Life can be aggravating at times thanks to humans!

In life there are certain daily events and situations that can be quite irritating. Some more than others. Below are some examples for me personally. I’m sure most of you can relate to some of them.

Gum Cackling

Very annoying. It’s even worse when your 78 year old sun weathered waitress named Flo supporting seven grandchildren does it. I understand she works “hard for her money” but stop blowing bubbles and snapping your piece of bazooka in my face as you take my food order. And then proceed to do it again when you drop the check off and say “Thanks doll” in your best smokers cough accent. Stop cackling. Unless you’re Dolly Parton it doesn’t work.

Use of Public Bathrooms

It’s never our first choice but sometimes we need to go. You spend 20 minutes cleaning up what appears to be a sextuplet natural childbirth on the toilet seat and surrounding walls. You finally sit down and get ready to make a deposit and some person sits right next to you. You feel a bit embarrassed and try to be considerate and release your poop quietly and this fat fuck blows a rhinoceros out of their ass. Did you even clean the toilet seat first you animal?

Counter Help

I respect anybody that gets up and goes to work. You should take employment seriously and always do your best. If you happen to be my counter help and I place an order with you, either remember it without question or write it down. Don’t look at me and yes me to death like you have the memory of an elephant only to repeat and ask me what my order was again and again and again. If you are not sure of the order, please use the new invention of  pen and paper. Works every time.

Bicycle Riders

For the most part this isn’t that aggravating. It’s not even the actual riding that bothers me. It’s the uniforms. Don’t get me wrong, some of these men are sexy as hell with bulging calf muscles, nice pectorals and a golden bronze tan. I’m on board with that. That’s hot. It’s the 59 year old accountant that hasn’t lifted a weight since high school football double sessions. He hasn’t seen the sun in 17 years and he looks like a rendition of “Teen Wolf”. Yeah stop that. Hide in your closet until Monday morning when it’s time to get dressed and go back to work.

Public Affection

I don’t know about anybody else but I show my affection to my wife in private. I believe that’s how it should be. Why you all feel the need to show your affection in front of 17 Hasidics, a Mexican soccer team, 24 kids with their pants around their ankles and Chinese tourists with selfie sticks is mind altering. Do you think it’s attractive watching you ride down the mall escalator with your Red Robin greasy ass hands shoved down your girls skin tight Jordache jeans with ju ju bees dangling from your lower lip? Do you think getting to sloppy second with your chick wedged up against the Wetzel Pretzel kiosk is sexy? It’s not. If I tried to squeeze my wife’s ass in public she would crack me over the head with a fire hydrant.

Woman taking public phone call

When you are on a line and the phone rings, hit ignore. That’s why the button is there. I can’t stand when that woman (and you know the type I’m talking about) picks up her phone and her best friend Marsha from Florida is on the other line and they start discussing little Howard’s college tuition. Pick that conversation up after you have paid for your groceries lady. We don’t care if your husband Harold won a toaster oven at Walmart.

Public body exposure

This is terrible. All bodies are different. We are who we are and that’s wonderful. You should love yourself. But please don’t flaunt it if you ain’t got it. If your hips are dragging on the floor please don’t wear a g-string. If you use your belly spare tire as a dinner napkin, please cover up. If your boobies resemble eggplants on steroids, wear a bra. Guys, if your back fat roll is connected to the knee cap, please don’t wear a tank top. Thanks people.

Driving Old Cars

Let’s not get it twisted. I am not referring to restored classic muscle cars. I can watch them drive by all day long. I’m speaking of the 56 foot rusted asbestos Megaladon barreling down the road consuming 1 and a 1/2 miles per gallon polluting Earth. Donate that shit to 1-800-Cars for Kids and get with the times. They don’t even fit in parking spots anymore.

Fake Sun Tans

If you wake up on Christmas morning and you look as if you crawled out of a Volcano something is wrong. If you went on vacation the prior week that’s great. If not, please control how tan you get in January. At least during the summer months you tend to blend in a bit better. Seeing your roasted red pepper facade up against a pile of beautiful white snow is disturbing. Either stop the excessive tanning or walk around wrapped in a garbage bag until June. Thanks in advance.

These are only some of life’s aggravating moments. I’m sure you all have many as well. Would love to here about it. Please share!

Summer camp is over. WTF do we do now?

Summer camp is over. Wtf do we do now??? Whether your child attended sleep away, half day or full day camp, we must now try and fill the hours of the day we so happily paid for to have our children raised by others! This is a challenge on all levels.

For my wife and I it was half day camp. 8:30am to 11:30am. No big deal. Actually it was a very big deal. Three hours per day. Fifteen hours per week. A lifetime of silence when you are a parent. An opportunity to get shit done. Camp, you will be missed dearly.

The hardest part about camp was getting the boys up and out of bed to actually get them there. Let’s face it, it’s 110 degrees outside and these kids have no desire to participate in outdoor dodge ball tournaments orchestrated by a couple of puberty challenged teeny boppers earning $2 per hour. Laying in bed Snap Chatting about a friends “Lit” post is much more exciting for them. Kids are forced into these camps against their will. Sorry young ones. Someday you will become parents and understand these harsh, radical decisions.

Three hours seems like a minimal amount of time. A fraction of the day. It’s not. It’s 180 minutes of relaxation. Stress free. A moment to enjoy peace and quiet. A break from the reality of children demanding food, complaints of boredom, sibling rivalries, constipation issues and anything else that comes along with the daily chaos of parenting.

