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!

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

I’m Not Getting Older – Don’t Even Mention It (Part 1)


It was one of those, horrendous, milestone events.  The type which shakes you to your core and you remember forever, because it is so traumatic.

And it all started so pleasantly.  I met my good friend Michael for breakfast at, what used to be, my favorite restaurant.  We had just started perusing the menu, when Michael said:

“Hey Don, look, you qualify for their senior specials!”

I quickly lowered my menu and gave Michael my best “what chu talkin’ bout Willis” glare.

“See right here on back”, he said as he reached over and turned my menu around.

And there they were, six entrees discounted for those customers, not 65 and older, like most places. No, these discounts applied to people age 55 and older.

That’s right, some stupid sonavabitch in corporate marketing thought it would be a swell idea to start their senior discounts at a lower age than the competition.  What a stupid, stupid, sonavabitch.  He’s probably one of those “millennials” who drives a Prius.  I bet he doesn’t even wear a tie. What a horrible idea by this stupid sonavabitch restaurant.  I wanted to bolt out of the place right then.

I didn’t even look at these “special” dishes. Not that I was afraid I would actually want one, absolutely not.  I assumed that all of them came with a big glass of prune juice and I’m certainly not interested in that.

I am not going to order some “senior-discounted” meal because I am not “old” by any means or by any standard.  I am still a vibrant, virile, man; full of life and making a meaningful, relevant, impact on my world.  By no means do I need any help whatsoever paying for my £#>*ing breakfast!

I can’t image why the sonavabitch restaurant thinks I would need one of these geriatric specials.  Do they include stuff like creamed oatmeal to make it easier for geezers to chew and digest?  Well, that might give the old people less gas and I certainly don’t have that problem … okay forget I even talked about that.  Maybe the foods are high in fiber, because I’ve heard that elderly people have problems pooping.  I certainly don’t need that because I take fiber pills.  Oh yeah, I know many old people use Metamucil, but I don’t take it because I’m old.  I only use it because it helps certain health conditions that have built up over the many years … okay, forget I even mentioned that.

“Are you going to get one those specials?” Michael asked enthusiastically, not realizing he was really fizzing me off.

“No, I’m not”, I calmly replied. “Are you?” (said with a bit of irritation)

“Well unfortunately, I don’t qualify for the discount”, he said with just a touch of smugness and a smirk.

Now I’m really fizzed off.  I want to scream “Michael, shut your pancake hole about these d@%m specials. You stupid, stupid, sonavabitch.” But he’s my friend, so I let it go.

Fortunately, our perky, chicky-babe, waitress bounces over to take our order.  But after Michael orders, she turns to me and says excitedly:

“Sir, did you see our senior specials?!!!!!!!!!"

Thought, but not said: Yes, you cheerful bitch, thanks to that sonavabitch Michael. I know all about your stupid specials.

And “Sir”, really? Once the young hot chicks start calling you “sir” you have crossed a line that hurts you deeply.   I wanted to tell her that even though I am middle-aged, I could still be a stud muffin, like Sean Connery, for example.  Well maybe a younger Sean Connery, who was able to play James Bond and frolic with the “Bond Girls” into his 50’s.



I wanted to tell her that I was still capable of ringing her bell. Of course, I would need 60 minutes’ notice in order for my blue pill to kick in.  Obviously I don’t really need this drug, only old guys really need it.  I just use it for a little help. Wait, I don’t mean anything is actually that little. I’m just making sure, as the commercial says, it’s very beneficial for guys as they age …. okay, let’s forget I ever brought this up, err, I mean, mentioned it.

My fantasy was rudely interrupted by the waitress joyfully asking:

“Did you see our new Prune-tastic Platter?  It’s like a shrimp platter you get at a seafood place, only with prunes!  There are stewed prunes, dried prunes, pureed prunes, prune casserole and a prune muffin. You also get a large glass of prune juice to wash it all down!” (Prune juice! – I freakin’ knew it!) 

I looked at her incredulously and was at a loss for words.

