Mooning The Old School Way

One of the worst fashion trends of the past few years is young, urban, males going “beltless” and letting their britches hang too low.   Of course this makes them look totally stupid.   Now I’m not saying they are stupid.  I mean I don’t want you associate the concept of stupid with this in any way.  Forget I even brought up the term stupid at all, although even Forrest Gump was able to master the use of a belt.

I will give these fashion freaks the benefit of the doubt.  They may be too poor to afford a belt.  However if they are wearing $200 Le Bronner basketball shoes, the problem could be bad financial management.  For the others, I propose the forming the charity “Belts For Buttcracks”.

Perhaps these chaps are just ignorant.  People have been using belts to hold up garments for around 4,000 years, but maybe more education is needed.  A solution might be as easy as “Belting” classes in school.  “After threading the belt through the loops on your trousers, pull the belt tight and then buckle. Great, now let’s try it again!”

These classes would not have been necessary many years ago at my high school.  If anyone would have shown up with their slacks hanging that low, they would have immediately gotten “pantsed”.  I am sure of this because one day my friend John wore some new, “odd” pants to school.  Unfortunately those pants were down around his ankles before first period.  This wasn’t being mean, it wasn’t being bullied.  It was to teach you than when you do something too peculiar, there are negative consequences.  Learning how to conform to society norms is an important part of your education.

But upon further review, I believe there is an obvious purpose for this fashion statement.  I believe these guys are just displaying a continuous, quarter-moon.   If prescription medicine can be delivered in a continuous, low-dosage, method, so can a moon.

However if this is the case: YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG!

Once again I must take you back to my old high school days because some of the guys at my school were very skilled mooners.  And the best mooner of all was “Billy the Mooner”.  Billy would hold the Guinness World Record for number of people mooned if statistics were available.  If you upset Billy in any way or were an isolated woman (rated higher than a “5”), he would shoot you the moon.  (Now there was nothing at all wrong with this since sexual harassment did not exist back then).

Billy was a mooning machine.  He had more moon shots than NASA.  On his wedding day he mooned his honey before doing anything else. Of course this was after he had mooned all the bridesmaids. 

When it came to mooning, Billy was an expert marksman.  I once saw him moon a teacher during summer break at 50 yards.  If mooning was an Olympic event, Billy would have a pile of gold medals.

Olympic announcer: “Look at that moon shot! He really nailed that one, didn’t he Megan?  Megan? Are you okay?  Here let me help you up.”

Billy never joined the military because he would rather moon the enemy than shoot the enemy.  However now that we are fighting some people who are greatly offended by exposed buttocks, maybe Billy would be considered a weapon of mass destruction.

And Billy so loved to moon people.  After a successful, satisfying, moon, Billy would flash his “moon grin” which signified: Mission accomplished, target mooned.  He also was a master of the moon-and-dash.  He could drop his drawers, shoot the moon and escape before his victims knew what hit them.

Warren Moon

And Billy was a great leader.  He even orchestrated some impressive “gang moons” in the old neighborhood.   Of course I never was able to witness the full splendor of these group moons, because uh, because er, because I was somehow always facing the opposite direction.

So my advice to this new generation of young mooners; don’t do this half-assed, well I guess in your case, don’t do this quarter -assed.  If you are going to shoot the moon, shoot the full moon and then run like hell to make your get-a-way. And you are going to need a belt because you can’t run very fast if your pants are dragging on the ground.

My Big Presidential Endorsement

I thought it would be a good idea to remind everyone the presidential election in just two weeks away, just in case you have been living under a rock the past few months.  Of course there is no need to remind anyone here in Ohio, since it is considered a “swing” state.  This does not mean that we are frequently engaging in kinky sex.  No, it means that we have not decided yet who we will vote for.  Of course it is difficult to concentrate on politics when you are having so much kinky sex.                

This campaign has been rather contentious.  It has divided families, it has divided co-workers, and in the most serious rift, it has divided Facebook friends.  It’s just like the Civil War except for all the dead bodies and that succession thing.  People are posting stupid, inane, bigoted and outright ridiculous things on Facebook and these are just from the candidates.  My Facebook friends are posting much worse.

