I See Dead People and I Hear Miniature Monks

2014 has just begun and already I’m confused.  Here are some things I can’t figure out so far:

Noises From My Refrigerator

I am now hearing what sounds like Gregorian chants emanating from my new refrigerator.  I have no idea how miniature Gregorian monks got inside my Frigidaire, but they are in there and they are chanting up a storm! Now don’t be alarmed.  I am not hearing voices in my head; I am hearing voices, chanting, melodic, voices, in my fridge.  I don’t hear voices in my head; other people may hear my voice in their heads, which include former teachers, former students, former bosses and even former girlfriends.   Unfortunately, all those people have some significant mental disorders which I have absolutely nothing to do with.

I assume these miniature refrigerator monks have to chant to keep warm inside the fridge.  We know from numerous television commercials that strange things happen when the refrigerator door is closed including various food products that speak perfect English.  I have quickly opened the door hoping to catch those monks in mid chant, but they are evidently too fast for me.  So far this is a just a mild irritation.  However, if those monks get hungry and eat the ham sammich that my woman made for me, then I will have to take serious action and call the Orkin Man who I assume can exterminate miniature chanting monks. 

Hey, Monks! - Get outta my fridge!

My other option is to try to record the chants and make some money.  I’m sure the CD “Monks Chanting Inside Don’s Refrigerator” would be a big seller.

My Deodorant Stinks

Recently I noticed my body odor getting worse.  This alarmed me because my hygiene practices had not changed and I was concerned that I had a health issue.  I then realized that I was using a new body wash that I had bought at an outlet store for a very cheap price.  Yes it was inexpensive, but it was a former private label brand from a major drug chain.  So what if it was cheap and discontinued, soap is soap, right?

The body wash was labeled “Fresh Scent” but I really didn’t know what the scent was because as soon as a worked up a sweat all I smelled was “me”.  So one day I gave myself a big sniff right after showering.  And that’s when I discovered that the body wash smelled like body odor.  Instead of preventing body odor, it gave me body odor.  In effect it wasn’t a deodorant soap, but an “odorant” soap.  I didn’t stink, my soap did!

So this product was providing the exact opposite of what it was intended to do. How does something like this even happen? I suspect a disgruntled employee in the soap factory decided to “stick it to the man”.  “You want fresh; I’ll give you fresh alright!”  And now I smell better before I shower, than afterward.

I’m Not Taking Health Advice From A Living Karkus

There is a healthcare product being advertised on television by someone named Ted Karkus.  This is very disturbing because I am not going to take any health advice from what is literally a walking, talking Karkus.  I’m afraid if I use this product, I could end up a Karkus, just like Ted! Karkus seems enthusiastic, but he is “dead man walking” in my book.  

He may be a happy Karkus, but he is still a Karkus.  I will try mystical Chinese wonder pills that make me irresistible to large Chinese women, before I buy any product from Mr. Ted (walking death) Karkus.  Why would any healthcare company have a Karkus for its spokesperson?  I am so, so, confused.

Bigger Butts Lead To Better Blogs

I blogged about a wide variety of subjects in 2013, but by far the most popular post was “TheseButts Are Big And I Cannot Lie” which took a humorous look at black market butt enhancement surgery.  At first the readership of this post was about average, but then after about three weeks the post started getting over 200 hits each day.

Of course I thought this was because people had finally discovered my spectacular blogging ability and started sharing and reposting this superb literary work.  But then I realized the hits were the result of the post showing up very high on Google searches.  It had inadvertently achieved search engine optimization.

So now when people search for “big butts”, big a**, big black a** and other similar butt-related topics, they are directed to my blog post.  This is odd because the post is not sexually oriented.  Sure, there is a photo of a woman in a provocative pose, but she is fully clothed and it is more humorous than indecent.

But according to my blog statistics, many people are looking for big butts on the Internet.  And this demand for big butts is worldwide.  They love big butts in Germany.  And big butts are also surprisingly popular in Saudi Arabia, India and Morocco.  My butt blog also has even generated hits from Iran.