I took full advantage of the three childless hours I so gracefully forked over my hard earned money for. Often I would send my wife early morning text messages as I’m working stating “Hey, kids are at camp, what’s up?” She would reply “No shit asshole. I dropped them off. I’m sleeping. I’m tired. Go back to work.” That usually put a damper on things for a moment but I was determined to get my “Camp Tuitions” money’s worth. I based my expected return of investment on the current “hooker market value” and figured I would need three solid hours of intimacy with my wife throughout the camp session to break even. So I continued to badger her until she surrendered and threw up her exhausted arms in a fury of disgust “Fine, hurry up. You have five minutes and I’m just gonna lay here and sleep. Do what you like.” I buckled myself in and raced home. Kicked the front door open like John Claud Van Dam auditioning for the Rockettes and shouted “I only need two minutes.” It was a win win for all. I will miss these tender moments between my wife and I. A true romantic bonding experience.

We are all faced with the impossible challenge of filling the time with our children for the remaining days of summer. My wife has supplied me with a list of options and suggestions to close out the summer days with our family. They are as follows. Bronx Zoo. Great Adventure. Museum of Natural History. Dinner five nights per week. Broadway shows. Myrtle Beach. Zip Line. Sky Diving. Cooking classes. Family yoga. Snorkeling. Cruise. Disney world. Disney Land. Shopping. What? Might as well include a trip to Italy and a meet and greet with Justin Timberlake while you’re at it.

Ok babe. Let’s start with Disney World and work our way back. Who the hell does she think I am? I’ll do the Bronx Zoo and Snorkel in my moms pool and call it a day.

We all try and do as much for our kids as possible. Create memories. I understand. Kids just don’t get it. Raising a family in today’s world is a huge (Omg I just sounded like Trump. Shoot me.) financial obstacle. We chose to have a family so we must not complain. We manage.

First day of school is right around the corner. Hang in there Moms & Dads. Eight hours of heaven awaits us all!

Parental Guidance. Are parents at war with social media?


Parental Guidance. Are we at war with social media?

Does any other parent out there sometimes feel like they are raising R2D2?

I do. At times I try and get my boys attention and all I see is the two of them posing for the camera phone only to morph themselves into panting dogs. They constantly distort their photographic appearance to make them appear as if they are becoming a chicken pox infected eggplant. Weird! Why is everything “lit”, “100” and that stupid fire emoji? These kids today are regressing. They communicate through hieroglyphics (it honestly took me 17 tries to spell that word correctly.) I browse through my kids social media news feeds and all I see is images. No words. Are they creating a new language? What is going on here? What do we do? I’m so lost. When I see all this I believe I’m playing a game of Pictionary.

Parenting in the world today is no walk in the park. Parents must be sharp.  Adapt. Become chameleon like. We must try to understand technology and it’s rapid progression. We also must try and interject some of our upbringing and beliefs. We need to create a stable platform to raise a decent human being without offending anybody. And by the way. Please stop being offended. Offensiveness is overrated and I’m tired of reading about a woman who read a Betty Crocker cook book and became offended because it didn’t have enough chocolate morsels in the recipe for a brownie. Take your God given right to be offended and shove it up your ass. If shit bothers you, exclude yourself and walk away. Life is way to short to sweat the small crap. I get offended when the old lady at the Supermarket puts 16 items on the conveyor belt on the 15 and under express checkout line but I keep my mouth shut. I move on. But honestly, that’s fucking aggravating! Count your items lady.

I strongly believe raising children in today’s society is the most difficult it has ever been. The current generation of parents have the task of blending the old techniques of how we were raised with the ever so evolving poison of social media and all of life’s technology plagued advancements. The devil on so many levels. It has become the way of life. Can’t change it. Can’t stop it. We must embrace it!

I believe pre-technology / social media parenting was a cut and dry method. If you misbehaved you were placed over a splinter ridden piano bench and absorbed the lash of your fathers fake leather belt. The wrath of your mothers “wooden spoon.” There was no fear of child abuse reports. Kids did not press charges against parents because their cornflakes were soggy. When you made a childish mistake, you paid the price and you never did it again. All parties hugged it out and kissed on Christmas morning.

I believe the future of parenting will be enforced by robotic nannies and google advice columns. (Which I think is a current practice for some parents.) I get it. Raising children is hard. It’s not for everybody. Some find out the hard way.

I never personally judge other parents on how they discipline and raise their children. Neither should anybody else. All families and situations are different. It’s like a snowflake. No two are ever the same. I have my thoughts on what I think is the correct way. That’s what I instill in my boys. If I see a parent in Shoprite beating their child with a frozen pack of Bubba’s Burgers I just sit back and say “That kid must have done something to deserve that.”  I can’t stand when judgemental people whisper under their bad breath, “Look at that woman,  she shouldn’t be a parent.” Or “Get control of your kid.” Shut up. Just shut the hell up. Until you have the pleasure of dealing with these little unappreciative shits on a daily basis, again shut up. Let us parents raise our miserable kids peacefully while you lonely pricks search Starbucks for an Angle Saxon fella named Kyle with frosted bangs and a hoop earring from Spencer’s decked out in a cashmere orange cardigan who will magically sweep you off your judgemental feet!

Bottom line. Mind your business. Unless a child is in obvious physical danger, (excluding a Bubba Burger beating) let the parents do their thing and move along.  Nature will take its course.

When children are born they don’t come with a set of instructions. There is no App. We learn as we go. Trial and error.

Today we face a greater enemy. Social media. A road block in parenting!

We attempt to raise the next generation to the best of our ability and deal with the influential, mind warping, socially pressured world of social media that has completely consumed our children and way of life. It has managed to take over most of the older generation as well. I think that’s fine as our upbringing is done. We are who we are. Social media shouldn’t determine “Us.” Well for some it just might. Sucks for you I guess.

