, when a guy gets this huge, he cannot control the muscular, yet pungent, air being fired out of his overdeveloped asshole. And whatever you do, do not get this guy pissed off. He will get so angry, he will actually start bursting out of his clothes because his muscles are expanding to great lengths. That is all his muscles except for, oh, the muscle in his pants. For some odd reason, that remains as tiny as ever. Life’s cruel joke.

7. Popeye the Sailor Man
If you like a healthy eater, this is your guy. But unfortunately, he only eats spinach. Well, I don’t mean he eats it. I mean, he chugs it down like a toilets chugs down your filthy disgusting mess. And as we all know, anyone who only eats spinach is not a pleasant person to follow into the restroom. Another thing with this guy is his forearms. They’re huge! But no other part of him is this way at all, which leads one to wonder if this guy is really combing his hair in the bathroom as long as he says he is. Best to avoid the sailor.

8. Maxwell Klinger
If you are comfortable with sharing your clothes with your boyfriend, then this is the guy for you. He loves to wear women’s clothing all the freakin’ time. Now, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, but all these guys tend to be gorilla-like hairy. How hairy? Well, when they’re all wet, they end up weighing about 50 pounds more. To give them a bikini wax, you’d have to start at the feet. After they get out of the shower, it looks like someone carpeted the bathtub. You can never tell when they are naked. That hairy. Also, these kind of guys will give you any excuse to get out of whatever you want them to do. They will present letters from their mother excusing them from going anywhere with you. Unless you like making out and then hacking up a hairball, best to not bed down with these guys.

9. David Lee Roth
First off, avoid any guy that goes by three names. More than likely, they are serial killers or fancy themselves a serial killer. This kind of guy is easy to spot. He won’t stop fucking talking about himself and constantly lives in the past. And they don’t really talk—they scat. That will get annoying within seconds. Also, when they get older, they will end up looking a lot like some distant aunt of yours. You know the aunt, the one nobody is sure if she had a sex change operation or not.

10. Gilligan
This fool will take you about a week to tire of, if that. This kind of guy wears the same clothes day in and day out. And not cool clothes, either. He dresses like a blind sailor, so much so he even wears a sailor cap. And while you may want to get affectionate with this one, he will not reciprocate your feelings. He will be more interested in some old fat man who is 40 years his senior. This one is just sick, unless you’re into that sort of thing. But at least have the common decency to wear gloves when handling the old fat man.

IT'S STRICTLY A LOVE AFFAIR - HAYLEY MILLS AND I

Dear Diary, I have fallen in love with the girls from the movie “The Parent Trap” and there is not a damn thing you can do about it. Yes, this is the story of how I fell in love with “The Parent Trap,” and in turn its star, Hayley Mills.

I was a young robust child with nothing to do on a Sunday evening, and so I tuned into the “Wonderful World of Disney” on ABC at 7:00 p.m. to watch whatever the hell they were showing. Well, what they were showing changed my life… forever. They were showing “The Parent Trap.” This movie starred Hayley Mills and… Hayley Mills. Confused? Well, I sure was.

You see, the movie is about two girls who are sent to a summer camp. I guess they used to do this sort of thing—ship the kids off in the summer to some summer-long camp deal. Whatever. Well, these two girls have come from different parts of the US and have never met before, or so they think. Sharon McKendrick comes from a divorced society family in Boston. Her mother, Maureen O’Hara, is currently raising her. Susan Evers comes from a divorced family too, but only she lives in Carmel with her father, Brian Keith. Confused? Well, I sure was.

Now, these two girls end up running into each other at the camp and it’s there that they realize they look exactly alike. At first, they are stupefied by their resemblance. But do they sit and talk about it, or do any of their friends encourage them to speak? No! Their friends actually start pushing for our lovely identical twins to fight. One even says, “Why, the nerve of her coming here with your face.” What a jackass! One of these girls is Larue from the “Gidget” TV show. I didn’t like her there and I don’t like her here.

Well, the girls eventually get their wish. Our twins, Sharon and Susan, get into a most beautiful chick fight. It all happens at some coed dance with the boys’ camp from across the lake. It’s a classic chick fight too. They start pulling each other’s hair and wrestling on the ground. It was here exactly that my eyes were as wide as a crack addict’s after a big toke. I instantly fell in love with these two twins. They wrestled and rolled around on the floor until they eventually knocked over the record player that provided this dance with the swinging music. Then the movie faded to a commercial. I almost cursed the TV, but the only curse words I knew at this time were “Jiminy Cricket” and that didn’t really seem to have any effect on anything. Damn that Disney!!!

