Our First Fight

After 6 months of dating without an altercation, Tay and I were feeling pretty good and I was officially proclaiming myself to be "Mr. Perfect".

That all came tumbling down on Friday with, surprisingly, an insensitive remark from me.

We we're in a store and I was looking at the hair coloring products. I point to the auburn red hair and say, "Hey, look at this color!".

Tay replies, "I dyed my hair that color once, it looked real nice".

Then without skipping a beat, I point to the platinum blonde hair and say...(are you ready for this one???)...

"You can dye your hair blonde and I can fantasize about being with Mothra (my ex-wife)!"

Silence..........and it would remain that way until about 5 minutes later.

God only knows what this woman sees in me. I can be a real jackass.


Can Someone Please Whack This Woman!

Carmela Soprano is starting to give me ass cancer.

It's bad enought that this season of HBO's "Sopranos", should have been called "Brokeback Dago", but the Carmela face time for this season is reaching epic proportion. Last night's 50 minute episode had seemingly 20 minutes of Carmela playing tourist in chesse-eating surrender monkey land (props to groundskeeper Willy) last night. This begs to question, "Who really gives a fuck about Carmela in this show?"

Seasons 1 and 2 of the "Sopranos" are some of the best TV you'll find around, assuming you have a stomach for the violence. The show was edgy, humorous and gripping. Starting in season 3, it seemed that HBO wasn't happy enough with its' 18-45 year old male demographic coupled with lackluster female ratings and made a decision to have the plot revolve more around its' female characters. This was a big mistake in my eyes. I could give two shits about the women characters in this show and feel that the only female characters that matter in the series are Dr. Melfi, whoever Tony is screwing at the time and the Bada Bing girls. All the other female characters should be window dressing at best.

For the past 4 years, we have to suffer through Carmela, Janice, fucking Ginny Sac, and the movie club group of Yentas and their problems living as mob wives.

Who the fuck gives a shit. They know who they married. They don't mind spending the blood money on extravagant shit or eating in fancy restaurants. This isn't "Sex in the City" or "Desperate Housewives". So I ask you, why are they in this show at all? I can't stand any of them and pray they all die and are chopped up at Satriale's almost every episode. As hot as she was, even Adrianna became annoying and I was glad that she was capped even though now she seems to be haunting me from the grave.

Thankfully, Vito, ate a pool cue rectally and put an end to the "Brokeback" plotline. After getting a huge belly laugh seeing him dressed up in leather at the gay bar for the first time, I've actually resorted to changing the channel every time him and "Johnny Cakes" started getting intimate. If that makes me a homophobe, so fucking be it.

Back to Carmela. Other than spitting out the smoking hot Meadow, what exactly does she add to the show except to remind men why they shouldn't ever get married in the first place. All she does is worry, bitch and moan about household issues. I don't watch the "Sopranos" to be reminded what a pain in the ass a wife can be. I have an ex that fills that role.

To the producers of the show, give me the storyline of the gangsters and forget about the wives. Seeing Carmela walk through Paris for 20 minutes last night made me feel like killing someone.

20 fucking minutes????? Are you kidding me?????

If she isn't murdered in the season finale, I'm going to have to go for a colonoscopy.

By the way, if Carmela climbed up on top of me, I think my balls would ascend and turn into ovaries and I would never come again.


Orange Girl

In a small card shop close to where I work, there is this very attractive gal who works at the counter. Every day on my walk to lunch I look forward to seeing her for strictly eye candy purposes.

She's much too young for me. She's a bleached blonde but she carries it off okay (I'm not much of a fan of blondes, since I've always preferred brunettes, and the fact that my ex is a blonde, doesn't exactly help matters).

Being that I used to work on a college campus, one of my favorite past-times after I was separated, was girlwatching. Nothing perverted or dirty, just enjoying the scenery, you know. My new workplace location doesn't allow that hobby much. It's kind of like birdwatching under water. Every once in a while a bird comes out of nowhere for a dive. So, obviously I enjoy whatever comes my way, including Orangegirl.

The problem with this girl is that her skin is a Chernobyl shade of orange. She looks like she was caught in a radioactive blast zone or dipped in a pool of Iodine. It's pretty obvious that she must be addicted to tanning salons because she really is an unnatural shade of orange. It's a shame, because, other than her un-natural skin color, she is smoking hot.

After all my years, I do not pretend to be an expert on women (far from it) but could someone explain to me why one of this girl's friends wouldn't just tell her how ridiculous she looks in her orange hue? She looks pretty damn close to the color of the Oompa Loompas, and I'm am not exagerating...that much.

Every time I walk by and look into the display window, I'm expecting her to break out into dance and start singing:

"Oompa loompa, doopidy doo,
I've got another message for you
Oompa loompa, doopidy dum,
Do you know where melanoma comes from?"

I guess I was born so dark, I don't know how horrible it must be to be fair skinned. But orange skin??? I don't understand how that's an improvement unless you are auditioning to be a highway traffic cone. Maybe she's a nudist/NRA member and the tanning gives her the required square inches required by state mandates for hunter safety.

Or maybe her parents are Oompa Loompas. I think that her orange glow would delay male orgasm by 13.4 seconds if my research is correct.

Maybe that's why she does it.


Separated At Birth

Does this picture remind anyone of an infamous pilgrimager whose exploits to burn down the cottage is documented in a previous post?

Maybe, if he was wearing his helmet a few years back, he wouldn't have gotten slammed upside his head with a softball bat from one of his special friends and which prompted one of the funniest fictional lines.

"Is he dead???"

