Ake's Pains debuted in the University of Akron Buchtelite in September of 1977. The school's reputation as an institute of higher learning has still not recovered. Ake's Pains returns after a brief 32 year hiatus. It's back, baby!

Monday, January 26, 2015

This Super Bowl Match Up Is Deflating

I have a big dilemma on what team to cheer for in this year’s Super Bowl.

I do not like the Seattle Seahawks….

They have a snooty, arrogant, coach and he has produced a snooty, arrogant, team.  Appropriately, their logo features a snooty, arrogant, bird.  In addition, Seattle had the audacity to steal the Professional Bowlers Association from my hometown of Akron.  I don’t bowl, so why would I care?  We don’t have that much in Northeast Ohio, so when another city steals what we do have, we get resentful. That’s why I believe Baltimore is the equivalent of Hell (yes, capital H).

But as much as I dislike the Seattle Seahawks, I dislike cheaters even more ….

It appears the New England Patriots tried to gain an advantage in their previous game by playing with deflated balls.  This is disgusting on multiple levels.  Football is a very manly game, played by manly men, seeking to place an inflated animal carcass on “special” areas of a field, and be awarded points. Men will literally crash their skulls together causing permanent injuries in order to move that carcass to its desired spot.  So to try to cheat by using a sissified ball is total unacceptable.  You are not the “Pats”, you are the Patsies.

You should not expect to penetrate the desired area with weak, squishy, balls.  No, to score (in all areas of life) you need firm, hard, balls that are shoved with brute force through the “plane of the goal line”.

When the game has reached its climax, deflated balls may be an indication of a job well done. However, you should never try to actually play the game with weak, flaccid, balls, because you are just not going to score.  You are going to stall within the red zone, your scoring drive is going to peter out, and you won’t even get a field goal.

Both the Patriots coach and quarterback deny knowledge of the condition of their balls.  This is pure bull$#!+.  I know this is a delicate and sensitive area, but a man knows when his balls are overinflated, he knows when they are underinflated, and he knows when things feel just right.

You had better bring your best equipment to this game!
And of all people, quarterback Tom Brady should know the importance of properly inflated balls since he is married to super-model Gisele B√ľndchen.  He should know that he needs to bring strong, hard, balls to the game if he is going to score.  I know from my extensive game experience with super-models that they do not enjoy it if you bring soft, squishy, balls onto their field.  They will penalize you for personal foul and the game will be over.  No, you need solid, plump, balls when dealing with a naked, eager, Gisele B√ľndchen.  I am starting to get inflated just thinking about it.

The NFL is trying to develop a procedure to make sure game balls are properly inflated.  It is easy to determine when balls are overly inflated because those balls will appear bluish, however determining under inflation is a problem.  My solution is to have NFL cheerleaders feel the balls before the game. 

These ladies, as judged by their appearance, probably have much experience evaluating ball strength and getting them ready for play.  In addition, any ball that is underinflated would no doubt gain some hardness after being rubbed down by a cheerleader.

This controversy has even caused concern for this year’s Lingerie Bowl.  That league is also worried about proper inflation and not just for the footballs.  I have offered to go to the game and personally make sure everything there is pumped up properly to the leagues standards.  After completing this job I would be willing to stay and serve as a locker room attendant, because that is the multi-tasking, helpful, caring, type of person I am.

Because of this cheating and lack of machismo by the New England Patsies, I am going to be forced to watch this game with the level of interest of a librarian watching her only football game of the season at a Super Bowl party.  Oh, maybe there will be some commercials with cute cats in them. Perhaps I will try the spinach dip on some organic, whole-grain, wafers.


I can feel my balls deflating already …… 

Monday, January 19, 2015

Eating Miraculous Rice Cakes

On January 8 I ate my first rice cake since the annual holiday eating binge began in mid-December.  Before my first bite, I stared at it in wonder realizing what I needed it to do.  I was expecting this simple rice cake to somehow attack and remove the fat that had magically attached itself to my body.

I wanted it to remove all traces of the Christmas candy, to annihilate the Honey Baked Ham, to neutralize the impact of the holiday cheeses, to unfig the figgy pudding and to de-pie the Christmas pies.  Ah the Christmas pie – Do I want more pie? DO I WANT MORE PIE? Why do you even ask?  Don’t be wasting time asking silly questions and bring me some more pie.  Instead of all this yakking, I could already be tasting that delicious Christmas pie right now.

