A Quarterback Talks to His Daughter

BF the Quarterback: Hey everyone! I’m home!

Kid (the kid): Hi Daddy, can I see it?

BF: See what?

Kid: The trophy…for winning the Superbowl.

BF: err…welllll…I….um

Kid: Don’t stall, Pop, I SAW you on TV. ANOTHER season ending interception? Honestly, I don’t understand why the commentators are always sucking your dick.

BF: Watch your mouth little girl!

Kid: Watch my balls, Dad. You brought me into this when you declared that I wanted you to go win another championship.

BF: I had to say something, otherwise I’d look like a douche.

Kid: Too late. You know what? How about next time you say you’re coming back to fight mom’s breast cancer or for the memory of your poor dead father.

BF: Don’t make fun of cancer or daddy. {BF’s eyes well up in tears}

Kid: You know what, I think Gramps offed himself, just to avoid ESPN’s coverage of you.

BF: You’re making daddy mad, honey.

Kid: Oh noes. I guess I’ll leave before you tack on a meaningless touchdown in an early round playoff game. Dick.

Feel Good Fridays

I’ve never done a Feel Good Friday post before. However, I saw Bowling for Soup in Chicago last weekend, so I present My Wena:

I Can’t Help But Wonder…

*original artwork by Freaky Weasel

Certain words are amusing. Take ‘probe’ for instance. That word makes me giggle.

I can’t imagine what words were as entertaining before the Roswell Incident.

Alien abduction is, of course, the source of the humor. There was a time I suppose when Martians would abduct you ask you a few things, and send you back. Sometime in the 70’s or 80’s (let’s just agree on this, I’m not looking it up…correct me in the comments if you must) it was decided that we should be studied from the inside out.

I don’t think I’ve heard direct claims that people were sexually violated…I’ve always taken the probing to mean that you had a high tech colonoscopy. Perhaps one of my abductee readers can shed some light.

Either way an alien phallis or sensor probe up the bum…I have to belief…is unpleasant.

Unpleasant like a fall in the parking lot.

Sucks when it’s you…

…but hilarious when it’s someone else.

Sadness in the Weaselverse

As I’m sure has happened to you, a great sadness was visited upon me this morning.

I learned that a celebrity I presumed to be still alive was, in fact, dead.

Rest in peace, Robert Palmer who died in 2003. I was so addicted to loving you, I completely blocked out your untimely passing at the age of 54.

Despite the fact that Some Like it Hot, I’m sure you had the express elevator to heaven.

The correct emoticon to express my pain?

:(

Satan Worship is For Douchnozzles

If you are devoutly religious, that’s cool. No skin off my nose, unless your brand of faith calls for you to take my nose skin. I suppose that’s better than calling for my foreskin, which was lopped off against my wishes when I was about 3 days old. (TMI? I’ve gotten drunk and naked enough times that you’ve probably already seen my penis anyway, don’t worry about it).

Any way Aunt B is yammering something about Satanists.

I don’t care for Satanist. Why? Because to believe in Satan, don’t you have to believe in God? And if you do, then you recognize God is good with one less ‘o’ and Satan is Santa misspelled, and most Santa’s are whinos or pedophiles groping your children in photos once a year. Ergo, Satan = bad.

That’s deliberately choosing Evil over Good. Asshole.

Internet Content, Just for Me

I’m probably way behind others in the consumption of Internet media. Part of that is the lack of time. I watch sports. During football season, I watch almost no episodic television, because in the 21st Century there is college football on nearly every night.

Over the last few years I have become a fan of Internet TV. I thought I’d share with you, the stuff I watch more or less every week.

Video Podcast/Internet TV/Whatever else you want to call it:

DiggNation: You have probably seen the ‘Digg This’ icon’s on various web sites. On DiggNation, Kevin Rose and his sidekick yammer about the biggest stories on the Internet. This is good for me, because I don’t have time to peruse Digg or Fark for news all day. You know, what with my famous blog and everything.

Totally Rad Show: I only watch this for the movie reviews. They review popular movies and indie films, and these three guys have the same 12 y/o sense of humor you probably have if you read my drivel. Two of the dudes get too weepy and sensitive when discussing movies, but whatev. They also review video games, but I like to see girls naked so I don’t play video games.

Books on the Nightstand: I like to read. These two people (I don’t pay attention when they say their names) give interesting reviews about mostly fiction (which I prefer). It covers the popular, but also hits a lot of lesser known releases. If you don’t like to read…move on.

Three things? That sucks, I thought there would be more. Well, this is about all I watch regularly. I’m pretty sure you can get any of this on iTunes. If you have something you like, put it in the comments, I’ll check it out. But if it sucks, I’ll come to your blog and tell you so. So don’t put any crap in there.

UT: Current-ish Events

And She Stepped on the Ball. (hahahahaha)

A child/teen of the 80’s I have seen the film Trading Places, I’d guess at least 40 times. It’s not a good movie. It’s just that we had HBO and it was aired 7 days a week, give or take 1 day.

In the film, Dan Akroyd’s character walks into the country club where some of his old friends have gathered. As he approaches, a young woman is finishing a joke or story and we the audience only hear the punch line:

“And she stepped on the ball.” Followed by laughter. The joke must have been hilarious.

