My brother

So, it’s been a long time since I wrote anything. A very long time. But I read something tonight that inspired me to write again. This won’t be a post like my prior posts. I’m not writing it to entertain anyone. It’s for my brother. And for me.

Eff you, San Francisco weather!!!

 
Typical attire for a summer day in San Francisco (mid-July):
 
 

Unsuspecting tourist from Ohio:  Shorts, sandals, horrendously cheesy t-shirt

 
 

Average SF local:  Jeans, heavy shoes, ski parka, wool cap, nutsack warmer (or, for women or obese men, breast warmer).

 
 
 

Match Game with the Hopelessly Immature

 
 
Did you ever see the TV game show Match Game? In the 70’s and 80’s, back when there were actually game shows on TV, Match Game kicked the crap out of all other game shows. In case you never saw it, a brief synopsis:

-Two contestants; one game show host (Gene Rayburn = Badassedest Game Show Host Ever); panel of six has-been/never-was TV and movie personalities.

-Rayburn reads aloud a fill-in-the-blank question; contestant tries to match the celebrity panel’s answers.

-Fill-in-the-blank question is otherwise innocuous but for a blank which is often fraught with sexual innuendo (or maybe that was just me).  Example:

 

–Cindy bumped into John at the ice cream store.  Cindy took one look at what John had in his hand and said:  “Oooh, I’d love to lick on your BLANK.”

 

-Laughter and frivolity ensues as contestant and celebrities write down their answers.

-Celebrities flip over their hand-written answer cards one by one.

-Live audience breathes a sigh of relief (but is, in actuality, simmering in silent rage) when celebrity answers are not dirty; more laughter and frivolity.

 
I loved that show.  Mostly because I was always able to think of something extremely nasty to fill in the blank.  Example:
 

–Cindy bumped into John at the ice cream store.  Cindy took one look at what John had in his hands and said:  “Oooh, I’d love to lick on your BLANK.”

 

-glistening man sack.

 
 

I’m not sure why I recently thought of Match Game, but the other day, I did.   And what dawned on me, much to my chagrin, was this:  If my secret (no longer) fantasy ever came true and weekday TV game shows made a comeback, I would never be able to win on Match Game. My infantile sense of humor would be my downfall.

 
 

–Joan loves the circus.  The other day I came home to find her wearing BLANK.

 

-nothing but a clown’s nose while being gang-banged by a band of circus midgets.

 
 
Somehow I don’t see Scott Baio matching that.

Three Little Words

Someone once said “It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.” What a crock. Getting dumped sucks and is a close second to having your balls stomped by a herd of dairy goats (though I have no experience with testicular trauma of such nature, I suspect it is quite painful).  My current record is 1-4 when it comes to breakups in the love realm. For some people, not loving at all might be a good call. Hopefully, my own painful experience will serve as a cautionary tale for other unfortunate souls out there.
 
Gentlemen, don’t do this…

Sexy Time

Have you been to the Sex Museum in Amsterdam?  I recognize that Amsterdam’s Red Light District is basically one giant sex museum, but I’m talking about the actual Sex Museum.  If you’ve been to Amsterdam and didn’t go to the Sex Museum, shame on you.  If you haven’t been to Amsterdam, you need to go, particularly before this law gets passed.  And then you need to go to the Sex Museum.  A bit of advice before you go, however:  Don’t do what I did on one my and only visit.

Let’s talk poop

I have Crohn’s Disease.  Crohn’s Disease is an inflammatory disease of the intestines with a variety of accompanying symptoms, the most common of which are abdominal pain, diarrhea, vomiting and weight loss.  While not life threatening, there is also no known cure. What are you going to do?  Life is a bitch.  At least it isn’t cancer.  But, considering how inconvenient Crohn’s is, if I ever do get cancer, I’ll be fucking pissed.  Until then, I try to find the humor in the disease where I can.  Fortunately, there is plenty of material to work with.

