Friday, August 31, 2007

Out of the Mouths of Babes


“Hey Dad it’s me AJ. Alex has something he wants to tell you.”

“Hi Poppa! Are you ready?”

“Sure buddy what have you got to tell me?”

“I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands: one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER THE SON HOLY SPIRIT AAAAAAMEN.


“That’s great pal! Did you learn that in school?”

”I learned that in my kindergarten glass today.”

“They taught it to you just like that?”


“So did you… maybe… add something to it?”


“Maybe that last part?”


“Alex I don’t think the Pledge of Allegiance ends with that last part.”

“I didn’t end it.”

“Um… I’m a little confused Alex.

"Poppa…. I didn’t “end” it…. I “closed” it.”

“Um… Well… You’re supposed to say In the name of the Father, the Son, Holy Spirit, Amen after you say a prayer. The Pledge of Allegiance isn’t really a prayer.”

“It’s a prayer to me.”

“I... um... you know… I… You might be right pal. When you think about it you might be right.”

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

An affair to remember..... almost.

Every once in awhile I would I catch a glimpse of her.

God she was beautiful.

Dark and tan.

She was exotic yet wholesome.

Distant and yet only a moment away.

Her shapely curves were born to drive men like me wild.

I knew she saw me too.

I knew she wanted me.

I could tell.

Normally I would have walked right past her.

But today was different.

I don’t know what compelled me to stop.

I think it was something I saw on TV that reminded me of her.

I don’t know.

My head was spinning.

My heart was pounding.

My stomach rumbling.

Should I go over to her?

What if she’s not there?

Would I look foolish?

God what am I doing?

My wife would kill me?

What would my kids say?

I’m fifty years old I shouldn’t be doing this.

My head told me to stop but my heart and every other organ told me to go for it.

Yes! I could see her now.

She was behind the glass.

Sitting near the window.

My god she was amazing.

I inched closer.

Soon I was right up against the glass.

I felt like a kid at an aquarium.

I put my hands around my face and pressed up against the glass pretending to be looking at anything else inside.

I must look like an idiot.

Oh god she must have seen me.

I’m such a fool.

Just go inside I kept telling myself.

Just go inside.

But if I went inside…..

If I crossed that line…..

Could I ever forgive myself?

There she is.


She’s gorgeous.

What was I thinking?

Why would she ever want me?

My money?

I have money.

I’m sure with my money I could have her.

But would she be happy?

I know for a moment she would.

I could make her happy for a moment.

But would I be happy?

God yes!

I’d be ecstatic.

I would feel reborn.

Whole again.


This is meant to be.

It’s Fate.


Now is the time.

This is my moment.

The time when a man feels………….

“What the hell are you doing?”


“What are you looking at?”

“I said nothing.”

“What did you stop for?”

“I didn’t stop.”

“What’s in the window?”

“Nothing…. okay? Cut me some slack.”

“Oh my god. You were looking at that German Chocolate Cake weren’t you?”


“You can’t eat that. Get over it.”

“I wasn’t going to eat that cake.”

“What were you going to do? Take it to dinner and a movie?”

“I don’t want the cake. She is beautiful though isn’t she? Look at her frosting. Damn that’s a thick layer of frosting.”

“You’re pathetic Calabrese.”

“What? I’m just admiring how perfectly she’s frosted.”

“She? You’re really calling a cake a she?”

“Yes all baked goods are referred to in the feminine form.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m not having cake okay? I’m just looking. A bakery is like an art gallery to someone who’s always on a damn diet. It’s not just cake it’s art. We look but we don’t touch. We fantasize about what it would be like to own a particular piece but that’s it. Now lighten up and give me a break.”

“So you have your money clip in your hand because you just wanted to give Andrew Jackson a massage?”

“I… um… Oh… I didn’t realize I had my money clip out. I was… uh… just making sure a pickpocket didn’t get it. Lot of pickpockets in malls especially food courts.”