Being of very similar personalities, my sister and I use this punchline all of the time. Whenever there is a lull in the conversation, one of us will shout out “And she STEPPED on the BALL!” Then we laugh. At this point it really is hilarious only to us.

A few years ago Disney Channel had an unexpected smash hit with High School Musical. You may have heard of it. It was so popular, that a sequel was written and aired on Disney about a year later. My kid, a fan, had us watch it. Though as an aside, I know every note of the original HSM soundtrack, and will destroy you in HSM karaoke. Fact.

During HSM 2, the writers did the same thing. I mean the SAME thing. The punch line was dropped. “And she stepped on the ball.” My sis and I laughed, and had to explain to the kid why it was funny. Kid didn’t get it. This is to be expected, kids are stupid.

A short time later, HSM 2 had the balls to do it a second time. “And she stepped on the ball.”

What the hell? Do I have peers in Hollywood tortured by the same crappy movie on HBO in their developmental years? Did someone in the writer’s room just jump out with, “And she stepped on the ball!” And then another writer in his Family Guy gay neighbor voice shouted, “I knowwww!”

I salute you HSM 2 writers. You say, fuck it. Good jokes, really good jokes, don’t NEED to be set up.

And you have proven it.

Happy Anniversary To Me

While in the cosmic sense I am not old. Probably even in the literal sense I’m not really, really old.

I’m excited today, because I have passed a career milestone.

I have been an employee of Uncle Sam for 20 years this month.

I joined the United States Army Reserves in January of 1990. I was 18. The Simpsons were new, clear beverages were all the rage, and the reserves had not been called up since Viet Nam. I needed the money for school and this seemed like an easy way to get it. In November of 1990 I was on a plane to Saudi Arabia, which felt like bullshit. Nonetheless there I was. Burning shit and standing guard. I locked and loaded on a newspaper delivery guy once, because apparently “Halt!” is not universal. I learned that the sound of a rifle chambering a round IS universal. That’s the closest I ever got to shooting anyone. Turns out someone forgot to brief the guy with the gun, nearly igniting an international incident. I’m sure that would’ve gone swell for an 18 year old redneck private from Tennessee.

After that, I decided the Army sucked and transferred to the Air National Guard in 1992. In 1994, I helped invade Haiti. That was dull. With the Air Guard I’ve had the chance to hit most of the states, bounced through London, worked in Panama (the one with a canal, not Club Vila), visited Puerto Rico, just about every country in the in Middle East except Iraq. I’ve done very little of note since 2002, well, I’ve done stuff, but not personally fulfilling stuff.

I never intended to stay this long, I figured I’d quit after college, but there was always “one more thing next year” I wanted to do. F’r instance, we’re planning a summer camp in Hawaii. C’mon, that’s not tough duty for two weeks is it?

I’ll retire soon, and look forward to clearing out some closet space. Don’t get too excited for me. Retiring from the guard means if I live to age 60 they’ll give me $1200 or so bucks a month. Not exactly f*ck you money.

Twenty years. Seems like forty.

Where I Teach You How To Parent

There are many reasons one becomes a parent. You find that special someone, and customarily after a courtship followed by a wedding, you are blessed with the pitter patter. Some couples, unable to conceive but with hearts bigger than themselves, take in a child in need of loving parents. Others, just find themselves or their partner knocked up after a night of wine spritzers and karaoke in the local gay bar.

Whatever the reason. There is now a kid.

Sooner or later, most of you will foist your little darling upon society. Some tips:

You are the boss. I always get amused at parents that ask their children to do things. Do you want to pick up your things, Worthington? That move will amount to exactly squat. I tell my kid to pick up her stuff (or did when she was little, now it just happens). When she didn’t I took her favorite toy and threw it in the trash. This was good for two reasons. One, toys in the very early years are cheap as hell. Your 2 year old’s favorite toy might be a cardboard box you drew a smiley face on. Two, this teaches the child who runs the show, and who should not be fucked with.

Beatings. If you do it right, you will be finished with beatings by the time the kid is 5. Now, I know there are some retards who will stumble upon this through Google while preparing their criminal defense. For you, no a "beating" should not cripple your child. A beating doesn’t include fire, sharp edges, blunt objects, or power tools. A beating as I apply it stings the thigh. I only used two fingers to swat my kid (my kid is a waif, you may have a chunky fat ass or a linebacker, adjust as needed). With a little one that’s it. A sting hurts enough to negatively reinforce that squalling on the floor of a McDonald’s at the top of your lungs because you didn’t get a happy meal is inappropriate behavior. This is pretty crucial. Why? Because if your child doesn’t think you mean business by the time Kindergarten starts…you are fucked.

At this point, if your child is misbehaving at school your child’s teacher will send you letters, have conferences, suggest psych evals, etc for your little muffin. This will be embarrassing and you will think it is your private shame or the teacher is "out to get" your child. But it is not and he/she isn’t. Every parent in that class will know which kid is the worthless piece of shit. And we feel kinda bad. We know it’s not the kid’s fault. It’s your dumb, weak ass.

Finally. If you can’t do it…don’t. Give your kid away. Nebraska still takes them. It’s only like a 10 hour drive. That would be much preferable to bringing your miserable loud ass screaming child to the restaurant where I’m eating lunch. Honestly. Why do you have to be such a selfish jerk?