So I am putting immense faith in this rice cake which has to be the most dishonest food ever invented.  Cake? Are you joking? This is a “cake” in geometric terms only.  You would never serve this so called cake for dessert.  You would not put candles on it and celebrate a birthday. You would never
What the hell even is this stuff?
order it in a restaurant to finish your meal.  No, it is a food to be eaten in shame. In the privacy of your home, with the lights off and the curtains closed.  It is a cake as much as soap is a cake.

And I’m sure it is even made of rice. Can you really tell?  My “cakes” are made by an oats company.  How do we know it does not sweep up all the rotten oats left on the floor, bleach it white, and press it into cakes?  And it doesn’t taste like rice; it tastes like Styrofoam, but not good Styrofoam. No, like stale, dried, Styrofoam that had been left in the sun to rot.

And this so called food is unsatisfying and not filling. You think you are going to lose weight by eating this, but you end eating 10 of them and you are still hungry!

So “rice cakes” are liars, masqueraders, if you will. Rice Cakes would be a better name for a Chinese stripper, although the term “cakes” might be an exaggeration.  I tried to find a photo of a Chinese stripper to post here, but I couldn’t find one.  It seems Rice Cakes the stripper is just as unsatisfying and unfulfilling as rice cakes the food.

And yet, I buy and eat this crap because I am fat. My body has a seemingly endless capacity to expand to accommodate all the fat that wants to take up residence after the holidays.  The annoying relatives at least go home at some point – but not the annoying fat.

It is extremely unfair that while my body readily expands to house the fat, but my clothes do not.  I am now wearing that Spanish line of clothing – Pantalones Splitones.   I look longingly at my skinny jeans hanging in the closet.  They see me staring and mock me.  “Someone had too much pie at Christmas, didn’t he?  Maybe you should eat some rice cakes.” I move towards them and they shriek, “Don’t even think about touching me”. This of course describes my high school dating experience in one sentence.

As I pondered this cylindrical piece of ah, whatever, I came to the realization that I was putting more faith in rice cakes than you would in a communion wafer.  I was hoping it would miraculously transform me back into a previous time, a time when I once again could fit back into my pants.  I wanted this cake to make me a muffin, a stud-muffin.

Yes, this was a type of sacrament for fat people.  In the church of the Hefty, this is the penance for the sin of eating too much pie.  I examined the rice cake carefully looking for an image of some saint or prophet on it, maybe even Jenny Craig, but there was none.

People believe in the power of the rice cake because we are wired to put too much hope in things; whether it is money, new relationships, new jobs, people, or politicians. This false hope always leads to disappointment, so I’m sure I will end up very disappointed in this rice cake.

And marketers understand we are hope-mongers.  They promise us that their products will change our lives for the better. They play us for poor, hopeful, saps. There is even a new yogurt on the market that implies it provides health benefits and makes you popular with the ladies.  Of course I am much too smart to fall for that nonsense.  But I think I may try some because it sounds pretty good.



Wednesday, January 7, 2015

A Holiday Shopping Wonderland

I made my annual trip to the mall this Christmas.  We think we are very sophisticated, complex, beings but play some Christmas carols (audio stimulus) and shine some Christmas lights (visual stimulus) and we are drawn to the mall like rats to the cheese.  Of course there is some good cheese at the mall, usually packaged with a tasty beef log.  Mmmm, beef log.

Surprisingly, the mall wasn’t that crowded.  I assume more people were shopping on-line this year, maybe because of all the credit card fraud at some major retailers.  When on-line shopping is the safest option, you know there is a problem.  I was going to buy a Sony television but I was afraid I would end up also buying Christmas gifts for thousands of North Koreans.  A “North Korean Christmas” (Oh, let’s see what Little Kim Jong-un got this year!) might make a heartwarming Hallmark movie, but it would be a horror movie when I opened my credit card statement.
Not going to be his "Secret Santa"!

Shopping In The Cloud

My first stop was Yupperman’s department store.  The perfume cloud at the front of the store was so thick this year that it coated my body.  Normally I would be concerned about arriving home reeking of perfume, but this is the expensive stuff worn by classy ladies.  My wife knows that women this refined would not be cavorting with the likes of me.

I think I figured out why these stores create the perfume cloud.  Once guys get coated with this stuff, they may feel more feminine and be tempted to become transvestites.  “Hey, I’m already wearing women’s perfume; maybe I should get some women clothes!”  You may scoff, but the women’s clothing section is located next to the fragrances. Coincidence? - I think not.   Don’t worry; it did not work on me.   Yupperman’s clothing is much too classy and expensive for a cheap tramp like me.