“Look numbnuts do you have any idea how many calories there are in a piece of German chocolate cake?”

“It’s not about the calories. You can’t put a price tag on fine art and you can’t count calories on a gourmet German Chocolate Cake. It’s priceless, calorie less. You don’t eat a piece of cake like that and think about calories. You savor it. If you have to think about the calories you can’t afford to eat it.”

“Step away from the glass Calabrese.”


“Back away keeping your hands plainly where I can see them.”

“Come on honey this is ridiculous.”

“Now very slowly hand me your money clip.”

“This is stupid. You can trust me. I won’t get any cake.”

“You’re right not without money you won’t.”

“This sucks.”

“Life a bitch and so am I when it comes to your diet.”

“Just the diet?”

“Don’t push it WOP. Keep moving.”

“I’m an adult you know. A grown man. I have willpower.”

“Yes dear I know. You’re the man of the house. You wear the pants in the family…no matter what size they are.”

“Goodbye Mon Cheri…….”

“You’re speaking French to a cake?”

“I think she winked at me. OUCH!!! Why do you always have to smack me on the back of the head?”


"Hey honey?"


“Can we walk past The Cheesecake Factory?"


Monday, August 27, 2007

Does Jimmy Choo make a man shoe?

Friday night I came off the stage at The Comedy Palace and went outside to cool off and get some air. There were a couple of other comedians out there and of course the usual drunk young girls smoking Camel no filtered cigarettes.

I was followed outside by a woman that looked like a very tanned version of Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies who had obviously had a few too many.

She was probably about twenty one years old.

“Hey man you were f&*^*ng funny man.”

“Well thank you.”

“Naw man I mean really f&*^*ng funny.”

“Thanks again.”

“Hey man you wanna hear a joke?”

Most comedians today don’t tell jokes. We talk about life and put our own twist on it. But every comedian will tell you that people constantly offer them jokes. Usually they are old jokes we’ve all heard a million times but we’re polite, tell them they’re funny and thank them. That way everybody’s happy.

“Sure I’d love to hear your joke.”

“Give me your shoe.”

“Excuse me?”


“I’m not giving you my shoe. Just tell me the joke.”

“I need your shoe man.”

Now the other two comedians that are out there, my dear friends, are egging her on.

“Give her your shoe man, come on man, give her your shoe. Don’t be a pussy man give her your shoe.”

“Why don’t you guys give her a shoe?”


“Okay okay here’s my shoe.”

(What am I doing this for?)

She then takes a huge drag off of her cigarette and places my shoe over her mouth like a gas mask and exhales the smoke into my shoe.

She then holds my shoe out to me. Smoke is coming out of my shoe billowing up from the opening.

“What’s this man?”

“I... uh... have no idea.”


“I don’t know.”

“A Palestinian bus stop.”

I lost it. I don’t think I have ever laughed at a joke that hard in my life. To see this sun burnt wrinkled drunk chick holding my smoking shoe deliver that punch line was just too much.

The two other comedians were laughing just as hard as well. One of them spit out his drink.

The drunk chick handed me back my shoe and then turned to stumble back inside. As she turned she looked at the three of us and said, “I should be a f$%#*ng comedian.”

Not one of us could argue with her.

The three of us told that story the rest of the weekend. The comedians we told that story to all laughed. They loved the setup, the punch line and the fact that a drunk chick told the joke.

It’s a great joke.

Not one of the women around us liked the joke.

Not one.


It was originally told by a woman.

It’s a brilliant joke.

It always amazes me how something can be funny to some people and not funny to others.

I decided that I would consult an expert on jokes and humor to find an answer.

I decided to tell the story to my wife.

“You’re not laughing.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“Oh it was funny.”

“No so much.”

“How can you not like that joke?”

“That girl put her mouth in your shoe? I can’t believe that girl put her mouth inside your shoe.”

“I know isn’t that hilarious.”

“It’s disgusting. How drunk was she?”

“Pretty drunk, but don’t you think that’s a brilliant punch line?”