Of course I thought about the potential of “big-butt” blogging.  I considered starting a blog concentrating on nothing but large derrieres.  If big butts are that popular then someone needs to fill this void. I mean based on the German popularity: “It’s vat da people vawnt!”  But then I realized that exploiting this dalliance for big butts would be wrong.  It was at this point I made a vow to never, ever, write another blog post on the topic of big butts.  And I am determined to keep this vow no matter what.  You have my word on this.  And this includes not posting any other big butt photos in my blog, like the ones shown below, just for the purpose of generating a massive number of hits.

I thought this commotion about big butts was just about over when I received the following phone call:

Caller: May I speak to Mr. Ake’s Pains

Me: I guess that’s me

Caller:  Well this is Sir Mix-A-Lot.  Mr. Pains I hear your recent blog post has revived a world-wide interest in big butts and I was wondering if you would work with me to revive my career. Perhaps you have heard that I like big butts and I cannot lie.

Me: I may have heard that once or twice before, but I can’t help you. My blog was not about guys who like big butts, it was on guys who illegally create big butts. And I don’t really prefer women with big butts.

Mix-A-Lot:  Really Pains? You other brothers can't deny!

Me: But I have to deny

Mix-A-Lot: I think that is so wrong. I think you are practicing “big booty discrimination”

Me: For the record, I do not discriminate against women’s butts on the basis of size, age, race or national origin.  However, I do explicitly believe that the shape of the booty is more important than the size of the booty.

Mix-A-Lot: Come On Akes. Even white boys got to shout “baby got back!”  Admit it. You want a motor in the back of your Honda.

Me:  I still prefer shape over size.  And I’m afraid my Honda riding days are over, Sir.

Mix-A-Lot: But if you don’t help me, how am I going to jump start my career? I need your help.

Me: Okay, couldn’t I just pretend to like big butts?

Mix-A-Lot: Are you telling me you would say you like big butts and you could lie about it.

Me: Sure

(Click)

Don’t Fall For Pushy Women

Last July a woman in Montana shoved her newlywed husband off a cliff to his death.  This news surprised and shocked almost everyone.  Some people (mostly women) were sad for the woman because after finding her soul-mate, the lifetime commitment ended in just over a week.  Other people (mostly men) wondered how the guy could have made such a poor choice.  Now many guys are married to “pushy” women, but this one was bit “overly pushy”.

However there is one group of guys that was not surprised at all by this news item.  These are men who are married to a woman that experience (notice I didn’t say suffers because that would be sexist) Enhanced PMS, or EPMS.  I don’t think this is a medical term, but it should be.  While many people make jokes about PMS, EPMS is not a laughing matter.  EPMS can result in you being pushed off a high cliff to your death.  EPMS is similar to demon possession, but unfortunately a Catholic priest is no match for it.  You just have to wait for nature to literally run its course.

Enhanced PMS in action - time to shut up!

My guess is that pushy bride was experiencing EPMS when this unfortunate incident occurred.  Of course EPMS alone did not cause this tragedy, there has to be a “trigger”.  And of course by a trigger I am referring to the poor husband’s mouth.  He obviously said something that he no doubt regretted all the way down until he hit the ground.

Evolution has caused men in close relationships with EPMS women to adapt to survive. These men don’t say anything once the EPMS period (literally, again) starts. Unless of course he is supposed to say something and then you choose his words very carefully.  Sort of like your life depends on it, because of course, it does.

So you have to wonder what this poor guy’s last words were.  Here are some possibilities:

-         Wow, your butt really looks huge in those jeans.  Next time we fly, we may have to buy you an extra seat!

-         That sammich you made me today was horrible.  The bread was stale and it had too much catsup.  It was just awful, one of the worst I’ve ever had.  Next time I tell you to make me a sammich, I expect you to do much better.

-         Hey your sister is looking so smoking hot since she lost all that weight.  Maybe you should go on a diet.

