don of all trades

Minor ranting on welfare and a goofy alderman.

Posted on June 7, 2013 by donofalltrades

I’m unmotivated to be funny today, sorry.

One of my very first, and yet still current followers, Cookie the Canadian lady who has the same gestational period as an elephant, does a rant every Friday about something that makes her titties hot or something like that.

I like to rant as well, so that’s what I’m going to do now.

My star studded Tuesday night with the first of the month crowd has put welfare on the forefront of my brain. It’s no secret that the welfare system in the United States is fucked up beyond belief for sure. Does any other country have so many overweight poor people?

What started out as a nice idea to get people through difficult times during the Great Depression has turned into a way of life for way too many Americans. There is a sense of entitlement to benefits that haven’t been earned and it’s maddening to me. Many of the people receiving benefits are perfectly capable of working, but refuse to do so because, quite frankly, they don’t have to.

I can’t say that I blame them though, as work is a real drain on a person’s social life.

While I’m all for welfare where it’s truly needed, more needs to be done to make sure those who can do for themselves are at least trying.

Hmmmm. Ok, I’m going to cut myself off from this topic now because what I had written here was entirely too truthful and fact laden and nobody likes it when facts get in the way of an otherwise solid argument. The truth about something always stings some people and what I had written would have sent some of you into a tizzy, I’m sure. Look at me using a filter for once! In other words, because I don’t feel like getting into an online pissing match with welfare enthusiasts, I’m changing gears.

So this happened this week.

I’ve mentioned more than once that I’m from St. Louis, MO. It’s a fine city for sure. Even though he doesn’t know it yet, Msr. Le Clown is going to visit St. Louis very soon.

Speaking of St. Louis and clowns, the city is run by a gaggle of them.

On a good day, St. Louis has about 300,000 residents. That’s the population within the city limits, so I’m not referring to the suburbs or the entire Metro East region, of course. There are 28 aldermen running the city, along with the mayor. If my math is correct, that’s about 10 or 11 thousand folks per alderman. By comparison, Chicago has 50 wards with 50 aldermen to assist their nearly three millions residents. They serve about 54,000 residents per alderman.

The position of alderman in St. Louis is a part time job, though I’m sure they’d argue it comes with full time responsibilities. Aldermen here are paid just under $38,000 annually, so it’s not like they’re martyrs for sure. That’s a decent full time salary for many people.

Here’s one of my favorite aldermen defending his fairly recent (a few years ago) pay raise to our local Fox News investigative reporter.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BT7jDrLWrvo]

Freeman Bosley, Sr. is ALWAYS an entertaining interview to watch, just Google his name and watch some video, if you have time to kill and need a laugh.

Anyway, his latest shenanigans had me in stitches. I wasn’t sure whether to be really pissed off, amused, dumbfounded or just plain awed by his audacity.

Mr. Bosley has several children, one of whom goes to a local private high school (what does that tell you about the state of the city’s public school system?). She is, by all accounts, a good student and a bright young lady. She is all set to go to college in the fall. She’ll be attending St. Xavier University in Chicago, Il. St. Xavier is a Catholic university and it’s certainly not cheap!

While some scholarships and grants have apparently helped to cover around $25,000 of the cost of her schooling, there is still about $14,000 that remains to be paid.

What would any normal human being faced with such a hefty school bill for their child do?

This, of course!

Send me money, please!

Yes, you did read that correctly!

Mr. Bosley sent this letter to his “friends” and “supporters” asking for them to send him money to help pay for his daughter’s education.

Who the fuck does that?

I like to think I have some big balls, but it’d never have crossed my mind to ask my friends to send me money to help pay for something my kids wanted or needed, especially if my kid was a young adult.

Here is the article in the local paper. Don’t forget to read the comments, of course, they’re always enlightening. Apparently, Mr. Bosley did change his mind after everyone made such a fuss about this non-issue to him.

While he claims to not have used any city resources, which may be true, his letter to friends is addressed from Alderman Freeman Bosley, Sr., not from Your pal Freeman Bosley, Sr.

Am I wrong to think this is ridiculous? Is this something that others would do and shame on me for not thinking of it first?

I’m curious to hear from my non St. Louis and out of country peeps on this one.

Have a great weekend.

Posted in The not meant to be funny stuff, Uncategorized | Tagged aldermen, politics, rants, st. louis, welfare | 37 Comments

Just a tuesday night is all…

Posted on June 4, 2013 by donofalltrades

Ace had a softball game last night, but I had both of the little guys while momma was off running errands to get Ace ready for her first ever summer camp adventure. Yes, the thought of her away at camp for the next three nights makes my heart palpitate a little more wildly than normal, but more on that in a second.

Having the boys at the softball game without another adult means that little softball was watched. After blowing $13 and considering hanging myself from a goal post on the adjacent soccer field after the arduous task of sampling each member of the protein family the concession stand had to offer before they’d eat something, it was off to the play area to burn those calories.

This particular play area is nothing more than a plot of grass with a bunch of Little Tyke houses and vehicles strewn about haphazardly, it’s fine for kids my boys’ ages. Of course, since it’s the only play area around, kids of all ages insist on playing there, in spite of the fact that they are clearly too old to be doing so.

I don’t know where they come from, but every playground I’ve ever taken my kids to has that white trash kid who’s always just a little bit too rambunctious and overly aggressive to be playing with kids much smaller than he is. Sometimes he’s a pudgy little fella, but he’s always there and you know the kid I’m talking about. Oh look, there’s his mom, over there smoking a Marlboro Red while poking away on her smart phone. Her indifference is astonishing and she won’t budge an inch to correct his behavior without provocation, but the second you scold little Johnny Futurefelon for purposely pushing your two year old from a four foot slide, then her senses sharpen and she misses nothing.

“Hey Jawnie, eez dat man tawkinayew!?”

“He yelt at mee mawmaw!”

“Don’t yew talk to ma sun like dat! Yew gots a problim, you cum tell me!”

Sorry ma’am. The way you had your brow scrunched while staring at your phone led me to believe that you were having trouble forming words from all the random letters on your keypad. I didn’t want to interrupt, in case you were Googling “How not to raise a kid who’s a complete asshole like his old man who left me for a fat bitch but then beat her up and is in prison now so haw haw.”

