Holiday Cheer

Christmas is my favorite time of the year. (Other than the mating season for antelope.) Happy Holidays to you and your loved ones!

Now go get something (unsightly) and make it beautiful.

CCC

I have recently completed a 16-day immersion in cow culture. Upon further investigation, I have determined that cow culture is complicated. Not only do cows have a highly evolved social class system, but they actually practice shunning. A cow that commits adultery becomes known by the title, “Whore-Cow,” and is outcast from cow community. The “Whore-Cow” is also forced to bear a "W" on her chest.

Here are some other little known facts about cow culture:

1. Cow Porn, known to many as “moo-moo hardcore,” is the highest grossing industry in cow culture.
2. The most popular t-shirt among Goth cow teens, “Utterly Devastated.”
3. The most popular movie for cow pre-teens, “Cow School the Moosical.”
4. The term, “Half and half,” means something completely different to a cow prostitute.
5. Many, many cows long to run in the Kentucky Derby.
6. There are only 17 known copies of the Cow Bible.
7. Cow Pope (also known as Holy Cow) holds mass twice a week.
8. They generally find cow-tipping amusing and only chase tippers to get an autograph.
9. “Poo Poo Platter” means something different to Cow chef.
10. Gargamel is their archenemy.

Next up for me, my total immersion into toad culture. More on that in the weeks ahead.

Santa Makes Lists, So Why Can't I?

I, like some of my blog-mates (and Santa too), enjoy lists. In bus(t)y times like these, lists make it easier to convey the happenings in my life to my (lack of)faithful readers.

Here is another list of my recent life activities:

Slipping into a deeper depression knowing that the upcoming Duran Duran concert in a nearby major city has sold out.
Slipping into a deeper depression.

Appreciating Keith Urban.
Devaluing Keith Richards.
Deciphering Little Richard.
Defying Richard Simmons.

Buying wastebaskets for future storage needs.
Buying wastebasket lids for future storage needs.

Wondering why I ever sang in weddings.
Wondering why I ever sang.
Wondering why I went to weddings.
Wondering why.

Running errands.
Running.

Preparing for my “Strap-On New Year’s Eve Party.”
Being strapped.

Losing myself in the Settlers of Satan board game.
Losing to settlers.
Losing myself (to Satan, and his music?)
Losing.

Adding to my current list of allergies.
Adding to my current lists.

Frantically planning my Christmas card photo shoot.
Frantically planning.
Frantically shooting photos.

Wishing I was somehow here.
Wishing I was somehow here again.

Discussing the difference between a “three-some” and a “three-way.”
Discussing the difference between a "parkway" and a "freeway."

Enjoying the hustle and bustle of the blackest Friday in recent memory.
Enjoying hustlers and busts.

Encouraging my testicle to descend.
Encouraging my testicle.

Discovering happy, smiling faces.
Discovering happy, smiling faces in unexpected locations.

You've been salamiriding, haven't you?

While you were off wishing that life were beautiful… I have been hard at work. Here are some things that I have been up to:

Fielding (seemingly) endless offers from the Australian Olympic Swimming Commission to be a part of the Australian Olympic Development Swimming Program.

Writing a script for my new hit movie, Blackzilla.

Doing everything (brutally).

Interviewing schizophrenics.

Clinging to the notion that life will get better.

Being mesmerized by Liz Taylor’s guitar-playing skills.

Dealing with my apparent lack of superpowers, specifically “Keith Urban Fan Locator” and “Automobile Super Navigation Skills.”

Yelling, “That’s a big one!” randomly.

Thanking the US Postal Service for the holiday packages they deliver.

Admiring flannel-on-flannel fashion.

Hiking through horny sheep territory.

Greatly enjoying Violent Femmes covers.

Carrying the NutBuster 5000.

Enduring (Injured) Giant Angry Wasp Drama.

Celebrating my torso.

Finally!

Thank God I FINALLY found a picture of Keith Urban....

Keith Urban or Melissa Etheridge?

I love lesbian turtle pants.

Part Two

Ahh, see the game gets more difficult. Keith Urban or Indigo Girl?

(However, this STILL is an Indigo Girl. I don't like giving away answers but this is a difficult game...)

A Keith Urban concert is an inappropriate time for a gangbang survey!