As you can guess, Sharon and Susan are severely punished. And what is there punishment? They are made to stay in a cabin together and are forced to do everything together for the rest of their time at camp. The only time they even get to talk to their other friends is for the hot shower scene. Seriously, they show Susan and her friends in the shower discussing her plight. Chick fighting and all-girl shower scenes, I couldn’t believe it. I was on edge the whole time waiting for my mom to barge in and turn the TV off while savagely beating me. But she never came in the room. Thank you, Lord.

As you might have guessed, one thing leads to another and our twins discover they were separated when they were one-year-old. That’s right, they discover they’re sisters. From then on they love each other. Sappy, yes, but I was loving it, so shut up. Then they hatch the plan to begin the… parent trap. They agree to switch places, with Sharon going to Carmel to Brian Keith and Susan going to Boston to Maureen O’Hara. Sharon and Susan knew eventually their parents would have to switch them back, and that means they would have to see each other again.

Of course, nothing would be this easy. Once Sharon gets to Carmel, Brian Keith lets her know he’s engaged to a woman named Vicky Robinson. Vicky is your typical evil Disney female figure, with the likes of Cruella Da Vil and the Wicked Queen from “Sleeping Beauty.” Disney must have hated women. Well, she wants to marry Brian Keith for his million bucks. Now, Vicky is not really what would you call “easy on the eye.” She constantly has a look on her face like she just bit into something sour and just smelled shit at the same time. A real winner this one was.

Sharon and Susan now have to reveal their secret and break up this engagement and get their parents back together. So Maureen O’Hara comes out to Carmel with Susan and disrupts the whole wedding planning of Vicky’s. Now, Maureen and Brian don’t immediately get on. In fact, they argue and argue, and Maureen evens throws a punch at Mr. Keith. Sharon and Susan have their work cut out for each other, but I would not get to see how they handle this until after the 29th commercial interruption!!!

A classic scene in this movie is when the twins arrange for a private dinner with their divorced parents and perform a song. This song is entitled “Let’s Get Together.” This has to be the most catchy and heart-warming song ever. How it did not win the Oscar that year for best original song is beyond me. Well, the parents almost get caught up in the moment and kiss, but Vicky the horse shows up and blows the whole deal. Now, as great as this scene was, I thought maybe a good chick fight here would have been even better. One surely wasn’t enough.

The twins eventually get rid of Vicky and get their parents to fall back in love and get remarried. Yes, folks, the parent trap worked, and the movie ends with the divorced parents getting married and Sharon and Susan smiling at each other. Now, I sat there and waited for the credits to roll so I could find out who the twins really were. Only the credits never rolled. The damn movie just faded to black and that was it. I was like, “What in the Jiminy Cricket’s up with that?”

Fortunately, my mom had seen the movie before and she knew who the twins were, and told me—Hayley Mills and Hayley Mills. I was amazed and pissed all at once. I mean, this is where I first learned about movie magic, but in this instance, movie magic made a complete fool of me. How could Disney set out to make fools out of kids? I thought he hated women. That bastard.

I had spread my love around too far. Now I could scale it back to just one girl—Hayley Mills. She was all I really wanted anymore, except for scooter pies and Fresca. I later got to see Hayley’s first movie for the Disney studios, “Pollyanna,” and one she did in 1965 called “That Darn Cat.” She was simply wonderful in both these classics, but “The Parent Trap” was my favorite movie. There was no hope for other movies to ever knock this movie off the top of my list.

Throughout the years, my love for Hayley has only grown stronger. I had to learn everything I could about her. And so I did. I learned that she fucking got married! Calm down, calm down. Okay, I’m calm. Oh, yeah, she got married, to a half-ass director who was 33 years her senior. What was she thinking? Wasn’t she getting my letters? Okay, I might have been way too young for her at the time, and if we had been together back then it might have been frowned on by most societies, but 33 years her senior! This guy must have impressed her with lines like, “Hey, when I got my first gray hair, you were 1.” Why, Hayley, why? Calm down, calm down.

Nevertheless, I eventually got over this and remained in love with Hayley Mills. But maybe it was time for me to realize that I was in love with the Hayley Mills in “The Parent Trap” just because there was two of her to go around. They did make three “Parent Trap” sequels, but I refused to see them after I saw part of the first sequel. This is where I learned that I hate sequels and the assholes that make them. How could Disney try to make another quick buck off this kid with these sequels? I thought he hated women.