“So you’re telling me that a perfect stranger, who was drunk, asked for one of your stinky smelly shoes, which you then gave to her, and then she put her face into it and blew smoke into it?”

“My shoes aren’t stinky and smelly.”

“The girl put her MOUTH inside your SHOE!!!!”

“Forget that part. Focus on the joke. The smoking shoe, Palestinian bus stop, get it? That’s funny.”

“How did that girl get home?”


“How did that girl get home? You didn’t let her drive did you?”

“How do I know? I’m sure her boyfriend took her home.”

“Do you always hand your shoes to drunken women?”

“Of course not.”

“So this particular woman got you to give her your shoe.”


“Was she pretty?”

“I told you she looked like a tan version of Granny from the Beverly Hillbilly’s.”

“Uh huh… Did she have big boobs?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at her boobs. You’ve forgotten the point here.”

“The point is you need to stop hanging around these drunken women.”

“I don’t hang around drunken women. I don’t hang around any women.”

“You seem to always have a story about some drunken slut outside a comedy club.”

“She wasn’t a slut.”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I don’t know any sluts. I don’t know anything about sluts. I couldn’t find a slut if you paid me to find a slut. I’m slut free. I’m 50 years old. I’ve been married for 29 years. I’m in a slut free zone. I only told you about this because of the joke. That’s what I was trying to get across. I was trying to figure out why women don’t like the joke. I don’t care about that drunken slut.”

“So she was a slut.”

“How on earth would I know if she’s a slut?”

“You just called her a slut.”

“I only called her a slut because you called her a slut and I’m trying to get past the whole slut part.”

“So you’re trying to shut me up?”

“That’s not what I said. I was just trying to turn the conversation back to the joke.”

“The joke the slut told.”

“Fine she’s a slut. She’s a comedy groupie. We’ve all had her. All comedians secretly have a fetish for Granny and Miss Hathaway. It’s the threesome we’ve all yearned for. I can’t sleep at night without thinking of her tanned wrinkled flesh. Are you happy now?”


“Yes what?”

“I’m happy now.”

“What the hell are you happy about?”


“So the joke…. You like the joke?”

The joke…The joke was stupid. Me getting you all worked up over the story? Now that’s funny.”

“So you put me through that on purpose just to make me feel like an idiot?”

“If the shoe fits…..”

Friday, August 24, 2007

Love that dirty water!

For all of you who think I make this stuff up all I can say is sometimes I wish I did.

Unfortunately I don’t.

This article was in the San Diego Union Tribune yesterday.

Chula Vista center connected to pipes carrying treated sewage”

“For two years, occupants of the 17 businesses in Eastlake's Fenton Business Center have been drinking and washing their hands in treated sewage water.”

Two years?


“Shop owners in a Chula Vista business park knew something was wrong with their water. It tasted bad, smelled funny and had a yellowish tint.”

Ya think?

This was going on for two years?

At some point, way earlier than two years, doesn’t someone in one of those offices say, “You know… this office coffee tastes like crap.”

Ken August, a spokesman for the state Department of Public Health, said officials are investigating.

“We have learned about the situation and we are evaluating it,” August said.

Evaluating it?

Um…. There’s poop in the water. It’s poopy water. You want an evaluation? Here’s one, THERE’S POOP IN THE WATER!!!!

You don’t need to evaluate poopy water you need to fix it!!!

To me this should be the responsibility of Homeland Security. If there’s anything we want to be secure from its poopy water. There needs to be a special poopy water assault force that can swoop in and scoop out the poopy water. Delta Force, Rangers, Ninja’s, I don’t care but someone needs to do something.

How come I can’t take toothpaste on a plane but they can put poop in the water?

How come I can’t open a checking account without the complete history of every member of my family but they can put poop in the water?

How come I can’t buy Claritin without feeling like a criminal but they can put poop in the water?

This is America!

This is a poopy water free country.

Al Queda doesn’t have to do anything!