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

In case anyone was curious…

I have named my autobiography. It will be called….

“Meat Flaps and Monogamy.”

Look for it on bookshelves soon. Well, after I actually write it, of course.

On the road again...

I have recently driven from my home in the Midwest to Florida for a visit. I have traveled across the country several times, but this trip has been particularly interesting. Here are some of my observations and lessons learned from my trip thus far:

1. Tornado warnings are (generally) legitimate. If you hear a tornado warning on the radio, there is a chance that one is coming…right at you.
2. The entire state of Tennessee smells like beef jerky.
3. Turning your lights out while driving 70 mph down the highway isn’t always a bad thing.
4. Exit 119 off I-75 in Georgia is an exit for Vienna Pitts. I think this is a great name for a freeway exit, and an even better name for a female porn star.
5. Female truckers are a particularly attractive people group.
6. Drive thru’s in the south tightly pack ice into your cup, as to only allow room for 1 oz of beverage.
7. German women do not wear deodorant.
8. Country music is big in the south…weird huh?
9. Nitrogen-filled tires rock my world!
10. Unlike Tennessee, northern Georgia smells like tuna. Oh, and so do German women.

I am sure I will have much more to share about my trip soon.

Don't Miss It!

Come one, Come all!!

To the training carnival!
See the fire-pie-breathing man!
See the bearded clam lady!
Clowns, rides, and hot carnies,

There wil be prizes, fun and...

chicken pot pies!

Since I've Been Gone...

I apologize for my absence. I know it has been some time since my last post. I have been crazy busy. Here is a list of things that I’ve been doing since I last posted:

1. Telling an emaciated barfly she needed a biscuit.
2. Getting job offers from metro-sexual strangers after watching my sales performance from afar.
3. Waving.
4. Watching a midnight colonoscopy.
5. Yelling, “Bring forth the bearded clam!” to homeless women. Or were they pirates?
6. Contacting my old shrinks, only to discover they never thought I was funny. (Bastards)
7. Watching a parade of tractors.
8. Creating a new candle scent... Freshly Laundered Semen Stains.
9. Avoiding having to use CPR again. (Come on, how many times do I really NEED to do that.)
10. Dreaming of riding the Latino Express.
11. Promoting iWork-Curiousity.

DO NOT shake them to get your money back!

According to national research, 13 people are killed each year by a vending machine falling on them.

Dictionary (Re)Addition

Repenised (Ree-PEE-nissed): v. 1. to have one’s penis surgically reattached after having it severed from his body. (ex. Dr. Williams repenised John Bobbitt and is now a national hero.) 2. to have one’s penis surgically reattached after having a sexual reassignment surgery to reverse it affects. (ex. Jamie Lynn was repenised and is once again enjoying his life as a man.) syn. Repetered, recocked, rechoded, redingleberried, retooled, redicked.

It Takes a Villain, People...

Most of you have (hopefully) seen my humorous side. I try, more than anything (and often times far too hard) to convey my sense of humor through writing. However, recent allegations have troubled me. One of my newest friends, Maggie Tulliver (who shall henceforth be called T-Mag) has made a most heinous allegation against t.c….mainly, that I, am villainous. (Yes, I said villainous).

I am puzzled by this claim. Here is a list of t.c.’s accomplishments that would be considered far from villainous:

1. 5 years of service to the homeless population.
2. 739 hours logged as a literacy coach.
3. 3 performances at benefit concerts to raise awareness for children with developmental disabilities.
4. 26 hot dogs eaten at in an “Eat-a-thon” to raise funds for Himalayan whistle kids.
5. 2 purging sessions following that very contest.
6. 525,600 minutes to measure a year
7. $18.12 raised for my roommate in college because all he wanted for his birthday was a Dairy Queen Ice Cream Cake.
8. 1 singular sensation, every little step she takes.
9. Ladies Dancing
10. Lords-a-leaping

Are these the actions of a villain? In light of these accomplishments, I ask you the reader to refute the atrocious comments made by T-Mag, and uphold the integrity of t.c.

Oh, and in the next post I will tell of my weekend excursion to the local zoo...where I, along with a friend who shall remain nameless, found many good uses for animals on the endangered species list. All of which were beneficial to me.