Social media has the power to influence our youth. Trigger suicide in some heartbreaking situations. It’s powerful and it’s real. It becomes a challenge within parental guidance and direction we as parents work so hard to achieve for our young ones.

I guess in the end we can only hope and pray our children and future generations will prosper & flourish from the fruits of our labor.

Do your best parents. Buckle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride. It’s not getting any easier.

Teach your children love, respect and to always be humble and kind like the great Tim McGraw says. Hopefully that will guide us all through this shit show called life.

Remember, our children are a reflection of their parents. What they do and how they treat others is a direct line to how they are raised and what they are taught. Who they will become.

Teach them well. Teach them right. “I believe the children are the future, let them lead the way”

-Whitney Houston



Childbirth!! Thank God I’m not a woman!

Child birth. Fascinating. The gift of life. The most beautiful experience on Earth.

Yet there are so many different forms and deliveries of these little miracles throughout the years. So much time. So many changes. So much we just don’t know. All we do know is somehow someway we survived and evolved.

I have a hard time wrapping by brain around childbirth before doctors. Before hospitals and ultra sounds. Before Tri-mesters and Babies R Us!

In today’s world there are so many procedures and precautions. So many tests. Concerns. Which is fine. If we have the technology and resources today for a safe birth of a child, I’m all for it. I’m naturally curious of childbirth before these advancements within our human race.

I’m going back a few years but what transpired when a woman gave birth before doctors and hospitals? They couldn’t send a text message to their husband stating they think their water broke and it’s time! They didn’t have gender revealing parties! The men were out hunting and gathering while the women sat around in a cave and gave birth to children. They dealt with it and figured it out. Cut their own cords. Dealt with pain. No Vicodin. Life went on. Damn that must have been some scene.

Today is much different. My wife gave birth to our twin boys in 2005. There were some complications. Babies were breached. They had to schedule a C-section delivery. What a walk in the park this is compared to natural childbirth. I think!

We set our date. We glided into the hospital at 6am the day of delivery. They put my wife in a wheelchair and strolled her into the maternity ward as we passed 347 labor induced women prancing the hallways looking like they haven’t taken a shit in a month. They were cursing, vomiting, sweating, threatening to kill their husbands and many other situations I can’t mention in this blog because we like to keep it clean around here. 😜

They separated me from my pregnant wife like I had the plague. They rinsed me off. Threw a shower cap on me. Dressed me in a blue smock. Shoved a sour tuna sandwich down my throat. Installed foot booties on me. Forced me to fill out a questionnaire form and instructed me to sit tight and don’t move. I felt like I was in prison for sexually assaulting a squirrel. It was terrible.

They injected 17 ounces of morphine into a woman who catches a buzz from a sip of White Zinfandel.

It was now safe for me to enter.

First thing I saw as I approached was her smiling. Naturally I thought there was complications as a result of her excitement. Turns out all was going according to plan. So I thought. The image of my wife happy, the Hasidic love making sheet that separated my vision of reality, the soothing words of the doctors along with the fact I simply could not see through the oversized old lady shower cap I was wearing gave me a sense of comfort. Things were going to be Ok.

Then the Doctors words echoed “Hey Dad? Do you want to meet your son?” Fuck!!! This meant I had to cross the safety of the sheet and participate. I accepted the challenge. I tip toed towards the action. I turned the corner. I threw the fuck up!!!! Twice. All I saw was a child suspended in the air attached to a bloody slinky. My wife’s heart, pancreas and left nipple were carefully placed on a silver dinner plate and I panicked. I needed to check my wife for assurance she was ok as her liver was pulsating on the floor. She looked at me and gave me the biggest smile and said “I love you babe.” I replied “what the fuck is going on here?”

Keep in mind there’s another little bastard in there. Next thing you know I see two babies suspended in mid air with telephone wires attached to my wife’s stomach and intestines everywhere. It was bad.

We survived. We all made it out alive.
Childbirth has come a long way.

Please tell me about any of your child birth experiences!

Our Mexico Adventure. Do I have some stories for you!

Wow. I remember back in the day when we took a family vacation it was always a personal experience you would never forget. We, as a family growing up always tried to make the best of the unrealistic situations. We smiled. Pretended to love our siblings for 168 hours. We improvised. When my Dad said “Look at the colorful lighting bugs outside our dirty car window kids” we jumped up as a family unit and clapped our hands in appreciation as if Celine Dion just busted out “Her heart will go on” as that poor peasant boy Jack drowned on the Titanic trying to save that “Rich Bitch Rose”.

I don’t think so. Nobody does that. If I’m ever stranded in the middle of the ocean straddled together on a floatation device as sharks lurk, I would never comfort my lady and let her live. It’s about survival at that point. I will feed her ass to the Orcas, Sea Lions, Jelly Fish, Octopus, Plankton or any other creature that will devour her. “Don’t let go Anthony!” Yeah. Goodbye Mi Amore! This poor guy on the Titanic was freezing his nuts off and this bitch has the balls to say “Don’t let go Jack”. I’ll see your ass at the bottom of the sea. Rose!

Vacations are not natural. Do you honestly think that the Cro-Magnon man said to his family of hairy beings after they hunted and destroyed the Saber Tooth tiger that a “vacation to the Bahamas was in order?” How about after bringing down a 3000Lb Wooly Mammoth that crushed their cousin during the process allowed them the right as a family to kiss dolphins and caress friendly horse shoe crabs as they pound Mojitos until their loin cloth fell off?

The answer is no. Their vacation was to the nearby lake to wash themselves of Mammoth guts.