In order to end the war between my Facebook friends, help my Filipino Facebook friends decide who to vote for and most importantly, to stop the constant political phone calls and the pile of daily political mailings, I have decided to make my much anticipated presidential endorsement.

My Choice

My Guy has the correct position on all of the issues.  And even when he is proven wrong on an issue, he backtracks with grace and dignity and quickly develops new positions which are even more excellent than the previous ones.  However, Your Guy is an unprincipled, flip-flopper who is very shady.  My Guy is always totally honest on all things.  Your Guy is a bold-faced liar who can’t be trusted on anything.  My Guy waxes eloquently, while Your Guy has wax in his ears and can’t even hear the voice of the people.

I have heard some very disturbing things about Your Guy’s religious beliefs.  I am concerned that he is some “wacko” nut job whose weird beliefs surely influence every decision that he makes.  My Guy’s religious beliefs are very mainstream and he is very close to sainthood.    

My Guy’s political ads clearly state the truth with no distortions and deceit whatsoever.   However, Your Guy runs ads that are so silly they are laughable.  Nothing in these ads is true, especially the outrageous lies about My Guy.

I think by now we know which candidate is the best master debater.  Your Guy was rude, dishonest and disrespectful.  My Guy acted with the utmost dignity and displayed an almost angelic demeanor.  I do realize that both guys were too aggressive in the second debate, but I attribute that to them trying to impress that gorgeous hunk of woman, Candy Crowley, who is one part Victoria Secret model and one part Chicago Bears linebacker. Groooowl!

My Guy selected a Catholic running mate who is a living embodiment of God.  However, I have heard priests criticize Your Guy’s Catholic running mate as being a sinner and no better than a Baptist!  Your Guy’s grandfather had multiple wives in a foreign country and My Guy’s grandfather, uh, okay let’s forget that one.

I fully believe all the polls that show My Guy winning the election.  These polls are done by outstanding research firms that utilize the best practices available.  The polls that show Your Guy ahead are total rubbish.  They use methods such as voodoo, Ouija boards and fortune tellers to get their numbers.  And these polls totally ignore My Guy’s ability to inspire the electorate and make a stunning comeback.

So I believe the choice is obvious.  For all these reasons, I am strongly endorsing “My Guy” for President of the United States.  And may I add that Your Guy is a total doo-doo head.

May God bless My Guy and may God bless the United States of America!

These Are My Teams – Now Stop Laughing!

It’s football season in Northeast Ohio and this means I am cheering on my three favorite teams to victory.  Okay for two them, I’m actually just yelling a lot.  But I have noticed that “my” teams all have odd nicknames which warrant some discussion.

College: The University of Akron

Team Name: Zips

The team at my alma mater was originally named the “Zippers” after a new rubber boot that featured this new-fangled closure.  The name had to be changed a few years later when zippers became an important part of men’s trousers.  This would have been a great opportunity to select a new name, but no, the bad name was just shortened to Zips.

The name Zips can mean a quick movement or it means nothing, as in “you got zip”.  This latter meaning is very useful to headline writers whenever an Akron team gets shutout.  The name also made developing a mascot difficult.  If the school was true to its heritage, it would have a guy in a huge rubber boot jumping around the field.  Instead a great mascot “Zippy” (a kangaroo) was created and actually was named Capital One Mascot of the Year in 2007.  It could have been worse; they could have gone more generic and named the team the Akron Rubbers.

College: Ohio State University

Team Name: Buckeyes

You might be surprised that I cheer for two college teams, but almost everyone in the state of Ohio roots for the Buckeyes.  It my case I have to.  The other two teams mentioned in this post have a combined 6-33 record dating back to the start of last season, so if I want to back a “winner”, this is my team.

Ohio State is having a great season, but is ineligible to compete for the national championship because the team is on probation.  Apparently this is due to some people valuing something called “institutional integrity” over the players being able to receive free tattoos!  This is an outrage.  Nothing should ever trump the opportunity to receive free tats.  Come on man, it’s part of the uniform!

However, “Buckeyes” is a ridiculous name. Of course the buckeye is the state nut, but why does Ohio even need an official nut?  The buckeye is also inedible, which means it is a useless nut.  So Ohio State fans, your team represents a useless nut.  The name is laughable.  No other team is named after a nut.  You don’t see the Arizona Almonds playing the Wisconsin Walnuts, do you?

