Friday, August 5, 2011

Passport Problems

This just in: The Philadelphia Eagles have signed the 44th President of the United States of America, Barack Obama.

Why not? They've got everybody else. Realistically, it would probably have the same results as the Denver Broncos drafting Tim Tebow. Yeah, he'll sell a lot of jerseys and be really popular, but if you put him in a close game, he'll buckle under the pressure, hand the ball off to the other team, personally deliver a signed copy of your playbook to the opposing coaches after he gets back to the bench and then he'll sign a deal that guarantees his team will lose.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Netflix Hate, Google+ Love

Instead of Netflix's trademark red envelopes, customers of the company received a big red middle finger via e-mail this week.

My wife and I currently have the plan where we get two DVDs at any time and access to Watch Instantly content, which is essentially the worst B movies from the last 30 years. There are at least 30 movies like Timecop, Under Siege 2 and The Toxic Avenger for every one Pulp Fiction, and after you get past the handful of quality films, it's like an all-you-can-watch Pauly Shore and Steven Seagal movie buffet, which sounds like something you torture people with rather than ask them to pay for. I can already hear customer customer service reps saying, "Oh, you didn't pay this month. Well, all you can watch is Steven Seagal: Lawman and Bio-Dome until you do. Thanks!"

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Epic Twitter Fail

To revise a line from the wise and sage-like Hunter S. Thompson, I feel the same way about Twitter as I do about herpes.

Last week I finally caved in and signed up for a Twitter account. Ever since then I've been glued to my computer monitor, refreshing the screen and waiting for either a gateway to the magical Kingdom of Narnia to open up or message to pop up asking me to resign. I would also like to clear the air right now about my willing/unwilling participation in a real/fake sex scandal that did/sadly didn't happen. Don't cry for former Representative Anthony Weiner; he brought that on himself. The only way it could have been more obvious where that picture was going to go is if the button he clicked to post it said, "Click here to show your d**k to the world." Moron.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Dr Simple Man or: How I Learned to Start Worrying and Hate the Debt Bomb

If the government insists on dragging out cracking the debt conundrum, we're gonna need to expedite the legalization of pot, because that's the only way I'm gonna be able to focus long enough to learn one of the 14 Chinese languages.

Whenever all of the news about this impending debt bomb that we're on the brink of becomes too much for me, I go to a place in my mind where there's a monkey humping a coconut for a few minutes to clear my thoughts, and then I smile and go on to read about a different subject -- like the mating turtles who shut down the runway at JFK airport.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Warrior Dash, Tough Mudder and Why I May Not Live Through the Year

My wife, myself and some of our friends ran the Warrior Dash this past Saturday, and Wednesday was the first day I didn’t limp up the stairwell at work while fighting back tears. I spent the first half of this week walking in such an awkward manner that I was waiting for someone in my department to throw a frozen bag of peas on my desk and ask how my vasectomy went.

If you don't know what Warrior Dash is, good for you. Stop reading this blog post now and send me an e-mail thanking me for saving you about $200, your pride and full use of your legs for one additional week this year. For those of you with a mild disregard for your life, Warrior Dash is a 3.4 mile run through a hilly, muddy cow pasture littered with about 12 obstacles: climbing walls, cargo nets, guys wearing Speedo shorts two sizes too small, fire pits, mud pits and Marky Mark lookalikes walking the course because they forgot that getting oxygen to all those muscles is an obstacle in and of itself. When we finished, we limped over to the beer tent and then went down to watch everyone else who wished they were dead wade through the mud pit and cross the finish line, including a guy dressed like the Dirt Cheap Chicken. In spite of the pain, it was a pretty fun weekend. But being manly men, we have to keep going one step further until we’re up to our eyeballs in quicksand before we think about tapping the brakes.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Baby Safety Weekend

Last weekend we babyproofed our house, and now I feel like I have to crack the DaVinci Code just to use my toilet.

About one month after our daughter was born, my wife started banging the babyproofing drum, acting like our daughter, whose resume highlights at the time included filling diapers, keeping us awake all night and refusing to eat, was going to wake up one morning and say, "Man, I can't wait to drink out of the toilet, run up and down the stairs and throw a cat in the dryer today." Eventually my wife realized that Tootie wasn't going to wake up one morning and suddenly start acting like me, and that we didn't need to babyproof right away. (I've been told by my mother that at a young age I put our family cat in the freezer because the cat "looked hot." Yes, by the grace of God, the cat survived.)