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NECK TATTOO

 

Every day we are confronted with decisions.  Sometimes we make good ones and sometimes we make bad ones.  That’s just the way of life.  I have made MANY mistakes in my time on earth but I can honestly tell you I never woke up and declared “today is the day  will finally get my neck tattoo.”  If I need open heart surgery and Dr. Feelgood has a neck tattoo saying “Delicious” I’m gonna make sure someone else cuts me open.  If I need someone to stand up for me in the court of law I don’t think the guy with “Judge This” on his neck is gonna have any pull with the man in the black robe.

If ya wanna get back in the stupidity line for extra credit then by all means feel free to add a tat on your forehead and maybe a few tear drops beneath your eyes.  See how well that goes over on your interview at a Fortune 500 company.   There are times when these tattoos are actually beneficial.  If I was running a chop shop or was in the market for an arsonist then the guy at the left would be at the top of my list.  Unless you are a porn star then you really should care about what ends up on your face.  I have a lot more to say about this but I’m late for my tongue piercing.

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POST OFFICE ANGER

I live in a gated community where no one has a mailbox at the end of their driveway.  We all have a central area where everyone has their own box and a key to open the box and retrieve their mail.   This would seem like a great gig for anyone that works for the Postal Service since they stay in one central area, don’t have to drive door to door and basically just stay in an air-conditioned building and sort through the mail and stick the contents in their specific slot.  Well this is not the case with Delores.

Delores has yelled…yes I do mean yelled….at me because I don’t stop by to pick up my mail every day.   Look….I don’t subscribe to any magazines so the only mail I receive is my bills and junk mail that I don’t want to get anyhow.  I was pretty sick about two weeks ago and didn’t stop to get my mail for one week.  I was expecting to get yelled at again but I wasn’t prepared for what Delores had done.  I opened my mail box and nothing was there except a neon yellow slip marked “VACANT.”  I was confused.  I didn’t know what that meant.  I knocked on the door where the postal workers are and fully expected Delores to come at me with a spear but it was her day off and she wasn’t there.  When I explained my ongoing problem with Delores to one of her co-workers and showed him my neon yellow slip all he could mutter was “That’s not good.”

I was informed that “VACANT” tells anyone that is sending me something in the mail that I have LEFT my house and did not supply a forwarding address.  That means I had to go home and call ALL of my services….satellite TV, cable, phone company, water etc. to let them know I hadn’t skipped town.  Anyone that has called any of these services knows that you don’t get right through…there is a tremendous amount of time on hold listening to a long oboe solo.  To say I’m angry is an understatement.  I want my justifiable revenge but this is a government agency and I almost feel helpless.

Any suggestions you may have would be greatly appreciated.  In the meantime….I’m afraid as the customer….I am about to go POSTAL!

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vicksFor the past four days I have been fighting a pretty bad cold.  Mom has been all over me to “go see a doctor.”  This comes from a woman who is losing sight in her left eye and doesn’t have a primary care physician because “I need one to be close to the house.”  Evidently that means for her to have one living in the spare bedroom but I digress….

The next question from her was “Are you using Vicks?”  If your mother is like my mother than Vicks is the greatest medical invention of all time.  I remember as a child that at the first sign of a sniffle she would reach for that bottle, grab a spatula, and lap that stuff on my chest like she was frosting a cake.  Then she would wrap me up like a mummy, grab a safety-pin to secure the gauze that she had affixed to my person to insure that all that “vapo rub” was absorbed into my entire being.  When I would fart I would automatically clear the room of all bacteria.  She would put so much Vicks on my body that it would affect my taste buds.  I could stick out my tongue and it would glow like ET’s finger.

When I was in my motorcycle accident that resulted in six broken ribs, a broken nose, broken collar-bone, dislocated shoulder and a ruptured sinus cavity the first thing she asked the doctor was “How many times a day does he need Vicks?”  Some may argue that Michael Jordan is the greatest commercial pitchman of all time but I would put my mother and a bottle of Vicks up against anyone.

I’d go on but the UPS man is at my door asking me to sign for a 55 gallon drum of Vicks my mother just sent me.

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I saw an article recently where baby alligators are the hottest thing at pool parties.  Read article HERE.  I know the kids may be getting sick of the water slide and the bounce house but what the hell are people thinking?  These poor gators have their mouths duck taped shut and these rug rats are dragging them around the pool like a floatie.  I assume the little gator has a memory and if I were him I couldn’t wait until I put on a few pounds and was able to even the score with little Suzy.