She then continued, “Don’t worry about eating that many prunes. Since we added this to the menu, we’ve stocked the restrooms with 3-ply, super-soft, toilet paper.” Then lowering her voice to a whisper and leaning towards me she added, “Because some people who order this have hemorrhoid issues.”  Of course I do have hemorrhoid problems, but not because I’m old. It’s just from sitting on my butt in cushy office jobs for many, many, ye…. okay, forget I mentioned this also.

This breakfast had gone totally wrong.  The waitress is supposed to be flirting with me in hopes of getting a big tip.  I am supposed to flirt back, because that’s how this game is played.  But now, all the waitress cares about is making me poop and assuring that it is an enjoyable experience.  I now feel like I am 90 years old.

I said defiantly, “I will have the Atomic Bacon Blast with a side order of bacon and I will wash it all down with a couple of raw eggs. And I want my bacon, shaken, not stirred”.

I do this to prove to the chicky-babe that I have the arteries (among other things) of a much younger man.  Which of course I don’t. My doctor is treating me for high cholesterol, not because I’m old, but because that gunk just builds up in your arteries over an extended time … ugh .. forget I said anything about this too.

I was finally able to enjoy my breakfast, as I stuff my face with over a pound of delicious bacon.  I leave the waitress a huge tip to prove I didn’t need their insulting discount.  I proudly walk past the restroom and its soft, 3-ply paper, on the way out.  However, as I reach the parking lot I do experience some strong chest pains, but I think it may have just been gas. Maybe I should have ordered the creamed oatmeal after all.

Please buy my new humor book - Just Make Me A Sammich http://donake.net/just-make-me-a-sammich-book







Monday, February 1, 2016

Just Make Me A Sammich - Review by Midwest Book Review


Reviewer's Bookwatch: January 2016

James A. Cox, Editor-in-Chief

Midwest Book Review

278 Orchard Drive, Oregon, WI 53575



Clint's Bookshelf



Just Make Me A Sammich

Don Ake

Wojelay Publishing



9780998001807 $14.95 pbk / $8.69 Kindle www.amazon.com




Synopsis: Just Make Me A Sammich is a collection of humorous essays from a wild mind, Don Ake. He explores a wide variety of topics, finding the absurd in the simple things and hilarious perspectives on more complex topics. His warped sense of humor will repeatedly catch you off guard. Sometimes politically incorrect, sometimes a bit naughty, but always witty. It is literally laugh-out-loud funny, story after crazy story.



Critique: Just Make Me A Sammich: Absurd Observations from a wild mind is irreverent, unfettered, eyebrow-raising, yet always funny. The stories (some of which were originally popular blog posts) range from author Don Ake being sexually harassed (well, technically) by a female co-worker, to supporting his beloved daughter's decision to get married outside in the pouring rain even though he privately opposed the idea 100%, to a "pooh bear" analogy of the economic stimulus of 2009-2010, and much more. Don't take the tongue-in-cheek, sarcastic-parody-of-a-sexist-cliché title too seriously or literally; Just Make Me A Sammich is a book that both men and women will find hilarious!



Clint Travis

Reviewer

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Colons Need To Be Tougher Than This


I need to make everyone aware of a potentially explosive situation before it gets totally out of control.  A man in Virginia has been awarded $500,000 in a lawsuit because he was insulted by the medical staff during his colonoscopy.

I am not making this up.  Somehow he recorded the derisive comments while he was sedated. These bored colonoscopy professionals reportedly made insensitive and mocking remarks during the procedure.  The man sued them and the jury awarded him the cash on four separate counts.

This is alarming and I strongly disagree with the verdict.  Because in effect, wasn’t it the man’s colon that was truly being insulted?  Therefore, I contend it was really his colon taking the legal action and it was his colon, that was awarded the money.

Our culture has become overly sensitive and gets offended by everything and anything.  We have become a nation with the emotional maturity of a whiny three-year-old. And now even our colons are getting offended and bringing lawsuits.  This must stop now.