We adjusted over time. We adapted. Vacations have become a way of life for us. It’s a nice break from the daily chaos and stress we all endure. I enjoy them.

As I was recently on vacation in Mexico I must speak about the events that have transpired. These are my honest and truthful encounters. Some of these may lead to my divorce and castration. I’ll take my chances in order to enlighten you all.

I tried to enjoy this temporary escape and keep an open mind. As a result of unforeseen circumstances I found myself engulfed in a whirlwind of mishaps that are to good not to be shared. So here we are.

Below is a few of my recent experiences along with some advice. Hopefully you will all take these into consideration as you book your future getaways.

-Amish family in Cancun, Mexico. I’m not saying there is anything wrong with this. They deserve a vacation like the rest of us. The issue is this. They don’t leave their property. The only place I have ever, and I mean ever, seen an Amish family is in Pennsylvania driving around in go karts with square wheels. So how the hell does this rebellious Amish squad wind up in Mexico dressed like they are prepared to bake a cake and plant zucchini seeds? It was 107 degrees with a heat index of 237% and this Amish mother was breast feeding her child under a quilt! It was weird. (I have nothing against breast feeding. Let me be clear on this) I have a problem with a quilt in Mexico. That is all. I believe they got on the wrong horse and buggy! There is something that does not register in my brain when I try and picture an Amish woman doing a keg stand in a Mexican Resort at 9am on a Tuesday morning as “Julio the pool entertainer” slams shots of tequila off her boob.

-Mexican Karaoke show. This one blew the snot out of me. You must prepare yourself for this. These people will jump up on stage like Whitney Houston at a crack convention and perform the most complicated American songs to ever be recorded. Each performer will give you fair warning their English is not that great before they begin. This becomes very obvious after the first note but they are passionate and that’s all that matters in my opinion. Man it is funny to watch!

-Vacation salesman trying to sell me a timeshare package. I get it. It’s a business. Be smart about it. If I’m going to dedicate a half of a day of my precious vacation time to listen to some Ricky Martin inspired scam artist you better be prepared to at least provide me with some Goya and Tacos. Also, don’t present me with a 50k package then when I decline accept 47 pesos as a last resort. Get lost!
These salesman are aggressive and their fake Rolex watch is not impressive.

-Sunburn while playing pool volleyball. I am from New York. We are only exposed to the hot sun for a few months out of the year. We finally arrive at the Resort or a Caribbean Island and we get excited. We jump in the beautiful pool. We sometimes forget sun tan lotion. We mingle with the locals. We burn our skin. We don’t realize this until we go back to the room and our nose falls off. Our earlobes curl up like rotten tomatoes. Our shoulder blades turn a shade of fuchsia. Our lips become so chapped we look as if we sucked face with a cheese grater. From here on out, I will be vacationing wrapped in tin foil.

-Respect the wildlife. We all love animals. When on vacation we sometimes encounter species we are not familiar with. Some appear cute and fluffy so we throw pieces of bread at them. We want to pet and hold them. Then they turn on us out of natural instinct. They will bite your big toe off in 3 seconds. They are wild. Enjoy from a distance. I must acknowledge the bird that took a crap on my wife’s arm as she sat poolside sipping her mudslide. The bird had impressive aim. This made the whole trip worthwhile.

-Understanding and dealing with foreign currency. I have not personally experienced money exchange with any other country except Mexico. This is challenging enough. It took me a while to grasp the fact a bag of potato chips cost $374.00 dollars. That’s pesos (Mexican currency) which still translates to $22.00 US dollars for an item you can purchase 3 for $5.00 at Costco. Hey, it’s vacation. Nothing is real. I must say, I got a kick out of getting a role of quarters wrapped up in scotch tape. Our dollar goes so far in that country the waitress took her clothes off and gave me a lap dance because I tipped her $2.00 for a hot dog she brought to me. Next year I’m giving her a ten spot. Can’t wait to see what that gets me!

-Spending your vacation in the gym. Listen up Hans and Frans. If you are going to spend 80% of your vacation time “pumping you up” why the hell are you paying $5000.00 to do it? I see people on vacation getting up at the crack of dawn running 17 miles down the beach. They have 6 protein shakes followed by 200 pull-ups on the Tiki Bar. They proceed to stretch for an hour in front of the main pool area as their tan assholes leak out of their speedos. They continuously lather themselves with Fellipe Berillo olive oil like they are preparing Sunday dinner and consume shots of ice water. What the fuck you doing on vacation bro? Go home. You look ridiculous.

-Running out of cantonelli pasta. Let’s get one thing straight Mexico. If you have the balls to present this elusive pasta on your menu, don’t tell me “Sorry Mr., we have no more” when it’s a Tuesday night and there are 19 people in the restaurant and 10 of them are employees. I just dropped an extreme amount of money to stay at your Resort and you ran out of a pasta you couldn’t even spell correctly on your menu? Get your shit together. Stick to what you are good at. Nachos!

-Food and bathroom habits. Let’s face it. We are on vacation. Unless you’re that workout nut eating soy and grass, you want to splurge for the week. Eat unhealthy foods and experience the different cultures. My family firmly believes this is what a vacation is all about. Until our second night that is. We will just about eat anything at anytime. We never consider the consequences. We eat. We shit. We move on. A Mexican impulsive shit is a bit different. My son found out the hard way. We just finished dinner. We jumped on a golf cart on our way to the next destination. My boy felt a rumble in his tummy. He said “I have to poo.” We replied hold it in, we will be there in a minute.” His response “I can’t!” Next thing you knew we had eight fingers and a bag of cashews plugging up his asshole. We placed a portable fan to his face for oxygen and sang a soothing lullaby to help distract him from the urge to crap. All this as the driver of the cart laughed uncontrollably and belted out “Tacos, chimichanga, nachos, Tequila…hahahaha.” I replied “He’s twelve.” Get me some toilet paper ASAP and no tip for you.