“Hey Osama, peace be upon you, you want we should blow ourselves up to get the Americans?”

“Shakeel O’kneel my friends, no need to blow yourselves up, we will just poop.”

How can our president deal with the rest of the world when this happens right here at home?

“President Putin we believe it prudent for Russia to stop flying long range bombers over NATO airspace. If you do not cease these flights immediately we are prepared to take action.”

“President Bush, please, you are a cowboy, you will do nothing. You have poop in your water.”

“Yeah… well… your name rhymes with poopin.”

Our great nation, our states, our cities, deserve poop free water!

You don’t see “Poopafina” water anywhere do you?

Because it isn’t supposed to be that way.

That’s a tap water that’s not supposed to exist.

I want the mayor of the city of Chula Vista to dress up in a biohazard suit, stand on the back of a septic tank truck and declare, “Mission Accomplished. The evil poopers of our water are defeated.”

Somehow this is going to get blamed on illegal immigration or the Republicans even though everyone knows that if ever anyone was going to drink anything recycled, especially poop, it would be a liberal democrat.

How in the hell do you hook up the recycled sewer water to the drinking water line?

Who’s working at the Water Authority?

Ed Norton?

“Heeey Ralphie-boy!!! Check out the practical joke me and the guys in the sewer played on the city of Chula Vista.”

“Norton! Norton! Are you nuts? People can’t drink poopy water. One of these days Norton I swear I’ll…..”

“Look, just don't get upset. There's no sense in getting upset. Now listen, the boys in the sewer, there, when we get upset we got a little motto... a little saying that gives us comfort in time of need. Maybe I can pass it on to you. May I favor you with this little ode? "When the tides of life turn against you, and the current upsets your boat. Don't waste those tears on what might have been, just lay on your back and float."

“Well said Norton well said.”

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

It may be Saturday Night Fever but it feels like the flu.

In the 32 years I have known my wife I have had to do things or to go places or to listen to things that I have absolutely no interest in.

That part of a relationship is called a “given”.

When it comes right down to it there are two basic things in life that a man really wants from a woman and they both begin with the letter “P”.

One of them is peace.


On Saturday night one of my wife’s friends had a 70’s party at her house. I know from experience that I had to pretend I really wanted to go this party.

I had to pretend because I know that she, like all women, doesn’t just want me to go, she wants me to “want” to go.

So I have to fake it.

I also know that after 32 years she knows that I’m faking it. But as long as I keep the lie to myself I have peace. But if I make even the slightest negative comment…. Well let’s just say I’m not making a negative comment.

And that’s the hard part.

The toughest thing to do when you’re a man is to resist the temptation to ask the following question even though every fiber of your being is screaming to know the answer. The question will go something like this:

“So… how long do you think we’re going to have to be there?”

Game over Batman.

We can’t help ourselves.

So I’m pretending that I want to go this party and fighting the urge to find out what time we can get the hell out of there.

This 70’s party is a costume party.

I have to dress up in a 70’s theme.

I went to my little section of our closets.

Nope. No 70’s stuff.

I guess I’ll just wear a pair of Dockers and collared shirt.


So I have to pretend that I “want” to wear a costume to a party that I’m pretending I “want” to go to.

By the time we left the costume shop I was one half of “Two wild and crazy guys” from Steve Martin and Dan Aykroyd on Saturday Night Live.

Two guys dressed that way could be funny.

Thirty years ago.

One guy dressed that way today is well… think gay pride parade.

But I’m keeping my mouth shut because at this point not only is she going to owe me both the known “P’s” I’m going to make up a few new ones.

I never bothered to ask where the party was ahead of time, because I didn’t want to go, so when we went to leave I asked my wife if she knew where we were going.

“Don’t worry I printed it out from Map Quest. I think they live in Escondido.”

I know how to get to Escondido.

So I head out Interstate 8 “East” to 163 North to 15 North to Escondido.

“Okay babe now what? We’re coming up to Escondido.”

“Take the 78 “West” to Oceanside.”