I do not want an overly sensitive colon.  I do not want it to get annoyed at the mildest irritation.  I do not want it to go into convulsions if offended.  I want a tough colon, a colon that can withstand the worst aggravations and insults and still operate at peak performance.  I want a colon that can literally take it in – and then dish it back out (the other end, of course).  I guess what I really want is a Donald Trump-like colon, but with better hair.

If we permit our colons to be overly sensitive and then hire lawyers to bring big lawsuits, then I personally am in big trouble.  I fear my colon would immediately sue me and my hemorrhoids of course would join in on the lawsuit.  I would hate to have to testify during this trial:

Colon’s attorney: Mr. Ake, was your colon if fact spastic on the morning of October 3?

Me: I believe that might be correct

Colon’s attorney: Would you like to explain to the jury what caused this?

Me: I don’t recall

Colon’s attorney: On the evening of October 2, did you not dine at El Sheetzafirro Mexican restaurant with your friend Tim and three other guys?

Me: I may have.

Colon’s attorney: And did you not order the Fuego Loco, 5-alarm burrito, with a side of sriracha sauce?

Me: I might have ordered something like that, but I was hungry.

Colon’s attorney: And did you not in fact comment after ordering, “I’m going to have fire shooting out my a$$ tomorrow!”

Me: I was just trying to impress the rest of the guys.  I was the oldest and as a middle-aged man it is important to try to prove I still got it.

Colon’s attorney: And what happened the follow morning?

Me: ^^^^^…. (unintelligible)

Colon’s attorney: Louder, so the jury can hear Mr. Ake.

Me: Fire came shooting out my a$$.

Colon’s attorney: Yes, it did. So much so, that smoke actually rose out the commode, did it not?

Me: Maybe just a few puffs.

Jury: GASP!

Colon’s attorney:  And it was as that point that your colon went spastic to discharge the burrito and stop the burning sensation. Isn’t that true? Mr. Ake.

Me:  Yes, but it fully recovered after a few days.

Hemorrhoids attorney: Let’s move on to your hemorrhoids, Mr. Ake, because that’s where the scorching hot burrito ended up next.

Me: Let’s not

Hemorrhoid’s attorney: And when the burrito was finally expunged from your nether regions, did it not cause intense inflammation and swelling of your hemorrhoids.

Me: Yes, it did, but I immediately went to the store to buy some medication to care for them. I don’t neglect my health!

Hemorrhoid’s attorney:  Your Honor, I would like to enter Exhibit 1 into the record.  This is a copy of the receipt from the drug store on October 3.

As we can plainly see, the defendant did not purchase the high quality, highly effective, leading brand of hemorrhoid ointment.  No, in fact, you choose to buy the “Generic Anal Balm”?

Me: Yes, I was just trying to save some money.

Hemorrhoid’s attorney:  And exactly how much money did you save

Me: >>>>> ……. (unintelligible)

Hemorrhoid’s attorney: LOUDER, WE CAN’T HEAR YOU!

Me: Sixty-two cents

Hemorrhoid’s attorney:  Sixty-two cents! That’s right, you saved a measly sixty-two cents by buying the inexpensive junk! You cheap bastard!  Your hemorrhoids are on fire and this is how you treat them.  And how well did this generic anal balm work?

Me: Not very well.  My hemorrhoids were still very irritated.

Hemorrhoid’s attorney: So what did you do next?

Me: >>>>> ……. (unintelligible)

Hemorrhoid’s attorney: WHAT DID YOU DO MR. AKE? WHAT DID YOU DO?

Me: I scratched them   


Jury: GASP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hemorrhoid’s attorney: HE SCATCHED THEM! HE SCRATCHED THEM!  JUST WHAT TYPE OF A MONSTER ARE YOU?

Courtroom: RABLE, RABLE, RABLE!

Judge: ORDER, ORDER!

Colon’s attorney: I now want to enter Exhibit 2 into the record.  These are images of Mr. Ake’s recent colonoscopy.

Me: (to my attorney) Aren’t you going to object?

My attorney: Heck no, I want see this! I think everyone wants to get a look at these.