The mascot is Brutus Buckeye, which is a tall student running around with a huge nut for his head.  Unfortunately this resembles a, well ah, okay it looks like something you would see at a fertility festival.  This is why you never see Brutus interacting with the cheerleaders. The cheerleaders are not allowed to hug, squeeze, or sit on top of him.  And under no circumstances are they allowed to rub or kiss his head for good luck.  The last time that happened, poor Brutus suffered some stiffness that last more than four hours and had to seek medical attention.

NFL Team: Cleveland

Name: The Browns

There are only a few things in the world that are naturally the color brown, and most, let’s say “dirt” for instance, are unpleasant (politically correct insert: this does not include people!). The team was named after Paul Brown, the first coach, but that was a long time ago.  You should never name teams after people, because things change. Just imagine if a team had been named the Penn State Paternos? Paul Brown was eventually fired, so now most people believe the team is named after the color.

The name Browns makes having a mascot difficult.  They tried having “Brownie the Elf”, but a weak, boyish, symbol does not instill fear in an opponent.  And you can’t have someone running around in a long brown sock with eye holes. This would scare the children and would risk having the mascot being continually picked up and disposed of by stadium maintenance. The sad part is that since the new Browns have returned to Cleveland they have played like brown stuff, smelly brown stuff.  

Because I am a Browns fan, many people have asked me if the recent passing of the former owner, who moved the team to Baltimore, has caused me to change my opinion of him.  Of course it has.  What type of callous, uncaring, person do you think I am?  Before, I regarded him as a bastard. Now, I regard him as a dead bastard.

   

Gazing Upon the Royal Jewels

Truth #1 – The Internet is a wonderful thing because it allows you to see anything and everything.  The Internet is also a terrible thing because it allows you to see anything and everything, including things that you should not see.

Truth #2 – Teenage boys have a burning desire to see things they are not allowed to look at.  As men grow older this desire is tempered because men are permitted to see more things than boys, however the temptation never really goes away.

The Duchess Kate

And now these two truths are on a collision course so epic that civilization may temporarily come to a grinding halt.  The alarming event in question is the soon to be released topless photos of Kate Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge. 

Now this wasn’t a case of “Princesses Gone Wild”.  Kate did not flash her goodies to get some beads. She already has all the “real” beads she needs. No, some photographer, who reportedly is a former teenage boy, snapped some long-range photos of Kate while she was sunbathing topless on a private beach.

This is an outrageous violation of Kate’s privacy.   They may post the photos, but this is something that should not be seen by anyone.  No one should look at it.  This means that soon after the photos are posted, millions of men throughout the world will jump on the Internet to get a glimpse of the royal ta-tas.  I fully expect the entire Internet to totally freeze up until every man in the world with an Internet connection is able to adequately ogle the duchess.  This threatens to crash the entire Internet as we know it.

To save the Internet we may have to bring in Officer Barbrady from South Park to declare: “Move along people. Nothing to see here.” And I do believe there is not going to be much to see.  While Kate is a certified royal babe, she is considered to be “lithe”.  This means that she could not get a job at Hooters.  She has no trouble jumping rope and she can easily see her feet while standing.  Her cups, even when measured in milliliters appear (when clothed) to be modest.

Of course after the men of the world finish gawking, many women will also view the photos.  They will want to see how they measure up compared to the duchess.  All women want to be princesses and a duchess is very close to that.  Many will think: “Look at that.  My goodies are better than her royal jewels.  Perhaps the Duke would like to upgrade from princess size to queen size.”  They believe this because in life, as in poker, two queens beats a small pair.   

This scandal will be very embarrassing for poor Kate.  I know it is sure to be very awkward the next time I see her.  I will have to be careful not to talk about my vacation to the Flatlands and not to mention the firmness of the mini-muffins being served at the party.  And if Kate had any ideas about discretely enhancing the royal treasure chest, she can foggetaboutit because everyone will have seen a “before” photo.

