The Adam Carolla Show is gone, back to classic Loveline.

For the past few years I have woke up every morning, plugged my Zune in and hopped off the take a shower.  While in the shower, the Zune software would start up and automatically start downloading my favorite podcasts that would get me through the day.  I enjoy the sounds of Indiefeed, Skeptoid, The Onion Radio News, Clark Howard and most importantly, The Adam Carolla Show every day while sitting at my desk hammering keys and clicking away like a good little techie nerd.

Well, my days just became a little less entertaining after yesterday.   The radio station that hosted Carolla’s show, 97.1 FM Talk in Los Angeles, has gone the way of the Dodo and changed over to another Top 40 Hits station.

For a guy like me, who lives and works in and around Atlanta/Metro Atlanta, podcasts are my only source of decent and engaging radio. Here in the ATL it’s all either County or Hip Hop.  You’re either a cow boy or a gangsta around these parts!  Sure, there are a few rock stations, but they’d only satisfy the most brain dead, musically shallow of us.  If you want to envision what it’s like to listen to a typical, Atlanta FM rock station, you only need to load about 20 songs on your MP3 player and set it to shuffle. Heres a sample of what you’ll need to match their expansive catalog:

The 70’s: Stairway to Heaven,  Hotel California  and Free Bird. The 80’s: Welcome to the Jungle, Sweet Child of Mine and Back in Black. The 90’s: Jeremy, Interstate Love Song and maybe NIN’s Closer if it’s an edgy rock station.  And Today!: Something from 3 Doors down, Trapt or one of those other poser bands.

Why does every damn station in this damn town play music from “The 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and today”?  I am not exaggerating.  There are maybe four rock stations in this town and they all basically play the exact SAME THING! And the morning shows are simply abysmal.  You’d think Atlanta was home to some of the dumbest white honkey hicks and fat lipped negroes in the country! It’s almost as if the phone screeners just look for idiots to put on the phones. I simply can’t tolerate it. We really aren’t that stupid around here… I hope.

So I have turned to gathering my own tunes and talk radio off the net in the form of Podcasts and downloaded MP3s.  So far it’s been awesome. Screw traditional radio, I’ll listen to my shows when I want, pause and resume them at my leisure and skip the commercials in most cases.

Adam Carolla’s show being cancelled is simply another example of what’s wrong with the  music and radio industry. It’s all turned to crap. There are no more niche shows or programming. Now they all take the approach of throwing out a big net and nabbing as many ears as they can. Well, I think you guys have over fished the pond and more and more of us are going away and not coming back to listen. I can’t remember the last time I actually turned my radio on. Screw all of you.  When they shut down 99x here in Atlanta about a year ago, that was the last straw!  To hell with FM radio.

While I wait for Carolla to land on his feet and start up a new show, I’m going to start a podcast feed out of this site featuring classic Loveline from 1999 up until his departure from the show.  I’ve got 40 gigs of this stuff to burn through. I’ll upload more and more as I listen to it. Feel free to subscribe to the feed if you want to add it to your podcast software of choice. I don’t have many readers, so I don’t fear server overload too much. But if it does become an issue, I’ll expect all of you to start hitting up some of those google ads to help me out!

If you’re interested in the torrent, you can grab it here!

UPDATE! Carolla is about to launch his own personal podcast. Check it out here: http://carollaradio.com/.

Because the Loveline collection is so massive, I’m holding off on posting it from my server. Download the torrent if you want the recordings. I’ll be seeding it for months.

Three months ago my wife gave birth to our first child. Since then our world has turned upside down. Suddenly there is an influx of dirty laundry, more cleaning, and because of all the new expenses, a whole lot less money to go around. But despite the changes, I have found being a father to be pretty great. My kid is healthy and happy, about as normal as can be (which is a blessing when having a child) and life is wisping by so quickly that I barely find the time to enjoy it.

It is no secret that being a parent involves making a lot of sacrifices. I am cool with forfeiture of my gadget money, video game time and three hours of sleep every night. This little monster is carrying my gene pool into the next generation after all. In fact, it almost seems like a privileged to give things up for the little squirt. But something else has also been sacrificed, something I never really thought I would have to give up.

