A Glimpse Into The "Man Bible"

Many of you wives out there may not know this but there is an actual “A Man’s Guide On How To Act Around Your Wife Behind Closed Doors.”

It’s a ratty, beaten-up old book that’s holding on by a thread. The pages have been taped into place and over 184 varieties of beer can be found stained throughout.

It is THE Bible we all live by and must obey or our balls will drop off for good.

I mean literally fall off.

The reason I’m talking about this is because the ladies need to know. They need to know we have no choice in this matter.

The way we interact with you behind closed doors is not a decision left to on to us.

Let me just toss out there a few examples from the Man Bible.

Page 28, Part C – When walking by your wife stare at only her breasts while saying “Damn…just…just damn those are fine.” If no one is near, feel free to lift your hand cautiously but with urgency to make sure they feel the exact same as they did the last time you walked by her.

Page 36, Part A, Section 2 – Entering the bedroom after a shower whilst only wearing a towel only to find your wife reading a book is one of the most coveted times of a man’s life. One must quickly thank the gods with a double bump to the chest and then spring into action with one of the following moves:

• The Helicopter – grab the base of your manly bit and begin swinging it around like a helicopter propeller while looking excitedly pleased at the wife.

• The Pose – shanty on over as close as you can to the wife, lift a leg up on whatever is near, lean down on your knee with your elbow while dropping your towel in one smooth motion. Follow this up with a sly “hey, I uh…gotta a little something for ya there sugar plum.”

• The Urgent Parent – immediately act as though you both had previously agreed upon a “quicky” and urgently shut the door, drop the towel, grab the lube and head straight for the bed while saying “OK hun, the kids are watching TV so we’ve got about 7.5 minutes to knock this out. Let’s do this!!”

• The Pool Boy – walk over to the closet, throw on some boots, drop your towel, grab hold of your dangly bit and walk towards the wife whilst uttering, “I uh…found a sturdy hose. You ready for me to give your pool a good scrub-down?”

• The Ride Em Cowboy – this is purely an old school technique used to visually attract the wife to you. Simply drop the towel, put a huge smile on your face, act like you’re mounting a horse, then with one hand slapping the fictitious horse’s ass and the other holding the fictitious horse’s reigns flail around viciously so that all your sexy attributes are bouncing and slapping to and fro as you scream “yee haw mother fuckers!!” as though you were leading a pack of bad-ass horse-ridin’ cowboys.

Each one of these moves is guaranteed to win her physical affection.

Page 1, Section 1 – Always rip the shower curtain back when the wife is bathing and repeat “You want me to get your backside?”

Page 49, Section 4,528 – Late at night while the wife is watching Hoarders, slip into a pair of her underwear whether you fit in them or not. Then, after sliding on a pair of your fanciest black socks, slowly tip-toe down the stairs. Get a running start and then slide across the floor into your wife’s view and just wait for her amazed and aroused response.

So, that’s all I’ve been sanctioned to share with you ladies. But I hope it’s enough for you to understand that we, by law, MUST do these things or pay the devil his due.

So bear with us. Continue to love us.

And know that we have nothing but your best interest in mind!

An Open Letter to the Fortune Cookie Writer Dude Person

Dear Mr. Fortune Cookie Writer:

This past warm evening I had the unfortunate experience of opening one of your delicious cookies filled with what can only be described as one of the dumbest “fortunes” I’ve ever read in my life.

Let me quote from this waste of a dead tree: “Every good friend was once a stranger.”

Who in the holy elephant balls do you think you are?

You have officially burst my “where do fortune cookie fortunes come from?” bubble.

I used to believe you sat in your very Asian outfit, cross legged, at the top of some 415 stairs, with a temple-like structure protecting you from the wrath of the sun-god’s beam. Your eyes would be closed as you contemplate the universe.

Just the slightest sneeze from you would cause meaningless planets like Pluto to disappear from existence.

Men from around the world would wait centuries to just see you in person as you slowly open your eyes, take a slow deep breath, and utter something so profound the only possible place for it to be repeated would be on a tiny piece of paper that ultimately gets machine-crammed into a shitty stale cookie wrapped in non-biodegradable plastic.

But last night that image of you got ripped from my child-like, immature brain and replaced with the picture of some 19-year-old New Jersey fake-tanned, gold-chain wearing, MTV-obsessed universe reject pushing a button that resulted in random words being imprinted on gently used toilet paper that’s immediately jammed into the previously mentioned shitty stale cookie wrapped in non-biodegradable plastic.

It’s because of you that Santa is now dead to me.

The Easter Bunny….also dead.

I don’t know at what point your lazy, egotistical ass sold out to the big corporations, but just know, dear sir, I will never…NEVER eagerly open one of your disastrous desserts again.