Please Just Shut Up

At my next stop, the perky sales clerk insisted on explaining the Super Duper Customer Loyalty Program in excruciating detail. The program is about as complicated as quantum physics and twice as boring.  As far as I can tell the program has something to do with earning “points”.  But as a guy, the only points I care about are how many Ohio State scored in the Sugar Bowl, which are 42 and how many points are prominent in the latest Jennifer Lopez video, which are always “2”.

Camping Out At The Mall

I had problems navigating around the calendar kiosk because some guy decided he would park his baby stroller in the main aisle.  Only this was not a traditional stroller, it was a baby Winnebago.  It had enough storage space for a camping trip to the Alaskan wilderness.  I can’t imagine a baby owning enough stuff to store in that contraption; perhaps these people shop at Yupperman’s.  I just hope they eventually donate that to a homeless person (and his family).

I was surprised the daily calendar “What Your Poo Is Telling You” is still very popular.  I was again tempted to buy it, but realized that it would be giving me shit every day this year, which very accurately describes my previous job.  No, I’ve already lived that year and never, ever, want to do it again.

Keep No Secrets

I did not shop at Victoria’s Secret because it’s not a good place for middle-aged guys.  If the size is too small, you get no sex.  If the size is too large, you definitely get no sex. If the size is correct, but the style is wrong, you still get no sex.  It’s just too risky.  I also try to avoid stores where the sales women wear push-up bras.  Would you like the matching feather scarf with that, it’s only $50 and it looks oh so sexy, purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr?”  Push-up bras = pushed up profits.  No, this is a store for the younger, clueless, guys who are actually going to get sex, regardless of what they buy.

I Lost My Head Over This One

I was very offended to see that the male mannequins in one department store were all headless.  This is highly insensitive considering recent world events.  If we make mannequins already without heads, then the terrorists have won!  Either that or the store is implying that men are brainless when it comes to fashion decisions, so women need to buy them some decent clothes.  And we all know that it so not true.

I Skipped The Free Food Sample

But the weirdest thing I saw at the mall was this Asian guy handing out food samples in front of the Japanese food stand “Wok This Way” in the food court.  I noticed that he had this strange, slightly angry, expression on his face and I wondered why. I think the guy was in fact half-Asian but was contorting his face to appear full-Asian.  He probably thought he could hand out more samples if he looked more authentic and I do admire his dedication to his job. 

Of course I cannot fully describe exactly what he was doing without being extremely offensive and horribly politically incorrect.  You will have to figure this one out on your own, since I would not want you to have a slanted opinion of me.      

Sunday, December 28, 2014

A Memorable New Year’s Resolution

I actually made a New Year’s resolution for 2014.  I think this concept is futile because you usually break your vow within a month and once broken this can actually give you license to totally ignore the bad behavior.  This means your bad habit can actually get worse that year because you were stupid enough to make the resolution.

But I made a resolution not to get “fizzed off” (to not explosively lose my temper) this year.   You might think this would be very easy, but remember I wrote a whole blog post about all about getting fizzed off repeatedly in the year 2012.  And “fizzed off” might be an understatement because it is more like a nuclear meltdown, or nuclear fission, so maybe “fissed off” is a better term.

I didn’t get fizzed off much in 2013 and my new job is much less stressful, so I thought this was a worthy goal.  And achieving this would be beneficial for my family and even for my health, since getting fizzed off causes my blood pressure to spike to impressively high readings.  It can take hours for it to return to normal after a good fizz off.

In early November I realized I had kept my resolution and it’s not like I did not have reasons to fizzed off.  My brand new neighbor flipped me the bird when he was moving in because I did something he didn’t like (of course I was totally innocent). Some doufus rear-ended me by driving like a yahoo on the Tampa expressway, nearly causing me to miss my flight back from vacation.  And various other morons did things that could have been “fizz worthy”.

But I did not fizz. My resolve held firm.  As a defense mechanism I even began literally laughing in people’s faces when they did or said something that could have fizzed me off.  Of course this probably fizzed them off, but then they started it, right?

So I was very proud of myself.  Of course I planned to write a blog post on how I was able to keep my resolution for 2014.  I would write about my personal strength, my great resolve, my superior self-control, my dignified composure. Perhaps the Pope would read about my righteousness and make me a saint. I mean I’m not Catholic, but how would he be able to ignore such greatness.