Back to Reality

Trust me, no one wants to see that. And this is why colons and other body parts should not be allowed to sue people.  Everyone in our society needs to be less sensitive about being offended by stupid stuff and toughen up.

But seriously, you do need to have your periodic colonoscopy.  And it is also probably wise to treat your colon with some respect.
Please buy my new humor book - Just Make Me A Sammich http://donake.net/just-make-me-a-sammich-book


Sunday, January 10, 2016

Miley and I Both Go Topless – More 2015 In Review


More bizarre leftovers from 2015 ……

Best Tagline

My alma mater, The University Akron, decided it could solve all its problems with a spiffy new tagline: Ohio’s Polytechnic University. Large chunks of money were spent advertising it and “tagging” it on to anything and everything. (It may even be tattooed on the new president’s tush).

I saw a golden opportunity to cash in on this situation, so I immediately added the tagline to my resume and flew to company headquarters.  I walked into my boss’s office and smacked my resume on his desk.

Me: I demand a big raise!

Boss: Why? This is just your old resume.

I immediately jumped out of my chair and pointed out my important update.

Me: As you can see, my education section now includes this important, new, tagline, so how about tagging some extra cash on to my paycheck?

Boss: But what is a polytechnic?

Me: Beats me, but I am now qualified to do essential, polytechnic-type, stuff.

Boss: But you have a business degree.

Me: That would now be a polytechnic-business degree, sir.

Boss: I don’t think this matters at all and I should point out our healthcare plan only covers one spouse.

Me: I’m a polytectnicist, not a polygamist, sir.

I could tell this was not going well, fortunately I had a Plan B.  I whipped out my iPhone6 and blasted out some Fifth Harmony:

“Give it to me, I'm worth it
Baby I'm worth it
Uh huh I'm worth it
Gimme gimme I'm worth it
Give it to me, I'm worth it
Baby I'm worth it
Uh huh I'm worth it
Gimme gimme I'm worth it”

The music sounded so good, I just had to get up and dance!

The results were not good.  No raise, a reprimand from HR, and I ended up having to pay for my plane ticket.  Perhaps I should have left my shirt on during the dance. 

Worst Rejection

A South Korean heiress and airline Vice President became enraged because a male flight attendant steward offered nuts to her in a bag and not on a plate.  This horrendous incident happened before take-off. She demanded that the plane return to the gate and the vagrant attendant be thrown off for his most egregious act.

Even though the woman is wealthy and attractive, I would advise guys to avoid dating this woman.  If she is that particular about how a man presents his nuts to her, I think that is a huge red flag.  It is apparent that offering up a substandard nut sack, can send her into a rage.  Sure you could do some manscaping, but how would you know until the moment of truth that your nuts were in deed acceptable? Most guys could not perform under that type of pressure, even on medication.

Worst Small Talk

I was in line at the post office and the clerk was conversing loudly with the people he waited on.  When it was my turn, he assumed I had been following the conversation (I had not) because the first thing he said to me was: “And that’s how we found out my father had gangrene”.

Like could you just ask me how I was doing? Even if I was having a lousy day, I would lie and say I was fine. Just ask me, please, ask me.  But no, as he processed my mail, the discussion continued with descriptions of incredibly elevated blood sugar levels and comments about prosthetics.  I tried to avoid eye contact and kind of just grunted whenever he expected me to respond to something, but that didn’t deter him at all.

Perhaps the postal service needs to conduct customer service training on engaging customers in small talk. 

Worst Click Bait

I’m trying to get something very important finished. I need to pull some information off the Internet, so I log on and immediately see:

Miley Cyrus Goes Topless On Magazine Cover

I have absolutely no interest in this.  I don’t about Miley Cyrus. I don’t care about this magazine. There is nothing about this of any importance to me in any way and I am in a hurry. So of course, I click on it.  Because all my male brain is able to process after reading the headline is “tits!”

And I am sorry to report that Miley Cyrus’s tits are not very impressive. They are very average type tits.  They are adequate tits, no real need for enhancement, but they are just tits. They are not worthy to be on a cover of a magazine, except for the fact they are attached to Miley Cyrus.  An of course since this is on a magazine, the naughty bits of the tits are covered.