“We need to go to west.”

“West? Ummm… Honey… Where is this party exactly?”

“Let me see…. It’s in La Costa.”

“Uh huh… Honey… When you searched for the directions for her house what did you use as the starting address?”

“Um…. My work address.”

“Uh huh... So what you’re telling me is we just drove 30 minutes out of our way to someplace that was basically a straight line NORTH from our HOUSE!!!!!”

“Don’t yell at me you know I don’t do directions.”

There was an old movie called “God is my Co-Pilot”.

My co-pilot was a forty nine year old premenopausal Portuguese woman dressed as a disco diva that was using one pair of glasses to read the directions and another to read the street signs.

“You need to turn on Paseo Caciendo. Ooooh! That was it back there.”

“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to tell me where to turn before we pass the street?”

“Shut up.”

“Shut up?”

“That’s right, shut up. If we had taken my car we could have used the GPS but you always want to drive your Cadillac.”

“If I need to I can use OnStar! You have the directions in your hand!”

“Just shut up.”

Oh this is going to be fun.

Thirty minutes later after driving down every street that started with “Paseo” we found the house.

When you’re the only sober person at a 70’s party you become an observer.

Why is it that middle age white men feel the need to look like complete idiots?

If you’re old and fat….

Don’t dress up like K.C. without the Sunshine Band.

Why is it that middle age white women dance in packs?

What the hell are they hunting?

All the women were dancing until “Cher” knocked over and broke the authentic 70’s lava lamp.

Then an elated “Sonny” grabbed “Cher” and got the chance to get the hell out of there because it “was time for her to go home.”

Why didn’t I think of breaking that lamp?

It was as bring your own booze party.

My wife brought scotch.

About a fourth of a bottle of scotch.

Who brings and open bottle to a BYOB party?

Apparently my wife.


Because that was all she was going to drink.

So after switching to vodka when the scotch was gone…………..

Needless to say I had no co-pilot going home.

At two o’clock in the morning.

I got lost.

I couldn’t find the freeway.

I drove around in circles for almost half and hour.

Disco Dolly is passed out in the front seat snoring.

Well there goes at least one of the “P’s”.

Finally I saw a cop car parked at an intersection.

Here’s a little heads up.

If you’re driving around lost at 2:30 in the morning dressed in a silver quiana shirt, skin tight checkered Angel Flight style pants, platform shoes with dice in the heels and Disco Dolly passed out in your front seat it’s a little tough to ask a police officer for directions.

“I know this is going to sound crazy officer but I swear I’ve had nothing to drink and I’m not gay. I’m just lost.”

“Uh huh… And just what are you supposed to be?”


“Enough said. Where are you trying to go?”

“Well not the Y.M.C.A. I’ll tell you that. Sorry officer just joking. I’m trying to find the entrance to the freeway.”

“Turn right at this corner it’s about two blocks away.”

“Thanks officer.”

“By the way how come you don’t have a GPS navigation system in that car?”

“I.. um… I have On Star.”

“Why didn’t you use it?”

“I forgot about it.”

“And you’ve had nothing to drink?”

“Officer would you take the chance, dressed like this, to drink and drive?”

“Well Excu-u-u-u-se me!!!”

“Excuse what officer?”

“Steve Martin? Saturday Night Live? Get it?”

(There is no god.)

“Oh… sure… Ha ha.. I get it.”

He laughed and waved and told me that “he’d catch me on the flip side” whatever that meant.

We got home just after 3:00am. Disco Dolly briefly came to as I got her out of the car proclaiming, “This was the best party ever!”

I got her upstairs and plopped her down on the bed.

Here’s the thing about being a man….

You see a woman in a miniskirt and six inch platform knee high boots passed out drunk on your bed….


No… I didn’t.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

I wasn’t going to “boogie wonderland” at that point.

I slept downstairs on the couch.

When she woke up my wife wasn’t her normal cheery self.