Huh?

Exactly ma’am.

So anyway, Floozy Fucksthetrailerparkmen leaves and the boys carry on with their playtime. I doubt they even missed a second of it, actually. I’m standing where I can watch part of the game and still half-assed (nobody does half-assed better than me) watch the boys so they don’t run off into traffic when I hear a loud crash and feel a breeze at the back of my legs followed by immediate crying.

A little girl has just totally eaten it on a Razor scooter thing and landed face first in the concrete right behind me. She is maybe 6 or 7 and I so want to laugh out loud because I find people falling down to be hilARious for some reason even though I’m a 40 year old man, but she’s really wailing and might be hurt. Every human being within a 100 yard radius is staring at us, but apparently her parents must have been 101 yards away because nobody was running to her. She stands up with eyes watering and palms bloody and reaches for me like she wants me to pick her up!

Because it’s 2013 and our society is so fucked up, I became scared and began yelling “Help, Help, You’re not my daughter! You’re not my daughter!! Fire! Fire!! RAPE!! FUCK!!!!”

Also because we’re a fucked up society, nobody came to help me.

I put my hand on her forehead to keep her at bay while she wailed and I waited a good minute for a parent, guardian, the state? Nobody? Fuck!

So I checked little missy for signs of broken bones and teeth, but they were all seemingly in place. Just a scratch as the black knight might say. In typical female fashion, she made more of a scene than necessary, but we got her cleaned up and I even gave her a dollar for some ice cream. I told her if her parents get mad that some strange man bought her ice cream, tell them this exactly, “where the fuck were you while I was crying at the top of my lungs and every other person at this facility but you heard me you deadbeat fucks?”

The game finished and I collected my children and went to get them some gas station dinner at QT because we had to get Ace to her friends so they could leave early for camp. She was so excited. I love when kids are excited about things!

We went to the normally delightful Quicktrip (QT) for some drinks, gas and grub. Ace grabbed her taquito and Cool and G$ got their corn dog contraptions when suddenly a little fat hoosier boy goes into a sneezing fit on the other side of the warming device where all the food is being “cooked.” He is literally sneezing the fuck all over the food because he’s not tall enough for the sneeze guard to be of any use. Even his neck tattooed, flat billed hat wearin’ old man finally says “Hay, Arsehole, Ima eat one of dem and you jus sneezed all overem!” Then he whacks the kid in the back of his head for good measure.

Thanks, dick!

I scurry to checkout before I get the urge to dive across the warmer at the two of them and do them bodily harm when another white trash woman sneaks up to the right of me on the other side of the register. The cashier asks “Who’s next” even though it’s not even debatable. I was next.

“I is next!” scowls Wanda Whitetrashprincess. Wow, she was really surly about it!

I looked at Ace and said “I guess that bitch is next, right?” I sort of suck at parenting, I know, but Ace is pretty mature for 9.

Ace smiles and giggles because shes’ so giddy about camp she could give two shits about anything else in the world at this point.

As I knew would be the case, Wanda sends the cashier on a wild goose chase for all different sorts of cigarette brands and lottery tickets. It was taking FOREVER and I was starting to seethe at this ignert bitch.

I looked around the QT and it was a strange crowd. It looked like a trailer park had vomited a group of people up right into this very location. What the fuck?

Then I caught a glimpse of my watch and it hit me what was going on!

Yay welfare!

It was the 3rd of June! The third day of a month means that the local welfare receiving contingency hasn’t exhausted their monthly supply of money yet! Any person who’s worked in a service industry can vouch for the crowds during the first week of any month being much more “lively” than the rest of the month. Same with law enforcement. When there’s still money for liquor, the shenanigans will roll on!! That time is mostly during the first week of each month. It’s just a given.

I muttered to myself loud enough for Ace to hear, “Ah, it’s the first of the month!” Ace looked puzzled, but I saw the cashier give me a wry grin and nod. She gets it.

I had to explain the phenomenon to Ace as we walked to the car, but I’m pretty sure she was only half interested. She had thoughts of swimming and sleeping on the top bunk on her mind.

She made it to camp this morning and daddy misses her already. I know she’ll have fun, but I’m not used to not having her in the house for such a long period of time.

I hope she enjoys roughing it in her air conditioned painted cabins with her little friend Tootsie there.

Between the crazies with their gubment money and Ace being away, it’s gonna be a long week for Mr. Don.

Air conditioner? WTF?

Posted in Parenting, Uncategorized | Tagged dads, fun, humor, kids, Parenting, stranger danger, summer, summer camp, welfare | 61 Comments

Dear daddy…

Posted on June 3, 2013 by donofalltrades

Hey dad, it’s Ace here. The boys and I are typing you a letter! Thanks for leaving this WordPress open, mom says it’s the best way to get a hold of you since you always have your fat ass in front of the computer these days. Sorry, fat ass were mommy’s words.

We just wanted to tell you we’re excited about making sure you have a Happy Father’s Day and see what you wanted! Do you want us to leave you alone so you can sit in your underwear on the couch all day drinking beer and crying again? That beer must be some really good stuff! Hold on, G$ want’s to type.

Douche douche douche douche douche…

G$! Sorry daddy, here, I’ll let him try again.

Dick dick dick dick dick…

No G$! Sorry, daddy, but I guess you do call him names quite a bit. You know he hears you and he’s pretty smart, right? He doesn’t mean to be an asshole…oh, sorry, I forgot this isn’t the playground. Wait, can I say that? I’m almost 10 you know? He’s a good boy, daddy, you just have to be patient with him.

Hold on, now Cool wants to talk.

Hi daddy. Um, can I. Um, can I play with your iPad when you get home?

No, Cool, say something nice to daddy!

Um, sorry I asked why you were fat the other day. Ace says that wasn’t nice, but I just say what’s on my mind because I’m four. Thank you for not choking me, Ace read that to me. You know I can dial 911 now, right?