And then it started so innocently …

I called the Wall Street Journal to cancel my $300 digital subscription.  I had subscribed for my job, but had only used it a handful of times all year.  I had been watching for a renewal notice, but to my surprise I never got one.   However, I did notice the subscription had been conveniently automatically renewed on my credit card statement.  What great customer service! They did all the work to seamlessly continue my subscription without even sending me an email notification. No need to clutter up my in box with more emails!

I explained to customer service representative Gina what I wanted to do, but I could tell she was concerned and disappointed that it was over between us, that I would no longer have access to what she could give me.  I was now being exposed to their customer retention program and she was not going to let me go without a fight.

She started asking me questions about what information I used and what I used it for.  I started to become mildly irritated when the call started taking longer than I anticipated.  I became further irritated when she asked what sources I would now use for the information I needed.  When I told her Reuters (one of the largest news companies in the world) and Economy.com (a WSJ major competitor), Gina replied “Oh I’ve never heard of them”.  So she was either very stupid, or lying to me, either of which made me want to end the call soon.

She was wasting my time because there was absolutely no chance that I was going to renew.  If she drove to my city and made mad, passionate, love to me, I was still going to cancel.  I know some guys will say, “But what is she was smokin’ hot”? For the sake of argument, let’s just assume she was not.

She then pointed out the subscription had just been renewed, which of course promoted me to express my displeasure (still very composed) about their renewal process.  This promoted her to argue with me and defend that process.  And this led us to a point where I realized that Gina was not the pleasant, helpful, customer service representative that I was led to believe.  She was an evil, conniving, bitch.

The call ended with me literally screaming into the phone:

CANCEL IT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CANCEL IT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JUST CANCEL IT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gina: okay it’s cancelled
Fizzed Off or Fissed Off?

(click)

They said at the beginning that the call may be recorded for quality purposes and I hope to hell it was.  They could use it in training classes as an example of what not to do, but I expect the students would all break out in laughter at the point where I got fizzed off.  If the recording ever leaks out, it will surely go viral.  I have already contacted Edward Snowden and North Korea to see if they can get me a copy of the recording.

Unfortunately, my body did not react well to the first fizzed off meltdown in a long time.  I tried to tell myself that it was fruitless to get so upset over an insignificant phone call.  But it was too late; I could not put the toothpaste back in the tube.  And in this this case, the toothpaste had been projected all over the wall and some even hung from the ceiling.  Four hours later my blood pressure still had not returned to normal.  Did I mention that Gina is a bitch?

I will not be making any New Year’s resolutions this year.  Go ahead and make some of your own if you wish.

Happy New Year to all my readers, and here’s to a laughter filled 2015.

         

Sunday, December 14, 2014

A Christmas Letter To Brag About

As we enter that special holiday time, one of the joys of the season is receiving those humble Christmas brag letters.  Well-meaning people send these to spread Christmas cheer by raving about their perfect family and all their wonderful accomplishments that year.  After reading these letters, you are devoid of all cheer, you feel that your family is inadequate and you consider the author of the letter to be a yuletide douchebag.

Just in case you did not receive a humble Christmas brag letter this year, your Uncle Don has decided to share this year’s letter from his third cousin, twice removed, Maude.

Dear Family and Friends,

Wow! Where did this year go to?  I’m so sad to see it end, because it’s just been a fantastic year for our family! Let me share some of our stellar achievements this year: 

Candi is expecting again!  The good news is this time the list of possible fathers is much shorter than last year.  While this shows that Candi is growing in maturity, unfortunately we will not be making a return visit to New York to be on the Maury Povich Show to “reveal” the father.  Heck, we won’t even need a DNA test for this one.  There are only two candi-dates and they are of different, uh well, of different ancestral origins. Let’s just say the winner will be clearly apparent at birth.

We are so happy that Kyle’s molestation charges were unexpectedly dropped. We all knew he was innocent.   His attorney said he was confident that he would have won the case in court but the photographs he had of that young assistant prosecutor giving oral dispositions to the judge after hours, really sped up the process.  That attorney was expensive, but the law firm of Duckham, Buckham and Fucarelli gets results!

Todd got some interesting news at his annual checkup. It seems his prostate has swelled to epic proportions.  The doctor said it is one of the largest prostates he has ever seen!  It’s too bad they don’t have a prostate category at the local fair, or someone I know would be bringing home the blue ribbon.