No matter where we vacation it should be a time to enjoy, cherish and make memories. Life is too short. Enjoy it while we are here!







Taking a vacation? Here is your “pre vacation stress check list”

Preparing for a family vacation may be one of life’s most challenging obstacles for us parents.

It’s not so much the beginning stages and planning of the trip. It’s the few stressful days leading up to the departure that really get my nuts in a bunch.

I speak of this as I just broke out of a family huddle at 11pm Eastern time on my couch that has left me $1000 poorer, my wife not talking to me and my kids disowning me.

Booking our vacation initially was quite easy. If you happen to be like me you borrow your sister and brother -in-laws Visa mileage credit card. Proceed to book a $5000 vacation to Mexico on a random Tuesday after a night of slamming Tequila Sunrises off your partners dirty belly button. You both have absolutely no idea how in the hell you will pay for this trip. Your only saving grace is the credit cards 30 day payment policy. As stressed out irresponsible parents you collectively throw your balls and tits on the line and hope for the best. Only way it should be!

It always seems to work out. Most of the time.

What just transpired in my household has ultimately left me speechless. Well. Not really. That would be impossible.

It was 10:45 pm and my wife and I along with two curious children gathered around our living room sofas and coffee table for a vacation meeting. I felt trapped and began to sweat uncontrollably. I was embracing for the “pre stress vacation check list” that was about to be dropped on me like Rocky Dennis at childbirth.

Pre-vacation stress list as follows:

1. Confirmed reservation. My wife insists I must call the Resort in Mexico at 11pm the night before arrival to confirm our hotel reservation even after we have received 329 email confirmations in six languages. I asked “what if they say we don’t have a reservation?” She replied “shut the fuck up.” So I dialed the number to confirm only to be put on hold. I patiently waited and listened to a terrible rendition of La Bamba for 86 minutes. The helpful customer service representative who appeared to have been a bottle and a half of tequila deep returns to the phone line walking me through the confirmation process like he’s the best man giving a speech at an El Chapo wedding. I honestly still have no idea if our reservation is confirmed. All I heard was a Mexican man choking on lettuce for 6 minutes.

2. Luggage weight. My wife is so concerned the luggage will weigh more than the allowed amount of 50lbs she placed the luggage on the treadmill trying to shed a few pounds. She walked around the house with this weight testing device measuring and weighing tooth brushes and bars of soap. She has officially lost her mind.

3. Clean house. My wife must have the entire house cleaned before we leave. I explained it’s ok to relax and clean when we get home. Not her. She set up scaffolding to clean the tops of window treatments and ceiling fans. She’s running around the house with 3 different types of vacuums sucking up every type of dust mite to ever be discovered. I walked into the bathroom and her legs were hanging out of the toilet bowl as Pandora radio belted out “I want your sex” by George Michael so I turned around gracefully and went about my business. I returned after she completed her hard work and dropped a “Red Lobster” inspired deuce. I honestly felt horrible. It was either the clean toilet or the micro- suede couch.

4. Man scape. My wife just realized we didn’t man scape me properly in order to take the trip. Now that the bathrooms are cleaned we must now figure out the best option to remove this unwanted fur in order to avoid embarrassment at the Resort. So we run down to the local CVS and purchase 3 gallons of Nair. We then tie me up to a tree and hire Edward Scissor Hands to trim me up. Does it matter? Like I give a frogs fat ass if somebody witnesses a few hair follicles on my shoulder blade in Mexico? The answer is yes. I must look my best for the Mexican cook wandering around the pool with cubic zirconia teeth and a tattoo of Richie Valence on his cheek passing out sun ridden mad cow disease double cheeseburgers. It’s all about image.

5. Pill dispensers. You would think my family travels as a group of four individuals requiring Hospice care at all times. At first glance it appears our immune systems couldn’t defend against a piece of liverwurst. We consume more daily medication than Michael Jackson at a Neverland reunion. I never realized this until tonight. Combined family daily pill intake just north of 37. Should I be concerned?

6. Medical safety. My wife panics and must pack every pill, cream, patch, gauze, tape and any other medical remedy in case any of us trip and scrape our knee caps on the poolside concrete. My wife’s vacation survival kit could most likely save soldiers at war. Ironically, my kids resemble burnt shriveled hot dogs after the first day of vacation as a result of sun poisoning but if they stub their toe, my wife has them covered.

7. Money concerns and excursions. I must be honest. I just dropped $5000 I did not have and my wife wants to know how much cash I’m bringing to an All Inclusive Resort. Seriously? I’m showing up to the airport with enough money to buy a gum ball and a bottle of tequila. I’ll figure the rest out. I hear her mumble under her breath “I hope you bring enough money so we as a family can ride a Mexican Flipper.” I tried to explain to her the Dolphins in Mexico are not like the graceful animals we encounter at Sea World. She believes we will all hop in the water with a friendly Mexican dolphin and it will kiss and wave to us, drive us around the water so we can take cute photos to post on Instagram & Facebook.

I don’t agree. I believe we will
jump into the water with no life jackets as 27 sleep deprived “Montezuma
Revenge” infected dolphins will bite down on our cankles and induce rabies upon us as our mouths begin to foam just in time for our new Instagram profile pic.