(PETA don't file a lawsuit. It was a joke. I love animals...especially exotic birds...they make great bookends...well once they're stuffed...and weighted down properly.)

The Blog of Eternal Stench

Clearly I have bowel issues. For anyone who has spent any significant length of time with me has undoubtedly smelled my odiferous nominations. And for that I truly am sorry.

Except when the smell is so wretched that you dry heave in the wastebasket. Then I think it’s actually kind of neat.

On Emotional Maturity

I may (finally) be growing up. Here are some obvious signs of my maturity. First, I have hair on my genitalia. Also, I have hair on my back. I have no hair on my head. And, more importantly, my hopeless romantic t.c has given way to a more out-spoken, slightly less dignified, simple but mature t.c.

Where once I would say, “You, my love, are alluring. For in your embrace I find peace, pure and unblemished by life’s tragedies. Let our passions merge!”

Now has become…

“Shut up and let’s pork!”

Nick's Sick Wick Licks Dictation

Wicker Man starring Nicholas Cage is clearly the worst movie I have even seen.

I Cannot Make You Food, But I Can See You're Excited!

You know the signs on restaurant doors..."No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service!" If someone walks into that restaurant with a shirt and shoes on, but no pants, would the restaurant still have to serve them?

7 Things You May Not Have Known About Me...

1. I have spit on a famous Picasso painting.
2. I was once the leading goal scorer in the nation for all levels of men’s collegiate soccer.
3. Socialized and had drinks with the Gin Blossoms? Been there done that.
4. I am absolutely petrified to play poker in a casino.
5. My surgical past has included 1 knee reconstruction, 1 bone plug, and 2 spinal surgeries.
6. Currently, I drive my dead grandmother’s 1993 Buick Century. It is sexy.
7. Two of my favorite movies of all time are Labyrinth and Pan’s Labyrinth.

The Prince of Tides was Neither about Princes or Tides...Discuss!

Here are some conversations that I recently overheard while sitting at a local bar drinking a Coors Light:

“Oh, my titties is sweaty!”

“It was one of those moment where you stop and thank God for air fresheners.”

“I want to get in a bar fight with you. You’re big.”

“I was in total shock. I though it was a women for sure.”

“My mom had this the other night. But, she couldn’t finish it because it was so strong.”

“A reptile dysfunction? Ooh, that’s good.”

“No thanks…I’m trying to stop shaving my arm pits.”

Love Song

Here is an ancient literary gem. It's one of my happy, feel-good pieces from 2005.

"Not naked but exposed,
I am curled tightly,
On my side,
Hiding from everyone.
Hands locked tightly
Around my bent knees.

Stay the fuck away.

(Guttural crying)

Anger clamps my jaw,
My abdomen tightens,
And shoulders rise.

My eyes could not see,
But my heart now feels.
Duh…..Duh…..Duh..Duh..Duh, Duh pure rage."

From the Writing Vault

I recently went through some old writing notebooks and computer files. I am going to post some of my old scribblings, poetry and stories just for fun. I will post more over the next few weeks. Here is one to get you started.


Found on a notepad from 2004...I wrote this after a difficult day at work...

"Here I sit waiting. In a sense, I guess it’s not all that bad. Being able to work at my laptop on a story while collecting a paycheck from my other employer. How many writers can say that? But, in a way, it’s agonizing. Not in the “I’m waiting for my tests results” way, but in the sense that I may get called at any minute to go restrain a youth who has bitten two staff and thrown her desk chair through her window (I'm very tired of being bitten). Then, as the ritual commences, I will need to assess her for lethality. I am he who will determine if she will kill herself tonight. Is she living in reality for I am not. I let go months ago.

I rub my eyes and begin my assessment. I ask questions slowly, with purpose. Distinct pronunciation, exact wording. She answers but her hand shakes. My eyes are drawn to her inconsistencies. She laughs but looks away to hide a tear.

She speaks with word, but convinces with affect.

After assessment, I can begin the 45-minute drive back home, all the while asking myself if I missed some sign, or misinterpreted a statement, or missed some non-verbal that should have triggered a red flag. I breathe deeply. My upper lip quivers. Several tears fall from my left eye. My right eye is too tired to put forth the effort. I’ve done four assessments already this week and it's only Tuesday. She may be dead tomorrow. I am he. Fuck. Is it 3:45am yet?"