-         You are spending way too much money on shoes and make-up.  How am I ever going to afford my boat when you keep wasting money on stupid crap?

-         I can’t believe how large your friend Becky’s breasts are.  They are huge!  Her husband sure is a lucky guy.

-         You really need to remember to put the toilet seat up after you finish.  I’m tired of putting the thing up every time I go in there.

-         Quit complaining!  You are starting to sound just like your mother and you know how big of a bitch she is.

-         Can you pick up these clothes I threw the floor!   I almost tripped and hurt myself.  I want this floor kept clean.

-         I know we were supposed to go out for a romantic dinner to celebrate the night we met, but the guys are having a very important fantasy football league meeting tonight at Hooters.  So just make yourself a sammich.

-         Do you really have to talk so much?   I going to have to buy me some of those noise cancellation headphones.

Now I don’t know how the trial will turn out, but if I was on the jury I would want to know if the woman was under the influence of EPMS and if so, what her husband said to set her off.  And if she was experiencing EPMS and her husband did say something stupid, I’m letting her walk.  Well, under one condition, that she is required to tell any future suitors on their first date exactly how her first husband died.  If you’re getting a pushy woman, better to know that up front.  

A Very Heartwarming Christmas Miracle Type Of Story

Gather round children.  (Okay, children shouldn’t be reading this) So gather round grown up children, your Uncle Don is going to tell you a heartwarming Christmas story that truly expresses the meaning of this glorious time of year.

Many years ago, one morning, just a week before Christmas, Uncle Don’s butthead boss called the whole marketing department together for an important announcement.  It seems the evil bean counters had completed next year’s budget and determined that in January, one person would have to be dismissed from the department.

You might wonder children, why oh why, would the boss announce this right before Christmas.  Why not just wait until January to deliver the news to the unfortunate individual and let everyone enjoy the holidays in peace? Well children, that’s why he was a butthead.  He was a big ‘ol stupid butthead who often just farted out random thoughts for no good reason.   You will find that many managers you encounter in your career are buttheads, with a big butt right where their brain should be.

After the workers were dismayed and scurried down the hall to discuss the situation.  They could not believe the company would do this because it was profitable and the department was overworked already.  Everyone was in agreement this was a bad, bad, thing.

And this was a strange occurrence because it caused Uncle Don and Val the Bitch to agree on something.  Val the Bitch and Uncle Don did not get along very well at all.  Val the Bitch hated Uncle Don and was threatened by his superior marketing skills and vast intellect.  Uncle Don hated Val the Bitch because she was a stupid, disgusting, mega-bitch with a horrible personality and no marketing skills whatsoever.

Her bitchy personality and lack of physical attractiveness resulted in her having serious problems in her social life.  Several times a year she would arrive at the office and announce loudly and enthusiastically, “Hey, I got lucky last night!” What that really meant children is: “Hey, I’m not such a disgusting bitch.  I had a boyfriend last night for 10 minutes!

Yes children, this behavior was typical of the disgusting, pathetic, existence of Val the Bitch. But don’t think that Uncle Don wasn’t sympathetic on these occasions.  He wondered just how desperate, lonely, drunk, insane or stoned a guy would have to be to actually copulate with Val the Bitch.  He hoped these unfortunate souls were not emotionally (or physically) scarred for life.  And most of all, Uncle Don hoped that they took a long, hot, shower using industrial grade soap as soon as they got home because it is difficult to wash that type of bitchiness off.

But now Uncle Don and Val the Bitch were suddenly on the same team, united in scorn of the butthead boss.  As the discussion wound down, somebody realized that the butthead boss had chosen to make his announcement a mere 90 minutes before he was taking the department out for our annual festive Christmas lunch.  What moronic timing!  That puts the butt in butthead.

“Merry Christmas” said someone sarcastically.

“Merry Frikin’ Christmas said Val the Bitch.

“Merry Frikin’ Christmas indeed”, exclaimed Uncle Don.

So the Christmas lunch was very awkward that year.  The Christmas joy had been sucked out of the employees, but the butthead boss was having a great time yucking it up, totally oblivious to the lack of enthusiasm of all the others.