Hayley Mills did star in a TV show in 1987 called “Good Morning, Miss Bliss.” This show eventually came to be known as “Saved By the Bell: the Junior High Years.” Still, it just wasn’t doing it for me. I believe the last thing she was in was last year and it was called “2BPerfectly Honest.” Now, on the spelling alone of this title I refuse to see it. “2B,” what brilliance!

Well, the years have rolled on and many things have changed, but “The Parent Trap” remains a constant in my life. Why, many a holidays when my family gathers at my parents’ house, I bring this movie over and make everyone watch it while I recite the lines along with the characters. Needless to say, my family hates me. But they cannot deny the greatness of “The Parent Trap.” It is where my love begins and goes on and on. The tagline of this movie was “It’s strictly a laugh affair.” To me, it became much more. Hayley Mills set out to trap her parents and eventually trapped me.

Hayley Mills, wherever you are, this Valentine’s for you.

FRIDAY'S DRUNKEN RANT PRESENTS: VALENTINE'S DAY.

Welcome to another round of drunken ramblings, vulgarities, disturbing thoughts and sheer bitterness, not all in that order. Tonight’s drunken rant is brought to you by mai tai’s. Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin. Wake up.
Tonight’s topic is on Valentine’s Day. Now, do you know the damn history of this day and how it all came into being? Well, pull up a beanbag, get out the lava lamp and I’ll tell you all about it. It all started back in 1835 by a man named James “Tippy Toes” Miller. Now, ol’ Tippy Toes was basically your run-of-the-mill jackass. You know, the kind of person you usually accuse of stepping in dog crap when you smell something bad. That kind of person.
Well, Tippy Toes had a gal he was sweet on, and she was mighty tolerant of him. Ah, sweet affection. Well, one day, back in February of 1835, Jimmy got himself into a bit of a pickle with his sweetheart lady— he got caught with a lady of the evening. Now, Tippy Toes wasn’t doing anything. In fact, he told his cupcake he was only giving the lady a ride home on his donkey. His pookie bear, being a proper Southern woman, took her leave of Tippy Toes, but not before kicking him in the sweet spot.
Needless, to say, his baby doll was quite pissed. I mean, how far did Tippy Toes think her tolerance stretched? Well, he tried and tried to talk to his buttercup, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with his jackass self, so he had to resort to drastic measures. He needed to really start kissing some ass, 1800 style.
Before Tippy Toes could put his plan into action, the whole town found about his good-natured “ride” with the pungent hooker. He knew he needed to act fast. Once the single gentlemen callers hear about his sugar britches being free, they’ll come sniffing around like dogs who have just finished licking themselves. So, old Tippy Toes gathered up all the flowers he could. I mean, he even picked some poison ivy and got quite a rash. Now, he really looked guilty. I mean, the sudden appearance of a rash. I told you this guy was a jackass.
Somehow, he convinced the mayor of this one-horse town to gather up all the inbred townsfolk onto the main street. He then covered the street with all these fuckin’ flowers he picked. Then he convinced his sugar pie to meet him on the main street. When she arrived and saw the whole ugly town, she was giddy with ignorant Southern glee. She thought they were all there to lynch Tippy Toes. I mean, he had been almost lynched once, but that was for committing the offense of Swaigurism-- copying someone’s else’s stupid hick walk. Like I said, a jackass in a one-horse town.
Now Tippy Toes got her in front of the whole miserable town and the slightly-perverted mayor (he had a fetish for his own feet), and he had the mayor make his announcement. The mayor announced that on this day, February 14, 1835, and forever on would be formally known as his honey bottom’s day—Bertha “Battle-Ax” Valentine’s Day. Then to really save face, Tippy Toes got down on one knee and asked Bertha to be his wife-- his horrible, disgusting, freakin’ wife. She was so overcome with emotion, she said “Maybe.” Then the whole town cheered, and then got wasted on moonshine and butter.
So this is why Valentine’s Day came into being. This day can be either really sweet for you or a very lonely day, pending on your personal situation. Now, I’ve had some very nice Valentine’s Day and some really bad ones. One really bad one was when my soon-to-be ex-wife filed for divorce on Valentine’s Day and made me go with her on Valentine’s Day. But that was then, and this is now.
And now I am thankful for all the bad things that have happened to me in relationships, no matter what it was. I am thankful for getting dumped really bad twice. I am thankful for the awful things that were said to hurt me by anyone I was dating. I am thankful for being left alone on Valentine’s Day and for the tears I cried then. And do you know why I am thankful for these bad times? Because it is not just the good times, but also the bad times that have shaped me into what I am today and where I am. My ex-wife is now my really good friend. I have great friends, a passion for life, people who seem to really love me, a supportive and loving family and a special someone. Maybe certain things could be better, or maybe not. But come this Valentine’s Day, I’ll just remember there is love, and that is all that really matters. Have a happy Valentine’s Day.