Thank you for coaching my tball too, it’s fun as fuck as you like to say. I love rolling around in the dirt with all my teammates while you mumble whatever it is you mumble while we don’t listen to you. Coaching tball is sort of like herding feral cats with only a #2 pencil and your wits, isn’t it? You must love me to do it!

Hey, what does fuck mean anyway? You say it a lot. Oh and hey, I dropped one of your beers in the garage and it shattered all over the place. Sorry daddy. You seem to enjoy them so much that G$ and I wanted to taste one, but we couldn’t get the green lid off so I dropped it.

Hold on, G$ is back.

He didn’t drop it you fat fuck; I smashed it! Bwahahahahahaha!

G$!!! Sorry daddy. That boy is feisty!

Anyway, daddy, thanks for not taking me to the park to practice softball even once since the season has started. You do talk about doing it a lot, so that’s something. I mean we played catch that one time which was cool, but any extra work on hitting or fielding would have probably just made us both hot and tired, right?

I mean, if you asked, I’d probably like to do it, but I know we’re both pretty busy eating Doritos and powdered donuts and drinking beer. Well, I’m not the one drinking beer, lol! Do you know what lol means, daddy? I forget that you’re almost 100 years old and that some of these newer, electronic related terms are beyond your grasp.

I’m almost 10 you know. You should know, I just said it a few paragraphs ago. You should be taking me to Six Flags and playing catch with me and all those things because pretty soon I’m going to not want to do those things, at least not with you anymore. I’ll have friends to do them with and you’ll be an afterthought until I’m a young adult and need you again. Don’t you read other people’s blogs? You should know this stuff!

Well, we do want to make sure that you have a nice and happy father’s day, so let us know what you want! I made $10 cat sitting the other day. How great is that? I go into the house and just make sure the cats are still alive and throw them some food and then I leave and I get $10! Those neighbors are awesome, aren’t they?

Ok, well mom says that you’re working a double shift again today, so we’re going to get ready for our “yay daddy has to work so we’re going to have a fun while he’s gone Friday night party.”

Talk to you soon!

We love you!

A, C and G!

Posted in Family, Humor, Parenting, Uncategorized | Tagged dads, humor, kids, Parenting, parents | 43 Comments

A coupla random thangs…

Posted on May 31, 2013 by donofalltrades

Memorial Day:

So Memorial Day came and went and I didn’t blog about it which means I suck. When I think of Memorial Day, I think about the greatest generation and those who fought in WWII. No offense to our current soldiers because I love ’em as well, but many of those in the aforementioned generation of men didn’t choose to fight in a war. They were drafted and didn’t complain about having to do so either.

My grandpa was one of those men, along with his brothers. My great Uncle Art used to jump out of planes as a parachutist, but you could never get him to talk about it. It was an off limits topic of conversation. Boo to that, but you had to respect it.

Here’s a couple of my favorite pics of the kids visiting my grandpa’s grave. Ace was cleaning the headstone on her own without any prompting and who knows what Cool was doing.

Visiting great gpa

Visiting great gpa

My grandpa died in his mid 50s when I was in the fourth grade. He deserves his own post instead of a mention in this random topic post, so I’m going to stop right here with him. Suffice to say that he ruled and I loved him dearly.

My last post:

My most recent post involved me lamenting the fact that my 4 year old recognizes that I’m a fat ass and promising myself that I was going to go ahead and do something about it. While I sort of meant to out myself on this blog so that I could maybe be held accountable, what I didn’t realize was how amazing so many of my followers and even some new WP readers are as human beings.

I invited followers to go ahead and chastise me for slipping up and being fat, but what I got instead was a bunch of great advice and encouragement from a bunch of people I only know from this blog. Some people I’d never even heard from before.

In appreciation, let me update you on my progress during the past 30 or so hours. I actually ate a banana for breakfast this morning because many of you said not to skip meals. Then I had beets, green beans and cottage cheese instead of double french fries and dumplings for my side dishes at lunch today! Sadly, softball was cancelled, but I have managed to drink about 1o beers as promised and make $100 by selling two baby cribs to some woman I thought might stab and rob me in the park and ride lot.

That makes me sad to know that I’ll never have another crib sleeper in my house…

Hey neighbors AC or GB, do you read my blog? I only ask because, even though it’s 11pm, I almost ran to your homes to come ask you if I could rock your babies while they slept for a little bit! Lol, creepy??

Anyway, I did not run yesterday or today and I suck for that too, but I will, I promise!

Grant’s Farm:

A friend of mine went to Grant’s Farm earlier this week and it made me smile. I used to work there during my college years and I fucking LOVED it. Loved it! It’s still free to get in for God’s sake!

Anyway, this is one of my favorite Grant’s Farm memories.

We here in St. Louis, well, real St. Louisans, enjoy our beer. We loved our Anheuser-Busch products a lot before the Brazilians bought the brewery a few years ago.

Grant’s Farm used to give out free samples of beer. When I was a kid it was basically an open bar all day long. I remember my parents and their friends all stacking their cups on the table three feet tall and there’d be several of these stacks. Then they’d drive us piss drunk to Ted Drewes for frozen custard and we’d all have a swell time. That was when cars were made of steel instead of styrofoam and plastic and people weren’t such vaginas about drinking and driving.

By the time I was working at Grant’s farm, the limit was 2 10 ounce cups of beer and then you were cut off. There were two bartenders working most of the time and folks would respect the two beer limit for the most part. Sometimes folks would come in for a third and that was fine, but when it got to be the fourth or fifth, then we had to tell them to scram. Of course folks would send spouses and friends in to get them beers that they weren’t going to drink, and that was fine with us as well.

Sundays at Grant’s Farm are what we liked to call Jefferson County Day. For those of you not in Missouri, Jefferson County at that time had a reputation as a redneck or hillbilly county.

Grant’s Farm had 12 different free beers on tap to be sampled. On Sundays, the Jefferson County crowd would come in and examine the taps like they’ve never seen them before and almost all of them would choose to drink…wait for it! Wouldn’t you drink something different when it was free? Anyway, most of them would choose Busch Beer!

They’d eyeball all of the tap handles like they’ve never seen anything like them before and then ask as though it was the first time, “Can I try one of them thar…what’s that say, Busch Beers?”