On the other hand, the photos represent just how far we have progressed as a civilization.  In olden days a commoner could be put to death for even accidently viewing royal naughty bits, but now everyone can see the spectacles from the privacy of their own homes.  Heck, you can even project the image on your big screen TV if you wish.

Now some will argue that you should not view these photographs because of their salacious content.  But I am giving men everywhere permission to look based on creative grounds.  You see, these photos should not be considered pornographic, but because they are of royalty, they should be considered art.  They are just as much art as the ancient statues of some old chicks which displayed large, naked, jugs.  So guys, go ahead and enjoy an enchanting, inspiring, experience.  Ahhhhhh, euphoric.

Just don’t peruse the photos too long.  And remember; keep both hands on the keyboard at all times.

Sunny Beaches and Sons of Beaches

Last month I vacationed in Florida.  Usually this lets me experience what it’s like to live in oppressive heat.  This summer I did not need to leave home for that.  I should have just thrown some sand in my backyard and saved the airfare.

But vacation means getting out and experiencing new places and new people.  And of course, I encountered some very interesting people:

The Chunky Thigh Girls

I quickly noticed that a fashion trend this summer is short shorts.  But of course these should only be worn by women with proportional thighs.  There were several women walking around the airport flashing some very chunky thighs.   The women of the ‘70s took great care to hide their thunder thighs, but not these gals.  Maybe it’s because guys are heavier now and don’t mind bigger thighs on their women.

So my worry sitting on the runway (it was a full flight) was if the aeronautic engineers had accounted for all the chunky thighs (including mine) and if the plane could actually lift all this added thigh weight off the ground.  Fortunately it did!

The Cell Phone Zombies

I was surprised when a young woman walked slowly past me as I was exiting the airport men’s room.  It took her several seconds to casually stroll back out. I wondered what was going on until I noticed she was deep in conversation on her cell phone. 

I thought this was funny until I had to dodge several more cell phone zombies in the airports during the trip.  By the end, I was tempted to knock the next one flat on his back  and when he looked up I would say: “Can you see me now? Good.” 

Mr. I-Pod

This guy on the plane was bobbing his head and shaking violently. I was worried he was having a seizure, but apparently he was just really into the music on his I-Pod.  He saw me staring at him and reacted like there was something wrong with me.  Oh no Mr. I-Pod, you are the weirdo because you look stupid.  Besides that, he was wearing a woven anklet.  Guys should never, ever, wear any jewelry below the chest (and no nipple rings).

The Newspaper Thief

Some goofball on the plane asked to see a section of my newspaper then failed to return it.  On my return flight I prevented this from happening by use of something called Wi-Fi and a Kindle.  Stick it thief boy!

The Very Pregnant Woman (In the Atlanta airport)

I could tell just how pregnant she was because she was wearing a super tight, super shear, “pregnancy sock”.  Yes I’m happy you’re pregnant, but I don’t want to share this intimately in the moment.  If you wouldn’t wear something this revealing before you were preggers, why the hell would you wear it now?  And why are you flying anyway?  Crying babies on planes are bad enough, but I don’t any new babies popping out during my flight.

Bad Fashion Guy

There was this old guy in a restaurant sporting sweat pants held up by a pair of suspenders.  This looked hideous and is not acceptable under any circumstances.  No matter how cheap you are, when the elastic wears out in your sweat pants; it’s time to buy a new pair.

The “Hey Where’s My Sink Guy”

That would be me.  There are no sinks in the newly remodeled Jacksonville Airport.  There is a long, slanted, marble slab with motion activated water and soap dispensers sticking out of the wall.  It is very disconcerting when you turn the corner to wash your hands and there are no sinks.

Mr. and Mrs. Sea Turtle Sex Experts

The couple proudly tells you that they have devoted their entire lives promoting the propagation of sea turtles and fully expect you to be impressed.  It was also humorous the way their faces lit up when they explained sea turtle sex.  I did learn that it must be very dark for sea turtles to mate.  This means either the females are very modest or the males are turned off by the sight of the female’s chunky thighs.  