After the meal, the butthead boast raised his glass in the air with great fervor and bellowed “Merry Christmas!”  Of course at that point everyone else thought in their heads, “Merry Frikin’ Christmas”.  Unfortunately your Uncle Don started to laugh at this thought and lowered his head so he would not fizz off the boss with this highly inappropriate outburst.

And it was at this moment something magical happened. Val the Bitch, who happened to be sitting next to Uncle Don, gave him a swift, hard, kick under the table.  This immediately snapped Uncle Don to his senses and he thrust his glass in the air and proclaimed: “Merry Christmas indeed!” With this, the Christmas luncheon and Uncle Don’s job was saved. It was a miracle children, it was a Christmas miracle!

And then in that restaurant, in that moment of Christmas merriment, Uncle Don realized that Val the Bitch was not really a bitch at all, but she was a valued co-worker, she was a real person, with real feelings and real issues and that she was trying to do the best with what she had.  And this children, is the miracle of Christmastime, when everyone puts away their grievances and learns to love their fellow man.  Where there is peace on Earth and goodwill to all men, which does include all the bitches and bastards in your life.

Merry Christmas Children and Happy Holidays from your Uncle Don

My Diet Plan Is Burning Me Out

Recently I noticed some alarming personal trends.  Several of my shirts no longer fit and I had to buy some new belts.  I wondered why my clothes dryer was suddenly shrinking my shirts and I suspected that a humidity change in the house was shortening my belts.

I guess I could be gaining weight, but I choose to employ the Eric Cartman (from South Park) defense. “I’m not fat, I’m big boned!” I told myself

repeatedly until one day after showering, I walked past the mirror.  “Whoa, what is that whale doing in my bedroom?”  I may be “big-boned” but those bones were now supporting a generous amount of fat.   My gut was certainly not displaying “six-pack abs”.  Yes, where the six-pack was supposed to be instead sat an enormous beer barrel.

I live in a culture of personal irresponsibility, so of course this weight gain is not my fault.  I blame it on “Cheez-Its”.  They now make Cheez-Its in 14 different flavors. This means you can eat a different flavor every day for  two entire weeks, which I feel a responsibility to do.  If they are going to make all these different Cheez-Its, then they expect someone to eat all of them and I am committed to pursuing this cause.  Somewhere in the Cheez-It factory is a single-mother, working to support her children, whose job depends on people consuming mass quantities of crackers. Therefore I am truly doing this “for the children”.

So in effect I have been on the Cheez-It diet.  Which meant that every time I thought about eating less and going on a real diet, I would just say “aw Cheez-It” and grab some more crackers.  My only concern is that my favorite Cheez-It flavor is “White Cheddar” and I hope my preference for white crackers does not make me a racist.

But when I was devouring all those Cheez-Its, I never thought about where they were going. And now I have 30 pounds of Cheez-Its stored in my gut.  So a real diet is in order.

The best weight reduction plan I found on the Internet was from Jason Sudekis who said in July that he was losing weight due to having frequent, vigorous, sex with his fiancé Olivia Wilde (really said it).  Now that’s a program

Part of the best diet plan ever!

I need to jump on.  But when I called to sign up for “The Wilde Sex Diet Plan”, I found out that Olivia is pregnant and after the birth there is a three-year waiting list for getting on the program.

So I decided to try a diet based on “fat burners”.  This seemed liked a perfect plan for me.  It’s much cheaper than Nutrisystem, although if I thought it would make Marie Osmond like me, I would write the check in an instance. But the best thing about using fat burners is that I can sit on my fat ass and the fat burners do all the work.  The fat just burns right off.

Of course on the first day I took double the suggested dosage of the fat burners because I’ve got a lot of fat to burn and I want it gone fast.  But I never even thought about where this “burned” fat would go.

I soon found out.  The fat burners resulted in frequent and vigorous movements.  Ironically in the Wilde Sex Diet there are no doubt frequent and vigorous movements, however they, no doubt, are much more pleasurable than the ones I experienced.   