From now on I’m gonna be all, “no cookie for me?”

I hope your ancestors are looking down  in disappointment at your douchey-ass right now. Additionally, I hope your rice burns for ever meal hence forth.

Thanks for ruining my life.

Love,

Why Is Daddy Crying

My Homage To Stay-At-Home Moms

I’ve said it before, but not quite so bluntly.

Stay at home moms watching children full-time should win Emmy’s, free groceries and not have to pay taxes.

I have every Monday off from work.

Yesterday was the little nippers’ last day of school. They went in for one hour, then came home by 10 a.m. just as the wifey was hopping in the car to head for work.

I swear I heard uncontrollable laughter as she drove off leaving me with a yipping dog, a daughter screaming “I want cereal PLEASE daddy!!!,” and a boy behind me saying “can I have a play date? Daddy? Play date? Can I have one, Please!!!” just as the doorbell was ringing with the neighborhood kid standing next to it.

An hour later I had two kids in the basement playing, my son was riding his bike down the street screaming “I’ll be back dad,” just as my phone rang and the dog hit his “I need to go outside” bell.

It wasn’t even 11 a.m. and I was looking around the kitchen for a bottle with a lose top.

11:30 a.m. and I’m out front sweating my ass off watching my daughter fly down the sidewalk on her bike, barely missing hitting the two-year-old neighbor kid, just as another neighbor-kid climbs a tree in our yard 6 feet above concrete. Another neighbor kid opens the door to my house to go “wee wee” leaving it open long enough for my dog to fly out and run for his life down the street.

As I’m running down the street my son yells, “DAD!!! I’M GOING OVER TO #%@&^ HOUSE! I’LL BE BACK LATER!! Only problem was I had no clue in hell who this kid was or where he lived.

About 20 minutes later the boy’s pissed at me, the girl is changing into her 3^rd outfit for the day and I’m in the kitchen making lunch for four kids, each with their own dietary requests.

One minute later and I’m pondering how in the hell I can make it to the local liquor store without having child services called on me.

The chaos continued. But, thankfully I have the support from a neighborhood stay-at-home mom who calmly came over and took control from my rookie ass.

And I was in awe….

I immediately fell to her feet, skinning my knees, but not caring a single bit because I knew I had just met a true “stay-at-home mom.”

With the wave of her hand children were coloring on the sidewalk. Songs were being sung by many. Smiles were on faces that just seconds ago were covered by tears. And I believe I heard a “thank you mamma” trickle off into the air leaving me humbled, numb, and thankful.

I crawled to her feet like a man left for death in the blistering heat of the hot desert sun finding a spring of water. Clasping her ankles I looked up and said, “teach……me….for….I…..fear…them…..and….they…smell…..my…blood!!!”

She simply reached down, patted my head, laughed, and walked back to her house. As she grew smaller as she walked further away I noticed the children slowly focusing their gaze on me, one-by-one.

It wasn’t until the door slowly closed behind the coveted stay-at-home mom that the death children dropped their tasks and began bringing the rapture back to me.

Dear Stay-At-Home Moms:

We love you. Adore you. And you are irreplaceable.

Love,

Me

I Answer 20 Questions About Myself

So, it’s been a while since I went to the amazing wives, dads, family, and friends that I enjoy following on Twitter to ask, “what do you want to know about me.”

In fact, I think it’s been over a year or so. Here’s some of the other times I’ve done it.

Yesterday I asked on Twitter “the first 20 questions asked I’ll answer truthfully” and then it rained questions.

So, without further adieu….here we go:

@flashyphotog asks:  If you were a drag queen, what would be your signature dance move?

Well first off I only do lawn dances. Butt!! (yes, I meant “butt”) if I were a drag queen how in the holy hell could I not do “The Butt” with touch of “Jessie’s Girl” and a sick rendition of “Single Ladies” sprinkled throughout!! Now throw me my damn leotards and step off!!

@jbenj219 Why do toasters have a setting on them that burns toast so bad that no one would ever use it? It’s simple. Toasters are the product of Al Qaeda. They’re not dumb. They know how much we enjoy toast - the crunchy, buttery, amazingly sexy feeling of toast so early in the morning. Jam, spread thickly across its porous surface only to meet the morning’s first cup of coffee in your hot-garbage morning breath mouth!! It’s ecstasy!!!

And Al Qaeda is here to fuck it all up with a burnt-ass toast setting cause they know our lazy asses will choose that to hurry all that awesomeness up!

@ellemenopee what do you sleep in? Great freakin’ question!! I used to enjoy the succulent feeling of fresh, static-free sheets against my manly-bits until I had KIDS! Now…I enjoy sleeping in the sexy, hott, old-school, crotch-blown-out running shorts I retired years ago. Seriously…I know you’re thinking about leaving your husband for me…you should really refrain.