So, if you ever see a headline on the Internet regarding Miley Cyrus being
This is all you get to see in this blog!
topless, I would suggest that you continue on with what you are doing and not click on it. Because her tits are average, very average. I have already checked this out and am reporting on this important topic as a public service to you all.

Worst Planning

A $2.2 billion solar energy plant in California is only producing 25% of the electricity that was expected because planners say “clouds” and “weather” had a greater impact than anticipated.  And you think the people you work with are stupid.



Please buy my new humor book - Just Make Me A Sammich http://donake.net/just-make-me-a-sammich-book



 

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

2015 – The Year Toe Fungus Played Tennis

I had so many blog post ideas that I couldn’t write about them all.  For the next two posts, here is some best and worst from 2015.

Worst Christmas Card Ever

A few days before Christmas, a hand-addressed envelope arrived. Ah! I thought, another beautiful Christmas card to brighten the season, good tidings sent my way.  But when I opened the envelope, I was sorely disappointed. The card brought no joy, because the card contained no message except the meaningless initials of the company that sent it.

Now the options for a corporate Christmas card are:

Merry Christmas – Of course this is potentially offensive to people who are so anti-Christian that someone bestowing the goodness and blessings of this holiday to them, freak them out so bad their heads explode. And of course you don’t want that.  However, if you are one these unstable people, I better not catch you doing anything at all that has anything to do with Christmas, or I will come over to your house next year and sing carols loudly (and poorly) on your porch until you call the authorities.

Happy Holidays – This is a very safe, inclusive, salutation.  There are many holidays this time of year. Hell, this even includes Boxing Day, for elf’s sake. Just pick your favorite, non-offensive, holiday and be happy about it.

Season’s Greetings – However there may be some people hate all holidays and get offended at everything, so wishing them “collectively” Happy Holidays, just offends them multiple times.  Instead, you can just send them some greetings in this cold, dark, season reason.

Nothing – Other people (perhaps even our competition) are sending you cards now, for reasons which we are totally unaware of and cannot be discussed with anyone.  We too, decided to send you a card also, lest you think unpleasant thoughts about us for not sending something.  But we are terrified of offending you in any way, so here’s is a card that communicates nothing. We sincerely hope, we have fulfilled our card sending responsibility for this year and you will like us, because in no way have we offended you!


So the card says nothing.  And of course any graphic on this card could imply something that might be offensive to someone, so it has 192 snowflakes in neat rows (see photo, this is the back of the card so as not to reveal the
Happy ... Merry .... Oh the heck with it!
sender).  I guess snow could be offensive to those who have to drive through it, but ironically, there is more snow on this card than has fallen in Northeast Ohio this winter. 

So it is the generic card that communicates nothing equally to everyone.  It is the most PC card I have ever received.  This is what happens when you take non-offensive to the maximum degree, you end up with vast nothingness, a culture void of any meaning whatsoever.

But wait just a minute, the card is all-white with no color or diversity and snow implies the Nordic regions which are all – Oh Nooooooooooooooooo!

The Worst Television Commercial

My least favorite television commercial of the year was for a toe fungus medication featuring former tennis great John McEnroe doing commentary on a tennis match between toe fungus and the medication.  I am not making this up.

Let me say this: If your toe fungus has progressed to such a point that it can play tennis, it’s too late. You are going to die; no amount of toe fungus medicine can help you at this point.

Likewise, if you are John McEnroe, and your career has reached a point when you are doing tennis commentary in a commercial for toe fungus medication, your career as a celebrity has died.  Time to retire and play some shuffleboard.  “That puck is out! ARE YOU SERIOUS? It’s not on the line, it’s clearly out! I can’t believe you think you deserve any points!”  Okay, maybe not.

Second Worst Television Commercial

This one features singer Blake Shelton picking up a pair of his underwear from the dry cleaners. I have no idea how someone craps themselves so badly that they have to have their shorts. Okay, so maybe I do know. But in those cases, the shorts get thrown out, or burned in the backyard if the landfill refuses to take them.

