Valentines Day. True relationships should be above this!

Valentines Day.

What can I say. An event created by Hallmark. A brilliant concept and we are all guilty of falling victim to this meaningless holiday at some point in our lives.

In truth, do we really need a “special day” within the year to profess our feelings & love towards the ones we adore and care about?

I would hope the answer is no. For some of us this may be the only opportunity to express our deepest affection and gratitude in hopes our mates will possibly grab the willies or massage our bunion & gout infested big toe.

Perhaps your lover will purchase a cardboard red heart full of chocolate clusters that resemble undigested corn racoon turds that exceeds the expiration date and violates all board of health regulations that can land a fella 6 years in federal prison.

As I drove home from work today I noticed many men were freezing their nuts off as they wandered around aimlessly upon local streets with frozen flowers as lovers patiently awaited the arrival of these suckers.

What seemed to catch my eye was the fashion statement of these individuals. Most were bundled up in pink scarfs and perfectly trim beards paired with skin tight farlows and capezio footwear.

Bottom line is this.

I have nothing against the passionate obsession with this iconic holiday. If you feel the need to get motivated and kickstart your love for your partner, so be it.

Personally, does nothing for me.

I love my girl each and everyday. As a matter of fact Valentines Day is the only day I can’t stand my wife as I must spend $10.00 for a card engulfed in cellophane written by some pediphile who has the ability to express loving and caring words that most of us are simply not capable of accomplishing.

What truly tickles my fancy is when people say you married your best friend. Let’s get one thing straight. Your wife is not and will never be your best friend. Ever.

For starters my best friend growing up was a guy. We got arrested together. We robbed convenient stores together. He was the one who did everything in his power to try and prevent my wife and I from getting married. He introduced me to drugs and alcohol and held my mullet back as I threw up pork fried rice and fried wontons.

So to conclude, my wife is not my best friend and if any of you dudes out there think the woman you are married to or your partner is your best friend you need to take that teal green mini-van you’re driving along with your chucky cheese gift certificates and get your head examined by Dr Phil.

Most couples feel this “Invented” special day is a day to become intimate with each other.

It is just the opposite in my relationship friends.

My gift I presented to my wife this Valentine’s Day was deeply thought out and executed with precise concentration and careful planning. I offered to sleep on the couch so she can rest peacefully without my snoring. I also presented her with a gift card that stated I will not attempt any sexual advancements towards her until this coming Saturday evening.

She was so happy. I couldn’t help but notice a look in her eye I haven’t seen since we were snuggled up in the backseat of her navy blue sun faded Pontiac Sunbird on our first Valentines Day together.

Love each other everyday. No matter what. If you need “Valentines Day” to make your situation feel special you are in the wrong relationship. Just my opinion.

When you reach the point where “Valentines Day” makes you and your partner absolutely miserable and causes the both of you to cringe and throw up kidney beans, you are heading in the right direction and are truly in love!

Happy Valentines Day!

Personal Evolution of Unwanted Body Hair

Body hair. It has been a staple in our DNA since the beginning of time. Whether you were blessed with the hair follicle genes of a Woolly Mammoth or that of a chiseled smooth Greek God, you must accept your fate. This was the hand you were dealt.

Considering there are a few living & breathing homosapiens who walk amongst us who happen to resemble that of the Cro-Magnon Era,  most people have evolved over time. Before I get into this, I must talk about my own personal experience within this epidemic.

Meeting new people in life is exciting and tends to keep us on our toes socially in a world where it is easy to lose your sense of existence at times.

With every new friendship comes new curious questions. One of the most common topics I personally find myself engaged in is family heritage. When I am asked, I speak the truth. My mother is half Italian and half Irish. My dad is 100% Yeti

I remember growing up and having this nightmarish vision tattooed in my brain of my dad exiting the shower. He resembled a St. Bernard on a “slip and slide” at Action Park. He made the endangered “Chia Pet” list in 1982. This guy had hair coming out of his pupils. Well the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

As a young man growing up, I  always had a nice full head of blonde hair. On my head that is. My surrounding body hair was minimal during my teens and throughout my twenties. Once I turned 30 that shit changed. Rapidly.

One day I awoke and took a peak in the mirror and noticed my hair on my head was getting a bit thin. Thought nothing of it. Just accepted it and said to myself “It is what it is”.

Then on my 32nd birthday I started to notice hair growth on my shoulder blades and triceps. I did not like this scenario one bit but there was nothing I could do.

By the time I turned 33 I had a full patch of hair growing on the top of my foot. My elbow looked like a poison ivy bush and my thumbs resembled a shower drain after a women’s shower.

So naturally I was concerned as most of the hair on my head disappeared. I won’t get into that Japanese maple tree that sprouted above my ass crack. That shit keeps me insulated in the cold winter months.

After several conversations with local scientists they confirmed that the strands of hair on my head were falling out and landing on various parts of my body and germinating. So now I look like the the son of a 70’s porn star. It’s terrible and my wife and I must schedule appointments to have me hop up on the kitchen table periodically so she can “sheer me like a lamb.” It’s for a good cause as I donate all clippings to “Locks for Love.” Enough about me.