8. Let’s make memories.  I get it. I’m on board with this one. It’s important to document these moments. I also need a constant reminder of WTF I actually spent this money on. Problem is this. My wife and I have different interpretations of memories. For instance, my wife will make every attempt to snap a memorable photo of our family eating a cheeseburger. A timeless action family portrait of us all walking on sweltering hot stamped concrete. It’s nice. My interpretation of a vacation memory is slightly different. I believe an iconic vacation moment consists of my wife and I climbing up to the hotels clay Spanish tile roof as our kids sleep below and we toss rocks at the Mexican planes flying above running out of fuel. Then we make triplets on that same roof and come home to tell our friends we gave birth to Mexican children. We then try to negotiate our children’s heritage for free college tuition. Now that’s a memory. My wife wants to buy a poncho and some jumping beans and she believes that’s a memory. Please.

I have many more but I’m tired. I would love to hear all of your “pre vacation stress” rituals and requirements.

It’s vacation. It should be relaxing. Stress free. I get it though. You are leaving the comfort of your own environment so it’s only natural to sometimes stress and worry.

It’s all worth it once we all get to our destination and get a drink in our hand.

Feet up. Relax. It will be over before we know it!





Top 10 Pet Peeves that drive me absolutely crazy!

We all have our pet peeves in life. They are different for everybody.

Here is a list of my top 10 pet peeves that absolutely drive me insane. Although I can go on and on with a 1000 more of these, I just don’t have the time, energy or storage available on my phone.

These pet peeves are in no particular order. They are equally aggravating and drive me to the brink of removing my ears with an electric can opener as I jab a pitch fork through my eyeballs.

We must carry on in life. We cannot control these doings of others. All we can do is accept, adapt and learn how to get through the day.

A pet peeve is a creation in our own mind. What bothers one person may have no impression on another. It’s very interesting.

Accept the things you cannot change.

Here is my list

10. Gum Cackling Waitress

There is nothing more annoying than a waitress at a restaurant chewing her gum rapidly (cackling) and blowing bubbles and snapping her trident between her dentures. It drives me insane. I will leave. Unless you are a server at a truck stop diner in Montana, this is unacceptable. Please stop.

9. Horn honker behind you at a red light

These impatient sons of bitches need there hands removed to prevent this. As soon as the light turns green these ass munchers behind you lay on the horn like they are a train conductor crossing a railroad school intersection. Your impatient honking will make no difference. It changes nothing. It will only confirm you will reach the next traffic light 3 seconds earlier to start this process all over again.

8. The 103 year old lady smoking a cigarette driving a 1974 green 29 ft Cadillac ahead of you.

This all happens in the fast lane of course. They reach a max speed of 28 miles per hour. First off get off the road. Second, where are you going.? You’re a century old. What is your destination? I need to know. Where does a 103 year old woman travel to at 1:30pm on a Wednesday? Unless you are scheduled for a guest appearance at the Museum of Natural History in NYC you should be home on the couch knitting a sweater.

7. Pumping gas.

If you drive a vehicle we cannot avoid this. You must put gasoline in your tank to operate the car. Ok no problem. I give the attendant a $20 bill for gas. All is good until you have filled up with $19.25. That last .75 cents takes forever and you are determined to put every cent in as you battle extreme weather conditions and ethanol fume poisoning. The entire time you believe the gas station wants you to walk away and give up so they can reap the benefits of gas you paid for but didn’t use. Not me. If I have to stand there for a month to squeeze every penny of gas I paid for so be it. I will lose a months pay to save a quarter. Fuck them.

6. Cotton Mouth

We have all been dehydrated at one time or another. I get it. Please be aware of your lip situation. There is nothing more disturbing than those two little white spitballs that develop at each corner of your mouth. The more you speak the bigger it grows. It’s like building a snowman. Stop talking. Drink some water. Hydrate. Clean your lip and get the hell away from me because if that thing lands on me life as I know it is over. Thanks

5. Hands

When we greet each other we shake hands. It’s the proper thing to do. I’m cool with that. Before you make contact with me as our
hands connect, please get your situation under control. I’ve worked in construction 20 years. My hands are still in good order. Proper hand etiquette. If I’m having a bad hand day I will throw my elbow up and pound you out. I have respect for my fellow man. If your hand is laced with calluses , infested with chicken pox and your index finger is 2 inches longer than your middle finger don’t embrace my hand and expect a positive reaction. Trust me. We feel the unhealthy inconsistency of your finger length and honestly it becomes very uncomfortable. I feel like I’m locking hands with a creature from the Hobbit and I don’t like that. Let’s just pound out elbows and call it a day. Your hands are not designed for human contact.

4. Movie theater popcorn salesman.

We all like going to the movies. A chance to escape reality for a minute. We over pay for this experience but we push forward. What aggravates me is when I order a small popcorn and the 13 year old employee with Miley Cyrus braces asks me if I want a medium popcorn for a dollar less. This honestly becomes one of the hardest questions I have ever been asked. Is it a trick? I am never sure how to answer this. To be honest, I feel like my intelligence has been insulted. My answer is always no. Here is why. I’m not gonna eat it. It’s going to wind up in the trash. Even though I’m saving a dollar for more product I would only be wasting precious popcorn. Sounds like a bad decision and it probably is. I legit fear this encounter with a puberty fueled employee covered in pimples with an under developed mustache. I’ve never felt so dumb in my life.

3. Mom jeans.

Listen ladies. I get it. You get older. You get married. Have children. That body you once had is gone like the wind. No shame in that. We as husbands morph into bald, beer bellied, faded tattooed, under achieving specimen. You are not alone. It happens to the best of us. The inevitable. If you are married to a good man they will always see you just as beautiful as the day you met. Then you throw on a pair of “Mom jeans.” Don’t don’t do this. This will make us now think we are at a Walmart beauty contest. If you are not comfortable with your body that’s ok. You would be better off wearing a Thanksgiving day table cloth. Grandmas plastic couch covering will do just fine. Please don’t put on a pair of jeans that rise up to the bottom of your boobs and makes your ass look like you have a stack of pancakes in it. There are so many more options for pants. Don’t settle for the classic “Mom jean.” It’s a sign of surrender. We would rather see you wrap your ass with tinfoil.