Therefore, maybe what the commercial is really saying is this underwear is so special that you if soil it severely, you will pay for dry cleaning instead of discarding it.   Me, I would be too embarrassed for the dry cleaner people to view my artwork (especially if it was a hot chick), but apparently Blake doesn’t have a problem with that.

Worst News Story

The most disturbing news item of the year involved a New Mexico man who ate his mother’s posole without her permission.  What’s our society coming to when stuff like this is reported on the Internet.  I know many guys like posole, especially hot, spicy, posole.  Some guys don’t get enough posole and good posole is hard to find.  But this type of behavior is never justified.   This guy should have showed more self-control and eaten some other type of stew, although I do admit that posole is very tangy stuff.

Best Bizarre Conversation

I was telling a writer’s group about my plans to write a blog post involving Chinese strippers and made a disparaging remark about those ladies.  A guy I had just met took exception to my statement.  It seems he has traveled extensively in the military and thereby considers himself an authority on strippers around the world.

Guy:  I have found Chinese strippers to be very enjoyable

Me: From the photos on the news story, they look to be lacking certain “qualities”.

Guy: Wait, are you talking about Chinese strippers on the mainland?

Me: Yes, communist Chinese strippers


Guy: Okay then, I don’t have any experience with those women.

Please buy my new humor book - Just Make Me A Sammich  http://donake.net/just-make-me-a-sammich-book



Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Tim’s Christmas Budget

Gather round, children. Your Uncle Don has another heartwarming Christmas story for you this year.  This particular story is about Tim, but not Tiny Tim. This Tim could be tinier, but he always eats too much at the Chinese buffet.

It was a cold Friday in December, when Uncle Don’s coworker Tim, arrived at work and proclaimed it was going to be an awesome day.  Uncle Don and Erin (the guy with the huge beard from a previous post), who also shared that office, listened intently as Tim explained.

You see last Christmas, Tim’s newlywed wife went out and bought way too much stuff at Christmastime. She done rung up so many expenses on their credit card, they were still paying it off in June! 

But that was not going to happen this year. Because Tim and his wife had discussed what she was going to buy, where she was going to buy it and how much she was going to spend.  His woman was now on a tight, I said tight, Christmas budget.  And Tim was excited because his wife had taken the day off from work to go Christmas shopping and carry out this carefully developed plan.  Tim beamed with manly pride, chest puffed out, as he explained how he had gotten his woman under control.

Now in the olden days’ children, we probably would have never heard anything about this again, but now we live in the digital age, children, and in the era of too much information.

So a little bit past 10 a.m., the productivity and the peacefulness of the work environment was shattered …

“Why did she buy that stuff at Macy’s? She was supposed to go to Target! The stuff is way cheaper at Target!”, exclaimed Tim.

I looked over to see Tim clutching his smartphone in both hands, grabbing it so tightly his forearms bulged.  His jaw was clenched, his wide eyes staring at the screen in disbelief. That’s right children, Tim had decided to track his wife’s purchases in real time on the Internet.  Smart guy, that Tim.

“She probably went to Macy’s because that’s where her mother likes to shop”, Tim speculated.

“She’s shopping with her mother?” asked Erin.

“Yes”, said Tim.  “She likes to go Christmas shopping with her mother.”

Erin and I then exchanged raised eyebrow, worried, looks.  We knew Tim had a problem. Them women was shopping in packs and nothing good ever comes of that, children. 

The one woman will see something and inquire “Do you think I should buy this?”  And the answer from the other woman, no matter what it is, no matter what is costs, no matter how bad a purchasing choice it may be, and damn any credit limits, will always be “Of course you should buy it! Why not?!”

Now a guy would look at the very same situation and realize that if you even have to ask the question, then the answer is “No, we can’t afford it.”  Of course men also make poor decisions when roaming in packs.  Many a call from the police station has started off with: “Honey, the guys though it would be a good idea to stop at the strip club on the way back …..