Doctor = Awesome

So, I previously mentioned that my girlfriend is a doctor.  And I also mentioned how awesome that would be.  Here’s further evidence of the awesomeness…

My girlfriend is currently on a flight to San Francisco to hang with me for a few days.  She just texted me to say they had a medical emergency on-board and had to land in Grand Junction, CO (FYI – in case you weren’t aware, Grand Junction airport isn’t made for big planes – they don’t land there unless they have no choice (ok, I may be talking out of my ass on that point, but it makes the story better, so if I’m wrong, “fuck off” to all you know-it-all aviation enthusiasts out there)).

Mid-flight, the flight attendant came on the PA and asked if there were any doctors on-board and my girlfriend, of course, rightly identified herself.   The flight attendant led her to a passenger in medical distress.  Apparently, the passenger’s condition was deteriorating very rapidly.  So my girlfriend – the badass that she is – quickly yet carefully assessed the situation and then calmly instructed the flight attendant:  “We need to land.  Now.”  And so they did.

After she finished telling me this, my first thought was:  That’s fucking awesome!!!   When you can order a plane to land and it does, that’s some fucking power, people.

I then suggested to my girlfriend that, if you think about it, she isn’t wholly unlike a terrorist.  What other passenger can force a plane to land?  She failed to see the humor.

My next thoughts, in order, were these:

–So you ordered the plane to land?  And now you’re going to be over two hours late?  Great.  Good job.

-I sometimes tell my girlfriend what to do and she listens.  So, by the transitive property, I too should be able to order a plane to land.  Is that right?  I’m not sure.  Screw you, 9th grade math.

-You never hear flight attendants asking if there is a lawyer on-board.  “Uhhh, ladies and gentlemen, don’t be alarmed, but we have a contractual emergency.  Is there a lawyer present?”

-Being a lawyer sucks.

-What happened with the sick passenger?  Oh, he ended up being OK?  Pussy. 

Drawing is fun

Ahhhhh! Home sweet home!

 
 
Do you like to draw?  I did.  Until was about 10 or 11.  I think that’s about when my drawing skills peaked…pretty much at stick figures.

Specifically, stick figure army men.   Even more specifically, stick figure army men shooting other stick figure army men with the occasional aircraft flying overhead on bombing runs. Explosions (I was also pretty good at drawing fire and smoke).  Stick figure body parts flying everywhere.  That’s about the extent of my drawing repertoire.  My teacher said I lacked vision.  I said there are no bad students, only bad teachers.  She told me to go to the principal’s office.

My stick figure creations, once critically acclaimed in 4th grade, had, by the 6th grade, become the subject of near universal derision. Weighed down by the harsh public scrutiny, I relinquished my dreams of becoming the next Picasso.

Sidenote:  Thankfully, I was able to achieve my other dream:  Becoming a middling corporate attorney in a world overpopulated with attorneys.   Sweet.

Nevertheless, starting this blog has gotten my creative juices flowing again.  I’ve decided to take another crack at it.  I bought an electronic pen tablet with which to create new masterpieces and then upload them here for all to enjoy.  To tide you over until Amazon delivers me the goods, below is one of my creations from my early years.  (Thanks, mom, for keeping my beautiful works of art.  You said they would be valuable one day.  Thanks for believing in me when nobody else did.  So very valuable indeed.)

It’s eerily similar to subsequent Oliver Stone productions.  Coincidence?  I think not.  Mr. Stone, you will be hearing from my lawyers.

CAUTION – THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL CONTAINS SCENES OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND GORE.  PARENTAL GUIDANCE IS ADVISED.

Poop is never not funny

My girlfriend is a doctor.  She deals in the bodily functions of others on a daily basis.  I know what you’re thinking.  How fucking awesome is that?  Right?

In the beginning, there was Disneyland…

Take a moment to soak in the extreme awesomeness of Underoos...

According to my mom, as a toddler, I was an exceptionally slow learner when it came to proper defecation technique.  But fortunately for me, my childhood recollections only extend back so far.  Thus, I am spared the psychic trauma stemming from countless potty training missions gone awry and the accompanying tragic loss of soiled Underoos (yes, I rocked Underoos as a child, that is, until I pooped them).  No, instead, my earliest memory of personal embarrassment takes me back to when I was around five years of age, shortly after my first trip to Disneyland.