Justin remains in prison but is making tremendous strides in turning his life around and becoming a changed man.  In October, he received the “Ben Dover” award for exemplary service in his cellblock!

Crystal is becoming quite the student, accelerating in both science and math.  The girl is spending almost all her time “in the lab”.  What a studyholic she is!  And she is also a math whiz.  So much so, that her friends have given her the nickname “Crystal Math”. 

Brandy got a new tattoo to add to her impressive display of body art.  Unfortunately we can’t see this new one, which is amazing considering how much skin we can see!  She won’t reveal where it is, but it says “7-11”, which I think stands for “always open”.

My brother Charles, the accountant, bought himself a huge boat.  He also will be getting a new job next year.  Seems his company went belly up when someone drained all the money from the accounts.  He is sure unlucky in that way.  This is the same thing that happened at his last two jobs!  Oh well, this just gives him more time to enjoy his boat.  Good thing he lives on the ocean.

Kellie just got her third breast enhancement surgery.  She said it was time to “trade-up”.  We split the cost.  She paid for the actual surgery and we paid to expand all the doorways in the house.  She is also going to have to pay for the new custom-made brassieres.

Vanessa is enjoying her new job as a phone counselor.  Men call her from all over the country at all hours of the day and night.  She guides them through a stress relief process and they end up learning how to relieve their own stress by taking matters into their own hands. She can do this work from home and she gets paid by the minute!  Wow, getting a job like that was sure a stroke of genius.

And before I end, I must tell you about my niece Patrice, who got to have a “private” meeting with one of her idols, Bill Cosby!  She said it was such an overwhelming experience that she can’t even remember much about it, but she said he’s a real knockout.

So Merry Christmas everyone and we can only hope that 2015 is as good as this year!

Maude

And Merry Christmas Friends!


And to my Jewish, Muslim and Buddhist friends – Still Merry Christmas!

Monday, December 1, 2014

Ode To A Broken Rake

My yard lay buried beneath autumn’s final fury
Covered in leaves, mountains of leaves
The tundra gasping and choking for oxygen
And this was not even of my making
The dreaded giant oak next door had rained down its closing blast
Dead matter everywhere, decaying foliage
Now festering and rotting in a heap upon my lawn

I went to fetch my rake to eradicate this awful mess
I looked, but could not find it anywhere
When I inquired about the location of my tool
I was told that the rake was broken
That the tines had all fractured and fallen off
I shed a tear that my trusted friend was gone
That it had died, no longer useful, discarded so abruptly

I did not inquire why a new rake had not been procured
A bright, shiny, one with new strong tines
Perhaps there were hopes the leaves would all blow away
That they would all magically float to someone else’s place
But now I am powerless to rid myself of this disgusting mass of filth
Because my rake, my rake, is broken
It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off

I can hear the leaves now mocking me
“You had planned to gather us all in bags and burn us”
“But now you can’t, because your rake is broken”
“It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off”
“You thought you could dispose of us with ease”
“But even though we are dead, yet we live”
 “Viva la resurrection and viva la revolution!”

Ha! A true leaf “movement” would have them moving off my yard
A real “uprising” would be them up-rising and landing somewhere else
This was more like a “sit in” that I was powerless to stop
My property was being taken over by plant-based radicals
They had the upper hand and they shall not be moved
Because my rake, my rake, is broken
It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off 

I stand there, my head hung in shame
All the other yards are free of leaves, pristine, beautiful
Because the neighbors cleaned their plots using rakes
Rakes that were unbroken, rakes with tines that are intact
I waited ‘til the stubborn oak had played is final card
It is tyranny, egregious tyranny, I tell you
My domain is held captive and I am helpless to free it

Perhaps someone would be kind enough to loan me their rake
They had no need of it because their leaves are all gone
I will just explain to them that my rake is broken and it has no tines
I knock feverously at their doors, but no one answers
But I persist because winter approaches and the leaves are many
And my rake, my rake, is broken
It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off

I cry out, “Please kind sir, my yard is full of dead, decaying, leaves”
“My grass is suffocating and perishing underneath this deathtrap”
“My rake is broken and it has no tines”
“The tines have all fractured and fallen off”
“Please, please, I’m begging you”
“Have mercy on, have mercy on me!”
“Let me borrow your rake so I may clean my yard”