Since the birth of the new baby, my sex life has pretty much shriveled up like an old man’s testicles after taking a dip in a cool stream. There are earthworms out there getting more action than I have as of late. My wife has reduced our love making to a single session a week. ONE TIME A WEEK! And when we do “do it”, it’s usually shameful guilt sex. It’s almost like I asked her to fold a basket of laundry or wash a sink full of dishes. Her typical response to my requests is chiseled in my mind now: “Alright, we’ll do it….. GOSH!”

Sadly, since the beginning of my marriage there appears to have been a steady decline in intercourse. Check out this flow chart outlining said decline.

A steady decline, with the exception of a single, explianable outlier.

Not only has the sex been reduced, we now face hurdles when doing it. Usually the baby starts crying midway through. I talked her into screwing around today and she started leaking milk all over my chest. There I am laying on my back when suddenly, drip…. drip… drip… When my wife reached for her nursing bra, I nearly launched her into the air and off the bed with my awesome hip flex. I was suddenly hit with a super human strength inducing shot of adrenalin when faced with the possibility of having sex with the wrinkly, boob misshaping nursing bra in my face! These grotesque contraptions are some sort of evil, anti boner machine! I never thought that there existed such a thing that could turn me off to boobies, but these ugly, granny bras definitely do the trick.

So there we were, my wife making guilt fueled love to me and I had a towel covering my chest and half my face to soak up all the milk dripping all over place. After she got into the groove the sex was fine, but because I only have sex one time a week, my stamina is shot to hell. I feel like a former Olympiad who used to run marathons but now becomes winded while attempting a fifty yard sprint. I suddenly have the longevity of a 13 year old pleasuring himself to a hustler magazine for the first time. Before he can get his little lizard out of his pants, he’s glued the pages of the magazine together!

I tried resorting to porno movies to get me through the week and to help keep my sexual stamina up, but that didn’t go well at all. I downloaded a ton of stuff from various genres, waited until the wife went to bed, got the baby set in her crib then sneaked off into my little corner of shame. To my dismay, all I found were these crack whore, meth head looking bitches with these huge over sized boobs that wouldn’t even jiggle in an earthquake!

I don’t even understand porn these days. I grew up watching classic stuff from the 70’s. Hand picked masterpieces borrowed from one of my buddy’s father’s private collection cleverly hidden under his bed. Those were real women, with organic breasts, a moderate amount of pubic hair and seductive curves. If anyone knows of a classic pornographic bittorrent tracker, leave me a link in the comments.

The women in porn today all look so angry. Then there are the disgusting looking guys with their monstrous erections that the girls basically start screaming at and hitting them. Yes, in most of the films I previewed the whores literally started smacking the crap out of the guys wieners. Then the chick would usually start spitting everywhere. How do these women have spit that is so thick they can string it across the room? And what’s up with all the tattoos? I saw one girl with this gigantic tramp stamp across her back that actually had a word misspelled in it! I hope that was done on purpose.

Needless to say, the porn didn’t work out, though chicas123.com is nice. Top that off with the fact that I was so paranoid of getting caught the entire time, I really couldn’t get my mojo flowing anyway. So much for that.

Sadly enough, every man knows that his mother in law is probably a good indicator of what his wife will some day become, and my mother in law probably hasn’t given up the pootie tang since the late 80’s! I always adhered to the sad delusion that my wife would be different, but now I see the foreshadowing of what will probably be a sad sexual future for myself.

Here’s to hoping some pharmaceutical company develops a clear, odorless, and tasteless female libido enhancing drug soon. If that doesn’t work out, I guess I can always resort to slipping my wife the roofie.

Let's get fit in 2009!

Another year is nearing its end and all around me people are lively and excited with their hopes and aspirations for the New Year to come.  Resolutions are bountiful as usual.  I hear one over weight friend vow to lose weight, another vow to quit smoking and a few fellow coworkers vow to get more exercise.  One fellow down the hall plans to finish his college degree and another in the office next to him even jokingly muses about dumping his hag of a wife.