About an hour later, Erin and I were once again startled by …..

“She really overspent at that store! What did she buy that would cost that much?!  WHAT?”, screamed Tim

“Maybe she bought your gift there.  You wouldn’t want to question that, would you Tim?  You would look like such a jerk”, said Erin.

“Well, you might be right, but she is spending too much”, said Tim as he walked out of the office.

Of course as soon as he was gone, Erin and I broke out in hearty laughter over this situation.  Now I know this constitutes laughing behind your friend’s back, which isn’t very nice at Christmas time.  However, the alternative would be to laugh in his face. And of course this laughing was Erin’s fault since your Uncle Don is a rather serious sort, who rarely laughs at anything.

But then sometime around 12:30, there was some very encouraging news …
“Hey they’ve finished shopping and stopped for lunch on their way home and she’s under budget!”, proclaimed Tim enthusiastically.  “But they did spend a lot on lunch, though.”

“Lunch counts against the budget?”, asked Erin.

“It does if she puts it on the credit card”, said Tim sternly.

But Tim’s optimism was soon shattered by the next startling revelation …

“Wait a minute! They’re not at the Appleby’s near her mom’s house. They’re at the one on Monroe!”, said Tim.

“Isn’t that the one right by that new mega strip mall”, asked Erin?

Oh no!, silence and dread then filled the office, children. Them women folk were not retiring, they were reloading.

We then went out for lunch and fortunately Tim didn’t check his credit statement at the restaurant, allowing us to enjoy the meal, eating in peace and tranquility. We returned to office and started back to work vigorously, as we always did on a Friday afternoon.

But that highly productive work environment was regrettably disrupted again …..

It was exactly 1:52 p.m. (I honestly did check my watch), when poor Tim literally threw his head down on his desk and pounded his fists.

“She’s over, she went over!” Tim cried out in anguish.  “It’s over, (gasp) It’s o-o-o-over.”

Erin and I exchanged a look of despair.  We were morose, children; morose I tell you.  There is no laughter when a man is defeated so decisively by his woman. Only gloom and misery.  Of course there was no consoling either, because guys just don’t do that.  This is one of those instances that is so shameful, so devastating, it should remain a strict secret forever.  It should never be spoken of again and under no circumstances should it be blogged about and posted on the world wide web. Only the most despicable cad would ever do that.

Tim may have thought this was over, but unfortunately Tim’s wife surely didn’t consider it finished.  Heck, it was only two o’clock, plenty of time for more shopping, and the temptation of that new, big, strip mall was too much to resist.  She made at least two more significant purchases, because work was interrupted two more times that afternoon by loud, mournful, painful, sighs.

Each time I looked over to see Tim glaring into that smartphone, shaking his head. The final time, I think I may have heard Tim’s credit card let out a painful yelp from his back pocket. It was either that or the burrito he had for lunch.

So children, Tim’s attempt at restraining his wife’s Christmas spending failed miserably.  His Christmas budget lay dead under his Christmas tree.  But Christmas is not about ol’ stupid budgets, children.  It’s about spending enormous amounts of money, on stuff nobody needs, because all the
commercials and advertisements tell us we have to.  And it’s about overcoming obstacles to reach our full potential and test our limits, our credit limits, that is.  It is about love, children, our exorbitant love of shopping. 

So you see children, it was Tim’s wife who understood the true meaning of Christmas, and not that fool Tim.  Maybe someday he will learn, children, maybe someday he will learn.

Here’s wishing my readers a Very Merry Christmas (and screw that Happy Holidays crap)

Remember: my first humor book, "Just Make Me A Sammich" is available here:

  

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Eating Hot Pockets Can Save Your Life

Recently a small, private, plane crashed in my hometown of Akron, killing all the passengers and destroying a small apartment complex.  While this is indeed a tragedy, it is out of these awful events that we are inspired by uplifting stories and gain insights to eternal truths.