TOP TEN TUESDAYS PRESENTS: TOP TEN REASONS MY GIRLFRIEND THINKS I'M GAY BECAUSE I DIDN'T WATCH THE SUPER BOWL

1. First off, I went running in the morning. I ran 18 miles. So sometimes my toenails rub against my shoe when I run for that long and need to be cut or reshaped. Well, I asked her, “Where can a guy get a good pedicure?” The look she gave me was one of disgust, sadness and then pure hatred. I guess I shouldn’t have asked her what color would look good on my big toe. Well, needless to say I didn’t get any sex that night, unless you count masturbation.

2. Now this one is just a misunderstanding. I am never invited to Super Bowl parties anymore, so I didn’t have anywhere to go. It seems that at previous Super Bowl parties, I tend to get a little too excited for everyone’s comfort level. That’s just crap. All right, sometimes at previous Super Bowl parties, I liked to show up dressed as a cheerleader of one of the teams. Now, it seems the real problem is that I choose not to wear underwear with my cheerleader skirt. My undies are too bulky and just bunch up my skirt. And I guess no one appreciates my cartwheels. So now I have nowhere to go.

3. I really meant to watch the game at home, but I started channel surfing around noon, and that’s when my destiny for the rest of the day changed for good. I found out that the Lifetime Channel was showing a Bette Midler marathon. I mean, was there really a choice after this? So I got a thing for Bette. I mean, how can any guy not get good and hard after watching her in Stella. How? She looks like she might smell like patchouli and baby powder, and these are a few of my favorite things.

4. I do not see how my girlfriend doesn’t even think this is just sweet. Instead of watching the game, I decided to go to the mall with her and go bra shopping. Well, she went to the mall and I surprised her there. What better day to do this than on this day? But was she excited to see me? No! As a matter of fact, she seemed kind of creeped out by me being there. Oh, and that I used the words “periwinkle” and “mauve” to describe a few bra colors didn’t sit well with her. She actually called me “Mr. Fancypants.” I guess because I had my Jordache’s on.

5. Now this is a common problem the world over. I still don’t see what she got so bent out of shape for. I was going to go next door to watch the game with my neighbor, and since my girlfriend hid my cheerleader outfit, I was left with the dilemma of trying to find something to wear. Well, I didn’t end up going next door because I couldn’t find the right outfit to wear, no matter what combinations I tried on. I don’t know why. Maybe because I wanted to wear my new pink fedora with the little feather number. It just didn’t look right with any of my dolphin shorts. My girlfriend also came in the room and caught me looking at my ass in the mirror and tightening the muscles. Nothing wrong with that in my eyes. Needless to say, my girlfriend didn’t have sex with me that night.

6. I had been real gassy all week for some reason. I didn’t change my diet or anything— a sloppy joe breakfast followed by a tantalizing cup of Ovaltine. Well, I was reading the local paper and I saw an ad that said “Super Bowl Flush” for $50. Well, I rushed down to Jimmy’s Discount High Colonic and Fudge Factory for a complete flushing so I could plug up this slow leak I had. After Jimmy removed the garden hose from my tender derriere, I was so excited, and full of that not so unfresh feeling, that I rushed home to tell my girlfriend how I got a colonic, and for her I got some fudge. She was a few things when I told her—saddened, pissed, and actually started dry heaving. She didn’t even eat her damn fudge. Needless to say, I didn’t get any sex that night.