Whatever Jim Bob.

Busch Beer is what those fucks drank all.the.damn.time. God forbid they try a Michelob Golden Draft or Amber Bock or whatever while it’s free, no no! Busch Beer is in their blood.

Anyway, one particularly hefty gentleman one Sunday managed to get five samples before I could tell him that we couldn’t serve him another. In fact, I gave him a sixth because he was a big boy who looked like he could handle it and I didn’t feel like arguing with him.

I gave him his sixth beer and said:

“Sir, this is at least your sixth beer so I can’t give you anymore, I’m sorry.”

He leaves but comes back in the other line next to mine. It’s 7 feet away from me and this man is like 6’6″ tall.

“Sir”, I say, “take that last beer, but you’re done!” That’s 7 that I know of for him that day.

He comes back in the old man’s line. Hold on, this is the old man, Dick Weber.

Dick Weber and me!

Anyway, I tell Jeff County that he’s done and that he’ll have to leave. He storms off and I can see him commiserating at his table in an area right in my line of sight.

His wife comes in.

She’s had four samples herself already and is sent on her way empty handed.

I see them all huddling again and suddenly here comes Junior into the bar. Junior is, no shit now, 7 or 8 years old. He’s big and fat like his dad, but still.

Junior orders a Brush.

What I ask him?

“Can I get a Brush? ” he asks again.

“What the fuck is a Brush!?” I ask.

“Beer? Brush Beer?” he says.

Uh, I don’t know what you’re saying, please point at the tap you want I tell him. He looks perplexed, leaves and goes to talk to his fat fuck dad right in front of me again. They both come in together and Junior asks for another “Brush Beer”.

“Busch,” says dad. “He means Busch.”

Holy hell, I’m thinking, is this guy serious?

I ask Junior for an ID and he starts crying. Uh, he’s fucking 8 years old! They return to their table.

Again, right in my line of sight, I watch Jeff County talking to another son, this one is at least older than 8. He may have been 12.

He comes in and very confidently asks for a sample of Busch Beer.

“I need to see an ID sir,” I say to the 12 year old.

“Oh,” he says. “Hold on.” He leaves and I watch as him and dad discuss strategy again.

I watch as dad hands 12 year old something from his wallet. It’s his id. Sigh…

Jr. comes back in with dad’s id and is sent away for obvious reasons.

Dad and he are talking, no shit now, right the fuck in front of my face, when I see them exchange shirts. Yup, they took off their shirts and switched with each other.

Dad comes in wearing a shirt 4 sizes too small and orders another beer!

“Really sir?”

“Wha?”

It’s not even worth the argument. I give him another beer, at least his 8th free 10 ounce sample of Busch now, and beg him to leave. He looks smug, as though he’s won some battle of the wits or something and finally leaves.

Jefferson County Day at the Grant’s Farm. Every Sunday.

Posted in Humor, Stories, Uncategorized | Tagged dads, drinking, fitness, fun, grant's farm, health, humor, memorial day, st. louis, veterans | 41 Comments

Fatty gonna lose some weight…

Posted on May 29, 2013 by donofalltrades

My 4 year old son recently called me fat.

With absolutely zero malice intended, he simply asked me in the middle of casual conversation why I was so fat.

My initial reaction was to put down either the cake in my one hand or the beer in the other and slap the shit out of him. I even considered putting both items down so I could choke him Homer Simpson style, but fortunately, my rage quickly subsided and I was left feeling numb.

I was numb because he was right and I had no response. I couldn’t tell him that he’s fat or stupid or ugly, because he’s none of those things. The boy hasn’t even got a set of hips to hold a pair of pants up. He was just calling a spade a spade so to speak. Ah, out of the mouths of babes, right? The little fuckers…

In my mind, I’ve known I’ve been getting fat for the better part of 15 years. A few pounds here, a few there, it adds up.

Sitting on one’s ass eating salted or sweet snacks and sucking down 12 packs of beer will do that to even the best of us formerly thin people.

I thought I could hide it pretty well by simply buying larger clothes, and I could for quite a few years, but it’s gotten beyond that now. It’s no longer hideable. Is hideable a word? I don’t even know that for sure because of all the fat on my brain.

I know it’s bad because I’ve become one of those people who can’t stand the sight of myself in a photograph anymore. I used to be a narcissist when it came to pictures I was in, but now I cringe when I see myself in a photograph.

It ain’t pretty folks. I mean I know a camera adds 10 pounds (it does, right??) but this is ridiculous!

Yay, exercise is fun!

I wasn’t out exercising on purpose here. A neighbor girl left her bike in our garage and I was returning it because it was taking up space where cases of beer could be stored.

I guess I’m lucky that I actually have a pretty good metabolism for a fat guy. I’m also lucky in that I’m not built to be fat. I was built to be medium sized, whatever that means.

I’ve not exercised much in the past 10 years. Add that to the amount of beer and junk food I’ve consumed during the past decade, and I should be somewhere near 300 pounds!

But, if I laced up my running shoes tomorrow, I’d be able to jog 5 miles with little trouble. It wouldn’t be a world record pace, sure, but it still counts. I started running when I was 7. I ran with my parents; they were both joggers. I think all those years running have helped me to just be a fatass today instead of a super fatass.

Now that I’ve outed myself yet again as being a fatty, I feel as though I must do something about it. The wife and I keep talking about getting into better shape, but apparently, talking about getting into shape over a plate of pancakes or pizza isn’t the same as actually doing something about it.

Sometimes we just need a little push to get us moving towards doing something that we know we should be doing already. My boy recognizing that I’m fat along with a new development at work have me motivated to start dropping some pounds.

I’m going to try a realistic plan to lose some weight. My goal is to drop 50 pounds. That’s a shit ton of weight, but I think that’s what I need to do. Sadly, that still leaves me heavier than when I was in the police academy 15 years ago.

What does that mean to you, fair reader? Probably nothing, but I may post about my weekly exercise accomplishments or failures so that you can tell me to quit being a lazy fuck and go run or lift weights or whatever. I’d call you fat and lazy and stupid to help you lose weight, so I hope you’ll all do the same for me.