Whatcha Gonna Do With All That Junk?

It is that time of year when I begin the daunting task of naming my fantasy football team. Over the years, I have come up with some very good team names, and some that completely sucked. My goal each year is to have an original, funny, obscure name. Here is my current list of possible teams names:

1. Leaking Tranny Fluid
2. Jessica Alba has Nipples
3. Hairpy
4. Lohan’s Driving School
5. Scary 63 inch Brian
6. Never Withhold Herpes from a Loved One
7. There or Someone Smaller
8. Hash Brown Highway Patrol
9. XXX Cheese
10. King of the Super Tuscans
11. Crabs Against Humanity
12. Blindly Covered in Bees

And this year’s winner is…..Shrunken Junk Bonds!

Give me some sugar baby...please?

OK, you might find this entertaining. I wrote this poem to a women when I was in college. It was my failed romantic attempt to "woo" her. So many thoughts come to mind, but I guess you can form your own opinons...

You are the picture of beauty.
Your lips, enticing red, beckon to mine.
I long for your quivering flesh to envelop every aspect of me.
Let go of your unbridled passion, and give in to the unmistakable humbleness of virgin love.
Love me, as I you, and we will build a lasting life..together…forever and always.
I will make your fantasies realities...
T.C.


Literary Commentary:

First of all, I was a terrible writer....maybe I still am?

I think I used the synonym button on Microsoft Word way too much..."quivering flesh...envelop...unbridled," I mean seriously...

"The unmistakable humbleness of virgin love..." actually, I like that a little.

"I will make your fantasies realities..."...Can you say cheesy?

Well, I do give myself some credit for trying. I attempted as best I could to convey my romantic feelings to this women. It was loosely wrapped in sarcasm (only to protect my overinflated ego) and expressed through terrible word choice, phrasing, prose, etc. However, with all the testosterone running through my body, it's no wonder that I couldn't put together a coherent thought.

Can I still use that excuse now?


Top Secret Update: Shhhhh....I plan to rewrite this letter and send it to her again. Hopefully this time it will produce a different outcome. I am hoping for at minimum some under the shirt action. I'll let you know how it goes...

Toward Healthy Living

I am not usually one for social commentary, but what in the hell is up with the healthcare system in America today?

Having worked in the welfare system for several years, I know that many lower class citizens are able to get Medicaid. (Especially women…I don’t mean that as a gender-biased statement, it’s actually statistical fact.) In fact, on two occasions, while working with low-income families, I had mothers tell me they were going to have more babies solely for the purpose of getting more Medicaid. Does that seem a little backwards?

Also, most of the upper class have job in which insurance is provided by their employers. Either that or they can just afford to purchase insurance on their own.

But, if you’re a middle class citizen…you’re basically fucked. More and more employers today are opting out of providing healthcare coverage for their employees, due to the costs involved. Research shows that this is mostly affecting middle class families. In addition, if an uninsured individual is lucky enough to land a job where they do provide coverage, the insurance company will do all it can to prove that any illness was caused prior to the coverage inception date. Thus, they don't need to pay out money due to the pre-existing condition clause.

This is fun right…..?

Spies Like Us

Upon recent investigation, someone (who shall remain nameless) has infiltrated the T.C. empire and discovered my true identity. As an author who writes under a surname, this leaves me no other choice than to say marginally inappropriate things about this person in hopes that she will not reveal my true identity. So, here I go…

Here are some things I know about this individual who knows T.C.’s true identity.

1. She was an avid serving specialist for a college volleyball team. (Although in her defense, she was far better than her coach knew).
2. She visited Key West, Florida with me. We went on a booze cruise at sunset…very romantic. Also, we were forced to hear about how a saleswomen for the local condo/vacation rental had a husband who could not achieve an erection. It was memorable to say the least.
3. She is from a small town in the midwest…where, for some unknown reason, they decide to call upon their Swiss heritage each summer and hold a festival. They mostly just churn butter during this festival, as I have been so informed.
4. She can only have one drink before she is completely intoxicated, and don’t let her tell you otherwise…
5. She has a friend who is a porn star.

