Sometimes, Crashing Would Be A Good Thing

I don't always like to blog about what happens on my many trips to the airport. It makes me feel like a bad stand-up comedian ("Boy, aren't airplane bathrooms small? What's up with that? Ba-dum-bum!) Then, I realized that I WAS, at one time, a bad stand-up comedian. I think this should give me a pass. Plus, the bulk of my life is spent in airports, now, which hopefully explains the lack of blogs. We're going to get back up to speed. But, sleep has become almost as rare as sex with my wife. So, I'm prioritizing!!!

Anyway, I went to the airport yesterday and got into the security line. There weren't many people there, yet, and I saw this guy coming toward the line.....

Don't get in the line......

Don't get in the line.....

Don't get in the line.....

I kept saying over and over to myself. You see, he had a mask on. Not a Batman mask, or anything like that. It was one of those yellow, surgical masks that doctors wear so that they don't cough into your heart valves, when they have you cut open. And, this guy was wearing one.....RIGHT BEHIND ME!!!!

No one thought to stop him. No one said anything like, "So, what's up with the whole mask thing?" No one said a word. He just kept coming at me, with his nondescript headgear, carrying God knows what!!!!

I felt I had a right to know. I mean, are YOU being protected from US? Or, are WE being protected from YOU? Is your body so delicate that it can't handle the subtle intake of our various chemical products? Or, is that mask nothing more than a thin, paper barrier meant to protect ME from whatever disease filled chunks are about to come spewing out of your lungs? HUH!?!! I need some information, here, Bubble Boy!!!!

But, alas, no one said a word. He walked up behind me, thus infecting me with the alien spores, and wandered right through security. Now, my chest is itchy, and tight. Thank you, VERY MUCH!!! On a side note, though, if you are planning on wearing a mask to the airport, and don't want to be asked any silly questions about it, might I suggest Lambert Airport, in St. Louis. Apparently, they haven't caught up with all those pesky "security" issues just yet.

Then, when I went to go wait for my plane, the person sitting next to me decided that he wanted to be my BEST FRIEND. I don't know why he chose me. There were other empty seats, and I don't have what I would consider to be an overwhelmingly friendly face. In fact, normally I'm looking down. This way, I don't run the risk of talking to overly friendly people.......Like the one who sat down next to me.

I don't care for people like this. They live by the rule: "THERE ARE NO STRANGERS IN THE WORLD. JUST FRIENDS YOU HAVEN'T MET, YET."

What people like this fail to understand is that I live by a different rule: "LEAVE ME ALONE, OR I WILL JAB MY PEN INTO YOUR THROAT!!"

Unfortunately, I did not currently have a pen. So I tried to ignore him.

Satan: Where are you headed, today?

Me: Home.

Satan: Really? Where's home?

Me: Well, since the plane is going to Philly, I'm guessing it's somewhere near there.

Satan: HA HA....Yeah, I'm headin' home, too.

Me: (looking down. saying nothing)

Satan: Do you like to fly?

Me: It gets me there.

Satan: HA HA...Yeah, it really does, doesn't it?

Me: (looking down. saying nothing.)

Satan: So, what's your game?

Me: My game?

Satan: What do you do for a living?

(Note: I don't tell people what I do for a living, because A) it's embarrassing, and B) people think it's far more interesting than it actually is, and won't stop bothering me about it. "Do you know Howard Stern?" No, I don't know Howard Stern.)

Me: I'm in fast food.

Satan: Really? What end?

Me: Fries, mostly. But, I'm hoping to work my way up to the drive thru.

Satan: Well, that's nice.

Me: Isn't it? Hey, will you wait right here, until I come back?

Satan: Sure. Where you headed?

Me: I need to go find a pen.......BADLY!!

When I finally managed to get on the plane, an hour late, I realized that we were flying with a wedding party. This is all good and well. But, when there is a wedding party on a plane, the flight attendants seem to think that ALL of us are sad that we didn't get invited, and that we would ALL like to celebrate the wedding on the plane. We don't. Most of us want to watch the Disney travel shows that we have downloaded on our ipods. But, no one bothered to ask US.

So, we did fake vows, and we cheered, and we laughed, and at least one guy (I don't know who) turned his ipod up REALLY LOUD, so that he wouldn't have to hear any of this.

Then, when some bad turbulence came, this guy found himself wishing that we would actually crash. Then, when we didn't, this random guy cried, just a little, because he realized that he was going to have to do this all over again, next week.