@ladyquestion and @dakotapam why is daddy crying : Ok, well, the best answer to that can only be found thanks to the amazing @littleanimation who answered the question “Why Is Daddy Crying” with THIS and THIS.

@artisticdork why did you think you’d only get one? It’s true…I did tweet I was scared that I’d only get one response to my question of “ask me anything” to my twitter kids. And well…it all stems back to the time I was 6 years old and my brother and I were at McDonald’s for ice cream and they made one ice cream cone…..and then the machine broke. And…guess who got the cone!?! Yeah….my brother. Ever since then the glass in my life has been half empty.

@dadlogicblog do you lick 9-volt batteries? Wait! That’s not normal?! Oooohhhh…so that’s why my doctors and dentists have been looking at my body and then saying, “ummm…we’re gonna need you to just sit tight for juuuuust a bit, mmmkay? Thanks!!” and then running out of the room only to enter two minutes later with colleagues from other hospitals and medical magazines uttering words like, “I know, I’ve never seen some sick 9-volt addictive battery shit like that either!!”

@thesuniverse Salty snacks or sweet? Show your work in your answer. OK…this question has me both wanting some shelled peanuts and also the phone number to the nearest shrink in your immediate area that makes. Also, ummm…when they diagnose you…please share the drugs!!

@willgoldenstein why is blue? This…has…to be..the most…profound…question…EVER!!! Seriously. Every part of this sentence is just balls-on accurate. Why is blue? I’ll tell you why is blue….because the rapture is pissed from all the press it’s gotten and has decided to merge with the Mayan’s 2012 death-trap claim. Now the entire freakin’ sub-death-world is coming for our asses sometime next year. When? Who the hell knows? But it’s coming. So, why is blue? Better question…Why is a Big Death Dildo Emerging From Sky In A Big “I Must Crush You” Russian Voice Kill Everyone Fashion!!?!

@nordicwonder how would your perfect Father's day go? Sex, beer, running, beer, sex, sex, sex, beer, sleep, sex, beer, massage.

@_green_eyes_ ok..do you have any twitter crushes? Absolutely. Have you not been watching my incredible battle with @ieatmykizsnack over the past year? I don’t think I’ve fantasized about anyone more than her….just check out some of our battles here and judge for yourself!

@overmom will there be a for reals rapture? Please see my above answer to @willgoldenstein

@chickensfeed You are vacuuming, the floor is littered with barbie shoes and tiny lego pieces. What do you do? I call the “annoying co-worker” at work, tell her “the boss really needs you to test your skills at my house before she feels she can give you an accurate job skills assessment!!” and then prop-up a lawn chair next to a cooler of beer and watch the magic happen.

@dadgineer Why, if stranded on a deserted Island, would you bring a collection of Barbara Streisand photos? Ummm…I’m pretty sure, knowing my luck, that in the act of me becoming stranded on an island the sexy Barbara Streisand photos I had with me would get the face burned off them, leaving them to look like Donald Trump with Streisand’s body. And, therefore, I  would spend the rest of my life crying and masturbating to a picture of Donald Trump sporting a pair of large breasts.

@chickmae How did you meet your wife? (I love hear about peoples love stories) OK…I’m gonna cop-out on this one and just throw up a link to the story of how we met…enjoy lady!!!

@beingloopy Do you trim your nose and/or ear hair? Neither…I trim my….well…I said I wouldn’t lie!!!  Regardless, I’m very grateful that I have not had to deal with nose or ear hair yet. But when I do, believe me, I will embrace it, braid it, and throw some Bob Marley beads in it!

@ieatmykidzsnack ok stupid who would be at your fantasy dinner party? Pick 5 people past or present & why. Now fuck offffffffffffffffffffff John Bonham, greatest drummer ever and an amazing drinker; Bobcat Goldthwait, just cause; Casey, the kid who slammed that bully to the ground; Sinead O’Connor just to add some life to the party; Sarah Palin so we had something to throw our empty beer bottles at all night.

@onecheapmama As we get older, why do we actually choose vanilla ice cream when as kids we thought “how boring!”? Because it’s simple, quick, satisfying, sweet, pure and brings us back to the very beginnings of our childhood when the first taste of that succulent nectar from the gods of ice cream touched our tongues and made us say, “yes…YES! All will be good on this great spinning water planet called Earth.”

@toots_a_lot VanHalen or VanHagar? Neither. I know this will cause riots, but I just can’t stand either. Wasn’t my bag. I’m more of a Led Zeppelin, 60s, grunge, indie music kinda guy. Van Halen was kinda everything I didn’t want my music to be. Sorry!!!