I’m going to be realistic in my approach, and that starts with this: I’M NOT GIVING UP MY BEER! That’s non negotiable, sorry waistline. I may cut back to 9 per serving instead of 15, but that’s really dependent on the day. Some days just require 15 beers.

I’m also not one of those people who’s going to punish himself by not eating whatever it is I want to eat. Same as with the beer, I’ll try some much better portion control before I give anything up completely. I can survive on 6 tacos instead of 10, right?

So far this is going great!

I plan to jog 4 times a week, just like I did during the miracle of 2011. I ain’t jogging no 6 miles anymore, but I think 12-15 miles a week is doable! Add in a little bit of weight lifting in the basement, and I’m confident that I can lose a few pounds in no time!

So that’s what I’m up to friends.

Please feel free to mock me or encourage me or whatever during my weight loss journey. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll post some more pictures of myself. If you’re unlucky, they may be shirtless pictures!!

I’ve not had any breakfast this morning and I’m using Splenda instead of sugar in my coffee. I can feel the burn already!

Thank you for your support!

Posted in Humor, Uncategorized | Tagged dads, diet, exercise, fat, health, humor, kids, lifestyle, weight loss | 145 Comments

That time i was freshly pressed and a prize i won…

Posted on May 27, 2013 by donofalltrades

Remember the time that my one post was Freshly Pressed? OMG!!

I’m playing cricket noises, duh!

Yeah, me neither….

Several of my favorite bloggers have recently been though, so I feel like a success by association.

Congrats to all of you!! I like to believe my witty and off-putting comments on all of your posts are part of the reason your posts were selected.

I’m so proud and happy for each of you and I don’t think any of you are total dicks.

On to me though.

I won something!

It’s not the $600 plus million dollar lottery that I was hoping to win, no. God hasn’t found me fit to win a big cash prize yet, but I’m working on it. Last week I didn’t purposely veer my car towards any squirrels or pigeons on the road and even decelerated a little bit when a ghettofabulous jackoff was meandering diagonally across the street taking his sweet time holding up traffic.

I won a book!

The lovely and talented Renee Something or other with an a and then a name and a hyphen and another nam e too had a contest seeking comments about naughty childhood deeds. You should go read some of them, they’re funny. Here’s mine. I picked a clean one even!

Thanks Larry and Eva!

It wasn’t the funniest comment, but there’s some Random Number Generator thing that Renee used and it chose me because I’m pretty special. It’s nice to be noticed every now and then.

About my prize, the book.

It’s a book written by a Canadian woman who’s been to China I think. She has twins which I always think is hilarious. God says I have issues with you a little bit in many different ways, and twins is one of those ways.

Anyway, I guess her kids lick things like the minivan because the book is called Don’t Lick The Minivan. I can relate as Cool was a licker for a while. He’d lick people in the face, glass doors and shopping cart handles. It was all pretty disgusting, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right. I’ve only recently discovered her blog, ironic mom and I find her to be quite funny. She’s not just funny for a girl funny either, but funny like a real human being funny.

Here’s what the cover of her book looks like. It’s fun, right? The van looks like my own minivan, except it has all the hubcaps attached still, unlike my own.

A book cover!

So, I won the book meaning you’ll have to go and purchase it. It’s bound to be hilarious for us suffering breeders and reassuring to non breeders that they’ve made the right choice.

I’m looking forward to reading it so please hurry R a.S-J!!

Posted in Humor, Uncategorized | Tagged bloggers, books, contest, don't lick the minivan, Prizes, winning | 36 Comments

Adventures of don as spider man, the beginning…

Posted on May 21, 2013 by donofalltrades

It was a Friday morning in 1992 and I was just waking up from being passed out in the cemetery across the street from campus. As usual when I would wake up in the cemetery on a Friday morning across the street from campus, I didn’t have any pants on.

My head was throbbing and my buttocks was bothering me as well. I looked and noticed a small, painful welt on my left ass cheek.

I suddenly felt some movement and noticed this nasty spider looking thing scurry from the back of my left leg and into the grass. It was a quick little bugger and was out of sight before I could smash the crap out of it for biting me.

Ha, I bit your ass, don!

I quickly felt a tingling in my body but didn’t know for sure whether or not it was from drinking too much beer from a red solo cup the night before with a bunch of frat boy douchebags, or if that spider had poisoned me. I thought I’d seen somewhere that brightly colored insects were poisonous. Or was that just lizards and frogs?

Well, either way, the internet wasn’t around back then and I wasn’t worried enough to walk 240 yards to the campus library, so I just went to my dorm room for some pants and a bowl of Frosted Flakes instead. Nothing made me feel better after a night of drinking back then than a bowl of Frosted Flakes and a Coke , so I sucked down a Coke with my cereal and laid in my bed. Friday classes be damned!

I fell asleep for several hours, but managed to wake up before the cafeteria was done serving lunch, which was good news because it was taco day. I ate 12 hard tacos and 4 soft shelled tacos for good measure and went back to my dorm for an afternoon nap (good god I miss college!).

After a few hours, my afternoon nap was rudely interrupted by what I assumed was 16 recently eaten tacos racing to exit my duodenum via my anus as quickly as possible. I ran to the communal men’s room and made dookie just in time all over my beloved stall number 3. I noticed the sound of somebody showering, so mid dook, I flushed the toilet just to be a dick.

“Aaaaaaah, YOU MOTHER FUCKER!” someone screamed from the showers almost immediately. It sounded like it was Greg who had just gotten a sudden 40 degree increase in his water temperature from the flushing toilet, but I couldn’t be sure. It was an oddity that the temperature of the showers would increase via toilet flushing, but it was also great fun to a bunch of college freshmen.

Anyway, when I turned to flush the toilet (we used to have to do it manually young people) I noticed a strange white substance all over the inside of the toilet. It looked like a caterpillar nest or spider web cluster mixed with feces, of course. I assumed the white stuff had been there before I sat down and thought nothing more of it.

I went back to my room to finish up that afternoon nap and noticed that my roommate James had returned from whatever it was that he did for fun.

“Rough night, Don?”

“I woke up in the cemetery again, James, if that tells you anything.”

