Well, once again itâs Friday the 13th which can only mean one thingâ¦ time to have sex in spooky places while you wait for a visit from your local, friendly serial killer â the basic premise of all Friday the 13th movies.
Did you know there are a total of twelve Friday the 13th movies (see list below)? I surely didnât. I do find it curious that they never made a thirteenth Friday the 13th movie.Â Maybe they thought it would be bad luck to make a thirteenth crappy movie.Â Or maybe moviegoers finally got tired of watching horny lovers get chopped into pieces by a machete just before, during or after a hot sex scene.
Sex with me is a scary enough proposition so I donât need to compound the horrible and sometimes pathetically funny act by getting my groove on in spooky places. As such, I obviously donât understand the method behind the writing of successful horror movies. Â Maybe if Megan Fox called me and told me to meet her at midnight on Friday the 13th at a dirty old log cabin in a semi-deserted summer camp in Alabama, I might consider it.Â Heyâ¦ thereâs your 13th Friday the 13th movie scenario! Megan, call me!
1. Friday the 13th (1980)
2. Friday the 13th Part 2
3. Friday the 13th Part III
4. Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter
5. Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning
6. Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives
7. Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood
8. Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan
9. Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday
10. Jason X
11. Freddy vs. Jason
12. Friday the 13th (2009)
A woman talking dirty in the bedroom is pretty hot but two women talking dirty in a restaurant... not so hot. Unless, of course, you happen to be eating at a gentlemen's club.
The other night I took my 6 year old niece and 8 year old nephew to eat dinner at a kid friendly restaurant. We were having a great time until two hookers from hell showed up. OK. I don't know if they were hookers but only hookers or sailors can cuss like these two women were cussing and neither of them were wearing sailor suits. WTF?
Now I'm not saying I've never used profanity but the way these girls were casually cussing while enjoying hor'devours and cocktails, I thought maybe I accidentally had taken my niece and nephew to happy hour at Sugar's Uptown Cabaret and my sister has emphatically warned me to never take her kids to my regular eateries.
Here's a partial transcript of the hookers from hell dialog that took place within earshot of my darling little niece and nephew:
Hooker #1: I told Bill he's BLEEPIN' crazy if he BLEEPIN' thinks he can ever BLEEP me while I'm past out from BLEEPIN' drinkin' JÃ¤ger shots all BLEEPIN' night.
Hooker #2: BLEEP that! I've seen that BLEEPIN' Bill and I wouldn't BLEEPIN' BLEEP him even if I was BLEEPIN' wasted after 20 JÃ¤ger bombs.
Hooker #1: Right?
Hooker #2: BLEEPIN' straight up BLEEP.
Hooker #1: Where's that BLEEPIN' waitress with our BLEEPIN' JÃ¤ger shots?
Hooker #2: She's probably getting her BLEEP all BLEEPED out in the BLEEPIN' kitchen or somethin'. BLEEP!
Hooker #1: Oh my BLEEPIN' BLEEP itches so bad I can't BLEEPIN' stand it!
Hooker #2: Your BLEEP still BLEEPIN' itches? I thought you went to the BLEEPIN' doctor and the BLEEPER gave you some BLEEPIN' cream for that BLEEP.
Hooker #1: BLEEP that BLEEP. I went to see that BLEEPER but he BLEEPIN' weirded me out the way he kept BLEEPIN' staring at me so I just got the BLEEP outta there and told him he needed to see a BLEEPIN' shrink because he was like a BLEEPIN' perv or some BLEEP.
Hooker #2: That's BLEEPED up. Isn't he the BLEEPIN' cute one?
Hooker #1: Well yeah but BLEEPIN' your doctor is BLEEPIN' messed up, girl. Everyone knows doctors can give you the BLEEPIN' crabs.
I think you get the BLEEPIN' picture.
The whole restaurant was pretty loud and my niece and nephew were in a world of their own, cracking jokes, debating endlessly about who would win a farting contest between Sponge Bob, Oscar the Grouch and their uncle Unknown Blogger. So I'm not sure how much of the hookers from hell conversation they heard but I wasn't going to take any BLEEPIN' chances and asked the BLEEPIN' waitress if she could BLEEPIN' move us as far away as possible from these BLEEPIN' chicks. OMG! Cussing in public is contagious.
I'm not sure if it was the JÃ¤germeister that was talking or if these girls talk like that all the time. But my two cents is that neither men nor women should cuss in public, particularly if children are around taking notes. "Excuse me uncle. How do you spell BLEEP, what is it and how can it give you crabs like from the sea?"
Gosh.Â I wonder what happened to those potty-mouthed, JÃ¤ger swilling girls that night.
So Iâve been out on vacation and one of the things I did was visit an outdoor water park which, letâs face it, are basically one big, giant toilet bowl.Â Câmon now.Â Donât tell me youâve never peed in the pool.
Anyway, water parks are a great place to people watch, particularly if you enjoy looking at 50,000 half naked people flopping around, many of which who have no business being in a skimpy bathing suit.
