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!

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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…..?