Poor Guy.

Casey

Gwen Stefani Is The Anti-Christ

With Father's Day in the air, I thought I would share a recent conversation I had with my 8 year old daughter, Spenser. I do this more as a public service than anything else. You see, I'm a very worldly man. I've seen many things, and I have thought many thoughts. So, I find myself uniquely prepared to deal with situations that come up, involving my children. I think that you should all take note, and then send me money for helping to raise your child.

Spenser: Daddy?

Me: Yes.

Spenser: Why do boys like to watch girls walk?

Me: I.....uhhhhhhh....What?

Spenser: Why do boys like to watch girls walk?

Me: Well.....uhhhhh.....Because......They.....uhhhh.....uhhh.....Why do you ask?

Spenser: It's in that song.

Me: What song?

Spenser: The Gwen Stefani song.

Me: WHAT Gwen Stefani song?

Spenser: The winding one.

Me: The winding one?

(Note: Further research found that Gwen Stefani has a song callled "Wind It Up." In this song, she sings about boys liking to watch girls......Thank you, Ms. Stefani.......VERY MUCH!!!)

Spenser: So?

Me: So, what?

Spenser: So, why do boys like to watch girls walk?

Me: Where did you hear this song?

Spenser: It's on my ipod.

Me: How did that get on your ipod? I only put Beatles songs on your ipod, because I only wanted you to hear good music.

Spenser: Mommy put it on there. She said you were being silly, and took the Beatles songs off and put on a bunch of girl songs.

Me: Oh.

(Note: Thank you, Mommy.........VERY MUCH!!!)

Spenser: So?

Me: So, what?

Spenser: So, why do boys like to watch girls walk?

Me: Well....I think I hear your friends, outside.....Don't you want to go play with them?

Spenser: They aren't home. They went to Six Flags.

Me: Oh.

Spenser: Are you going to answer my question?

Me: Why do boys like to watch girls walk?

Spenser: Yes.

(I want you all to feel free to copy my answer down, so that you can give the same answer to your child when they ask you a similar question. I'm not exactly known for thinking on my feet. But, I truly believe that this is going to be taken, and used by the so-called "parenting experts" as a way to seize an opportunity to communicate with your child, and use it to your advantage. In fact, I would not be at all surprised if Dr. Phil were to call, and use me as a shining example to parents everywhere.)

Me: Well.....Uhhh.....You see, sweetie.....There's.......Girls are, sort of........I mean.......Boys like.......uhhhh......Boys........Boys like transportation, right?

Spenser: Huh?

Me: (I was rolling!!!) Boys like transportation. You know how all of Max's baby clothes have cars, and boats, and trains on them?

Spenser: (cautiously) Yeah.....

Me: (I was in a zone!!!) Boys.....Boys like transportation.....You know.....Th....Things that move......That's....uhhh....That's why it's all over their clothes......and....uh......and.....most.....uh......most of.....uh....their.....you know......most of their toys are cars, and things..........I mean.....you know.....stuff that moves. Right?

Spenser: Okay.....

Me: So.....you know......When....uh.....When a girl is walking.....She's.....uh......She's moving.....Like.....Like......uh.....a car, or a boat, or something.......So......you see it's not that....you know....they're....uh......It's not that they're watching the GIRL, necessarily......But......you know......the girl just happens to be moving.......you know......Like.....Like a car might.......and......uh......and since boys like cars and things like that......uh.......They watch them, because they are moving........Like cars......Okay?

Spenser: So, boys think girls are like cars?

Me: That's what I'm going with, yes.

Spenser: Boys sure are silly.

Me: Aren't they? You'd be better off just to avoid them, altogether. They really serve no purpose. Mommy and I have talked about giving Max away, more than once. It's just pointless to have a boy around.

Spenser: You can't give Max away.

Me: I know. That's what Mommy said.

Spenser: Where are you going?

Me: I'm gonna go find Gwen Stefani's daddy. I would like to punch him in the mouth.


Happy Father's Day!!!

Casey

The Battle Of Bunker Hill.......Road

The day was hot, and humid. The grass needed to be cut, and the smell of summer was slowly wafting over the landscape. It was a morning like any other morning, in New Jersey. Except...it wasn't. A battle was about to erupt. Epic, if you will. One man facing his demons. One...CREATURE....trying to reclaim a historic land.

Casey was his name. He was just a normal man. But, in reality, so much more. A luxuriously thick head of hair. Deep brown eyes, and a body sculpted by the gods. (Shut up......ALL of you.)

