Trials & Tribulations of Planning a Super Bowl Party!

Organizing a Super Bowl party can be very stressful. Especially when you think a certain family member is hosting but decides at the last minute it will not be taking place. The projected guests hear the news via group text and start to scramble like a Hasidic man filing a building permit.

Kim, my sister in law, had every intention to host the party as planned but my brother was to busy hunting rabid black squirrel  & ordering the assassination of an innocent ground hog who just wanted to see his shadow.

Within minutes we had the situation under control as my sister in law grabbed my brother by his cow murdering nuts and said “we are hosting Super Bowl so start making macaroni dumbass!”

We all had a sense of relief. Now came the argument of a what time the festivities should begin. Suggestions of the start time varied amongst the anxious guests. My cousin Tara, who has hosted more parties than Steve Rubell, suggested we begin at the crack of dawn with Tequila Sunrises in hand. Not a bad idea and I was on board but Super Bowl is a long day. My sister Gina agreed to that start time like a Chinese man at a Blackjack table. My wife fought hard for the party to only last an hour so she could get home and catch up on episodes of “Teen Mom” and drink ice water with lemon. After 395 group text messages, we settled for a 3pm start time. Tara was naturally pissed but understood and made it clear she will be arriving at 11am regardless driving her fully stocked roll up bar.

Next challenge was the menu. Joe Dirocco, my cousin, offered to make 17 types of chicken wings. Only problem is this genius doesn’t own a deep fryer. I offered to make a chili and strongly recommended all attending to wear depends and buy stock in baby wipes. My sister in law Debbie offered to construct 37 fucking snicker doodle desert platters as her husband Jeffery Michael complained about the lack of Cocoa Puffs in the pantry and depletion of whole milk in the refrigerator. Either way we figured it out and all is set for this iconic day in sports.

The biggest surprise of the entire conversation was nobody even knew who was playing in the Super Bowl or what time it actually started. My wife Alana interjected and said “Pats vs. Falcons 6:30pm” morons. We all froze solid like the victims of the Titanic. Her response was “I googled it”. Brilliant. Who would have thought of that. She’s so smart.

Can’t wait. Gonna be fun as always. I have the best family. The Super Bowl blog should be interesting.

To Shed A Tear “Our Emotional Cinema”

Most of us enjoy getting lost in the imaginary make believe world of movies and television. It’s a chance to escape from our everyday reality which can be overwhelming at times. It helps us forget for a minute that our mortgages are past due, our fussy children need to be fed, our insurance policies are in serious default, our Lu La Roe are 16 sizes to small and our pets need us to get home and walk them before they piss on our fluffy white Persian throw rugs or drop a ring worm infested deuce on our alligator skin recliners. We then have the audacity to come home and put the poor dogs snout in its own pee and shout “no bad dog” to teach them a lesson as we enjoyed coming attractions to the next Star Wars.

I feel this is an escape we all need from time to time. My issue I have is my wife and her escape. This women cries over Fraggle Rock re-runs.  She has a revolving door of TV shows she currently watches and no matter what, the end result always involves her shedding a tear like  Darva Conger at “Who wants to marry a millionaire”. I can’t afford the tissue bill and loss of mascara any longer.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a sucker for LMN, Lifetime and the legendary Hallmark Christmas movies where I start weeping like the newly adopted daughter of “Mommy Dearest.”

There needs to be a limit of our emotions that allows us to lose ourselves within this fantasy land. Last night my wife texted me politely as I was in the adjacent room watching Chips and asked for her “lifeline” of “humus & beanito chips”. I cooperated. She started to dip and chomp on her treats like Jenna Jaimeson at the Porn Awards. Upon my return to take her leftovers and clean her chin of humus drippings, she was sobbing as she watched an Aflac commercial so I realized I married an emotional women.

I found it ironic she never cried at our wedding, kids birth (well maybe she shed a morphine infused tear), our 10 year wedding anniversary, my kidney stone removal and the one time I thought she should weep just a bit, when I went down on my bruised kneecap and proposed. Instead of the traditional response of “yes I love you babe, how is your knee feeling and I am honored to be your wife” she whacked me in the head with a strawberry daiquiri and said “it’s about time”.

Emotions are a funny thing. With all the negativity and bullshit in the world today, FUCK IT!!!! Lose touch with reality for a moment. We all deserve it!

Not Political but Deeply Concerned!

I am the least political human being since Al Capone. Last time I casted a vote it involved my sixth grade class presidency. I have never voted and never will. I can name five  presidents. Bush, Bush 2, Clinton, Obama & Trump.

I never cared and I still don’t care. Unfortunately this years election has left me no choice but to pay attention and get a bit more involved. I didn’t know the meaning of “POTUS” until that handsome gay guy with nice gray hair on CNBC explained the definition. If I had to vote I would have checked “none of the above”.

Although I didn’t know the facts or details of what the candidates were truly about, I could only base my interpretation on what I have heard and learned through the news and social media which has the credibility of OJ Simpson on a Jerry Springer episode.