2. Chinese counter help

I love Chinese food. One of my favorites. Sometimes the ordering process can be a bit stressful. Here is a tip to the Chinese women wearing a snow suit because the Chinese race doesn’t believe in heat. You need to give us a minute. Your menu includes 1895 items and I’m not a fast reader. Stop staring at me waiting for my order as I try to figure out what type of animal is the main ingredient in Moo Goo Gai Pan. Please stop yelling at the co workers. Its uncomfortable. I only wanted an egg roll and you start screaming at Mr Chin like he assassinated your hamster. Relax. It’s a $1.79. Not that serious.

1. Smart cars

This one is most disturbing. It starts with the name. I understand some run on electric. Environmentally friendly. You can fit two vehicles in one parking spot. Yes this all seems so smart. What happens when a dump truck accidentally rear ends you? Or an 18 wheeler can’t see you in his mirror and crushes you? How smart are you now? The vehicle should be properly named “Smart car until you crash dumbass.” What else bothers me is the height of the people driving these hot wheel matchbox cars. My thought is smaller people should be attracted to this smart means of transportation. For some strange reason all the drivers of these cars seem to be 6′ 4 and 358 pounds as their heads are jammed up against the roof and their ass is in the trunk. It’s amazing to see. For something so smart it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen.

Last minute Bonus pet peeve

White kids trying to be black

Please white children. Stop this. It’s embarrassing. I understand Black people are cool. I get it. They are cool because they are Black. What’s not cool is a milky White kid with corn rolls who’s father invented “whiteout” walking around town like he’s Malcom X. Don’t get me wrong. I am guilty of turning Black for a minute or two. It happens to all of us. We all have that Black friend we haven’t seen in a while and when we bump into them we momentarily become Black. We do that handshake followed by the chest bump. Use phrases like “no doubt” , “what’s good” and “I got you”. We part ways and it’s back to being White. It’s all good. What aggravates me is this. The other day I was at the local mall. Two extremely white kids, one dressed like Re-run and the other dressed like JJ Walker from good times were arguing. All I heard was each one yelling “what’s up n.” “Let’s go n”. “Let’s do this n”. Now the “n” word is to be only spoken by Black people. It’s a rule. So I’m so stupid I hear this and I’m waiting for a Black kid to arrive and join the fight. Nope. Just two crackers duking it out. Cut the shit. You sound and look stupid.



I have so many other pet peeves. These were the first ten plus one that came to my mind and seem to aggravate me the most.


Let me know what some of your pet peeves are. I’d love to hear what you all have to say.




Ain’t no cure for the Summertime Blues!

Summer is finally upon us. We have waited all year for this season of sweltering heat. The uncontrollable swamp ass like conditions. The end of the school year. Time to relax.


Bullshit. Summer can only mean one thing. Unless you are 21 years of age with flat abs and a golden tan which most of us are not, summer is misery. Here is why.


If you are lucky enough to have been blessed with these little inconsiderate bastards pay attention.

Our children attend school throughout the year. Pay their dues. Grace us parents with homework assignments Albert Einstein would need extra help in order to complete. It’s a difficult task for all.

We manage.

There is hope. It’s called summer! A time to relax. Kick our feet up. Enjoy.

Not for children today.

These ungrateful humps walk around our houses, breath our air, use our water, drain our electricity, eat our food, use our wifi & have the audacity to complain about boredom. Wait until they get married and they will really know the meaning of boredom.

Kids today have no idea what it was like growing up in our time. I’m 42. A spring chicken compared to some old timers who have really experienced the harsh reality of growing up under the rules and regulations of parenting before google.

Today parents are confused and don’t know how to deal with little Billy climbing on the couch. Cute little Sarah eating the futon. So they turn to google for answers and guidance.

Back in our day our parents had google as well. My Dad would scroll down his hairy belly button and press the enter button (belt buckle.) He would then proceed to download his leather belt. My siblings and I always prayed the wifi signal was weak but it was a crap shoot. That signal was always strong for some reason.

Once completed, my Dad transferred his belt buckle app onto our software white asses and hacked our butts only to download a shitload of viruses. In other words, he whacked our heinie so hard Donkey Kong sent us get well flowers.

He sent a “text message” across our anal cracks. “Behave or be beat.” Simple.

Our children today cling. They hang around us. They are needy. Get away. We love you but you must go play in traffic or jump in a lake. Leave us parents alone.

When kids cling today we think it’s cute. We pet them. Buy them gift cards. Put them on our laps. Buy them bomb pops. Things of that nature.

Back in the day if I tried to cling to my Dad, first and foremost I got a severe case of rug burn from the abundance of chest hair I contended with. Second, my Dad would ash his Viceroy cigarette directly into my eyeball. He viewed me as an ashtray. Period. Last, when he attempted to show affection towards me after breaking me down he would sing “Frosty the Snowman” into my face as all I could do was embrace the onslaught of severe cigarette infused halitosis breath as bits and pieces of Maxwell House coffee beans shot out of his mouth and bounced repeatedly off my forehead.

There was nothing I could do. This was my clinging and bonding experience with my dad.

Kids are lucky today.

My wife and Mother in law protect these two little shits as if they are the “Princes of Egypt.”

Once I tried to give my son a hug because he got a 68 on his Math test and my crazy ass mother in law sliced off my left man boob.