7. I really couldn’t watch the game because I kind of burned my eyelids with a--- oh, what is that thing called—oh, yeah—a curling iron. My eyebrows can get quite bushy and lengthy if I don’t trim them when I trim other certain skimpy areas. Well, they were lengthy, so I thought curling them might be either cute or stupid, but either way, it would be something new. In the process of doing this, my girlfriend barged into the room without even knocking and scared the living crap out of me (not in the same way Jimmy at Discount Colonic got the living crap out of me). After I let out a high-pitched scream, the curling iron landed on my eyelids and scorched ‘em. I then dropped the curling iron. The real problem was that I was naked at the time, so the curling iron didn’t really make it straight to the floor. Let’s just say it hit a softly erect “diving board” and then bounced hard off it. I may have to agree with my girlfriend on this one about being kind of gay.

8. I have an activity that brings me such joy I love doing it whenever the urge arises. I also love to sing while doing it because it makes the action feel that much better. I love jumping rope. Oh, you should see me get going. I can go for hours. First, I like to lather up with a lot of hand cream. It just makes everything smoother for grabbing a firm hold onto that huge rope. Then I just get that rope going and going, and once I got a good rhythm, and get my heavy panting under control, I start singing. My usual song of choice here is “Hopelessly Devoted To You” from Grease. It just seems like an appropriate song for the occasion. And usually, I let that rope swing and swing until I get full satisfaction from it. Sometimes I get interrupted and then for some reason, my session is ruined. I also receive a pain for a while if I don’t finish jumping rope correctly. Well, I did this instead of watching part of the game. Now, how could this be gay? It’s not like everyone doesn’t jump rope. They do. They just don’t admit it.

9. I did end up going to a party on Super Bowl Sunday actually. It was super fun, only it wasn’t a party to watch the game. It was a fondue party. I simply love a good fondue party. Sure, there were other guys there. In fact, come to think of it, there were only guys there. Whatever. I even called my girlfriend from the party and asked her if she wanted me to bring her home some fondue. She just said, “What the fuck?” and hung up on me. She didn’t know what she was missing. And the absolute best part—the smell of fondue. It smells like old sweaty socks, bad chili and Bette Midler. Ooh, I just love it, love it, love it!

10. The last reason I didn’t watch the game was because of their damn halftime show. I mean, how can you have a halftime show without the freakin’ Village People? How, Lord, how? I mean that construction worker is tuff, baby. And I had me a craving for the Indian. Don’t ask me why. Well, I complained about this to my girlfriend and I told her I was boycotting watching the game because of the Village Peoples’ absence. She just left the room, came back with a tampon and handed it to me. I just don’t understand women. Needless to say, I didn’t get any sex that night, but I did jump a lot of rope.