This is the thought process that leads to adults thinking they can walk into the bear cage at the zoo and become Dr. Doolittle.  It has to suck being the bear all day having a bunch of people with the mentality of a flat-tire trying to get the bear to sit on his hind legs and wave  for a few peanuts.  I always cheer for the bear and the lions when someone thinks they need to be a little closer to nature.  There is a reason for the fence there Einstein.  We have a population problem on this planet and I do believe those that venture into cages with lions and bears are truly doing their part in making a little more room for all of us.

Getting back to the gators…in Florida we have a one in twenty-four million chance of being attacked by a gator.  Those odds will go up if ya swim where they swim and if ya bring them into the pool…I’d say the odds even get better.  Parents….kids make enough bad decisions on their own so please don’t agree to having baby gators swim at your next pool party.  The only exception would be if you hired a clown.  It’s fine by me if ya feed HIM to the gators.

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I don’t understand “comic book people.”  I probably would be a bit concerned about my own mental capacity if I DID but I do wonder what these people are thinking.  Don’t get me wrong I was a HUGE fan of comic books.  I was also EIGHT YEARS OLD at the time.  I loved “Heckle and Jeckle” and “Scrooge McDuck” but eventually I put those comic books aside because I realized ducks don’t wear tiny spectacles and can’t become  freaking millionaires.

Comic book people eventually graduate to reading about super-heroes.  I suppose this is really the only option they have other than playing World of Warcraft and popping accutane.  Life really is an uphill struggle during the adolescent years for the “comic book person.”  Chances are they also wear braces with rubber bands, play the violin in orchestra and at night they have to put on the “head-gear.”  Just picturing this person makes me visualize him having his underwear yanked to the heavens by the captain of the football team during a class change.  So ya have a tough three years in high school.  Get over it.  It’s just a small slice of your lifetime.  Once ya graduate a funny thing happens……..ya get a clean slate!!!!

True “comic book people” screw up this golden opportunity and take the nerd train for a few more stops.  Some will join Revolutionary War recreation groups.  Some will play Dungeons and Dragons and some are beyond help or any type of logical judgement as they will dress up as their favorite super-hero or villain and actually go out in PUBLIC!!  Let me address these Super Nerds right now:  Look….you are NOT a Storm Trooper, Klingon, Chewbacca or one of the Avengers.  You are a freaking adult.  Adults don’t wear masks or capes.  Star Wars, Star Track, Bat-Man, Iron-Man and Wonder Woman NEVER happened.  It’s NOT real so stop making yourself look like a complete clown-ass at the age of thirty-five.  While I’m on a roll may I suggest it’s also time to move out of your parent’s house!

I think I have made my point and have vented enough.  I’m gonna go play Madden on X-Box.  I’m on the team ya know……

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There are a lot of things in this world I don’t understand and no matter how hard I try I don’t think some will ever become clear to me.  The Running of the Bulls is one of those things.  This annual event kicked off today with the first of eight runs with six powerful bulls chasing thousands of people through the streets of Pamplona.  I have never really seen a bull up close but I know he has two sharp horns protruding from his head, he weighs a hell of a lot more than me and I really believe I should stay the hell out of his way at all times.

I should also point out that I am an animal lover.  Maybe not a 100% animal lover because I hate spiders, I’m not fond of snakes and possums are kind of prissy and for their size I think they need a serious attitude adjustment.  Bulls get a bad rap.  No one likes someone who is “bull-headed” and no one is a fan of “bullshit” but what did the bulls do to be teased and tormented like this?  Imagine being caged up with five of your buddies and a bunch of drunken, screaming lunatics are running circles around you down a cobblestone road in the heat of summer.  I don’t know about you but I would be a bit pissed and want to put those horns on my dome to use.

Since they started keeping records in 1924 fifteen people have been gored to death by the bulls.  I wish I could be the coach of these bulls because I think they can do much better than that.  Today six people were injured including a 73 year-old that was gored.   That’s right a 73 year-old.  Usually you stop being a dumb ass when you retire and just piss people off by not knowing how to drive and taking too much time at the post office.

Well there are seven more runs to go and I hope you’ll join me in cheering “Let’s Go Bulls!!!!”

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I knew what I wanted to do when I was thirteen years old growing up just outside of Cleveland, Ohio.  I used to listen to Pete Franklin on WWWE talking sports EVERY night.  Then I listened to those silly FM air-personalities in the morning and they seemed to be having soooo much fun.  The one thing I never liked on the radio was music.  I took up time for what I wanted to do.  I wanted to talk to people, laugh, make people react, learn something, teach something, share something but most of all INVOLVE the listeners.  Sadly….today we call that facebook.