The only good thing we can garner from this disaster, is that no one perished in the apartment building on the ground. But someone, could have, should have, been there, but was saved by a wondrous turn of fate.  There was this guy who was on his way home to that very apartment building.  But he stopped at a discount store to buy something to take home for dinner and in doing so, arrived home just minutes after the fateful crash.  

If he had not stopped to buy some Hot Pockets, he would have been burned to ashes in a diesel-fueled inferno, that was as hot as, as hot as …. What can I compare it to? Oh yeah. It’s was as hot as a Hot Pocket, fresh from the microwave.

And of course it takes much longer to buy Hot Pockets than it does, say a pre-made sammich, because you have so many delicious Hot Pocket varieties.  In addition, the guy also selected some delectable breakfast Hot Pockets for the following morning.  This extended Hot Pocket purchase decision delayed his arrival just long enough to escape his date with death.

I think the obvious lesson learned from this very inspirational story is this:  

Eating Hot Pockets Can Save Your Life!

They are a miracle food with astonishing powers.

It’s a mericle.  It a mericle, I tell you. A full blown microwavable mericle!

Sing if for me children, sing it for me! 


(you know the jingle; I know you do! Now just image some harps giving it a more celestial feel)

♫Hot Pockets♫

Hot Pockets have been ridiculed by comedians, detested by nutritionists and shunned by so called “healthy eaters”, but now there is undeniable, indisputable, evidence that eating Hot Pockets saves lives.  I hope all you Hot Pocket “haters” out there are now feeling some serious shame.

Sing it for me children, sing it for me!

♫Hot Pockets♫ ♫Hot Pockets♫ ♫Hot Poc------kets♫

I always knew the criticism of the nutritional value of Hot Pockets was bogus.  There is absolutely no reason not to enjoy this treat because they are an extremely healthy, low-calorie, gluten-free, cholesterol-free, fat-free, cage-free food.  This is because the stuff never stays in your body long enough to be a problem.  Once the Hot Pocket hits your digestive system, it is on a “fast-track” out of town.

I believe Hot Pockets were originally called Lava Pockets when a sadist developed a way to heat food to the temperature of molten lava in a microwave by using a “magical sleeve”.   Happily, he offered the new creation to his boss who took a big bite and screamed, “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrh daaaaaaaas hooooooooooot!, but tasty”.   The name was soon changed to Hot Pockets and they have been severely burning tongues ever since.

(Note: I was familiar with the term “Hot Pockets” before the food was even invented because that was the nickname we gave Barbara Manjenski in high school. We called her that because she had a nice … um, …. because her jeans fit ah, …. well you get the idea)

Now you would never put molten lava in your mouth, yet you will take a big bite of a Hot Pocket and then scream, “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrh daaaaaaaas hooooooooooot!” It doesn’t really matter what the thing tastes like after that. Your taste buds have been burned beyond recognition. It will take a full day for your tongue to heal. But the incredible thing is, you do it over and over again.  And it’s your own fault, doesn’t the very name of the food tell you that it is indeed “hot”? It’s a Hot Pocket – it’s hot, you idiot!  But it doesn’t matter, it’s like a prank you keep falling for repeatedly even though you should know better.

In that way, Hot Pockets are like that woman or man from your past who you knew was bad for you, who burned you romantically over and over again. Yet they were so hot, that you couldn’t resist taking just one more bite (I guess I need to explain that I am using “bite” here in the figurative, not literal, sense and you are disgusting for even thinking otherwise) and ended up burnt to a crisp again.

However, the most important thing to remember from all of this, is that eating Hot Pockets are good for you because they can save your life.  So if you are driving home and you are craving a molten-hot Hot Pocket, by all means stop immediately and get some. Lest you return home too soon and suffer a fiery death when a plane crashes into your house.  They are indeed a miracle food.

Now are you feeling inspired children? I know I am feeling inspired – and hungry. And not hungry for a sammich, hungry for some Hot Pockets.  Maybe the scrumptious Philly Steak & Cheese or perhaps the delectable Meatballs & Mozzarella.  I can now eat these guilt-free because I am extending and therefore enriching my life!

It’s a mericle!

Sing it for me children, sing it for me!