@alynrosselini Out of all the tweets you've sent out, which one is your favorite and why? How in the holy hell can I pick one. I think my best so far was my first…and I have no freakin’ idea what that was.

@aprilsm4 Why the fuck am I so pissed off today? Probably for the same reason we’re all pissed off today!! Toilet paper just isn’t what is used to be. I mean, I can remember a time when it was wipe and BAM!! you’re done. Now…not so much. There’s residual. There’s “should I get 1-ply, double-ply” “should I get aloe or will that oil me up so I feel like a tired $2 hooker all day?”

It’s complicated. I get it!

So, that’s it. Those are my answer and I’m sticking to them. Thanks to all those who asked questions!



True Confessions You Never Wanted To Know About Me

I’ve been a little pint-up over the past few days.

Recently I’ve felt like a kitten chasing a red laser dot all over the house, slamming into walls, and frustrating myself until I pass out in a sleepy ball just steps away from where I messed the floor.

Maybe I’m just starting my period a few days early.

Or maybe I’m hitting my mid-life crisis at a really inconvenient time in life.

It could be all this stress of the impending date-dodging rapture. I brace for May 21….now I’m clenched for October 21….or maybe Baby Jesus conspired with the Mayans and now we have to wait till 2012?

It’s freakin’ exhausting.

So, I took all my clothes off, walked out into the harsh thunder and lightning last night, threw my face towards the dark skies above and waited for an answer.

And that’s when it hit me. I need to unburden myself of needless, brain and conscience-consuming matter.

I need to confess!!

I need to turn my blog into a creepy, dark, wooden, confessional booth with you lucky readers on the other side of that screen that doesn’t hide you from seeing the other person.

So, grab a stiff drink and you’re favorite blanky cause you’ll need it. I give you:

10 Things You Really Don’t Care Or Want To Know About Me But That Are Going To Make Me Feel Less Like I’m Stuck In A Dark Closet With A Zombie Clown Eating My Brain And Juggling My Sanity

1) I masturbated in a public library. It’s true. I got a D one year in a class, so my father decided to drop me off at the local library every day after school for three hours to study. I used my time wisely one day by finding a special place where I could “interrogate the suspect.”

2) I vandalized my own car when I was 16. I finished drinking a 40oz of Old English and threw it out the car window….only the car window was still up. I quickly grabbed some of the glass, threw it on the passenger seat, and found a good sized rock and tossed it on the seat. The next morning I was all, “holy shit someone threw a rock through my car window!!”

3) I used to blow my nose in my sheets. It was before I was a teenager, but old enough to know better. But yeah….there’s not really anything more I can say about that one…except….sorry mom.

4) Five years ago when I lived in Virginia I was on a 8-mile run early one morning when my colon let me know I had exactly 1 minute to drop trow and unleash the fury. I had no choice. I pooed on someone’s front yard as I leaned my back against a tree and tried to cover it up with the dirty leaves I used post-explosion.

5) My mom caught me masturbating. Oh yeah…I already wrote about that one.

6) In eighth grade I carved my girlfriend’s initials into my arm (very tiny.) My parents found it and you would have thought they found me shooting heroin while having sex with my grandmother and feeding a baby bourbon. Actually, now that I’m a parent I’m pretty sure I’d freak-the-hell-out too.

7) When I was volunteering as a tour-guide one day at a historic home, I had to poop extremely badly. And so I did. In the historic bathroom. Minutes before I had to tour 25 people through the house and the newly soiled bathroom. I blamed the smell on the fact the bathroom used well water. No one believed me. I still have nightmares about that day…and I’m sure they do too.

8) The very first concert I ever saw was Paula Abdul. Just saying that makes me want to throw myself in front of an ice cream truck. It’s true. But I did it for my girlfriend at the time because I was weak and hoping that she’d let me touch her boobie through her shirt. She didn’t.

9) In eighth grade I came to school with no underwear on and wearing a very short pair of Umbros. Don’t ask why…I was a teenager  in the late 80s damn it! Anyway, my decrepit 80-year-old teacher took me in the hallway and told me “you’re going to have to keep your legs closed the rest of the day. I can see your personal area. And I’m sending a note home with you for your parents about it.” The note never made it home.

10) I Favred my wife two years ago and she almost divorced me. I was living alone in Chicago while she was in Virginia with the kids waiting for our house to sell. So, thinking the wife probably longed for a pic of my man-part, I took a picture of it and pic texted it to the wife. Eagerly I waited for a return pic text. Instead, I got a call…from the wife…threatening to divorce me if I ever did that again. So…I did.

OK…that should be enough to lighten my load for at least a few hours.

Thanks for letting me vent and if you’re a psychiatrist and want to give me free session, my email’s on this blog page.