Everybody seems to be having a great time declaring these exciting, life changing plans for the next year to come. Personally, I think making plans are fun too. It gives you something to live for and aspire to.  It’s healthy to set goals and work towards them in life.  But frankly, all of you and your New Year resolutions make me want to puke.  If you were not motivated enough to work towards any given goal during any other time of the year, why would you suddenly start now?

New Year resolutions are a joke. They are another marketing gimmick used to swindle away a few more of the hopelessly hopeful’s dollars by creating the prospect of easily losing a few extra pounds or sculpting an abdominal muscle out of their chubby mid-section.  They are an excuse for the lethargic glutton to have another helping of fried chicken at the local hog trough (otherwise known as a buffet) while telling those around him that this is the last meal of fried food he’s eating before starting his New Years diet!  And New Year resolutions are the excuses every other underachiever out there uses to put off all the great things they are going to do… UNTIL THE NEW YEAR!

New Year resolutions don’t just annoy me, they intrude on my life.  Already my local fitness club is becoming over crowded in the evenings.  Dozens of new faces suddenly pop up, pumping and sweating away with their dream of looking like a movie star glistening in their eyes.  They’ll all be gone by Valentine’s Day. Infomercials promoting miracle diets, total body transformations and promises to help you instantly quit smoking (or any other bad habit you might have) pollute  some of my favorite deep cable television channel’s time slots and my ears bleed from the endless speech I have to endure day in and out about all these new, wonderful plans. It’s maddening.

Instead of wasting your money on the next miracle diet, gym membership or that next wonderful panacea that promises to make all your problems go away, why don’t you just give your money to me! Empty your wallets jackasses!

And don’t assume I am some holier than thou, super motivated, over achiever who grabs everything I want in life by the horns and forcefully take what’s theirs. I’m not above making resolutions, I’m just not self delusional to actually make them.  I look at myself in the mirror every morning and think two things: #1. Holy crap my eyebrows are bushy and #2:  I’m a loser, a totally awesome loser but a loser none the less.  I’m no better than any of you… well most of you.

This year for fun, every time I hear a coworker, acquaintance or friend announce a new resolution, I offer up one of my own.  These are the resolutions of a real man, a truly awesome beast of a human being! Enjoy.

My resolutions:

1. Eat more pork fried rice.  (Simply because it’s delicious!)
2. Eat tacos for lunch every day in February, covered in cheese dip (Offered to an overweight acquaintance vowing to lose weight while dining on fattening Mexican food).
3. Stop peeing in the sink in men’s restrooms (Announced in a crowded mall restroom, while casually talking on the phone to someone and taking a pee.)
4. Find a more rewarding job (Offered in response to my boss’ announcement that he plans to lose weight next year. It was a joke by the way).
5. Forward more mind numbing, inbox cluttering, SPAM email. (Sent as a reply-to-all in an email listing great ideas for New Year resolutions. Easily four hundred people got that message!)
6. Stop wasting so much of my life on a blog no one reads.  (Because no one really cares what you have to say.)

That’s it! Happy New Year!

Part III

[read part 1] [read part 2 (1st act)] [read part 2 (2nd act)]

A shot of the letter I sent Larry!

Larry never had the chance to call or email me about the letter Mitchell Richards had sent him. Two days later at 5:45 in the morning, his wife began calling me over and over. She called 3 (maybe 4) times in a row. For someone who had no idea that I was behind the letters, I was shocked at her lack of courteousness. My wife was eight months pregnant at the time and we both had full days of work to attend that day.

I never answered the phone that morning and as soon as I arrived at work, my office phone began ringing off the hook. Once I did take a call she threatened to sue me and said she had called the police for giving out Larry’s name and address; she called me a few bad names, said I was guilty of libel and was outrageously rude to the girl answering the phone for our office. It was a fabulous spectacle.

It was now time for me to implement part 3 of the prank.