FRIDAY'S DRUNKEN RANT PRESENTS... THE SOUND OF MUSIC

Welcome to another edition of "Friday's drunken rants." I'll try to tone down the cussing because some people found it hard to take. Well, here's your disclaimer: I'm drunk! So on with the show. Curtains, please.
This rant is all about my experience with "The Sound of Music." I hate it when these whoremongers like to claim they've never seen this movie. That falls into the horseshit category. (Horseshit isn't a curse word!) At some time or another, everyone has seen this movie, or at least enough of it to claim to have seen it. I was forced to watch it at a young, tender, impressionable age. And at first, I thought, "What a bunch of crap." You have to understand, I was forced to see a double bill of this and "Boys From Brazil." Real nice! Only in Orange County would they try to pull something like this off, you filthy Nazis.
A funny thing happened, though, when I hit puberty (age 23)-- I started to really love this movie. And why? Because I had the hots for the nun in training. Let's just call her NIT for now. I mean, it was here that my overactive hormones took over and forced me to like this movie. Forget about those Austrian daughters, I had it for the NIT. Imagine the Colonel Von Trapp, this horny little bastard. He was probably trolling around the convent looking for women. I mean, how desperate was he for a virgin? What a perv. And did you get a load of all the kids he had and how young he still was. Holy shit. No wonder he was a widower. He must have been knocking his wife up the second the umbilical cord was cut. I mean, at least let the lady get a glass of water first, you fucker.
Maybe it was because of the forbidden love. Loving a nun. Oh, dare to dream. And remember that song, "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria"? Well, the Colonel Von Trapp knew how to solve this problem. Have sex with her!!! I mean, look at this asshole. First off, he's got a daughter hot for an up-and-coming Nazi delivery boy, so much so she's singing shit like "I Am 16 Going On 17" to the little prick. That's right, I called him a little prick. I mean, she's basically out there singing, "Free pussy, pizza delivery boy! Come and get it!" And where's the Colonel? Up in his room trying to figure out how to get the NIT to kick the habit, literally. Can you believe this honky?
In the Colonel's defense, though, she was a little biscuit, wasn't she? I mean, when she was doing that puppet show with the kids and singing "yodelay-hee, yodelay-hee-hoo," I was discovering what it meant to be a perv. And all this happened during one viewing. The damn music for me, though, was just a distraction. I mean, this was a movie about action-- Nazi delivery boys sniffing around for virgins, Colonels sniffing around for experimental nuns, and a family singing group so awesome that only the Patridge Family would ever rival. This movie suddenly had it all.
But getting back to the Colonel, he was the precursor to many pop culture ideas that would spawn from his very loins. Maybe loins isn't the right word. First off, he banned music and singing in the Von Trapp house. Later on, this would inspire a young writer to pen the screenplay "Footloose." I think I saw in the original screenplay there were nuns who weren't allowed to dance or fornicate so they started calling themselves the Pink Ladies and would only date T-Birds. And then one of them got a hicky from Canicky. And then-- Oh, fuck it. I don't know, it was something like that. Next, just the sheer magnitude of the name Von Trapp inspired one jerk-off teenager to change his name from Edward Bowelreegard to Eddie Van Halen. And the rest is history-- real bad history, but still history.
But what really did it for me in this movie was when the Colonel takes the NIT to that gazebo, or whatever the hell it was, and they start singing that "I Must Have Done Something Good" song. Well, for you, Colonel, if you think that poking nuns is good, then knock yourself out, buttplug. But it is this scene where they are about to kiss. The music softens, about as much as this damn music can soften, and they lean into the kiss. Cue up the movie to this point. Don't give me that crap about "I don't own it. Why would I own it?" I know you own it, jackass! It is right at this point that the Colonel transforms into an ape. I swear it. All of a sudden, the NIT is making out with a full-grown ape! This is the best twist any movie has ever had, ever! It goes from "fun with the nun" straight into hot monkey love. Suddenly, I could hear the Sound of Music, and it was beautiful.
I loved this movie so much that I when I went to Austria I went on the "Sound of Music" tour. It was beautiful. It came with our own little Nazi tour guide, a few of the exterior house shots, but best of all, a bus ride out of town where we were all raped. Wait. That was another trip. No, a ride out of town to the church where the convent chaser and the ape kisser got married. I believe I cried when we got to the church. It all seemed so real. I believe I even got aroused. Is that wrong?
Well, there you have it. Tonight's rant was brought to you by Widmer Heifenwizen. Ask for it all your local bar.

TOP TEN TUESDAYS PRESENTS -- TOP TEN WAYS I HAVE HUMILIATED MYSELF

1. When I was about six, it was the summer and I was at my friend’s house and we were running through the sprinklers. I didn’t have any shorts to wear, so I borrowed a pair of his. We were running through the sprinklers, enjoying ourselves as we cooled off. Then my friend went inside to take dispose of some old food (crap). All of a sudden I realized I was supposed to be home a while ago. I couldn’t wait for my friend any longer. I did what I had to do—I took off the trunks and ran home… naked, I only lived down the street, and it didn’t seem wrong for some reason, but when I was about four houses from being home, I began to notice the shocked looks on my neighbors’ faces as they watered their lawns or sat on their porches. It was then that it hit me. And nothing is worse than feeling like a jackass while being completely naked in public.

2. Once when I was out on a six-mile jog, I was three miles from making it home and all of sudden something in my stomach dropped with a vengeance. At first I fought through it and made it for about two miles. Then with one mile to go I couldn’t go on and I was only around houses of people I didn’t know. On a side note, there was one bathroom on this route, but it was never open. I was screwed. I was like Mt. St. Helens, only from the ass. Then for the next five minutes as I struggled to walk home, I saw friends and family drive by. I was yelling and waving at me. You know what they did? They honked their horns and waved, like I was saying “hi” to them. No one stopped, and I was on my own. Even if they did stop, I couldn’t blame the smell on just pure sweat anyway, now that I think about it. Needless to say, I don’t run on courses without bathrooms all around.

3. Now this one wasn’t so bad for me as it could have been. I was in the seventh grade and we had just eaten our lunch. We were back in class. I sat second from the back in the corner. There was a boy named Charles behind me. Well, our teacher had done something to make us all laugh really hard (she was probably hitting somebody), and I did something so natural, there was no way it could be wrong—I farted really, really loud. All of the sudden everyone turned towards my direction and I knew our teacher was going to be pissed. Fortunately, I reacted with them and I immediately turned around to Charles sitting behind me. He was laughing too hard to tell anybody he didn’t do it soon enough, and I was in the clear, so to speak. Not really humiliating to me, but it was a close enough call to make this list.