I did notice that lots of people seem to be sporting tattoos these days.Â Even the twelve year old that I bummed a cigarette off of had a tattoo on his right arm that read, âMommyâ with a heart on it.Â Bitchinâ!
I myself do not have a tattoo as I faint at the sight of needles, particularly those that poke my body a couple thousand times a second for hours at a time, potentially spreading incurable diseases like hepatitis C.Â But if I did get a tattoo I would hope Iâd get one that didnât suck as bad as many of the tattoos Iâve seen.Â Iâve seen so many bad tattoos lately that Iâm almost tempted to get real drunk, dip into my stash of barbiturates and go into my local tattoo parlor to have them give me a tattoo that reads, âYour tattoo sucks!â
I just donât get why people choose to have ink permanently placed on their body, much less the thought process behind their design choices.Â If they want to make a statement, why not just put their message on a t-shirt instead.Â That way when they come to, sober up and donât like what they did at 1am the previous morning, they can easily take off their t-shirt and give it to Goodwill.
I love my Apple iPod Touch. But I'm bummed I can't get it to do the latest trick where it bursts into flames.
The Times newspaper recently reported a story that Apple attempted to place a gag order on a Liverpool father and his daughter. The father says his 11-year old daughter dropped her iPod Touch and the Touch soon burst into flames.Â When the father contacted Apple hoping for a refund, Apple offered compensation only if the father would sign a non-disclosure agreement of sorts.
This is not the only case of the exploding Apples. Other stories are surfacing in Europe and the U.K. where some owners are claiming their iPods go snap, crackle and pop.
Upon hearing this news I quickly grabbed my iPod to see if I could replicate what I call the iBomb. But after hours of continuous play, I had no such luck. Bummer. I'm a geek and therefore go gaga over the latest techno toys so naturally I to want an exploding iPod.
I decided to call Apple and complain. I told technical support that âI had a defective iPod and wanted my money back.â A nice Apple technician named Leisha asked why I thought my iPod was defective, to which I replied, âbecause it doesn't explode like the other iPods I've read about.â Silence on Leisha's end for a couple seconds.
Leisha: âUh...sir... your iPod not exploding is a good thing.â
Me: âNot really. I'm tired of this model and want to get another one so I would rather mine explode like other iPods so I can start shopping for a new one.â
Leisha: âWhere did you hear that iPods explode?â
Me: âI read it on the Internets.â
Leisha: âOh my, that can't be true. I've not...â
Me: âCan you please tell me which iPod application I can download that will make my iPod burst into flames?â
Leisha: âUh... I don't think I can tell you where to get such an application... sir.â
Me: âWhy not, Leisha? I'm willing to pay for it. Is it some sort of secret application you're not allowed to talk about?â
Leisha: Faint giggle. âNo sir. There isn't a secret application that makes your iPod explode...â
Me: âThen why do other peoples' iPods explode and not mine?â I start to cry like a baby that can't have any candy.
Leisha: âPlease sir. Don't cry. I think you should be happy your iPod functions properly and that it doesn't burst into flames.â
Me: âIt's my iPod and I'll cry if I want to. Why are you being so mean to me, Leisha?â
Leisha: âI'm sorry sir you're so unhappy that your iPod doesn't explode. Is there anything else I can help you with today?â
Me: âWell. There is one thing... would you mind telling me if you think you have beautiful feet? And, do you have painted toenails?
Leisha: Laughing out loud. âAs a matter of fact sir, I do have beautiful feet if I do say so myself and my toenails are painted metallic flakepink.â
Me: âOh my.â Gulp. âWould it be possible if you could take a picture of your feet and email it to my iPhone? I hear iPhones are exploding as well.â
Leisha: âI'll see what I can do. Have a nice day sir and thank you for calling Apple.â Click.
I hung up my iPhone and no sooner than I didÂ it exploded and burst into flames.
Either my iPhone was an iBomb, or Leisha had some pretty hot feet.
Bob Schneider is a local musician and an Austin icon.
His new CD titled âLovely Creaturesâ hits the stores on September 29th and for some reason reminds me of one of the many times I had met Bob.
Long, long ago... in a land far, far away, Bob and I just happened to be on the same all-night, illegal, traveling, poker game. They pick you up in an RV at an undisclosed location.Â A high stakes poker game then takes place on a traveling RV, supposedly to help avoid entanglements with the authorities, but it wasn't the authorities I was worried about.Â Most of the players (present company excluded, of course) were, well... let's just say you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
It was chaotic but surprisingly calm.Â A friendly knife fight here, a little gun play there and it wasn't uncommon for fireworks like a roman candle or M-80 to go off inside the RV - just your average, friendly, traveling poker game.
I, Bob and a gentleman known only as King Pancho were locked in a round of poker near midnight.Â Thousands of dollars, a Rolex watch, and rabbitâs foot were on the table. With the stakes that high, I decided to fold as I was holding five of the most worthless cards in poker history that I don't even think were from the same deck.