I say this…you know who you are. I have far more gossip on you than I have chosen to publish. I ask you now, for all that is good and scared in the world, to not reveal my true identity. For, as many will attest, it will completely destroy the literary community. I now put myself in your hands….asking humbly that my secret remain…and asking if we may soon make out.

Your forever love slave,
T.C.

Social vs. Class Clown

Today I went and applied for a new driver's license. That whole process is so frustrating. Not to mention that I can't believe how rude some DMV employees can be....

But, anyways...

Did you know that the local DMV will NOT accept my social security card or my college photo i.d. card as a valid form of i.d.?
They will, however, accept my high school yearbook as valid identification. Does that seem strange to anyone else?

It's not the length that matters....

In the wake of the loss of my close friend, I have been lost in a haze of religion, philosophy, personal thoughts and feelings. It has, with good reason, caused me to rethink my life, my friendships, my family, and my impact on the world.

Here is what I have concluded…Life is short.

I know my conclusion is not very deep or profound. But, it is what it is.

Life is short. Do something.
Laugh.
Love.
Smile.
Hug.
Help.
Give.
Encourage.

Make a difference for the better.

(I feel like I should be playing "Heal the World" by Michael Jackson in the background.)

Our time together was too short...

I sit here writing this blog with a void in my heart that will never be filled...

A very dear friend of mine passed away last week. I haven’t blogged recently, mostly because I’ve been trying to figure out a way to honor her life with words. No words seem adequate to capture her life, her energy, her compassion. She was so caring, loyal, supportive, and she had an amazing sense of humor. She positively impacted so many lives. My life will not be the same without her.

She will always have a special place in my heart.

Update

I just pooped. I had completely forgotten that I ate corn yesterday.

Ode to Hooters Air

Why oh why did you have to go?
How I wanted to fly with you so,
Flight attendants made to surely entice,
Each with 2 built-in floatation device,
Wings and fries, burger and more,
Don’t you call my pilot no whore,
Please come back soon, or I will die,
Oh Silicon Club one mile high.

Job Hunting we will go!

Job hunting sucks. I don’t understand what companies are looking for these days. I would like to think I have a fairly good resume. Here are some highlights:

1. Bachelor’s degree
2. Master’s degree
3. 5 years of management experience
4. Membership to five professional organizations
5. Authored strategic plans and grants
6. Certified trainer for 2 national organizations
7. Managed $1 million budget
8. I’m hung like a (sea) horse
9. Back hair galore
10. If necessary- will work for sex not salary

I have been searching for a professional job for almost two years now. I have sent nearly 700 resumes to local and national organizations. And what has been my response you may ask?

(Drum roll please....)

I have had 2 return phone calls, 2 emails, 1 phone interview and zero job offers. Yes, you heard me correctly…NOTHING! Please keep in mind that I live in the middle of BFE Midwest, and I’m guessing that master’s degrees and such are hard to come by. I would think that some companies would at least give me a look…but no. Well, here is what I have to say to all of those companies who continue to reject me...

It’s your loss. I rock!

Memories

I was thinking back to my high school years today. Then I vomited.

Word to your Grandmutha!

During a recent trip to our local casino, I was rudely pushed out of an aisle by a 97 year-old women who was trying to get to her “lucky slot” (machine). Which of the following was my response to her brutal assault?


a. “You’re 97 years old. Your slot may never get lucky again.”
b. “You put the 'f' in gilf"
c. “Nice hooters. Could you kindly lift them off my shoes?”
d. I said nothing. I am spineless.
e. “I must break you.”
f. “Oh, you poor women. Please allow me to move. I am so terribly sorry.”
g. "Is banging!"
h. “You don’t know her, but Sherry is a whore!”

Please feel free to post comments and add your own possible responses.

Regarding our nation's leader

I will say nothing of wars, WMD’s, foreign policy, wire-tapping, or anything of the sort. I have but one simple request. When elderly royalty from another country come to visit Washington D.C., can you please not accuse them of being 200 years old?

I am no expert on etiquette, but some might perceive that comment as being rude.

What I LOVE about ESPN

It matters NOT whether is it NFL preseason, mid-season, post season or off season...It's ALL Terrell Owens ALL the time. 24/7/365.

I love me some T.O.
(Not really)

Has anyone else ever noticed...

