Sunday, March 28, 2010

How To Tell You're An Alpha Male And NOT In A Good Way

You OWN the Polka Dance Floor.

People know to get out of your way when you slip into your white patent leather 'Friday Night' shoes.

You tell it like it is and the other bowlers back the hell down.

You refuse to 'suck up' to your latest girlfriend's kids even if one of them has got seniority over you on the weekend shift at the drive-thru window.

You ignore your friends' taunts and ALWAYS roll down the car door window if you fart and there's a lady in the car. No ifs ands or buts.

You're not one of those Namby Pamby guys who changes his hair style every 20 years.

You carry your own personalized Cribbage Board around in case you're ever challenged.

You don't just have your kids' names tattooed on you like some schmuck, but have their portraits at the age of 2, as well.

Your peeps down at the social assistance center think of you as the 'go to' guy.

You make fun of guys with 9 to 5 jobs.  Or any job really.

You believe in bros before hos even though you also believe they're spelled brose and hose.

Your idea of romance is looking deep into her eyes while calling her your 'Old Lady'.

You don't trust any man who don't 'chaw' tobaccy.  And never will.

You don't really see a difference between a 'Wife Beater' shirt and all shirts.

You believe nail clippers are a waste of good money.

You KNOW that gun shows are the only thing that keep you sane.  Well, that and the wrestling show when it comes to town.

You tell the doctor what's wrong with you and not the other way around, cause he don't know nothin'!

Your biggest sexual fetish is to do it with a woman who has all her teeth.  But you know it's only a crazy fantasy.

You have no respect for anyone who pays for their cable.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Blurbs - From the Best Of Collection

I have a library's worth of material I've written.  Most of the stuff are 600 to 1200 page masterpieces.  I don't feel like typing out any of them in their entirety but here are some snippets I've pulled out for your enjoyment.  I think you'll find them intoxicatingly addictive.  If you must have more, e-mail me and I'll give you the appropriate dewey decimal point designation so you can rent the WHOLE book at your local library.  Kiss kiss.

The Slowening:

Sensing danger, Jake turned his head the only way he knew how, with his neck.

Tish and the Time Machine:

Nick wondered if he'd ever seen such a tough as nails, stunningly beautiful paleobiologist.  Maybe once or twice before, but while they may have been tough as nails and stunningly beautiful, THIS one was a woman!  He shifted the oozi over his shoulder and smiled.

Ultra Woman Returns:

Having dropped the crooks off at the local police station, Ultra Woman flew back to Buckingham Palace to face the day again as Queen.

The Curious Case of the Twin Killers: A Mortimer Mantle Mystery

Mortimer's jaw dropped.  He rubbed his eyes trying to comprehend what he had just seen.  Had the man he'd been following on the street only moments before really just turned into a drugstore?  He felt reality disappear beneath his feet.

Will I Never Find Love?:

Michelle rolled over and looked at Michael, still fast asleep.  Why did our names have to be so similar, she wondered.  No way we can make this thing work.  She wiped a single tear from her eye.

Big Yellow:

Professor J.J. Pimpleton stopped dead in his tracks.  There before him towering 16 stories high was an impossibility.  A Jurassic version of today's yellow canary.  And it was about to sing!  He desperately signalled to Vera to stop playing the Accordian.  Jesus!  She was going to get them all killed.

Insulin - The Hunger:

Sweat poured down his forehead as he nervously jabbed the needle into his arm.  He looked away from the dead eyed stares of the other diabetics as he did his thing.  Sugar was his constant enemy now.

Tell Beulah I Said 'Hello Beulah':

Jeremy stopped.  That vase wasn't there before, he was sure of it!  Had someone in the last 3 years been in this room and put the vase there?  He eyed the maid who went about her dusting.  Nice vase, but still, what was it doing on that table?  Then another thought struck him like a thunderbolt.  Is it VAWS or VASE?  His mind reeled.

Land Line IV:

The phone rang for a fourth time and Jeremy reached out a trembling hand.  "Hello?" he asked.  But it was too late, they'd hung up.  'Why'd I wait FOUR rings instead of THREE?!?!' he screamed to no one in particular.

The Magnificent Martins:

The Martins had lived in this part of Virginia for over 15 generations and they STILL couldn't figure out why.
Underachievers sure, but could that be the only reason?

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Inappropriate things I may or may not have done in my life...

                                   French kissed the bride.  Hey!  I'd never been to a lesbian wedding before and I didn't know the rules, okay?!?!

                                   Had a tickle fight with the Pope.  You think that was inappropriate for ME?!?!  Unreal.  The Pope can get away with murder.

                                  Looked Jennifer Love Hewitt right in the eyes and said, "I will NOT go into the light."

                                   Accidentally farted at Princess Diana's funeral.  That's not really the inappropriate part.  As people started noticing I kept makiing a face and pointing at The Queen.

                                   I once went for seconds at a charity buffet for a fasting prisoner.

Okay, okay, I was also the guy who THREW the charity buffet for a fasting prisoner.