4. Like any growing boy, I excelled at one sport—masturbation. I was so good at it that I was sure sponsors would come knocking at my door asking me to represent their product—you know, hand cream, gloves, cheese graters. Well, one day I was just too irresistible, I couldn’t keep my hands off myself, so I partook of this activity several times. Well, by doing so, I gave myself a severe groin injury. I had to walk around the next day all awkward and gingerly. I just told friends and family I had been out riding horses the day before, even though there were no horses anywhere I could get to. They all did look at me weird, but may or may not have been none the wiser.

5. This is one I’m sure we’ve all had to deal with at one time or another. I was at a bar and I was trying to impress this girl. At one point we both went to use the restroom. There were two restrooms and they both had one toilet each. Well, while she was in hers, some guy comes out of mine sweating profusely, And the smell that followed him was horrendous. I mean, I actually started crying it was that bad. There was no one else in line behind me, but I couldn’t wait anymore. I took three deep breaths and ran in to pee. Well, when I came out I was now sweating from the freakin’ heat from the previous man’s destruction, and there was a line and this girl waiting for me. The smell from this restroom stormed out into their faces and they all gasped. I tried to explain I didn’t do it, but no one believed me. Maybe this was karma for letting Charles take the fall for my flatulence.

6. This next one occurs at a mall by my house. My mother took me shopping for clothes. She dressed me, so why not buy the clothes too. Well, I got separated from her and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t see her anymore. I started crying because I thought she left me. I was scared as hell. Fortunately, someone from the store took me to their PA system and made an announcement for my mom to come find me. This employee tried to console me—well, sort of—but I just kept on crying. Finally, my mom came and got me. She didn’t look relieved as she did pissed off. Maybe it was because I was 16 at the time. Maybe this one should actually go on my mom’s humiliating list.

7. This all started because of the booze. Sometimes booze isn’t my friend. Well, one night I had way too much to drink and passed out. At least I thought I passed out. Apparently, I went to my friend’s room to pass out. I must have thought I was alone in the room because I took off all my clothes and walked to the bathroom. Then I came back and climbed on her bed. I guess I started singing along with the music that was playing. The unfortunate thing was that Abba was playing, or so I’ve been told. When I woke up the next morning, I was naked in my friend’s bed with my friend. At first I thought this is kind of good and kind of bad. Only later when she told me all of what I did that humiliation set it in. And somewhere to this day there is a picture of me naked in a room full of people singing Abba as loud as I could,

8. This one was all because of the damn Internet! I was writing this heartfelt e-mail to this girl. I mean, I was really pouring my heart out to her. I had actually written her a poem. It was tender and sweet and really made it clear how I felt about her. Well, it took me about a minute to get up the courage to send it to her. I went to my address book and clicked on her name and hit “send.” Now there’s nothing wrong with this, except I accidentally picked someone else’s name from that damn address book. I sent this tender and heart-exposing e-mail to the wrong person. And that jerk forwarded to all our mutual friends who then forwarded it to that girl. The other problem was I didn’t realize I did this till I was bombarded with e-mails. And then humiliation set in.

9. I’ll never forget this one. I brought this girl to stay overnight with me at my house when I lived alone. Now, this sounds good so far, doesn’t it? I mean, I brought her back to my house for—oh, how shall I explain this so you can understand it—sex!!! Well, we were fooling around and had a bit to drink and passed out. Then I woke up to a viciously skin-ripping smell. I thought, “Oh, my God! I’ve been farting.” I just hoped she wouldn’t wake up. Then about a minute passed and then I heard a fart, only it wasn’t coming from me. She was farting. She proceeded to blast a series of farts for the next 15 minutes, each one worse than the previous one. Then she farted so hard on the last one, she woke herself up. She immediately took one whiff and gagged. Then she started yelling at me about how disgusting I was. She was blaming me for her animal-killing flatulence. I told her it was her that was doing it and not me. This made her even madder. Finally, she calmed down and we both went back to sleep. The worst part of all this is that we didn’t even have sex!!! And she is probably somewhere in this world right now telling someone how I was farting!

10. This last one is an easy thing to explain. A big humiliating thing that happened to me was sharing this list with everybody. Of course, this humiliation will hit me tomorrow.