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.
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!!!!
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.
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.
The old saying goes “happy wife” “happy life”. Well did you ever hear the old saying “hangry wife” “awful life”. Or “hangry kids” you are better off with “SIDS”.
God for bid my wife has a little tummy rumble she expects me to rise like I just accepted a challenge from Bobby Flay and shove multiple cheese burger deluxes down her throat at 2am like an Ethiopian at his “First Supper”.
Then my two boys wander around the house saying “we are hungry” after they just wolfed down three boxes of Coco Puffs and six pounds of pirate bootys.
I decided to come home early from work yesterday and these three bastards were at the top of the steps demanding shrimp portofino and asparagus as if I have deveined shrimp lingering in my ass crack. The nerve.
To make matters worse, the three of them team up on me like I’m “Jaba The Hut”in spin class.
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.