                                   I once sold a Time Share to Mother Theresa.  She didn't need it and it took her a hellish 10 years to get out of it, but I made my quota that month!

                                   Never warmed up to Madonna.  Oh YOU may not find that inappropriate, but I'm barred from 34,453 gay bars because of it!

Remembering Cory Haim

Was it really only 40 years ago that Cory Feldman, Cory Haim, Corey Stratton and myself were the toast of Hollywood?  Back then we were known as the 4 Cory's until the Enquirer uncovered the fact that my name wasn't actually Cory Phlegm or that Corey Stratton used an 'e' in his name.  That's when everything changed.

The other two Cory's took it really hard and turned to drugs, while Stratton posed for Playboy.  I can still remember the front page blurb of that issue.  'Turn to page 35 to see the world's largest vagina'.  It was horrible.  Corey was devastated and moved to Canada to get away from the media circus that ensued.  Last I heard he'd shaved his head and become a crazed blogger, but who knows?
I, myself,  donned a Pith helmet and headed to Africa for a 4 month Safari.  That was always one of my dreams.  Not the Safari, of course, but getting to wear a Pith Helmet.  Seriously, where can you wear a Pith Helmet and NOT look stupid but Africa.  Soooooo, Africa is where I went.  And for the record, I looked fabulous.  Could have lived without all the poverty while I tried to eat, or the horribly seasoned Chateau Briand, but I looked fabulous and I think you'll agree, that's worth a little sacrifice.

Africa changed me.   Or, more accurately, my muscled guide, Manbooboo changed me.  I won't go into detail, but I couldn't sit for 3 weeks after Africa.  Or stop smiling for 6. Wooo!

Anyway, on my return I discovered how far the other 3 Cory's had fallen.  It was heartbreaking and I very nearly stopped attending all those glittering Hollywood functions - THAT'S how depressed I was.  Fortunately it turned out I looked fabulous depressed so it all worked out - I guess God really does open a window when he closes a door (and not just when he farts).

Stratton, I'd learned, had given up on competing in Triathalons and had moved in with a Baked Cheezie Chef of ill repute.  He became a hermit or a kermit, or a Dermot Mulroney fan - honestly I wasn't really listening when I was told what happened to him, but I'm sure it was bad.  But it was nothing compared to what happened to the other two.

One day they called me.  They'd just wrapped 'Dream A Little Dream' and asked me to come to the screening.  So I watched. Yikes!  When the credits had finished and the lights came on I was almost tempted to grab the needle from Feldman's arm and jab it into my own, but I resisted.  Instead I told them that they were Oscar bound (which I should have been for THAT performance!) and left it at that.  I had my chauffeur drop them at Michael Jackson's house where, ironically, they really WERE bound, and I went on to a fabulous party for Liza Minnelli and her lesbian husband.

As they fell futher into the abyss of drug abuse and Corey began his illicit love affair with recliners, I sailed on.  Movies, hit TV shows, concerts, Broadway - I watched them all.  It was a heady time and I soon lost track of my old pals.  I had no idea they were all self destructing.  I guess I was too tied up in my training to make the Olympic Trampoline Team to notice.

Long story short I succeeded in everything I did (except for getting cut from the Trampoline Team for failing the urine test - should've studied harder) and they, unfortunately,  failed at everything.  Except for Crack.  Gotta hand it to 'em, they really did that well.  At least the two in Hollywood did, Corey just kept trying to smoke his backside.  Ended up in the hospital with a ruptured disk. So sad, so very, sad.  Even the 2 Cory's stopped taking his calls around this time.

Fast forward to a couple weeks and several goat placenta injections ago.  I was just waking up in the 10,000 sq ft master bedroom of my Swiss Chalet (you'll love their chicken) when one of my manservants informed me that Cory Haim had died.  My first thought was "NO! NO! These down pillows are the wrong feather count!"  But then I remembered who Cory was (he was in Stand By Me, yes?  Wait, the fat one or the cute one?  Oh well, ONE of them died and that's all that matters) and I wept inconsolably into my rich and opulent feather bed.  After taking some beautiful pictures of me weeping, my manservant dutifully sent the photos off to the media and I got up and had a sumptuous brunch before calling the Peachland Institute for the Criminally Insane to leave a brief (and sad) message for Stratton.  Then I knew I had to stay strong.  I couldn't let this defeat me.  I couldn't let this overshadow my successes through the years.  No.  I was going shopping with my neighbor Shania Twain, come hell or high water!  FYI we found these really kicky boots that were to die for!  I ended up buying them cause they looked WAY better on me than on her.  Suck it bitch!

But I digress.  Good bye dear old friend, whichever one you are.  You will be remembered for ever.  Which reminds me, I haven't worn those boots yet!  Well, tonight's the night.  And though the 4 Cory's are gone, I'm gonna dedicate my 'strut' to Cory Feldman, gone too soon.  Haim?  Oh, right.  Cory Haim, gone too soon.  But regardless of who I lost, these boots were made for walking.  I'll post pics later!