The 40 Year-Old Woman in the Mini Bikini  

20 years ago she probably looked smoking-hot in this outfit and to her credit the “southern” hemisphere was well preserved and very impressive for a woman her age.  However the “northern” hemisphere was suffering the effects of child-bearing, gravity and perhaps even global-warming, which had greatly affected the topography of the region.  The capital of the northern region was no longer the city of Twin Buttes, but Sagamore Hills (an actual place in Ohio).  She was hanging loose and hanging low and the mini bikini top provided only minimal coverage in front and even less from the side.  During a conversation with her she was waving her arms a lot which of course caused the pendulums to swing wildly. I was afraid one of the sandbags was going to bust loose and slap me in the face.  

Preventing Female Riots and Sex Strikes

Men around the world should be concerned about the alarming events occurring in Russia.  Some very upset Russian women have gotten involved in something called a “Pussy Riot”.  I don’t understand exactly what it is, but trust me, it can’t be good.

Organizers of the Pussy Riot

This Pussy Riot is a serious threat to men everywhere.  These Pussy Rioters are enflamed and something has stroked passion deep within them.  I know that in most cases this would be a good thing, but here it is a bad thing, a very bad thing.

I am very concerned that the Pussy Riots could spread to this country just as other protests have. Enraged Pussy Rioters could start whining to their friends on Facebook and this movement could suddenly go worldwide.  Already women in Togo have organized a “sex strike”.

It used to be that when you did something stupid and upset your wife; the only other women that got upset were her co-workers and the friends that she called on the phone.  Now because of the “social media” you can actually goof up and fizz off women throughout the world!

But we must take extraordinary measures to head off this Pussy Riot before it starts in America.  Therefore I am imploring men everywhere to enact the following measures immediately and to continue to follow them until this most serious threat has passed.

1.     Always return the toilet seat to its downward and sitting position.

This includes after excursions in the middle of the night and the rushed efforts during commercial breaks in football games.

2.     Actually make an attempt to listen to your wife or significant other (WOSO) when she speaks to you.  

I know this may be burdensome, but you just have to focus more.  If she starts to share one of the problems that her friend is having during the fourth quarter of an important NFL game, just pretend to listen while still focusing on the game.  This is the relational equivalent of Peyton Manning looking off the safety while really watching the receiver on the other side of the field. 

3.     Spend more time on foreplay. 

If you don’t know what foreplay is, you are going to have to Google it.  If you need some new ideas, Google is good for that also.  Just don’t get caught watching the instructional videos or you will cause a Pussy Riot in your own house. 

4.     Extend the duration of the “act” itself.

 

I realize this combined with #3 is going to eat into the time you spend on your fantasy football league.  But unless you are involved in one of those “high stakes” leagues, preventing a raging Pussy Riot is worth the effort. I have read that humming “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” is a good way to make sure that you spend enough time on the task.  Just remember not to hum out loud.  Other guys say they find it helpful to think about Janet Reno if they find things progressing too fast. 

5.     Be nicer to your mother-in-law.

I have confidence you can do this if you really try.  Just remember that your mother-in-law could end up being one of the irritated Pussy Rioters and you really, really, do not want that.

6.     Pick up your socks and underwear and place them in the hamper. 

It will be herculean efforts like this that will keep the Pussy Riots contained.  In this case your WOSO is correct.  This stuff is really not going to pick itself up. 

7.     Make your own d**n sammich! 

If you’ve forgotten how, you need to use Google once again. 

8.     Take your WOSO out to dinner. 

This must be at a restaurant that does not use plastic utensils.  Always do this the day before a big football game.  Hopefully your WOSO will talk so much at dinner that she will then not cause unfortunate interruptions during the game the next day. 

9.     After dinner, take her to the movie of her choice.

Of course this will be a chick flick and it will probably have an emotional ending that will cause her to cry.  All you have to do is to wait to the end of the movie and think about bad your fantasy football team is going to do because you just wasted two hours in the theatre instead of making some great trades.  This should bring tears to your eyes at just the right moment.

10.  Buy her some flowers. 

When you go to pick up beer for the game, just buy her one of those inexpensive bouquets they have at the store.  If you don’t have enough cash for both, unfortunately you will have to buy a cheaper brand of beer.  Penn State fans are exempt from this one since they are going to need plenty of hard liquor to make it through this season.

 

I know these actions may seem severe and extreme, but the prospect of Pussy Rioters marching down your street is just too harrowing.  So men, we can get through this if we just stick together and keep our potential Pussy Rioters satisfied.  