He left his apartment on that morning, without a care in the world. That was his first mistake. He should have known better. From his CIA spy training, during the cold war, he should have known that things were never as they seemed. A perfect day was NEVER a perfect day. It was almost ALWAYS something more. But, since he was in "sleeper" mode now, and the CIA had placed him at a local radio station to entertain millions of people while he waited for his next assignment (again, shut up,) he never noticed the danger that was about to confront him. Nor did he expect the lengths that he would have to go to in order to survive.

He opened his car door, and placed his spy bag (which currently held a notebook and a pair of headphones) inside. Then he casually, yet gracefully, walked over to check his mailbox.

HE DIDN'T SHUT THE CAR DOOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He found nothing in his mailbox, as usual. Many people think that this is because nobody loves him, and they never think to send him a simple letter that would lift his spirits. It wouldn't have to be much. A little card, maybe? "Hey, Casey!! Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you." That would be nice. Just once in a while. Just one little thing that would that would shine a tiny light into his otherwise pitiful existence?...........Yeah........That's what some people think. Of course, the reality is that it's too dangerous for someone like him to have that type of contact. It wouldn't be safe for anyone.............It would still be nice, though. I mean, come on..........

He walked back to his car, finally shutting the door, and headed out toward the radio station.

Did he hear something?

No. Couldn't be.

Or, did he.............

Our hero continued to drive.....................

There it was, again.

They teach you this, in the spy game. Your mind plays tricks on you. You have to learn to block things out. Otherwise, you'll go crazy with paranoia.

He drove on.

He turned onto Bunker Hill Road.

Then..............He saw it................And IT WAS BIG!!!!

He let out a high pitched scream...........Well..........Wait...........It wasn't REALLY a high pitched scream.........It was more of a yell.......A deep, manly yell.....The kind of yell that REAL men have......Men you wouldn't mess with, if you met up with them in a dark ally.......Actually, even yell is a little exaggerated.....In truth, it was more of a gasp......Not even that.........A grunt..........A deep manly grunt.......That's what he did.......He grunted.

What happened next was a blur. One witness claimed that the car jerked over to the side of the road, and Casey ran out, making a high pitched noise, and flailing his arms all around. There's no video of this, though. Plus, we're pretty sure that the person who claims to have "seen" this is a heavy drinker......In reality, our hero expertly avoided disaster by QUICKLY pulling his vehicle over to the side, and rapidly, yet casually, exited his vehicle......His arms were not, I repeat NOT flailing. In fact, he was doing a WIDE arm exercise in order to make sure that he was limber. See? You can't believe everything you hear.

He stopped to gather his thoughts, and gauge the enemy. For, you see, there was.............................

THE BIGGEST FREAKING BEE YOU HAVE EVER SEEN BUZZING AROUND IN HIS CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our hero hates bees...............Not unlike Indiana Jones, who is VERY manly, hates snakes......So, quit laughing, tough guy.

The battle was about to begin.

Using some self-defense tactics, which he learned in a class on a Disney Cruise, our hero worked his way back to the car.

He needed a weapon.........

In order to distract the enemy, he picked up an empty Diet Pepsi can (not that he needed DIET Pepsi.....as we have established, he is in GREAT shape,) and hurled the can at the mutant bee. In one swift motion he quickly picked up what he thought was a magazine. It was the best he could do. It turned out to be an old Victoria's Secret catalogue that he had stolen from his wife, in Missouri, so that he could look at the pictures...........and, you know, find stuff to buy his wife.........NOT just look at the pictures......That would be pathetic........Even though he lives alone, and his wife has a broken ankle, and sex seems like a distant memory. One that he can't tell if he made up, or if it really exists.

He dove back into the car...............

To the untrained eye, it might look like he was screaming, and wildly swinging his "panty" catalogue, without any target in mind. In reality, he was using an ancient Hungarian battle cry (it's very high pitched. Hungarians are like that,) and swinging wildly in order to make sure that there was no route for the prehistoric bee to use for escape.

After several minutes, and the gather of several children (who should have been in school, or something....Hell, don't they have video games that they could be playing?) Casey backed out of the car, and assessed the situation.

Dripping with sweat, and preparing to leap back in for round two, the bee came to its senses.........It flew out the back window, and probably back to whatever level of Hell it was spawned from.

Our hero emerged victorious. The world was safe for another day. Man has, again, triumphed over insect.