“Shut up! Stop making so much noise with the newspaper. Do you have to breathe so loud? Do you even have to breathe?”

“Not feeling so groovy this morning honey?”

“Don’t make me kill you.”

“Oh I will survive honey cause I'm stayin alive stayin alive ha ha ha ha stayin aliiiiiiiii...OUCH!!!”

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

They may take my Marlboro's but they will never take my freedom!


It’s a dirty filthy nasty deadly habit.

We all know this.

Everybody knows this.

The world knows this.

But people still smoke.

And it’s wrong.


You live in a city like El Cajon.

Let me explain.

The City of El Cajon in San Diego County passed a new ordinance this week that will prohibit smoking in most public places.

El Cajon was the first city in San Diego County to outlaw smoking in parks and also requiring businesses that sell tobacco to get a city license.

Under the ordinance, smoking on a city sidewalk will be forbidden. Smoking outside office buildings, however, will be permitted, as long as smokers are in a designated area away from non-smokers.


That’s just stupid.

This is El Cajon.

Have you ever been to El Cajon?

They should be able to smoke anything they want in El Cajon.

They should be able to roll up an old couch and smoke it.

Smoke a dead pet.

Smoke a live pet.

Smoke everything!

It’s El Cafrigginjon!

How are you supposed to drive around covered in tattoos in a pickup truck with a gun rack and a pit bull and not smoke?

El Cajon is a…. well… well… It’s El Cajon.

It’s the Spanish word for one testicle.

It’s Tijuana East.

It’s a thousand degrees in the smoggy shade.

It’s the “meth” capitol of the United States!

For the love of God let them smoke.

Let them smoke all day!

I think that certain cities should be designated as smoking cities.

Think of it as legalized euthanasia.

Wouldn’t it be easier to have designated smoking cities like El Cajon and just ban smoking everywhere else?

It makes more sense.

This idea of banning smoking outside in public areas while noble is just stupid.

How are they going to enforce this?

Are they going to deputize posses of pissed off busybodies?

I can see it now. Roaming bands of menopausal women beating smokers to death while secretly stealing their smokes.

I’ll get smacked for that last one…. I know.

How can they possibly have a “designated” smoking area OUTSIDE?????

Are you kidding me?

What are they going to do hire “wind checkers” to make sure there’s no drift factor?

How will they make sure the "wind checkers" aren't illegal aliens?

I can see the El Cajon police force at their Monday morning meetings.

“Sgt. Billy Bob, Deputy Rufus and Deputy Skeeter will be on “smoke” patrol this week. Make sure your Tasers and cattle prods are fully charged men. Zap em before they light up if you can.”

I’m going to go out on a limb and say the police in a city like El Cajon have a hell of a lot better things to do then arrest or ticket smokers.

I know some of you are thinking that I support smoking.

I don’t.

But I do support an idiot’s right to kill himself any damn way he pleases.

It thins the herd.

Let’s face it this whole battle against smoking is just a little odd.

The cigarette companies keep producing cigarettes and yet on their very own websites state comments like the following:

Smoking causes serious disease.
Nicotine in tobacco products is addictive but is not considered a significant threat to health.
No tobacco product has been shown to be safe.
An individual's level of risk for serious disease is significantly affected by the type of tobacco product used as well as the manner and frequency of use.


Here’s my favorite right off the R.J. Reynolds website.

“R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company believes that individuals should rely on the conclusions of the U.S. Surgeon General, the Centers for Disease Control and other public health and medical officials when making decisions regarding smoking.

And here’s just a few of the highlights from the Surgeon General and the Centers for Disease Control:

1. Smoking harms nearly every organ of the body, causing many diseases and affecting the health of smokers in general. Quitting smoking has immediate as well as long-term benefits for you and your loved ones.

2. Smoking is the single greatest avoidable cause of disease and death.

3. The risk of dying from lung cancer is more than 22 times higher among men who smoke cigarettes and about 12 times higher among women who smoke cigarettes compared with never smokers.