My pleas are met with silence, no one will help me
They are at home, but they are fearful I will fracture their tines
Then their rake would be broken also and they would be as pathetic as I
I return to my house rakeless, to the laughter of the leaf commune
I fall to my knees, shake my fist, and wail loudly
Because my rake, my rake, is broken
It has no tines, the tines have all fractured and fallen off


Monday, November 17, 2014

Kim’s Bum Is A Master Piece

Of course I was very concerned last week when I read Kim Kardashian was threatening to “Break the Internet”.  You know how much I hate Kim Kardashian and you also know how much I love the Internet, so this was of supreme interest.  And because security of the Internet is essential to me doing my job and earning income, I immediately stopped all work to investigate this dangerous threat.

I soon learned that Kardashian’s evil plan consisted of her posting a nude photo of her oiled bum.  I needed to literally get to the bottom of the issue, so I clicked on the pic.

Still not a fan!
It is impossible to describe this image with mere words.  As the photo engulfed my 21-inch, HD monitor, I sat in stunned awe.  Just as you cannot adequately describe fine art, I am not able, nor am I worthy to expound about this bum.   However, this is even more awe inspiring than mere artwork. It is a naturally occurring wonder, similar to the beauty of the Grand Tetons. Her bum is smoother and rounder than the Tetons, yet just as large. Yes, Kim Kardashian’s bare bum inspires the same reverence as viewing the most prodigious natural wonder. 

However these bodacious buns are worthy of careful examination, much like a classic sculpture.  Kim’s bum is not to be ogled; it is not to be leered at.  It is to be carefully gazed at, much as art connoisseurs   tremble in the presence of the most beautiful sculptures in existence.  One must appreciate the curves, the smoothness and the solid, rock-like, quality of this most exquisite derriere.  It is a masterpiece – a literal master piece.

This bum is so incredible that I don’t consider it pornographic; it is by all means pure art.  As attractive as it is, it does not stimulate me to want to make love with Ms. Kardashian.  In fact I believe it would be dangerous to engage in such activities.  One wrong move, one unanticipated shift, and you and your man parts could be crumpled under the force of that powerful bum.  I’m sure some of Kim’s lovers have been crushed to death and removed from mattresses by the Jaws of Life. Of course she paid to have the tragedies covered up. 

I think like other heavy construction jobs that making love to Kim is a two-man job.  I am not advocating group sex per se.  One man would be dedicated to the main task, while the second man would be in control of positioning and managing that prodigious bum.  They would need to communicate by Wi-Fi headsets to safely complete the task:

“I’ve got it stabilized! Now shift slightly to the right, then push, that’s it, push again!”  

I would also recommend all future lovers receive certification training before being permitted to enter her boudoir.  Paramours would also be required to be equipped with GPS in case they got trapped in the crevasse or lost in the bush lands. An oxygen supply is necessary in case you got trapped underneath.

This of course means that Kanye West is in grave danger, however many people do not consider that a bad thing.  I do not think Kanye can control that bum. In fact, I think that bum controls him.  For example:

Kanye: Let’s eat Mexican tonight!

Kim: No, my bum says that Mexican can irritate her. She wants Chinese.

Navigating Kim’s body would be quite an accomplishment and I’m sure the feeling would be similar to climbing Mount Everest.   I’m sure conquerors feel like planting a flag pole there.  Perhaps I should rephrase that: They feel like showing some physical representation of their accomplishment!

Even though Kim has made millions off her derriere, it is literally her “money maker” (and it is so impressive she doesn’t even need to shake it), it does have its draw backs.  Her clothes are custom made – no one makes size 5X booty with 120 degree curves.  Her toilet seat needs shock absorbers.  When she has an itch, she needs a team of ass-scratchers all with smooth fingernails.  And she needs to live in a sturdy, reinforced, house because when gas passes through that thing, it shows up on the Richter scale.

My newest Facebook friend!
I am still not a fan of Kim Kardashian, but now I am a huge admirer of her bum. If her bum ever creates a Facebook page, I will “Like” it.  I will send it a “friend request” and hope it accepts me.  Maybe then the bum and I can chat occasionally.  I think I would really enjoy that.

Fortunately, the photo of the big, beautiful, oiled Kim Kardashian bum did not break the Internet.  Unfortunately, keeping the image on my monitor for an extended period of time, while I studied it very carefully for art’s sake, totally shattered my monitor.  But it’s a small to pay to view one of the wonders of the modern world.