It was an interesting day.

Children seem so protected today and lack the ability to deal with day to day daily struggles of life.

We must continue to do our best and raise our family in a time we are unfamiliar with as life changes everyday.

Go with the flow! Adapt. Embrace. Evolve.



Guidos. Guidettes. Fake ID’s & Alcohol Abuse!



I was wondering  just how much this liquid lifesaver actually affects most of us. I’m also very curious to why so many of us have different reactions as a result of alcohol consumption. I don’t know the answer to this but I must admit, watching a 120 LB man with a flea infested mullet, bad sunburn and three teeth actually believe he can beat up six police officers armed with tasers on an episode of Cops is very entertaining. I can’t lie.

It is obvious alcoholism is a serious disease and should not be taken lightly. Although I enjoy my drink, I never completely understood the whole concept of what actually drives an individual to the point of alcohol abuse. I know this is a struggle for many and reasons are different for all. Perhaps anybody struggling with this can educate me.

I had my first taste of alcohol at the ripe age of 15. When I say taste, I mean a sip of my Uncles Sambuca. A gulp of my Grandmothers red wine. A swig of my Aunts beer. Testing the waters. Never seemed to acquire a taste for the spirits until a bit later in life.

I had my first “I’ll never drink a drop of alcohol again as long as I live” experience at 17. I’ll never forget that day.

The summer day began as usual with a work shift at a local pizzeria. I worked amongst family and friends. It was honestly one of the best jobs I ever had. We laughed, cried, worked hard & partied even harder.

This was the late 80’s into the early 90’s. So naturally we were all in full Guido mode. We planned our nite as we showered in 89 gallons of Drakkar Noir. TKA serenaded us gracefully through the “kicker speakers” in our Ford Mustang 5.0’s & Iroc-Z’s. Our signature “Vanilla Roma” air fresheners and “Italian Horns” dangled from our rearview mirrors.


We fastened our black velcro reeboks, tucked our yellow sparkling bum equipment shirts into our Sergio Tacchinis, sprayed spearmint binaca into our mouth until our teeth fell out as we prepared to make our entrance.

Proper Guido etiquette was in order. We were now ready to pay a $40.00 cover charge to ultimately wind up grinding some acid wash Jordache jean wearing Guidette on the carpeted dance floor with an aqua net infused tidal wave hair due chewing a piece of grape hubba bubba as a 14k gold name plate dangled around her neck spelling out the words “Joeys Girl Forever” as her boyfriend was named Frank.

Fake ID’s were a staple of the times and was a “must have” in order to get into the local clubs. You obtained these by driving down to NYC and meeting a man on the corner of 55th & 2nd that resembled Paul Bunyan on crystal meth. You negotiated. A few details were required to finalize the process like your name & address. For some strange reason we always gave the most complicated information which turned out to be impossible to remember. For instance, Mr Bunyan asked me what name and address I would like. My response. I would like to be Franco Dominicano Balentini Farusigato from 111767 Apt #175 East, Forgettaboutit Way, Florence, Italy. Zip Code 912675.

I now realize John Smith from New Jersey would have been much easier to remember. Who knew until you experienced your first fake ID quiz by the door man.

Somehow it always seemed to work. Except the one time my cousin Dennis lost his Fake ID. We had to improvise. We called my Uncle Chet and all was good. We picked up his legitimate ID which I believe stated he was 27 years of age at the time.

We were on our way. Until we actually got to the door. The crew of 6 or 7 strong submitted our fake ID’s and we entered the club ready to party. Then it was finally Dennis’s turn. He presented his ID stating he was Uncle Chet, 6’3, 220 lbs, brown hair and brown eyes. Only problem Dennis was actually 5’4, 135 lbs, black hair and blue eyes with a face full of freckles.

Yeah. We didn’t think this one entirely through.

Needless to say, the doorman chuckled “wow you lost some weight and appear to have shrunk a bit!” He then proceeded to let him in.

I bellied up to the bar and ordered a 142 oz “sex on the beach” filled plastic fishbowl laced with hepatitis C and began sucking this drink down like a “Desert Arab Man” at a water park. I drank 3 more.

I woke up the next day with a naked “Desert Arab Man” in my bed, a half eaten cheeseburger on my chest, a tattoo of the Italy boot on my shin as I was French kissing my toilet seat that wasn’t cleaned in a month. I couldn’t move as traces of yellow stomach bile hardened within my eyebrows.

I said, and I quote, “I will never drink again as long as I live.”

Hahahaha hahahaha.

I went to work the next day. Delivered pizzas as I threw up 17 consecutive times. I even left a Sicilian pizza on the roof of the delivery truck as it blew off and landed on the vehicle behind me.

It’s was a bad day. By 5pm I felt great and had a “sex on the beach” in my hand ready to do it all over again.

Obviously when we are young our decisions are based on stupidity and inexperience. We have all been there.

I can honestly say, I enjoy my drink. I also respect alcohol and what it can do. I know my limits as an adult.

I never understood the connection where someone drinks enough alcohol to the point they feel the need to eat their mother or become so emotional they lay down in the middle of a four lane highway and weep because their pet parakeet lost a feather. It’s actually amazing to watch.

We all drink our drink for different reasons. Some to socialize. Some to cope with the stress of daily life. Some because they can’t make it through the day without.

Whatever your reason is, try and be responsible. If you can’t handle the affects you should not be drinking it. If you are drinking alcohol to get through the day, get help.

I am not a preacher and don’t judge anybody. Do whatever you all need to do. Just my opinion. Drinking should be fun. It should make you happy. Enjoy it.

Happy Sunday. Cheers my friends!