...in certain photographs, Lindsay Lohan and Michael Jackson look eerily similar.

Feel the love

I must apologize to my friends and family. I've realized that I have failed to mention many of them in my writings. I am very blessed as I have an amazing family and many great friends who care for me. Certainly we are crazy in our own ways, but I love them all dearly.

Thanks to all my friends and family for who they are, what they mean, who they make me, who I am with them, what they say, what they don't say and how they make me feel. They make me feel sane, insane, wild, calm, witty, special, ambitious, depressed, challenged, dysfunctional, hopeful, hopeless, energetic, childlike, mature, normal, abnormal, prideful, arrogant, humble and loved. But most of all, they make me feel.

I will write more about them in upcoming posts.

Curiosity Killed the Puss

Ok, I must confess. You may think I am complete pervert, but I am "fleshlight curious." Have you seen these things? They are shaped like a flashlight, except the end that normally contains the lightbulb has a fake vagina. It's made with "real feel skin." You actually have sex with a flashlight. Brilliant. And I don't even need to buy dinner or put up with all the stalking.

For more information, please visit www.fleshlight.com. Oh and their advertising motto is amazing...."No girlfriend? This is better!"

Hung Up

If wishes were horses, I would be hung like you wish.

Questions of the day

Who is God?
Who is God to you?

What is love?
What is love to you?

Who are you?
Who are you to you?

What a pile o' shit...

Doctor, Doctor

When I was seven, I was convinced that I was going to be a doctor when I grew up. I wasn't cognitively advanced enough to try to predict what kind of doctor I would be. Actually, I guess I never thought about it. But, those plans failed when I realized 4 years later that in order to become a doctor, I would have to cut open dead bodies. No thanks. I had this recurring nightmare that I would go to anatomy lab, open the corpse bag and it would be my aunt who died the previous week.

Hi Aunt Petunia. Nice seeing you again.

Intro

Here's the intro to a short story I'm currently working on....

I’m don’t think I’m clinically depressed. I just think I’m just a realist. Clinical depression is someone who actually has a decent life, but still can’t get himself out of bed in the morning. It’s the wealthy accountant, living in suburbia, with a beautiful wife and three blonde children who looks out at the sunrise and cries uncontrollably. That’s clinical depression.

I am completely broke and owe thousands of dollars to Sally Mae, my father, a couple of friends. I’ve had loved ones die far too young. I’ve been unemployed for a year and a half. I'm single and lonely. I’ve spent the last 38 hours in bed. My problem isn't depression. The problem lies in reality.

I don’t know what made me decide to start writing today. I guess in some way, it’s cathartic. Somehow the motion of pressing the keys on my iBook G4 helps me cope with the heartache of life.

Life comes to me in snapshots. Moments embedded in my mind. My mother and I playing basketball on my back porch. My brother and I coated in muck after romping through the mud puddles in the driveway. My sister’s face after giving birth to her first child. My father trick-or-treating with us and constantly repeating, “It’s a scary one boys and girls.” These will be forever mine. And sometimes I wonder if life is just a pursuit of snapshots.

But I am also in awe of the pain around me. Children starving, AIDS, cancer, suicide, drug addiction, death. Life seems morbid and random. Heroes die and murderers live. Where is the sense? Where is the logic? Why was I given a mind, if in all my humanity, I cannot comprehend anything?

I guess that’s where my story begins. Me. Depressed. Finally getting out of bed after a 38-hour nap…

I lay on my back looking up at the unfinished wooden ceiling above me. I take a deep breath. I try not to think about debt for once. Just a day without that thought would be amazing. I sit there and contemplate for a moment if it is time for me to get out of bed yet? I guess it is. The old milk jug that holds my piss is almost full.

The Return

I have come back. Back from the brink of the non-blogging community. I have returned. I have been to the land on the non-communicative, and have lived to tell about it.

Well, honestly, I have just been lazy and haven't written anything lately (and by lazy I mean chronically depressed and by lately I mean like 6 months). But, I am making a new committment to post more often. New and improved posts....funny, witty, life-altering posts.

I have much to share. New friends, new jokes, new back hair. Life isn't great, but at least it's mildly interesting. Come on my journey of words are learn the most valuable of life lessons....Your life isn't as bad as you think.