Originally I had no idea how this prank would end. I almost planned on Larry receiving the letter, calling me in disbelief then we both having a nice “GOTCHA!” laugh. But his wife had elevated it to a new level.

Suddenly thoughts of my last visit to Larry’s home came to mind. I remembered his wife telling me I’d be a worthless parent simply because I couldn’t get her baby to stop crying. I remembered her cussing poor Larry out in the bed room while she left her two young children with me in the adjacent living room. It was no wonder her poor baby screamed in anguish. It was easily one of the most unsettling situations I had ever been in during my lifetime. But if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you have to suck up the wrath of a bitchy wife for your friends. My wife has shown her ass a few times before too. The bro code requires a bro hold no hard feelings against his buddy’s sometimes not so better half.

This time was different. The bro code had been superseded. She had attacked and threatened me personally. This was war; and it was now as much a war I fought for Larry as me. I was going to prank her good.

That night on the eve of Halloween I gathered a few poster boards and some magic markers. I created 5 posters that I’d post up on Larry’s property. The plan was that they’d come home and find them, thinking that the GARP animal activist nuts were mounting an offensive against them for the horrible things Larry had allegedly done to the poor groundhog and deer.

The posters were amazing. I stuck them all along his front door and porch. Hidden below the two on his front door I posted a huge poster of a Jack-o-lantern, reading Trick or Treat, smell my feet! I figured they’d peel them off in disgust, revealing the Halloween poster then suddenly they would realize the whole thing was a big joke.

Larry called me later that afternoon from work. He told me his wife had discovered the posters. She told him that protesters had spilled deer blood on the porch and that the posters were graphic and gory. The prank had finally climaxed.

I revealed to Larry that I was behind it all. There was no deer blood, no vandalism, just funny posters. And I’ll let you judge whether they were gory or not.

Larry sat on the other end of the phone call nearly speechless. I had totally stumped him. Later he revealed that they suspected it may have been me but never actually thought me to be the true culprit because the letters were so well written and free of grammatical errors. I’m not sure whether that was a compliment or insult.

Regardless, it was best prank I have ever seen anywhere. I’ve not failed to amaze anyone who has heard or read the story yet.

In retrospect I’d like to say sorry if I’ve made your life hell, Larry. But admit it, if this had happened to anyone else, you’d be praising me for pulling off one of the best pranks ever. You guys swallowed this story, hook, line and sinker. This practical joke transcended just being funny, it was a masterpiece, a true work of art.

Check out the posters! Click to bring up a larger shot in a lightbox, hover over the right side of the image to move to the next image in the collection:

Part 2 continues…

[read part 1] [read the first half of part 2]

To elevate the situation, I told Larry that I edited the correspondence he sent me above and sent it to Mr. Richards, mocking him.

After the initial emails, I decided to muster up all the patience I could and sit on the prank a while, letting it develop and ferment. Halloween was coming in a few weeks and I wanted for that day to be the day of my grand finale.

In those few weeks before Halloween I drafted up the ultimate letter. I embodied the soul of an animal rights activist freak. As Mitchell Richards, the senior board member for GARP Atlanta I pledged to bring Larry to justice, but also to assist him in finding treatment for his sickness. I even topped the letter with an official looking GARP letter head, included the genuine GARP return address, and then drove 25 miles to the actual postal district that GARP’s address was located in and mailed the letter, ensuring that it would have the correct post mark when Larry received it in the mail!

Read the official GARP letter Mr. Richards mailed to Larry below:

PO Box 2042
Roswell, GA 30077
October 22, 2008

Larry Glavoltz
30 ##### ##
Dallas, GA 30132

Dear Mr. Larry Glavoltz,

There are fewer things more precious and dear to American’s than justice and equality. These two simple yet elegant ideas demand fair treatment for the sake of our right to co-exist. These ideas bind our country together. They are the fabric of the patchwork quilt that blankets this country in warmth and unity. It is what makes the United States great.

Georgia Animal Rights and Protection and PETA feel that the rights extended and crafted from the very heart of justice and equality are unalienable not only to Man, but to all the living creatures of the world. It is my mission as a lifelong member of both of these reputable organizations to uphold these standards to the greatest of my ability.