4. Cigarette smoking increases the risk for many types of cancer, including cancers of the lip, oral cavity, pharynx, esophagus, pancreas, larynx (voice box), lung, uterine cervix, urinary bladder, and kidney.

5. Cigarette smoking is associated with a tenfold increase in the risk of dying from chronic obstructive lung disease. About 90% of all deaths from chronic obstructive lung diseases are attributable to cigarette smoking.

6. Secondhand smoke exposure causes disease and premature death in children and adults who do not smoke.

7. Children exposed to secondhand smoke are at an increased risk for sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS), acute respiratory infections, ear problems, and more severe asthma. Smoking by parents causes respiratory symptoms and slows lung growth in their children.

8. Exposure of adults to secondhand smoke has immediate adverse effects on the cardiovascular system and causes coronary heart disease and lung cancer.

9. Cigarette smoking causes reduced circulation by narrowing the blood vessels (arteries). Smokers are more than 10 times as likely as nonsmokers to develop peripheral vascular disease.

10. It smells.

Okay I made up that last one. But it’s still true.

So… The R.J. Reynolds Co. believes that individuals should rely on those conclusions but continue to smoke anyway?

Isn’t that what they are saying?

Smoke at your own risk.

But smoke.

That has to be it. Otherwise all they need to do is just put up the following on their website.

Don’t buy cigarettes. They may kill you.

But let’s be honest, it’s not the tobacco companies fault if you get cancer or die from smoking cigarettes.

It’s your fault.

It’s not even their fault if you get cancer and die from second hand smoke. It’s the fault of the asshole who was smoking next you.

Cigarettes don’t kill people.

People smoking cigarettes that own guns and pit bulls and drive pickup trucks and have tattoos and live in El Cajon kill people.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Confucious say - If the Choo fits.......

There comes a time in life where a man reaches the pinnacle of knowledge when it comes to women.

The peak ain’t that high.

But when you’ve been with a woman for thirty three years and twenty nine of those have been in marriage you tend to learn a few things.

But not enough.

I apparently will never learn how to “listen”.

The other day my wife mumbled something about going out with her sister to get some “Jimmy Choo’s”.

Now I’m on a diet… again… and I can’t have Chinese food, but I figure what the hell, she works out everyday, she can afford the calories, if she wants it go for it.

So I say……

“Sounds great honey, if that’s what you want, you’ve earned it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. It won’t bother me. I’ll just go up to the den so I don’t have to smell it.”

She had this puzzled look on her face but in thirty three years I’ve seen that face a lot.

I’ve never understood it, but I know it.

She started to say something, shook her head, and walked out the door.

Five hours later she walked back in.

She had this look on her face…. Oh god…. This look….I know this look…. It’s the look that says, “This is going to cost me money.”


“Well what?”

“What do you think?”

“Uhhhh…. About what?”

“My Jimmy Choo’s.”

“I… uhhh…I dunno… what do you think?”

“It’s amazing! It’s like I’m walking on air?”

(Man how good is this Chinese food?)

“What did you have for lunch?”

“Lunch? Oh I had a sandwich at the Deli in Nordstrom.”

“You ate at the Deli in Nordstrom and got Jimmy Choo’s?”

“Too much?”

“Don’t you think?”

“Lunch for both of us was only twenty two dollars.”

“I don’t care how much lunch cost honey but how can you go to Nordstom and Jimmy Choo’s?

“Jimmy Choo’s is right around the corner.”

“How much time between the time you were in Nordstrom and the time you were in Jimmy Choo’s?”

“What difference does that make?”

“Did you at least walk it off?”

“After I got my Jimmy Choo’s.”

“How did you hold that much?”

“They gave us bags numb nuts, how do you think we held it?”

“I just… I’ve never… You don’t usually go to two places in a row like that. It’s not good for you. You could get cramps or something.”

“Cramps? Please? You can’t get cramps with Jimmy Choo’s. Only the cheap stuff gives you cramps.”

