Sunday, August 23, 2015

A Kardashian Got a Bikini Wax

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

The big news of the week is not about war, starvation, plague, terrorism, or the abuse of human rights. 

The big news of the week is a Kardashian got a bikini wax!  Yup, a Kardashian vagina has been waxed and steamed and is now ready for business. 

And by business I mean exploitation.  Why have a vagina if it can’t generate attention and  income? 

But which Kardashian had the bikini wax? That’s the vaginal question on everyone’s lips.

Expect numerous TV appearance by all the Kardashian, sitting with closed legs, promoting their vaginas, but not admitting who got the wax job. 

There will be a cell phone app people can download for $2.99 so they can look at close-up photos pre and post waxing, video of the actual waxing (taken on an iPhone which makes a great marketing/money making tie-in with Apple) and then vote for whose vagina it is. 

Over the next few weeks, the water cooler conversation will be “Did you see the vagina waxing? Which Kardashian vagina is it?”

The winners of the contest will receive a signed glossy eight by ten of the waxed vagina signed by the Kardashian who’s vagina was actually waxed.

Humankind will be overjoyed when the news is announced. 

I can’t think of any better way to spend $2.99.

All the news channels are preparing for the winning results so they can spend hours, if not days, discussing the bikini wax, the effect it has on the Kardashian empire and the Kardashian sex life. 

There’s a part of me that admires anyone who can be so blatant with self-promotion, so greedy for attention, and so forthcoming with their vagina. 

Then there’s the part of me that wonders what’s missing in their lives that they so desperately need attention. 

Do they ever get tired of themselves?

The other day I got inspired by the Kardashians bikini wax mania and started to trim my pubes but got bored before I finished. Now one side of my penis looks like a manicured suburban lawn and the other side looks like a clogged drain. 

Whatever. 

It’ll grow back. 


Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Potential Dangerous Donut Trend

Fact of life: Donuts are delicious.

Jelly donuts are my personal favorite though I’ve never said no to any donut offered. 


I have been known to go to the airport extra earlier in order to purchase a large cup of Dunkin’ Donut coffee and one jelly donut and one chocolate donut. It’s what I consider my pre-boarding-airport-foreplay. I sit outside the terminal savoring each bite and sip as the flavors cascade over my tongue… ooh… ooh… aah… and once on the plane I nap in absolute donut-afterglow. 

It’s with much dismay that I recently read about the donut licking stunt pulled by an overrated egotistical brat… you know who I’m talking about… the girl with the Grande ego.

I fear that her fans (I assume she has some) will start a donut-licking spree across the country, posting selfies on social media boasting their conquest with snapshots of their tongues covered in powdered sugar, icing, or cream with trays of licked donuts in the background. 

Oh sure, she’s saying she’s sorry, but I think her apology is code for her fans to rally behind her and do the dirty deed themselves. 

I fear a world where all donuts shops lose their “A” ratings and sink to a “B” or a “C,” or worse, are forced out of the donut business because they were licked to death. 

There is no saving a licked donut. 

I imagine piles and piles of licked donuts with no place to go. Who would want them? No one, not even the dumpster rats. 

I implore everyone to be on donut alert. When you have a few free moments take a walk around the neighborhood and stop by the donut shop to make sure there are no hooligans with wagging tongues circling the donuts. 

Keeps your eyes open for any donut lickers. Call 911 when you see one in action. We must be vigilant!  


Save the donuts and prevent this potential dangerous donut trend from beginning and spreading. 

Without donuts my world will not be a happy place. 

And no one wants to see me when I’m in an unhappy place...especially the girl with the Grande ego.

Wednesday, July 08, 2015

The Island of Black Souls

Some people are assholes and wreak havoc in our lives. 

When someone wreaks havoc in my life I banish them, in my mind, to the Island of Black Souls. 

The Island of Black Souls is an island in the middle of a vast murky ocean where people who’ve done me wrong go, never to be in my life again. Their eternity there is not summer breezes and Pina Coladas. It’s where they are taunted daily by their bad behavior. 


Who currently lives there?

The bald man from Vegas with a disco wig who criticizes everyone, including me. He proudly proclaims he’d never be friends with anyone who wasn’t “good looking.” This vain bald idiot doesn’t think anyone knows he wears a cheap disco styled hairpiece. On the Island of Black Souls he’s not allowed to wear his disco wig, and everywhere he goes he’s surrounded by mirrors.  Mirror, mirror on the wall… 

The egotistical movie production manager who is terrible at his job and blames everyone around him for his incompetence. “Lying” and “Backstabber” is his first and last name. On the Island of Black Souls he’s a film production assistant constantly berated, bullied, and abused by a crew that looks just like him.  Hey you, idiot… you suck… you’re worthless… you’re stupid… clean the bathrooms… get us coffee… now! 