It felt like I had flushed the 30 pounds from my system in one epic battle.  I was very disappointed to get on the scale and see a loss of only three pounds.  And I was also disappointed to find out that my septic system was gaining significant more weight than I was losing. 

The money I had saved by not buying the “packaged diet plan” was now being spent getting my septic system sucked.  “That’s one of the worst blockages I’ve ever seen”, exclaimed the septic guy. “And the strange thing is, it was orange!”

Good Advice About Taking Advice

Recently my cousin Diane referred to me as the weirdest person in our family.  This gave me pause since that side of the family is a rather peculiar bunch (it comes as no surprise to frequent readers that my DNA is a bit twisted).  When we were kids, we would often dismiss criticism by saying “consider the source” meaning the person was too stupid to be speaking the truth.  However in this case, a weird person was calling me weird.  So perhaps there was some truth to Diane’s observation.  In considering this concept, I came up with a couple examples.

I had read about Miley Cyrus’ bizarre performance at the Video Music Awards in August.  I didn’t really think it was a big deal until Lady Gaga spoke out and said it was distasteful and had gone too far.  Now when Lady Gaga says that you are acting too slutty, you probably need to dial back the slutiness a few degrees.  Of course after hearing this I had to watch a video clip of in question.

No longer the slutiest  chic around!

Yeah, it’s one of those things that you click on and then you wish you never did.  And it’s like a train wreck, once you start watching, you keep watching because it is so shocking.  I now know what twerking is and really wish I didn’t.  I will say I have taken a “no twerking” pledge as a way to foster a more civil society.  And I am sad that Hanna Montana has turned into Imaho Idaho.

Then there was the time at work when a former boss (let’s call him, ah I don’t know, errr, “Joe”) burst into a meeting late and declared, “Oh that Ted Wilson over at Blair Corp is an arrogant jerk!”  I looked across the table at my co-worker Walt and we both had the same stunned reaction.  First of all, we were amazed that Joe had any understanding of the concept of arrogance since he had to buy his enormous hats on-line at the “Big and Boastful” store. And second, we hoped we never, ever, met Ted Wilson because if Joe thinks this guy is an arrogant jerk, then Ted should be locked up or maybe just shot in the head.

So I think I’m on to something here and I’ve developed these rules to guide you in responding to certain criticism you may receive:

-          If New Jersey Governor Chris Christie says you are too fat, it’s time to eat more salads.

-          If Hugh Hefner says your girlfriend is too young, it’s time to get a “later-model” (and you might want to get a lawyer)

-          If Jennifer Lopez says your butt is too big, then you might want to start exercising those glutes.  The same thing applies to Sir Mix-A-Lot and I cannot lie.

-          If Lindsay Lohan says you need to sober up, it’s time for some serious rehab.  But don’t go with her!

-          If Kim Kardashian says you are a media attention whore, it’s time to lower your profile.

-          If a fashion model says that you’re too thin, it’s time to eat a sandwich and a big one at that.

-          If former Chicago Mayor Rod Blagojevich says you swear too much, then you better clean up your m!*%!* f*$*!*# mouth!

-          If Anthony Weiner says your tweets are too explicit, it’s time to close your Twitter account – and yes, get a lawyer, and a good one at that.

-          If Donald Trump says you are too egotistical, it’s time to get some humility

-          If Taylor Swift says you’ve had too many boyfriends, then it’s time to be more selective.

-          If Tiger Woods says you are “dating” too many women at the same time, then it’s time to find a hot Olympic skier to canoodle with.

-          If Danica Patrick says you drive too fast, then it’s time to back off the accelerator. (If this happened to me of course, I would ask her to give me private driving lessons).

-          If O.J. Simpson says you should treat your ex-wife better, it’s time to lighten up.

-          If Pamela Anderson says that you are showing too much cleavage, it’s time to raise your neckline.

-          If Joan Rivers criticizes your plastic surgery, it’s time for a redo.