James started laughing like he did every time he learned that I’d passed out in the cemetery. “Why do you keep going to the cemetery?” He managed to ask between breathes increasingly difficult for him to take due to his guffawing.

I flipped him the bird and dropped my shorts. In my best Monty Python French guy guarding the holy grail voice imitation, I told James, “I fart in your general direction!” I lifted my leg to rip one towards James for laughing at me when I heard my underpants rip and James scream in surprise “Holy cow!!!!” James didn’t curse in college.

I turned in horror to notice that James was pinned against the far wall by that same white substance that I’d noticed in the toilet! This time it was obvious that I’d just shit a giant spider web from my ass!

James was stunned and completely stuck to the wall. In my head, I was freaking the fuck out. “Oh, God, that spider gave me cancer!!!” I kept thinking to myself.

“What the fuck, James? What was that?” I began to tear the webbing away from him and noticed that my favorite pair of briefs had a giant hole from where this web thing came through them.

James, even at 19 years old, was a comic book and super hero guy just like those Big Bang Theory fellas on tv are. James was that way before it was cool though. He looked positively giddy.

I knew what he was thinking and I told him that I was bitten on the ass by a weird blue and red spider.

“Don, a blue and red spider that went all radioactive is missing from the science lab right here on campus! I bet that’s the one that bit you!” James was stammering like a mad man he was so pumped. “I think you might be a real life Spider Man!”

We both sat on our respective beds and caught our breaths. I thought to myself that I could really go for a shot or something. I imagined James was probably trying to hide an erection he no doubt had at the thought of himself being the Mary Jane to my Spider Man.

“See if you can climb the walls in the dorm room,” he suddenly said.

“What?” I asked.

“Spidey can climb walls. See if you can.”

I stood up from my bed. I didn’t feel any different other than the tingling, but when I put my hands and feet on the wall, I stuck there like a bug! The weight of my body was seemingly nonexistent as there was no extra strain on my legs or arms to hold my body in place. I was just there on the wall, as easily as if I were standing upright on the ground.

“Holy fuck, James!” I’m a real life Spider Man!

I crawled all up and down the walls and ceiling of the room with no problems! I felt exhilarated and stronger than I’d ever felt before in my life.

When I got back to my feet, James asked me to shoot another web.

Hmmmmm.

Ok, I can do that I guess. I put my hands up like Spider Man used to do on the Electric Company, but nothing happened. I even made some pew, pew, pew gun noises, but still nothing.

I told James that maybe I don’t have that ability.

“Try farting again, Don.” He said while trying to stifle laughter.

I thought about it and figured, what the heck? I focused my energy towards my bowels and visualized those tacos until I finally farted again. I thought I’d farted anyway, but a web shot out my ass like a bullet again, all over the door!

“Holy shit!” I screamed.

James was laughing himself into a fucking tizzy.

“Oh, ooooooh, oh no way,” he said. “You’re a Spider Man who shoots webs out your butt!!! This is hilariously awesome!!”

I wanted to punch James in his face, but he was out the door before I could even think that thought through.

He was suddenly in the hallway yelling for his pal Linus to come into our room. Linus was James’s equal when it came to all things nerd, especially superheros.

I blurted out, “James, I really don’t think we need to tell everybody about this! What the fuck, man? I’m not going to…” It occurred to me that I didn’t know what I was going to do with my new-found abilities. I did have some thinking to do.

“Don, shoot Linus with a web,” James implored me while interrupting my thoughts.

“No! It’s embarrassing!”

“Come on, Don, shoot me with a web. I’m a scientist and this is strictly scientific. I won’t tell a soul”

Exasperated, I sighed….

“Ok, fine, Linus.” I said and bent over to rip a good web towards him.

I struggled, but finally felt a web making its way out my butthole. I pushed and grunted and POW!

I shit diarrhea all over Linus’s legs!

“Oh my GOD, you pooped on me! Grooosssssss!!!!” yelped Linus as he ran out of our room.

“Oh man, I’m so sorry dude! I’m still trying to figure this out!!” I was genuinely sorry that I’d pooped on Linus, as he was a good guy. “Don’t tell anyone I pooped on you, Linus!!”

“What was that all about, Don?” James asked.

“I don’t know how this works, James! I’ve got one butthole and two things wanting to exit from it and I just ate 16 tacos! It’s literally a crapshoot as to what’s coming out at this point.”

I told James that I needed some air and swore to him that if he told anybody about my new abilities that I’d shit a web or possibly shit, whichever came out, all over him while he slept. James promised to keep it between us and I trusted him; he was good people.

I walked outside and made my way to a secluded area at the rear of our dorm building and scaled the brick wall, spider-like, all the way to the roof with hardly any effort needed. I walked around the roof for a bit and then sat in a corner of the building waiting for the sun to go down.

Once it was dark, I was going to go out. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I was definitely going to see what sort of trouble I could get into with my new abilities.

I closed my eyes for yet another nap up on the roof. I hoped to myself that I’d still have my abilities when I woke up, because I didn’t see an easy way down from the roof, if not. In the meantime though, I planned to dream about Spider Man and wished to remember anything useful that may come to me in my dreams.

Posted in Humor, Stories, Uncategorized | Tagged fiction, fun, humor, spider man, stories, super hero | 39 Comments

Random recent stuff…

Posted on May 20, 2013 by donofalltrades

Greetings, I feel like whipping out a post right quick, but since I ain’t got nothin’ to say particular, I’ll just ramble on about a couple of things.

Firstly, thanks to you, whichever heifer was in the bathroom at work for over twenty minutes this morning (at least)! I had to get the water for the coffee pot from the goddam mop sink while your fat ass was using work time to pinch a loaf, read your Cake Monthly or Cat’s Unlimited magazines or nap. Were you napping? Do you know how angry I get when my coffee making is delayed because somebody is in the only bathroom with decent running water to make coffee with on the entire 6th floor? I’m sure getting up 10 minutes earlier to defecate seems absurd when you can just clench your cheeks and suffer all the way to the man’s potty and do it on his time. God forbid you exchange the time it takes to run into the convenience mart for a bacon wrapped hot dog breakfast sandwich and 64 ounce diet coke to poop at home instead.