As the election race continued I found myself in favor of Mr Trump simply because I had a more complex vocabulary (And I have the vocabulary of Tarzan.) I was simply fascinated by the skin color of this individual. His “blow up doll” lip formation as he speaks also played a major role in my attraction to this candidate along with the deceased albino racoon hairdue he so elegantly wanders around with. Get a fucking haircut. I’ll pay. Come on dude. Your worth billions. Fix that shit.

He is the most unorthodox president to ever be elected. Maybe that’s a good thing. Who knows. Only time will tell.

All of these protests and media rants will accomplish nothing. I understand that may be hard to accept.

I giggle every time he refers to the word choices in the likes of amazing, huge, tremendous, believe me, bigly, etc. He has the political experience of a tadpole.

I am in no position to argue against or judge the people who oppose him and feel his presidency will be the “apocalypse” and the death of America.

What I do know is this man won our presidential election and is now our president. Like it or not.

The protests I have witnessed in recent days have been a disgrace. Protestors have put law enforcement, innocent civilians and themselves in great danger. The fact schools have offered “grief counseling” to young students as a result of this election in my opinion is repulsive. I blame this entirely on the parents and parents alone. All we are doing is creating a further divide within our nation.

I will never tell a parent how to raise their child. Thats your business. Please have enough sense to teach them respectfully.

When I hear your child say on national television he “set a limo on fire” you should rethink your parenting strategy.

The protests, riots, hate and disrespect for our new president will get you absolutely nowhere and most likely result in your arrest and embarrassment.

Let’s come together as a country and give this man a chance. I know it’s hard and again I don’t understand your dislike for him completely.

I do know what is taking place is only teaching our youth to hate, discriminate and divide during a time where our children are already confused as they chase Pokémon, dab, wear two different color sneakers on purpose, try to gather likes on Instagram like a homeless hooker on Dancing With The Stars, and wear skin tight farlow jeans like Boy George at confession.

What is going on within our nation is deeply concerning. I hope, in time, we become a strong, respected, peaceful force once again.

PS: If you are truly not happy and can’t deal with the current situation then move out of the country like many of you threatened to do. Trust me you won’t be missed. Please do not continue to put innocent people at risk of danger as a result of your hatred. Thank you kindly!

Children at play. Must be a Dream!

Today I relaxed at home as we honored Mr King and what he stood for. I laid frozen on my couch as my drool accumulated on my pillow and doritos were lodged in my chest hair. I was startled by a sound not heard in recent years.

It was the sound of children at play in my backyard. As I rose from my deep crusted eyeball hungover trance I was in disbelief. I looked out my unwashed cracked rear sliding door with broken window treatments and saw what I believed to be youngsters enjoying the outdoors and simply having fun.

I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation at first. I called the local fire department and they said unless a child is on fire there was nothing they could do. Next was a call to the police and they said unless one of the little bastards were committing a crime, there was nothing they could do. Next I called the director of “Children of the Corn” and asked for Malachi. He instructed me he was on his way to slice my pinky toe off and feed it to his chickens. So naturally I was spooked.

Continue reading “Children at play. Must be a Dream!”

Walmart Fashion Statememts


Walmart. Considering this Mega Store should only be allowed to operate in Chernobyl between the hours of 3am – 5am, we must take a moment to respect the fashion statements of its clientele.

Grandmothers are known to prance the aisles wearing “whinnie the poo” diapers sporting four inch stiletto heels with a “bieber believer” wife beater topped off with a backwards “Public Enemy” hat.

The children can be found in the fire arms section latched on to their mothers breast dressed in batman under roos with construction boots and full sleeve arm tatoos.

The main attraction of the children’s attire is the skull cap embroidered “my mommies breasties are the besties”.

The men are pretty simple. Full camo suits with 2 1/2 teeth accompanied by full grown beards housing what appears to be a nest of pelicans. Camo headpiece naturally.

The women, oh boy. Even I am at a lost for words for this travesty but I must give it a whirl. It begins with what I like to refer to as a spare tire of tatoos surrounding the torso area with fish net stockings running up the arms. The shoe of choice appears to be fishing boots and the head gear usually resembles that of an astronaut helmet. Unfortunately there are no pants in this description.

That being said, I walked in wearing jeans, tee shirt and nikes and I was the outcast!!!!

“Dirty Dick”

So my wife finally got through the stressful year known as 2016 and made her first gym appearance of 2017 tonight.

She was so excited and anxious to get back to her routine and work on her fitness as I sat on the couch and chomped on  doritos, watched football, drank beer and dipped three sleeves of oreo cookies into my milk freshly squeezed from locally grown cow udders.


When she finally walked in after her hard and thorough workout I made sure her lemon ice water was prepared perfectly for her.
As she opened the door and pounced on each step and rose to the top of the hallway I wanted to let her know I was concerned and politely asked “how was the gym babe”? Her reply was “it smelled  like dirty dick”.

So I chuckled and regurgitated a bit of my dorito and then began to absorb her comment. I’ve been with this woman for 22 years. Since she was 21. How many “dirty dicks” has she ran into??

So now I jumped into the shower with my tube socks, construction boots, tape measure and fruit of the loom speedos like Mike Holmes in a Potato sack race.

Naked man taking a shower

This one has got me really thinking! Damn!