Let’s talk about the love of my life!

My wife is a relatively hairless being. She has a few stragglers but nothing to be concerned about with the exception of her legs occasionally. I get it. It’s natural and I never complain. We been married for a long time. She’s comfortable with me. I actually use her hairy arachnid legs at times to dig out splinters I accumulate during the work day. It’s a bonding experience.

Here is my dilemma.

My wife decided to go to a local massage parlor the other day to get her foot and calf rubbed for 30 minutes. I said “Enjoy babe. You deserve it.”

She comes home and pulls her Lue La Roe pants up and shows me her legs and says “Can we hire a Chinese women to massage my feet whenever I want?” I said “Sure babe. Whatever you want”

I was curious so I stroked her knee cap and felt the smoothest surface on earth. So I ventured down to her shin and it was as soft as a baby’s ass. It was like a piece of polished granite. Even smelled like “White Diamond.”

Now here is a women who hasn’t shaved her legs since prom. When she wants her leg rubbed by Bruce Lee she orders a Flobe and a weed wacker and polishes her fibula off with cocoa butter.

The following evening we were on a date and began to get intimate. I stroked her leg and I felt like I was getting to third base with “Harry and the Henderson’s.”

To sum things up. My kids are “up shits creek without a paddle”  in the body hair department.

Hopefully by the time this will affect my offspring there will be and App for that.

Happy Hour. Couch Bound!

When I started this Blog it was something I did as a “fart in the wind”.

I have a tight circle of friends and family who have known me forever and know what I’m about. I take all of this as simply a opportunity to make everyone laugh. I feel, so far, I have succeeded or else I wouldn’t be writing or doing this.

I went out for happy hour today at a local pub and from the minute I walked in until the minute I walked out with a blood alcohol content three times the legal limit, I felt myself consumed in conversation about my blog and what I am doing. Sue and Patty shoved Irish Mist down my throat like a sexually confused male at a hot dog eating contest.

The fact people recognize what I am trying to do and encourage me is humbling.

Then I come home and my wife is hurling rusty butter knives and stale chocolate chip cookies at me like Serena Williams with pre menstral symptoms accompanied by anal warts , anal leakage and anal retentive jock itch during a heat wave in Afghanistan.

My kids are past out with IPads in their mouths and phone chargers connected to their butt entrances so that was disturbing.

As an understanding father and clearly the most logical one in this household, I tried to understand both sides and make sense of all this.

My wife then proceeded to smack me with a hot frying pan containing gout and kissed me good night and said “I Love You Babe” and now I’m confused but I think we have something real and she is my soulmate. I felt the love as my eye socket crumbled to pieces and my cheek bone swelled up like Puff Daddy at a Wetzel Pretzel convention.

I love my family and love you all for the support. I can’t do this without you behind me.

Let’s keep it going!!!

First Blog about me!

My name is Anthony Termine. I am 42 years old. I am married with two beautiful identical twin boys and blessed to have a very understanding wife.

I was born in Westchester, NY and raised in Rockland County, NY. I have been in the construction business for over 20 years and absolutely hate it. Worst business on the planet.

My life long passion was to always become an entertainer/actor. At the ripe age of thirteen I got an agent in NYC and I was on my way.

My first headshot was a polaroid photo my mother took of me on my front lawn in front of a rotting spruce tree and a face full of pimples during a Nor’easter.

Within weeks I was auditioning for roles requiring 6ft + handsome black basketball players and Brad Pitt like persona. Didn’t take long before I realized my agent was a pimp from the South Bronx, NY. I continued to pursue my dream over the next few years and through high school.

I booked the occasional “extra” job on music videos and movies for a pay check of $50.00 for a 17 hour day and accumulated traveling expenses north of $100.

After high school I went to a local college and enrolled in performing arts and fell in love with it. I did several plays there and realized this may be my ticket into the business. Got my grades up and with help from my parents enrolled at Marymount Manhatten College in NYC.

I moved into the “Big City” and was on my way. My first theatrical experience my freshman year was an interesting one to say the least. I beat out the other actors for a part in a play called Beirut. I was full of joy to eventually learn I had won the lead role only to realize I had to strip down naked in front of a 500 person theatre as my mother sat motionless and spit up her latte as her sons nuts swayed gracefully within the silhouette of the powerful stage lighting. I loved every minute of it. I thought I made the big time. All I did was disappoint the three straight female students that attended the college.

After that I stayed in school for another year and realized this is not going to work. Moved back home and started a construction company. Been doing it ever since.

I Joined Facebook a few years back and began making a few jokes here and there and some of my friends found it entertaining. I continued to post my thoughts and silly scenarios and after a while many had encouraged me to start a blog and express my thoughts. So here I am.

I hope everyone enjoys what I have to say and remember, if you can’t laugh you can’t live.

Continue reading “First Blog about me!”