Bad Pizza, Man! - Really, Really, Bad Pizza

The summer of 2012 has been one of the hottest on record in Northeast Ohio.  During most extremely hot summers, there is that one time, that one day, when you are so hot or uncomfortable that it burns (a very appropriate term here) into your long-term memory.

This is my “hottest” memory of the scorching summer of 2012.  It was a Friday and the temperature had reached 98 degrees.  I called my favorite pizza place after work as I often do on a Friday, and ordered two, two-topping pizzas.  I was told the order would be ready in 30 minutes which is longer than the standard 20 minute wait.  So I knew that they were busier than normal.  What I didn’t know is that because of the 98 degree heat, everyone and their brother decided not to cook dinner but was ordering pizza instead.

I got to the pizza joint early and there was only one customer waiting so I decided to stay in my car for a while because I assumed that it would be hot inside.  I assumed correctly because the temperature inside had to be near 90 degrees (even with air conditioning) and the air was thick with pizza scent.  It was so thick it was difficult to even breathe.  And this was because of the massive amount of pizza orders that came in right after mine.  Every oven was baking.  The employees were scrambling like mad to make and bake the pizzas. 

The first person in line got her order.  But by now there were five people in line behind me.  They had not been able to wait on me because they were still rushing to make all the pizzas. I had already been waiting five minutes in the Italian sauna.  Sweat was running off my shaved head and dripping profusely off my chin.  I was very hungry and the think smell of baking pizzas was strangely appetizing and nauseating at the same time.  After waiting ten minutes I thought I could die of pepperoni fume asphyxiation.  It was so uncomfortable that I did consider leaving at one point, but I stayed since I still needed something for dinner.

At the 15 minute mark the guy asked who had “two large”, I gave him my name, he checked the bill and I was on my way.  You bet the car air conditioner was fully cranked on my drive home.

When my wife opened the first box she exclaimed, “What did you order?”

“The usual”, I replied.

“Well this is not it!” she declared.

Now we are generally not that picky when it comes to pizza toppings.  I would guess that 99% of pizza topping combinations would be acceptable to us.  Heck if there were three or more standard toppings on the pizza, I would have even come out ahead.  Of course this is what would happen to normal people; it’s not what happens to me.  I will never run out of topics for this blog because my life is so wacked out.

The first pizza contained jalapenos.  Just jalapenos. Lots of jalapenos. Imagine a peperoni pizza covered edge to edge in peperoni, but instead of peperoni, it is covered with sliced jalapenos!   I do like jalapenos, so to show my wife this wasn’t a total disaster I tried to eat the super jalapeno pizza.  I was able to get one piece down and part of the second before I gave up.  This wasn’t just bad pizza, it was nasty pizza. It was the nastiest pizza I have ever eaten in my life. And it made one nasty trip through my body causing issues at every stop.  It inflamed my taste buds, it irritated my stomach lining and it was not too kind to my hemorrhoids upon departure. 

The second pizza was a plain without cheese.  Both pizzas were undercooked, because of course my pizzas were supposed to come out of the oven before these pizzas from hell.  My wife and daughter were able to eat some of the partially cooked dough with tomato sauce (the second pizza).  So we did not starve and I do realize that there are starving people in Africa, but they probably would not have eaten the super jalapeno pizza either.

 

What type of person orders these types of weird pizzas?  Using my Lieutenant Columbo detective skills I deduced it was a Hispanic vegetarian.  I am glad that we live in a country where Hispanic vegetarians have the freedom and the opportunity to order super jalapeno pizzas, but why, oh, why, did I have to be given this one?

However as disappointed as I was to receive these pizzas, the Hispanic vegetarian had to be even more disappointed to get mine.  He could not have been very happy with my sausage-bacon and pepperoni-ground beef pizzas.  Ironically while his pizzas were barely edible for me, my pizzas were totally inedible for him.  That’s bad pizza.  Bad, bad, pizza in the hot summer of 2012.

Postlude:  I kept my receipt and after explaining the super jalapeno screw up, the pizza parlor graciously gave be a credit for two pizzas, which of course I took care to order on a much cooler Friday.