I don’t care about the song of the day, the high-low cash game, the phrase that pays, the secret sound, “Horriblescopes” or “Dirt-Alerts.”  I have enough drama in my life so why do I need to know which Real Housewife is in re-hab, which one got arrested, which one got a black eye, how big her engagement ring is or what she looks like in South Beach in a bikini?  It’s embarrassing to say….but somewhere I actually grew up.  I’m not ashamed to admit I like that “Call Me Maybe” song.  I don’t know who sings it.  I don’t care.  I just know that her mp3 is inside my smart phone and I can listen to it when I want to.

I worry….I worry a lot.  I used to be a real jerk…maybe I still am.  I never really paid attention in school because I just wanted to make people laugh.  Now I’m obsessed with knowledge, I have become a news junkie and I really try to think of others before myself (I’ll admit that I’m not really fond of that).  I love sports bars for two reasons….I love sports and I love beer.  I ride a Harley, have a few crazy tattoos and I really believe the government does not have our best interests in mind.  I was a selfish boyfriend/husband and now that I have my act together I couldn’t care less about dating.  I’ve made more mistakes in life than you have but I also know that has provided me with incredible stories.

Many nice people have offered me jobs in great cities playing ten songs an hour,  I’d be able to make great money but would it be fair to them or more importantly to who I am and what I want to do to take that job?  Integrity has become important to me.  I can’t lie to them and I can’t lie to myself.  All these “experts” will say ‘People wanna hear music.’  Really?  I think they are wrong. People want to communicate.  They want to be heard.  People want to contribute.  How much music are you getting on facebook?  How many songs are played on Twitter?  I’m not down on radio at all.  I see an INCREDIBLE opportunity.  Radio needs to ENGAGE the listener.  React in some way.  Laugh, agree, disagree, get mad,think back to a memory, relate, learn something….I’m rambling now but I guess this is more like one of those word documents ya get in a holiday card every year that tells ya what that status of someone’s family is.  This is where I came from, this is what I am about,and this is where I am determined to go.   Thanks for reading. 🙂

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We all are pretty much aware of the hype about the Mayan calendar and how this is supposed to be the final year that this planet survives.  I didn’t buy into any of it but if you assess the happenings of the past month you may be changing your mind as well.

John Travolta, the guy that broke women’s hearts in Saturday Night Fever, has been accused of groping the packages of three different men during a massage.  Just a few years ago we would teach abstinence in our schools to prevent teen pregnancy….now Teen Mom’s are big stars on TV.    Women that had anger issues and drinking problems are the type of people you would expect men to avoid—-now they are referred to as “Real Housewives.”  We had a guy in Miami that was nude and eating the freaking FACE off of a homeless guy and some guy in New Jersey was throwing his own intestines at the police.

The biggest city in our country is gonna limit the size of soft drinks because they are concerned about our health yet you can still buy an extra-large pizza with triple cheese.  Next thing ya know detainees at Guantanamo Bay will claim to have been tortured by Sesame Street characters.  What???  They have????  Time for me to get ready for a garage sale because it seems like we have about six months left.

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At this writing THREE people have now come forward saying John Travolta wanted his male masseuse to give him some extra service.   There is something seriously wrong when anyone can say anything about anyone and there are no repercussions on those filing false claims.   John Travolta has a ton of cash.  If he wants someone to yank and pull on his Barbarino he’s not gonna approach someone he doesn’t know on a cruise.  There is too  much to lose.

One accuser said Travolta allegedly offered him  $12,000 for gay sex.  That is such a random number it further facilitates my belief that this is all a bunch of bullshit.  Where does THAT number come from?  I’ve never been involved in a bidding war for gay sex but I imagine it would be in incriminates of fives and tens.  The only way I see $12,000 being made as an offer is if was a compromise.  Travolta offered ten grand, cabin boy wanted fifteen, so then the next offer would be $12,500.  See…..it’s STILL not twelve grand.

I try to put myself in the position of the masseuse to see how I would handle the situation.  If I’m giving Travolta a deep tissue massage and he rolls over with an erection that would cut through steel and starts lumbering towards me like a bear I exit the scene.  I’m not sticking around to find out how this story ends.  There is no discussion about money.  There isn’t an opportunity for him to ask for a hug.  Start rolling the credits people because I’m not gonna be around when he asks me “Ya wanna know what I mean by Face-Off????”

No go pick on the Kardashians….at least they deserve it.