So I’m not sure what happened, but the wife acquiesced to the demands of the vocal minority (i.e. children and possibly daddy) with respect to their request for a new puppy at some point. I’d brought it up in jest a few weeks back, just to feel her out, and to call her response luke-warm would be overstating her enthusiasm at the idea.

We had a trial run a couple of months ago with one of those doodle-dogs that I’m soooooo not fond of!

Hi, I’m an awful doodle bred dog!

I don’t know why I even let this animal into my house, because I knew I’d never like him, but I did and it just didn’t work out. I don’t believe he was very fond of us either, so the contempt was mutual. He lived with us for three or four days, which was three days too many, for sure.

His name was Buzz, and he was last seen driving off with some uppity woman in a brand new Jaguar coupe. I’m sure they’re perfect for each other and I hope they live a long life together far away from me.

I recently caught my wife “liking” a FB post from a dog shelter and inquiring as to what the next step would be to adopt such a beast when another puppy opportunity reared it’s ugly head.

This time the call came out to nab a puppy from a family who was trying to unload them because their dog “accidentally” had a litter of puppies. Uh, if you get your dog fixed, those accidents don’t happen, but whatever!

We packed up the clan and drove just far enough that there was no way I wasn’t coming home with something. I’d seen a 1966 Mustang for sale, so if it wasn’t a puppy, I told the wife I’d be content with that in my driveway instead.

She chose puppy.

She is a cute little thing, I’ll give her that.

Ace and puppy. Kids named her Carly, whatever.

She was living under a van in the country with several of her brothers and sisters when we scooped her up. She had, oh I don’t know, nearly 100, if not more, ticks all over her body and was very lethargic.

We gave her a couple of delousing baths and fed her food from a semi-reputable dog food company, and she’s doing much better.

Enough with the camera, Jack!

Unlike the other tiny doodle dog, I like this girl. I even let her ride to the liquor store with me to get lottery tickets and beer. We won $6 and a free ticket! It’s not $600 million, but it was something.

That reminds me, sir or ma’am in Florida who won the lottery alone. Fuck you; I hate you.

Here’s some beer!

Yay beer!

Here’s Cool with a hat not eating his “rabioli”!

Yay Cool with a hat not eating rabioli!

And here’s Cool happy as can be, even though I am CRUSHING him at air hockey! I killed him!

Yay, daddy’s killing me but we’re together!

Oh, and here’s G$ since I don’t want him to feel left out. He’s not feeling great right now, so he was an extra special treat to be around this weekend.

Ha ha, I ruined your Sunday by being sick!

I hope you all had a fine weekend and that it’s carried over into your Monday. Oh, and if you’re that new Florida millionaire and you read this, I don’t hate you, I was joking. Please contact me so we can be new best friends!

Posted in Humor, Uncategorized | Tagged dad, dogs, humor, kids, Monday, puppy | 96 Comments

Some stuff i’ve done but never will again.

Posted on May 16, 2013 by donofalltrades

There are a few things in life that I’ve done and have promised myself that I’ll never do again.

Children. We have three. I am fixed. I am done.

Drink Everclear. I did it once. I was in high school at a party at a friend named Jake’s house. I was already on my way to tanked when I walked into the kitchen and saw some guy I’ve never met in my life sitting at the kitchen table all by himself with a small, flask sized bottle of clear liquid next to him. When I asked what the heck he was doing all by himself in the kitchen with his tiny flask of clear liquid, he bet me $5 I couldn’t finish the last of the liquid.

$5 was enough for 10 Jack in the Box tacos back then, so it was on!

“Pffffffft, no sweat!” said I, and put the bottle to my lips. There couldn’t have been more than a mouthful of liquor left.

I saw stars and I think my life flashed briefly before my eyes while my world spun round and round.

I awoke an unknown amount of time later near some orange colored vomit that I assume was mine. Apparently puking forfeited me the $5, because the gentleman was gone and there was no prize money on the table for me. I’ve never touched it since and foresee no reason to ever do so again, tacos be damned!

Play indoor soccer. There was a time when soccer was a blast for me. That time coincided with my ability to sprint more than 20 feet without feeling like one of my lungs was trying to crawl out my asshole for having done so. Sprinting is unnatural for people over 40. Even were I in shape, recreation indoor soccer is played almost exclusively by jackasses. These are mostly men who were cut from their freshman year soccer team, but haven’t been able to convince themselves that they’ve always sucked at the sport and should let it go. There are no less than three fights every game and always a blown knee or torn achilles to be had. I’d rather not risk either.

Eat bear sausage. I ate a sausage made out of bear once. Some dick and his dad went hunting in Alaska and he was grilling sausages for national night out a few years back. He offered me what I assumed was a bratwurst, but it turned out to be grizzly bear. Maybe it was black bear or Kodiak? I don’t know, but it was bear and it went from being ok in my mind when I didn’t know what it was to just awful when I did. I’m sure if I ate bear sausage unknowingly again, it’d be fine, but I shan’t do it on purpose anymore.

Ride a Greyhound Bus anywhere. I mean not even 214 yard! When I lived in Dallas, I made many trips back and forth to St. Louis because that’s where my lovely girlfriend was at the time. I hitched a ride to St. Louis from a coworker once and needed a way to get back to Dallas. Greyhound was the cheapest, so that’s what I chose to do. I’d never been on a Greyhound, so it seemed like fun.

A 9 hour car ride took over 24 hours on the bus. From St. Louis to Memphis, the ride wasn’t wholly intolerable. There were only 5 or 6 people on the bus, but, unfortunately, one of them was some relation to Tupac or Snoop Dawg or somebody. I don’t recall who he said, but he spent many hours regaling me and anyone who he thought was listening with stories about all his arrests and the different jails he’s spent time in. It was moderately fascinating for 4 minutes, but then excruciatingly painful to bear for the next 8 hours. At least there was room to stretch my legs and pretend I was sleeping.