-          If Charlie Sheen says you have a bad temper, it’s time to go to anger management class. (but again, not with him!)

-          If your cheap brother-in-law says you are too frugal, it’s time to spend more money

-          If your friend “Chatty Kathy” says you talk too much, it’s time to work on your listening skills.

-          If a cow tells you you’re stinking up the bathroom, it’s time to improve your gastric flora. (That’s what the cow says) 

So am I going to dial down the weirdness?  Am I going to start acting more “conventional”?  Am I going to abandon my philosophy that “I’m normal, it’s everyone else who’s all messed up”?  Well, I always thought that would take care of itself when I finally matured.  The only problem is that I’m running out of time.

Raising Awareness About Raising Awareness

It seems almost daily you are hearing about or seeing someone doing something to “raise awareness” about some issue.  And today I am raising awareness about people raising awareness.

I do not need to be made aware of any more information, thanks to the Internet.  I am already aware of way too many things, some of which I have no business knowing about.  For instance, thanks to Yahoo News I am alerted anytime Brittney Spears butt changes size.  This important news appears instantly on my home page when I open my browser, and of course there are photos so you can study the metamorphosis in detail. This enormous information overload sometimes causes me to forget less important data. So I can be fully aware that Jessica Simpson is having a difficult time fitting into her jeans and forget more trivial matters like my wedding anniversary.

So even though most of the causes championed by these awareness raisers are legitimate and important, I do not want these people doing stupid stunts to try to gain my attention.  Even the act of “raising awareness” is questionable.  Somebody does some inane act to draw attention to themselves and then justifies it by saying “I’m doing this to raise awareness!” You can’t criticize them without looking like a heartless bastard who doesn’t care about the good cause they are promoting.  

In addition after a person has raised awareness, he doesn’t have to do anything else.  After you have been made aware, you are expected to give time, money or both to support the cause.  When the “heavy lifting” needs to be done, Mr. Awareness can sit back and say, “Hey, I did my part.  I raised the awareness.  Now it’s all up to you.”

If you don’t believe that “raising awareness” is often misguided, here are some examples:

-         Last month this guy decided to raise awareness for his cause by walking across the country!   Of course to walk across the country, you have to walk along some busy highways.  He only made it to Colorado (traveling east) before a tractor trailer turned him into road kill.  He did succeed in raising awareness however.  Now people are very aware you should not walk along busy highways.

-         Any event that involves men walking or running in high-heeled shoes.  Guys, I don’t care what the “cause” is.  This is so wrong! Everyone is laughing at you because you look like #!*! idiots.  They are not laughing with you, they are laughing at you.  Unless your woman is providing you with hot monkey love later that night, this is never worth it.  And the chances of your wife engaging in hot monkey love after watching you make a fool of yourself by prancing around in women’s shoes are almost nil.  So next time you are asked to participate in this demeaning practice, write a check in an amount large enough to make the crazy women organizers go away.  It is a small price to pay to maintain your manhood.

-         Recently Real Housewives of Miami star Adriana de Moura did a photo shoot and video to raise awareness for a captive orca at the Miami Seaquarium.  Adriana climbed into a bathtub to simulate the tight confinement of the orca.  This is fine except Adriana is frolicking around the tub nekkid!  I know that technically the orca is nekkid also, but now suddenly my awareness has been diverted to something else. 

Naked - but not that sexy.

Now when I watched the video (for blog research purposes only), I do admit that something got raised and that I was fully aware of it.  But instead of making me want to free the orca, it made me want to jump in the bathtub with Adriana.  This would of course make

de Moura - out of the tub
 but still wet

it more crowed and uncomfortable for her which is the exact opposite of what she is trying to communicate. Unfortunately my calls to Adriana about sharing a bathtub and engaging in hot orca love have not been returned, yet.  I am hoping this blog post will raise the awareness of Adriana to my plight.

So readers, there you have it.  I have made you aware of bogus attempts to raise your awareness.  I think my work here is done!