You're welcome.

Casey

It's All Fun And Games Until They Start Sacrificing Virgins

I've been getting a lot of crap, lately, for not blogging more. Considering that NOBODY actually reads my blog, I found that more than a little interesting.

Listen......

My wife busted her ankle, and can't even walk.

My son was born 5 weeks early.

My family is getting ready to move half way across the country.

AND......This is probably the most important thing.........Given my wife's current state, the next time I have sex the human race will probably have evolved to a point that I won't even know how to do it, anymore. I had thought about NOT writing a blog again until I could have "relations" with my wife. It helps my creative process. But, I assessed the situation, and realized that we would probably all be dead, by then. So, I decided to blog.

It's not like there haven't been things to blog about.

Last week they published pictures of a tribe in Brazil that they said, "has had no contact with the outside world, and we would like to keep it that way."

Then they proceeded to show several pictures of this tribe staring, and pointing bows and arrows at a camera, on a plane, that has come from......Ready?........THE OUTSIDE WORLD!!!!!!

Good move.

This means that there is now one LESS tribe who has not had contact with the outside world.

These were scientists........The so-called "smart people."

Just for future reference, GENIUSES, when you fly a modern plane over a tribal camp, and take pictures, this would be considered "contact."

Not only that. But, I think that we could consider this to be NEGATIVE contact. You see, you scared the living crap out of them. This explains why they were pointing their weapons at you, and trying to kill the GIANT METALIC BIRD that was circling overhead.

How do you think THAT went over?

First Tribal Guy: Whaddya make of that, Earl?

Second Tribal Guy: Ya' got me. I've never seen anything like it.

First Tribal Guy: It seems to be hovering, and pointing something at us.

Second Tribal Guy: You know, I believe you're right.

First Tribal Guy: Think maybe we outta kill it?

Second Tribal Guy: I think that might be the way to go.

First Tribal Guy: Okay, let's just....Wait....It's leaving.

Second Tribal Guy: You don't think we made it angry, do you?

First Tribal Guy: Well, there's always that chance.

Second Tribal Guy: You suppose we outta sacrifice some virgins?

First Tribal Guy: It might be best. It's always worked before.

So, because a bunch of dopey scientists decided to scare the hell out of some "undiscovered" people, we've now led them to believe that they have made "the metallic bird god" angry, and a bunch of innocent virgins are going to have to die.

Do you ever wonder why so many teen girls are having sex? Because they know that, if they don't, some religious freak is going to come around and "sacrifice" them to some bizarre deity. I don't know about YOU, but that would be reason enough for me to hop into the backseat, and give up my virtue.......Of course we are talking about ME, here. There wasn't exactly a line of girls waiting to take my virtue. Not to be crude, or anything, but if I'd put my virtue on ebay, the auction probably would have expired without any bids. It's okay.....I'm good with it.

Now, I know I'm picking on the scientists for not wanting to have contact with these people by using a method that involves having contact with them (boneheads.) But, I also don't see the point of NOT having contact with them. I mean, why not? Let's not forget that WE used to live in caves, and huts. Then, we figured out a better way. Don't you think it would be nice to go to their tribe and that life can be a little easier? I'd be happy to do it.

Me: How do you guys get clothes?

Tribal Guy: Well, after killing an animal for food, and utilizing all parts of the creature, which we consider to be holy, we skin it, and cut up the pelt into individual pieces. Then, using a "hook and eye" method, we attach the pieces together and fasten them over our bodies. During the cooler months, we use a similar method with the fur of the various animals that our gods have provided for us. How do you do it?

Me: Go to the mall.

Tribal Guy: What's a "mall?"

Me: A collection of stores that our gods have provided for us.

Tribal Guy: Who are your gods?

Me: Target, mostly. Sometimes Wal-Mart.

Tribal Guy: I see.

Me: Is that a Starbuck's?

Tribal Guy: Sure. We're primitive, but we aren't savages.

So, you see, it doesn't make any sense to keep these people living in dirt huts, when we've already discovered a better way. It's selfish, and I think it's being done just to make us feel superior.

"I had a bad day, but at least I'm not living in a hut, with angry metallic bird gods, sacrificing virgins," we can say.

Just remember, though. The LESS consumers we have, the MORE angry the Wal-Mart gods will become. One day it will all come to a head. That, my friends, will be a bad day to be a virgin.

Until then, send the virgins my way. I promise to be nice.

Casey