The bus terminal in Memphis was a zoo. It was a scene straight out of any movie you’ve seen where a bus travels through Mexico. You know the scene where it’s hot and miserable, there are kids everywhere yelling and screaming, and a few chickens running around for good measure. I just knew that every single one of those mother fuckers in that bus terminal was going to get on that bus to Dallas. I just had a feeling.

Mercifully, there was a hotel right next door with a hotel bar and I had a couple of hours to kill. I drank as fast and furious as I ever had in my life so as to feel no pain on that last leg home.

As I’d thought, every Juan, Chica and Pedro got on that bus, thankfully without Tupac Jr., who was only going to Memphis. There may have been as many as 8 free running roosters and a donkey on the bus as well. It was packed and they were all going to Dallas. Nobody got off at any of the 57 other stops that bus made before reaching Dallas. If anything, more people got on. I was eventually able to pass out and not give two shits about my surroundings, other than maybe fearing being shivved in the spleen or having my luggage stolen, but we made it without either happening.

Assemble another piece of furniture. My mom and I almost came to blows and divorced once. Can you divorce your mom? Not over a girl I was dating or poor grades or drugs or whatever it is that parents and kids get in a tizzy about, no, it was over the assembling of a computer desk.

This has been well over 20 years ago now, I think the family had just purchased an Apple IIc computer, if that’s any gauge of the time frame. We bought this enormous L shaped desk with cabinets and drawers, I believe it was a Sauders brand piece of ~~shit~~ furniture.

May my testicles shrivel up and fall off (they have figuratively, I’m aware so carry on) if there were less than 700 fucking pieces in that box. It was heavy and it was a bitch to assemble.

Pieces of wood, well, particle board were marked with letters and there were 400 different dowels and screws and interlocking pieces and rails and fasteners. Holy crap, I can’t even describe the awfulness. We fought and bitched and tightened screws and then untightened screws because we used the wrong screws and then put on shelves and then removed shelves because they were attached wrong…for 14 hours we worked on this ridiculous desk. At one point, I think mom was out of beer and we’d agreed to just get an axe, smash the shit out of what we’d created so far, and put the computer on the kitchen table that we never ate at anyway. Unfortunately, much like the screw driver or socket wrench set that would have made this job so much easier, we didn’t own an axe either.

Mom and I finished that fucker and swore to never speak of the evil things we said to each other or about the Sauder Corporation again. I’ve left all of the horrible stuff out as per our truce, but suffice to say, it sucked.

I didn’t swear off this shitty furniture assembling completely though until I was dating my wife and I assembled a simple microwave stand. It wasn’t too bad, and I was sort of proud of myself until wife pointed out that I had the shelf on backwards. The unfinished side was facing forward.

FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!

It stayed that way until I finally gave it away to a friend or maybe my brother. I promised myself, when my wife caught my blunder, that that was it for my assembling furniture. I’m an adult now, I can pay other assholes to do that type of thing.

What crap have you done that you won’t you ever do again?

Posted in Humor, Uncategorized | Tagged assembling furniture, bus, everclear, greyhound, humor, indoor soccer, sauders, trips | 93 Comments

Ah, well maybe i do have some crazy afterall…

Posted on May 15, 2013 by donofalltrades

Since we broached the subject of Don’s crazy the other day, some wonderful yet snarky bitches (you know who you are) pointed out that I may have been mistaken when I indicated my crazy left.

I’ve been rereading some of my old posts, particularly the many that have zero likes when I had zero followers and stumbled across this reminder that yeah, I guess I do still have some crazy in me.

I truly believe that most of us are a single traumatic life event from turning certifiably crazy. Had one of my parents died unexpectedly, or were I robbed at gunpoint in high school near the Berthold Ave. KFC, or had I woke up alongside Honey Boo Boo’s mother one morning with a killer hangover, something could have triggered the neuroses that lurks just beneath my consciousness.

I know it’s there, because it presents itself from time to time. For example, and some blame this on being a police officer but it’s not, I’ve always done it; I have to sit in a certain seat when dining out. It’s not that I must have my line of sight towards the door or the crowd. The right chair is just a feeling and it’s totally random. Fortunately, my wife and work wife are both understanding of this little quirk.

While dining, it would be unacceptable to sit where I can hear somebody chomping their food loudly. If you’re a person who eats with their mouth open, you’re a disgusting mouth breathing dickhole and I hate you. People who eat like that are savages and are the same sorts of people who beat their spouses and kids and kick puppies and should all be killed.

When I eat (with my mouth closed, of course), I ALWAYS eat all of one thing first before I move onto another. Generally, it’s what I like least followed by whatever I like the next least to my favorite thing on the plate, which I save for last. So were I looking at a steak with baked potato and green beans for lunch, the green beans would all get eaten first, followed by the entire potato and finally the steak. My daughter has taken to eating like this and it makes my wife nuts. I call it delaying gratification, but she just thinks it’s insanity.

Another quirk I have with people, and my wife is an offender, is when they set the radio stations in their car in any manner other than sequentially from lowest numerical radio dial to highest. In other words, my presets on the first set are 92.3, 93.7, 96.3, 98.1, 102.5 and 106.5. See there, from lowest to highest is the way to go. My wife has hers set in some manner that she insists makes sense to her, but drives me absolutely batshit crazy. I can never find the station I’m looking for without fumbling around all her dials. It’s like trying to unclasp a back clasping bra as a high school lad…awkward and ultimately ends with wife doing it for me. I’m fairly certain she knows it makes me nuts and keeps it like that in order to get back at me for getting first dibs on where to sit at restaurants and eating my food in a predetermined order.

My employer gave me another computer monitor to stare at, so I have a double monitor setup. While it works out well for the most part, I’ve found that certain tabs have to be on certain screens or I’m flustered. Social media related activity goes on the right screen while all email software opens on the left. Word documents vary; it depends on my mood I guess. It’s ridiculous, I know, but it’s how I roll.

There are many others, from having to sleep on the left side of the bed to having to eat dinner with a certain style of fork. The point is, were it not for the fact that I’ve lived a pretty charmed life, it’s entirely possible that I’d be in an asylum someplace strapped in a straight jacket and subjected to watching other crazy people eating food in an incorrect order with their mouths open while they randomly surf channels on the tv non-sequentially!

Oh the humanity!