The so-called “friend” who insisted on breaking something in my apartment every time he visited whether it was a towel rack or wine glass or a plate or chipping the freshly painted wall. Craaazy! On the Island of Black Souls everything he touches breaks, crumbles in his hand, and disintegrates.  He’s now afraid to masturbate… 

The judgmental self-righteous vegetarian who bullies and lectures everyone about eating the “right” way (aka her way), and who doesn’t have a nice thing to say about anyone who eats otherwise.  She told me I eat too “ethnic.” On the Island of Black Souls she’s forced to eat meat, is in a constant state of intestinal constipation, and every vegetable she finds in the island’s bush is rotted and inedible. Eat… Mangia!… it’s good for you… 

The castaways on the Island of Black Souls hate each other. Every night they’re forced to eat dinner together and every night the menu is the same: Roasted crow with potatoes deep fried in rancid lard, and slices of humble pie for dessert. 

When it is time to settle down to sleep their dreams are of me happy dancing and me happy singing and me happy laughing and me happily enjoying my happy life… without them.

And every morning they wake up screaming and begging for forgiveness. 

Oh, revenge is sweet… even if it’s only in my mind.

Monday, July 06, 2015

Big Butt Booty

Nobody wants a flat ass, or worse, a concave-in ass. You know the kind I mean. The ass that isn’t really an ass at all. It’s like two unappealing and unsexy tiny mounds of Play-Doh separated by a crack. There’s nothing to grab.  Clothes sag where the butt should be, and naked, well, it’s not a pretty picture.

It appears the trend now is surgically enhanced asses. Big butts. Butts so big they can be used as landing strips for DC-10s. 


A firm butt is nice to look at (and touch) and a somewhat big butt is a two-handed joy, but extra big butts… well, sometimes too big is too much and too much can be freaky. 

At the gym the other day I was nearly blinded by a woman walking towards me. She was quite tall and thin, nearing six feet, and was wearing a blue sports bra (not too big breasts) and matching blue spandex. Her prominent camel toe was eye-catching, but it was her surgically enhanced butt that was the real eye-catcher. I was surprised she was able to remain vertical. She was that wide…that big… that freaky. Her tiny waist gave way to hips that could pass for flotation devices.  

I had to stop what I was doing and watch her. I actually followed her around the gym just to make sure I saw what I saw and I wasn’t hallucinating. Hers has to be the biggest butt booty I’ve ever seen. Unnaturally shaped. 

That woman has a lot of cushion for the pushing… and it made me wonder… what’s going to happen when big butts are no longer trendy?  

Can the surgically enhanced butts be successfully surgically deflated? Once deflated will all that extra skin flap around like Dumbo’s ears?  

If this trend continues then airplane seats will need to be wider, theatre seats will need to be wider, toilet seats wider, arm chairs wider, doorways wider, bathtubs wider, Xerox machines wider to allow for big butt copying, hallways wider, cars wider… and the list goes on and on.  

Our whole physical world will need to be wider to accommodate these surgically enhanced big butts. 

Truth be told, big butts scare me. 

I‘ve been having this recurring nightmare where I’m in close proximity to a really big surgically enhanced butt and I get sucked into the crack never to be seen or heard from again. 

I am now constantly on alert at the gym fearful the blue spandex woman will be working out next to me.

She’ll get too close and whooooosh!…  I’ll be sucked in… 

Will anyone miss me? 

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

The Anti-Shopping Cart Pusher

Sometimes you notice bad behavior and feel the need to let others know what you’ve seen.  It helps to deflate that nightmare-inducing moment of awe that haunts you and makes you think, “WTF?” 

This is what I witnessed today…

I was minding my own business roaming the aisles of my favorite grocery store.  With coupons in hand and empty canvas bags in my shopping cart, I was on a grocery shopping coupon saving mission. I was filling my cart with salsa and yogurt and coffee when I heard someone yelling. It was a somewhat high-pitched tone that made my ears perk up like a dog.

I hurried to the next aisle over, the epicenter of the yelling, and in the process I almost dropped my coupons, but luckily I caught them in time. That’s what I get for careless shopping cart speeding! 


There in the other aisle I saw a middle aged woman yelling to someone whose back was facing me. 

How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t push shopping carts. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it! Do it yourself!

She then grabbed a box of Oreos off the shelf, threw them in the cart, and stormed away like a child, abandoning the shopping cart and the person whose back was facing me. 