Recently I was made aware of a website article that outlined the brutal murder of an innocent creature. The website article told the story of a deer that became wedged inside the driver’s side window of a vehicle passing along the animal’s path as it made its way through the woods. Instead of remaining calm and assisting the creature in becoming free, the operator of the vehicle dashed his brains out with a hammer.

I contacted the administrator of this website and received a very distasteful response. This response served as a direct admission of guilt and also made light of another act of blatant animal brutality involving a groundhog. The administrator of the website then named you as the culprit involved in these acts of violence and malevolence.

Further correspondence with this gentleman has only served to tease and undermine the mission of my organization. As a result I have requested the assistance of various animal rights and law enforcement organizations in our communities to resolve this issue. I have also conducted an interview with the foreperson that oversees the development of the construction zone concerned with the new Trump Tower off 14th St. Atlanta, while investigating the story I was told concerning the groundhog. I am sad to report that he recollects seeing more than a few carcasses of dead animals. I can only hope that you are not responsible for all these.

I request that you cooperate fully with the local authorities in their investigation of these acts. Please do not take these allegations lightly. I hope that you will take a serious look at yourself and determine if you have a problem.

In closing I would like to say that I am a firm believer in rehabilitation. If you should discover that you have a problem with animal abuse, I would be more than happy to connect you with a support group. GARP offers group therapy sessions free of charge to those afflicted with personality disorders of this nature. Our animal sensitivity focus groups have an extremely high success rate in rehabilitating those who have a history of animal abuse. As the program teaches the individual how to respect those who are members of the animal kingdom, it enriches the student with a healthier respect for their community, their common man and most importantly, themselves.

I invite you to contact me directly with any questions at 770-###-####.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,
Mitchell Richards
Senior Board Member, Georgia Animal Rights & Protection

Now that you’ve read the letter, prepare yourself for the climax of The Greatest Prank of All Time!
Read Part III!

Part 2

[read part 1 first]

About a year had passed since the introduction of the stories, everyone seemed to still believe them and occasionally I’d be asked to re-tell them when Larry was brought up by anyone at work. They were a huge hit, and no one ever hinted at the fact that Larry or I may just be full of crap, or at least playing a joke on them.

Halloween was coming up and it was time to introduce a new joke. This time Larry would be the victim. I typed up the story of The Deer Killer with all the wonderful and gory details it had grown over the year and let it sit online for a few weeks.

While planning the joke, I knew that if there was one thing Larry despised, it was the ultra liberal, candy ass hippies. At the top of this hippie hate list are the out of touch, environmentalist nut jobs from Greenpeace and the meat hating, vegan freaks from PETA. Obviously, exploiting his dislike of PETA was the golden ticket to a great prank in this case.

In the Atlanta area there appears to be no local chapter of PETA, but there is an organization called GARP. GARP, or Georgia Animal Rights and Protection are a non-profit group who, like PETA, act in the interests of animals. I decided to use GARP as the foundation of my prank. GARP’s website is www.GARPAtlanta.org.

I kicked off the prank by purchasing www.GARP-Atlanta.org and redirecting it to the legitimate, very similar GARP URL. Next I invented an identity, a big shot at GARP who would work to deliver justice for the animals Larry had killed! I changed all the Who-Is registrant info for my fake domain to match the name of this new person I made up. I used the phone number from an old pre-paid cell for the contact phone number and used the same registrant mailing address that existed from the real GARP organization address as my address. Then I created a GARP-Atlanta.org email address for my fake identity.

I wanted to be sure that if this prank were being played on me, even I’d fall for it.

Next I sent myself an email from the fictitious GARP official, Mitchell Richards, stating that PETA had made him aware of the alleged animal abuse taking place in his community. The email proclaimed GARP and PETA’s distaste for my story and demanded I take it down. Read the letter below:

Read the rest of this entry »

Part 1

Roughly a year ago, my good friend Larry was in a car accident. On his way to work he was side swiped by a deer, leaving a huge, gaping dent in his car door. Upon hearing the news I had an ingenious idea for a prank. I quickly fabricated what would become one of the most ridiculous stories of all time. The story of The Deer Killer!