“You can get cramps when you have too much of anything sweetheart. What would you say if I said that I went to Nordstrom and Jimmy Choo’s at lunch?

“Ummm... That you were gay?”

“Gay? What does going to Jimmy Choo’s have to do with being gay? What did you get at Jimmy Choo’s anyway?”

“I got some Bindi’s and a Bale.”

“I thought you didn’t like seafood.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Jimmy Choo’s.”

“What has that got to do with fish?”

“They don’t sell fish at…. all those Chinese places have fish… Wait… What the hell kind of restaurant is Jimmy Choo’s?”


“Didn’t you and your sister go to Jimmy Choo’s for lunch?”

“NO!!! Jimmy Choo’s doesn’t sell food. I told you we went to Nordstrom for lunch. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Um…. What… does… Jimmy Choo’s… sell?”


“Shoes? Crud….”

“Aren’t you going to ask me how much I saved?”

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Let them eat cake!!!

To some people there is nothing more terrifying than hearing the following:

“Potluck lunch on Friday! There’s a signup sheet in the kitchen.”

“Potluck” is an ancient Hebrew word that means “free food”.

Now there are certain unwritten rules regarding the Potluck lunch. These rules have been around since the first cavemen started to drink out of Styrofoam cups and seal their mammoth meat in Ziploc Freezer bags.

In order to help those of you that are unfamiliar with Potluck etiquette I have written down twenty of the more important “Potluck” rules:

Rule #1 - If you have even a hint of Filipino blood you will be expected to bring “lumpia”. It doesn’t matter if you have never caught and skinned a lumpia or if you have ever even seen one. Trust me. The entire office expects you to bring lumpia.

Rule #2 - The boss always buys or orders a main course. Think pizza, KFC or a three foot sandwich from “Sub Marina”. Someone will have to go pick it up for him.

Rule #3 - Fat people always bring the smallest portions. They didn’t mean to but they’ve eaten half of what they were going to bring before they left the house.

Rule #4 – Skinny people have no clue how much food to bring and invariably they bring a small vegetable tray with some stupid kind of fat free yogurt dip. Skinny people should be banned from potlucks

Rule #5 - There will always be something on the table that looks like some type of goulash and no one will know who brought it.

Rule #6 - At least one dish will have some type of “Top Ramen” in it.

Rule #7 - Males under the age of twenty five will sign up to bring soda. One liter of Coke and another of Sprite. That’s it.

Rule #8 - Women under the age of twenty five will bring their version of Mexican food… Tortilla Chips and guacamole. They’ll then sit around and complain about how they just don’t taste the same without a “Corona”.

Rule #9 - The oldest woman always brings something chocolate. Always.

Rule #10 - The newest person will try to impress everyone with something homemade. God knows what it is…… but it’s homemade.

Rule #11 – The person that has been there the longest will pretend what they brought is homemade. Everyone will comment on how it’s, “Just like they make it at the Olive Garden.”

Rule #12 - If you have Italians in your office they will wait until they see what everyone else brought, announce that there isn’t enough food, then go out and get enough food for three times the people in the office.

Rule #13 – Never eat the “authentic” Indian food the Mexican girl brought.

Rule #14 - Someone will try to pass off something they’ve burnt as Cajun.

Rule #15 - Someone will not bring anything, pretend they did, and eat a little of everything everyone else brought.

Rule #16 - Someone’s Tupperware will be missing at the end of the day. Everyone will think the oldest woman took it but they’ll never say it out loud.

Rule #17 - The young guy that brought the soda took the Tupperware. He needed a new cereal bowl.

Rule #18 – At the end of the day whoever had “kitchen duty” will be pissed off. This will be the person that doesn’t bring anything to the next potluck.

Rule #19 - Everyone will pretend they want the recipe for something. Especially the dish with the “Top Ramen” in it.

Rule #20 - Potlucks should always be on a Friday so people with food poisoning have the weekend to recover.

I’m sure there are a lot more rules. Feel free to add your own.