After a few minutes out cold, this thick skulled "gymnosperm" lived to tell the tale (although he might have been better off, if he kept it to himself). Well, I for one, salute my all time favorite and funniest pilgrimage members!

Stay gold!



Bill the Wondermutt!

I had a dog named Shakespeare (nicknamed just plain ol' Bill) that I found on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, during a blizzard when I was a junior in college. I almost hit him with my car, as my roomate Beukey and I were driving off campus with kidnapped sorority pledges.

Bill was just a pup, with no tags, that seemingly someone had dropped off and he had serious respiratory problems. I lived in a frathouse, so I back-tracked back to the house and let our frat's pledges clean him up while we were away.

Bill was pretty sick, so I took him to a vet the next day, where he got antibiotics, and I decided to keep him. Bill was the best mutt in the world and loved people. He also didn't seem to have a care in the world and wasn't terribly bright. My frat brothers would do things like putting him up in the cupboard with the dishes where he would just set up camp without a worry about trying to get out. Usually, I would find him sleeping up there an hour later when one of my frat brothers would finally shake their head and realize he wasn't going to cry or even attempt to get free, and would let me know where he was.

Bill was a super cool pet and everybody couldn't help but become attached to him. He had a load of personality.

But, as I said, Bill was no rocket scientist. Hell, sometimes I wondered if his head housed a brain at all. Due to sheer stupidity, he was hit by cars twice with the second coming after he actually ran into the side of a moving car, knocking himself out cold while I watched in utter disbelief. It was after this that Bill acquired his magical powers.

Thats right, I said magical powers.

You see, after Bill bumped his noggin on the side of that car, he acquired the power to teleport himself from place to place. No, I'm not joking.

For example, one day, my roommate, Beukey and I were studying for finals. The door to our room was closed and Bill was fast asleep on my bed. Usually he would sleep on my bed and every once in a while climb up on Beukey's bed. In our room, my mattress was on the floor and surrounded by two walls on two sides, a couch and a dresser on a third side and the only open side was at the foot of the bed. That's where our reclining chair was where I was studying. The recliner basically cut off half of the foot of the bed area and when I was sitting in it with my feet up on the couch (as I customarily sat), nothing could squeeze through without climbing over the top of my legs.Well, anyway, we're in there studying and Beukey asks what Bill was doing. I tell him that he's asleep on my bed but when I turn to look, he's gone!

"He was just there a second ago".

"What are you talking about?" Beukey inquired.

"He's gone. Bill's gone."

"Quit fucking around"

"I'm not. He is not on my bed anymore"

"Yeah, right"

"I'm absolutely serious, dude, he disappeared!"

Beuckey gets up off his bed to look and lo and behold he confirms, Bill has vanished.

"That's not possible", Beukey says.

"Tell me about it, I'm all fucking spooked now"

"The door is closed and we would have seen him leave"

"Christ, Beukey, he would have had to climb over the top of me and grow a quick opposible thumb to turn the doorknob to get out. He must have teleported out, like they do on Star Trek. Hell, maybe when he got hit by that car last week, he acquired magical powers"

We sat there in silence mulling the possibilities when we heard a sniffing sound outside the door. I got up and sure enough, it was Bill "The Amazing Teleporting Canine".

To this day, Beukey and I would swear on a stack of bibles and I would swear on my children that Bill teleported out of the room that day.

They say that humans only use less than 5% of their brains. I'm sure that Bill used less than 1% of his little pea brain. But they say that the mysteries held in the unused portion of our brains offer limitless potential for future development and usage such as telekinesis, etc...I think that accident tapped an area in Bill's brain that allowed him the power to teleport. Sure enough, whenever I wanted to scold him, he would be nowhere to be found.



Stevie Ray Vaughan: A Blues Legend

I was put onto this clip of SRV doing "Texas Flood" earlier today.

When I was in college, I was a huge SRV fan. Unfortunately, SRV was killed in a helicopter accident while in the midst of a comeback tour in 1990. It has been awhile since I have listened to his albums (Step By Step, being my personal favorite).

I have no idea why I have gone so long since listening to this master of the blues. Please sit back, relax, put your feet up and let the ghost of SRV take you away for awhile.

This is one soulful nugget of the true spirit of Stevie Ray. Enjoy!



An Extra Two Minutes (To Come)

This past pilgrimage, a bunch of us guys were watching some non-sensical show on E or some other channel about the sexiest people.

As we held court for a half hour over who was hot, who hit the wall etc...etc..., my buddy T-Dog offered an interesting opinion.

He claimed that if he didn't respect the job that a woman did, that he would find her less sexy. I was pretty perplexed by this because this type of opinion is usually reserved for women, who will find a man more attractive based on his success, charisma or confidence.

Us dumb mammals (men) don't usually put too much stock in what a woman does. If she's hot, she's hot regardless of what she does. I can't say I put any thought into the success of her job, when considering whether I find her attractive or whether I'd sleep with her.

So, being thus perplexed, I asked T-Dog to explain."If I don't consider an actress good at her profession, I wouldn't find her as sexy", T-dog explained.


"If she's a poor actress, I would find her less attractive", T-dog further elaborated.

"What the hell does that mean? She's either hot or she isn't. We're talking about actresses here that could easily be supermodels."

"I'm just saying that I'd find them less attractive"

"So, let me get this straight. I think Jessica Alba is hot but I think that she is a terrible actress (which I do, by the way). The fact that I find her less sexy means what, exactly? That if I was sleeping with her that it would take me an extra two minutes to come?"

T-Dog rolls his eyes at me. I think I made my point. Of course, throughout the rest of the show, I beat my point to death as I estimate the extra amount of time needed to come for the remaining women on the list.

I can be a real ass at times.

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