In my wife’s family there exists an inside joke amongst some of us about a certain family member who one time claimed a deer collided with the side of his truck, became lodged in the window and thrashed him, leaving him bruised and black eyed. In reality, this person had simply received a beating from some co-workers for having a big mouth. The story was fabricated to save face.

What person would ever believe such a ridiculous story? Well, turns out a few people in the family did (his wife and maybe one of the daughters). This got me thinking, did they actually believe the ridiculous tale simply because they wanted to, or in their eyes was it a legitimate, believable story.

I took the family member’s fabrication and adapted it to Larry’s story, but instead of Larry being the victim, he would become an epic character, a killer of beasts! I came to work and told the grand, tall tale style story to all of Larry’s former co-workers, creating the details on the fly. I told how the deer thrashed, kicked and gnarled and how Larry, clinging to life and in total desperation, reached for an auto hammer and dashed the creature’s brains out!

I traveled from office to office telling this tale, it became grander each time. Eventually the tale became a legend, an epic like Homer’s Odyssey. Over the course of a month congregations formed to hear the tale. I was asked to re-tell the story easily a dozen times those first few weeks. No one could believe that Larry, someone who appeared so quiet and strait laced, was capable of this. Despite all the ridiculousness, everyone did believe. I was amazed. Larry had become an office hero.

Months went by and eventually Larry told me another animal story about a groundhog he had captured, that was burrowing under the foundation of his home. His story included a little tidbit about his wife complaining at him to catch it. I ran with the new story to build onto the legend.

I still remember the morning I introduced the new tall tale. I burst into the office that day and told the story of an over worked and stressed out Larry, who couldn’t catch a break from his overbearing, nagging wife. Larry was now working 60 hour weeks at the big office down in Mid-town Atlanta and his wife grilled his ass day and night about this pest.

Eventually Larry snapped, he lured the groundhog into a cage, threw it in the back of his car and toted it down to the office with him. That day he parked at the top of the 4 story parking garage, walked to the edge and threw the furry fiend off the side of the building into a neighboring construction site! Larry had gone postal.

The office erupted in laughter and shock. They lapped up the story like a thirsty dog on a hot summer day. It was a huge hit. Now everybody knew one thing was certain, Larry was a certified badass, even more badass than ninjas, lumber jacks or Chuck Norris. They even all started referring to him as Badass-Larry.

In reality, Larry had simply released the burrowing creature down the street from his house.

Continue on to part II of The Greatest Prank of All Time!

Join in on the fun!

Do a Google image search on midgets and you’ll find tons of disturbing, mini, fun sized filth. Click the link and check it out for yourself!

A while back I received a forwarded email about the great bar sport of Midget Tossing. The game captivated me. I found myself wishing I could become a midget for one night (but only one since midgets are scary looking) so I could participate in the event. I wanted to get hammered, drape myself in a Velcro Superman costume and be thrown onto a big, fuzzy wall.

Like every other junk email reading American in the world, I fired up Google and immediately did a search for images of midgets. Turns out that was a badchoice. Immediately tons of midget porn shots popped up in the results. Page after page, I found images of midget women indulging themselves with penises as long and tall as their tiny bodies. A search for dwarf tossing returned one result of a little hot midget chick licking butt hole (get it, tossing as in tossing salad!) As intrigued as I was, I left my viewing to a quick peek show and closed the browser after a few page views. The last thing I needed was to get fired for looking at midget porn at work.

So a few days went by, nothing was said and I figured no one noticed what I had stumbled on to at work. Then Friday afternoon came… my boss buzzed my phone and asked me into his office. I immediately began freaking out inside.