I slowly maneuvered my shopping cart down the aisle to get a glimpse of this person. It was a man who looked to be in his late 80s.  He was holding steady with a cane.  When he saw me he smiled and feebly juggled the cane and the shopping cart making room for me to pass. 

WTF?  

An old man with a cane who could barely walk was being forced to push his shopping cart. 

Moments later the woman came back down the aisle and threw more items into the cart. As she walked away she snapped, C’mon Dad. I haven’t got all day!

She called him Dad. 

Wow.

I saw the Anti-Shopping Cart Pusher and her Dad again at the cashier next to me.  She stood there doing nothing while he emptied the shopping cart for the cashier. 

He paid.  

She walked away leaving him to push the cart and groceries out of the store. 

Wow, again. 

That daughter needs a good spanking.

She also needs to be sent to bed early tonight without any after dinner dessert. 

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Bald is Beautiful

I’ve always wanted to know what I’d look like bald, so I shaved my head.  I didn’t leave a quarter inch of follicle. I took it down to the scalp.

The first few days I was in the “I am bald” shock-phase and wore a baseball cap everywhere.  I needed time to adjust and brace myself for what friends might say.  I feared the “You look like Uncle Fester from the Addams Family” comments, though, when I think about it, Uncle Fester did have a charm and sexiness about him. 


I gradually took off my baseball cap while driving.  I’d look in the rearview mirror and see a reflection I’d never seen before.  I was tough-looking, like a recent parolee from prison.  It gave me a boost. I accelerated the gas pedal with a “don’t mess with me attitude.” 

I then started slipping off the cap while walking the neighborhood.  I’d catch a glimpse of myself in the storefront windows. Yeah, I was looking badass. 

The first thing I noticed about being bald was the chill, the cold skull. If a gentle breeze blew around my scalp I felt a chill, a tickling.  It made me rub my head. It felt good. 

I also noticed I have a nicely shaped head with hardly a bump or a valley, though there is one blood vessel that seems to be prominent just above the hairline. 

With a slight beginning of follicle growth my baldness looks like an atlas, like the map of South America. If I’m ever lost in the southern hemisphere all I’ll need is a mirror to find my way around.  And that protruding blood vessel looks a lot like Peru. 

The good bald news is I can stand tall and proud and proclaim I’m contributing to saving water during this California drought. Shower times are much shorter because I don’t shampoo, rinse, repeat, condition, and rinse.  


This bald head is here to stay… for the summer at least. As winter approaches I might need to grow it out to keep me warm… or I’ll invest in a few battery powered heated knitted hats. I’m sure I can find them online, maybe on Amazon. 

But for now… 

Bald is beautiful… and badass… and so am I.

Thursday, May 07, 2015

There’s a Homeless Man Pooping in the Bathroom!

My adventures in life continue… and today I couldn’t believe what I witnessed. 

I went to a gas station/minimart to buy gasoline.  As I was standing in line waiting my turn to pay, a woman, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, started shouting:

There’s a homeless man in the bathroom. He’s been in there a few minutes. Too long. He’s pooping in the bathroom!

All eyes turned to this relatively normal looking woman. This was no joke. She was serious. 

I can’t go in there after a homeless man poops. That’s #2, pooping, not #1. He’s pooping in the bathroom. It’s gonna smell! 

The workers in the minimart didn’t know how to respond. They looked as dumbfounded as everyone else. It was getting hysterical… as in funny and out of control. 

I’m a lady. I can’t go in there. A homeless man is pooping. I have to tinkle real bad! 

At this point she’s rocking from side to side, holding her hands over her nether region. I was suddenly afraid she might let loose with a river of pee. I slowly backed up. 

I’m a lady!  I have to tinkle!  You’ve got to help me. I can’t go in there after a homeless man poops! 

The manager of the minimart, somewhat scared, moved towards the restroom.  I don’t know if she was going to knock on the door or not, and neither did she. 

I’m a lady! I have to tinkle real bad!”

Before the manager could knock, the restroom door opened. All eyes were anticipating a homeless man… not knowing what kind of creature would emerge.

A middle-aged man in business clothes came out of the bathroom.  And to say he was surprised to see everyone staring at him is an understatement. The woman began to bellow as loud as possible. She no longer was shaking her legs and holding her nether region. 

You’re not homeless. Oh dear lord, I thought you were homeless and pooping in the bathroom. 

The poor mortified man forced a smile and without saying a word made a quick exit. 

I thought he was homeless!  

She ran into the bathroom. 

I paid for my gas.  

And as I drove home I wondered if the man really did poop or not.