Most people appear to have very one sided relationships with their boss. Anytime mine has ever called me (or anyone I suspect) into his office, it’s not to congratulate me on a job well done or give me a pat on the back, it’s rarely to outline a new project he wants me to work on and seldom is it to discuss a new idea or pass a proposal by me. Every time my boss has ever called me into his office, it was because I was in some kind of trouble. And getting called into his office on a Friday afternoon could only mean one thing, my ass was grass. My goose was cooked. I was being fired.

During my first year in the work force, completely green, inexperienced and literally right out of college, I had to learn a few rookie lessons.  Innocent comments and small jokes made in emails (even emails you didn’t necessarily write) can be damning. Even a personal website like this one can be damning, which is why it’s ever important to never name your work place, or write directly about anyone you work with in a negative light!

I learned quickly as a rookie employee that 1st Amendment rights, comedic satire and baseless accusations take a backseat to an overweight female with low self esteem and too much time on their hands. Baseless accusations still have to be pursued when they arise, which is why if I walked into my bosses office today and said Jimmy down the hall sexually harassed me by the coffee machine, he’d have to reprimand Jimmy. It’s a sad fact of life.

Needless to say, I’ve since decided to wise up and start flying under the radar. I ceased all email correspondence to co-workers that was not business related and limited water cooler talk to a simple hello and goodbye. I am sad to say that I have learned the corporate world can be a cold, humorless place.

Now here I am, Friday afternoon sitting in the chair directly across from my boss. He’s on the phone with someone and I am fidgeting with my wedding ring, anxiously wondering why I’m here. I quickly ran through the various scenarios mentally as I waited to be addressed:

“What could I have done,” I thought, “Did I sexually harass someone? Did I tell another bad joke or send a bad email? Nope, none of that is possible. I’m never late. I’ve made all my deadlines… Oh crap! MIDGET PORN!” I had figured it out. I was getting fired for looking at midget porn.

My boss hung up the phone, “Peavey, I was looking over your performance review and I noticed a few things that needed to be changed a bit. Sign here so I can turn it into HR.” I looked at him almost dumbfounded. “Oh, I’m not in trouble? Alright, where do I sign?”

Whew! Disaster averted. Peavey lives to fly another day.

I must admit though, later that night I did masturbate to some of those midgets. Just kidding, those little Oompa Loopas freak me out.  That one pic I uncovered of the midget tossing salad nearly made me toss my cookies.

The women in my family are at best neurotic. In fact, the entire existence of this web site is a direct product of the incomprehensible amounts of stress and damage afflicted on to me by my mother, sister and indirectly, the other women in my family, as a child. The cuts so deep that in deciding to pair up with my wife, I unknowingly sought out the antithesis of every female in my family.

Recently my sixty something year old grandmother came down for a visit. I decided to be the decent grandson and went to the airport to pick her up. Before even agreeing to the deed I warned my wife that it would be a disaster.

“Why is it going to be a disaster? All you have to do is go pick up your grandmother from the airport.” My wife asked, smirking and amused by my typical exaggerated emotional outpouring. I reassured her, pacing around the living room, arms waving up and down, my tone heightened and excited “Nothing is easy with these people, something will go wrong, someone will freak out about it and I’m going to get pissed. You don’t want to go with me. Just let me do this alone.” At the time she laughed at my sincerity, assuming I was making something out of nothing and insisted she ride along.

Shortly after the conversation outlining how this entire ordeal would turn into a disaster I called my mom to tell her I’d go pick up the old lady for her. Immediately the barrage started. “Now Peavey, you know she can’t walk well and you’re going to have to carry her bags for her,” also adding, “and Peavey, please don’t say anything stupid to her, you know she believes everything you say about anything.”

Immediately the sarcastic eye rolls began. A mere minute later my aunt called, word travels fast in our family. “Peavey, listen to me. I need a huge favor from you. Can you do me a favor?” “Yeah, sure.” I replied flatly. “Now listen Peavey, this is serious. You’re grandmother is in very bad condition. She can’t walk. I need a favor from you; can you do me a favor?”

Read the rest of this entry »

Every little girl dreams of working at The Varsity!

Today is Halloween. Kids are dressed up everywhere, a feeling of mischievousness is in the air and candy is abundant. My little cousins, nieces and nephews are dressed up like princesses and ghouls, and a few are even Varsity workers! Others have their faces painted or are wearing funny wigs and masks, and at this moment in life everything seems great… except for one thing.

I look down into one of my little cousin’s Trick-or-treat bag and find nothing but cheap-o Dollar Tree candy hell. I see an assortment of hard candy, pixie sticks, sweet tarts and crummy sub-fun sized candy bars. Masses of assorted candies bought for 99 cent a bag at the local dollar store. Having not gone Trick-or-treating for over a decade now, I had forgotten how bad the innocent Trick-or-treater can really get burned on Halloween. In working for a better tomorrow for the children, I propose we reform the Halloween season.

To begin with, I declare that there should be a new unspoken rule for all those deciding to hand out candy in observance of this grand tradition. If you can get a certain type of candy free somewhere else on any of the other three hundred and sixty four days of the year, don’t hand it out on Halloween. Every time a child visits the bank, they’re given Dum-Dums. Every time the kids visit their old great uncle, aunt or grand parent at the nursery home, they’re given crusty, decade old, hard candy. Go to a receptionist’s desk, there will be assorted mints or life savers available. Therefore, all these types of candy are off limits Halloween night.

Secondly, don’t be one of those people who give out tooth brushes, floss or fruit as treats. If you do so, you wholly deserve a trick in return! What kind of a monster promotes healthy dental hygiene and eating habits on Halloween? The fight against tooth decay and childhood obesity can wait for Easter. But for God’s sake, today is holy. Today is a day of gluttony, mischief, tomfoolery and naughtiness.

I also beg of all you cheap asses to stop handing out the Pixie Stix. Let’s agree to retire this horrible treat, if you can even call it a treat. Does Pixie Stix even qualify as candy? It is sugar packaged up in a paper tube. It’s like a redneck junkie’s equivalent of methamphetamine. You don’t even have to buy Pixie Stix; you could grab a bag of sugar out of the pantry, mix it with Kool-aid and start bagging up your own little hits of the sweet stuff. Last Halloween I saw some diabetic kid trying to free base a Pixie Stick out of a Pez Dispenser. Holy Shit kid, get a hold of yourself! He had already busted up and snorted all his Pez, and for some odd reason opted to try and smoke the Pixie Stix. See, that’s what this poison does to our youth. They don’t even know how to property ingest their drug… err, I mean candy. RETIRE THE PIXIE STIX!

Next, we have to ban overly sticky, infinitely chewy candy. This mainly refers to all the off branded, unfamiliar caramel type candies that generally only show up around Halloween, but could also include Milk Duds and Laffy Taffy. Personally, I enjoy eating these types of candy, but they are too much trouble. Normally I’d be all for something that glues a kids mouth shut, but at the same time these candies are so sticky they’re ripping out fillings or even teeth, and there is always that fat kid who stuffs five too many pieces in his mouth then grows tired of chewing and tries to swallow the entire softball sized wad of goo. Last year we had a little chunker pull a stunt like that and I decided to let him choke to death. Just kidding, I Heimlicked that little gordito so hard his genitals receded up into his body. He now has a vagina and we changed his name from Michael to Michelle.

Lastly, lay off the ultra fun sized candy bars. The cheap-o people out there love these things. It’s a nice cop-out used to appear to be giving away the good candy when really, you are giving so little of it away at once that a single bag stretches across a hundred little costumed bastards. These minis are generally the delicious, chocolate candy we all know, love and crave so much on this wonderful night, only they’re extra fun sized (a euphemism for extra tiny)! I think they are best described as a fun sized candy bar sliced into quarters.

If you decide to give out candy, do it the right way. Either go for gold, handing out full sized candy bars (and ensuring your house not only avoids being rolled and egged, but also protected) or give out two or three of the fun sized chocolate bars. Other wise, turn off your porch light and do not bother insulting us with your sub par, Dollar Tree selection of goodies.

Thank you and I hope you all will assist me in making Halloween great for many more generations to come.