To make a long story short (too late), Bob eventually won the hand with four aces and a joker and took possession of all of King Pancho's money including King's pet rooster.Â Mr. Pancho claimed cheating was involved and when he pulled out a machete, Bob and I dove for the RV exit door doing 70 miles an hour.
Bob, I and the rooster landed in a pool of mud alongside the road and were all grateful to be alive.
The sun was starting to come up and so of course the rooster did what roosters do and crowed loader than anything I'd ever heard before or since.Â We named the mighty cock, Super Chicken.
We managed to hitch a ride back to Austin in the back of a pick-up truck.Â Bob and I were exhausted and didn't speak much but the journey back into town was constantly filled with the sound of Super Chicken screaming at the top of its lungs.Â Given what we'd been through, the sound of Super Chicken was almost soothing.
We arrived in Austin early in the morning and were dropped off at a popular coffee house called Les Amis.Â I remember Bob and Super Chicken were walking into Les Amis when I said to Bob, âI'll see you aroundâ to which Bob replied, âProbably not.â
I'm not sure what ever happened to Super Chicken but I hope Bob's âLovely Creaturesâ sounds better than Super Chicken at 6am in the morning.
Rumor has it some Hollywood stars are in town this weekend for the filming of Robert Rodriguezâs upcoming film âMachete.âÂ So you just may see stars like Robert De Niro, Jessica Alba or little Lindsay Lohan walking around town.
Twenty bucks says Lindsay will be spotted throwing a tantrum somewhere in Austin before the weekend is over.
Machete was originally one of a couple faux-trailers Robert likes to show before his movies.Â Some of you may have caught the Machete trailer before Robertâs last movie, Grindhouse.
Like Grindhouse, Machete promises to have plenty of gore times a hundred.Â There will be lots of blood, big blades and babes.
I have it from a very unreliable source that in one scene from Machete, Lindsay is completely wasted and yelling at her girlfriend/lover, when a catfight breaks out and the couple breaks up and then they make up and then they break up and then they make up and start throwing eggs at the paparazzi and then Lindsay storms off in her car and nobody can find her for days and thenâ¦ waitâ¦ thatâs not a scene from Machete but real drama from Lindsayâs life.
Hey I know, all Rodriquez has to do is follow around Lindsay Lohan, the actress, with the cameras rolling and have leading man Danny Trejo chase her with machetes.Â CUT!Â THATâS A TAKE!Â PRINT IT!
Iâm a freaking genius!
I gotta call Robert Rodriguez.
See you at the premiere!
Rumor has it that the other day Austin hit a record of 40 days where the temperature reached 100 degrees and above. And as I write this, my head has just burst into flames.
Some people don't like it so hot but I say some really interesting things happen to people when they get hot and I'm not talking horny.
Take the other day for example. I was out at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants, sitting in their lovely outdoor patio. I was enjoying a pitcher of margaritas with some friends and it was 120 degrees in the shade. A pack of guys at the table next to us, presumably in their 20's, were drinking in excess while smoking cigarettes and picking their zits.
One of the twenty something boys got up like he was going to hit the john when all of a sudden he burst into flames â self combusted right before my vary eyes. Mind you I've heard of Spontaneous Human Combustion (SHC) but I thought that it was just some sort of urban legend.
Shocked for only a second, my life saving instincts kicked into gear, probably from all my months of paramedics training at the Our Lady of the Light Lifesaving Academy, and I quickly threw my pitcher of margaritas onto the boy in flames in an attempt to put out the fire. Much to my horror and everyone else at the cantina, the alcohol in my pitcher of ritas only made zitboy's flames go higher. Oops.
While most people in a similar situation would panic and quickly ask for the check, I was determined to remedy my faux pas and put flameboy out once and for all. So, my karate training from Little Chico's Karate Chop House kicked into gear and I immediately dropkicked flameboy into the cantina's outdoor coy fish pond. I remember when he hit the water that it ironically sounded like sizzling fajitas.
Self-combusting, flaming zitboy had been saved and aside from being a bit frightened, confused and smelling like seasoned fajitas, he was going to be OK.
I was a hero and people bought me pitchers of margaritas and cigarettes although I don't smoke. My work here was done.
Was it the 120 degree heat or a case of SHC? I don't think we'll ever know. But this I do know, if you can't stand the heat of Austin, stay out of the cantina.
Similar to sports, I wish life came with a certain number of timeouts that we could use when life becomes a royal pain in the ass.
So like when your boss calls you on the phone with that sucks-to-be-you tone of voice, telling you to come to his office because he/she has something to discuss with you.Â So you show up and he/she proceeds to tell you that youâre being let go due to budget cuts and if you could clear out your stuff within the next five minutes.
Youâre escorted out of the building by security and they tell you to âtake care.âÂ Youâre tempted to use a timeout but you wait.
You arrive at your home hoping for some sympathy from your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend only to find half your belongings are missing.Â Confused, youâre just about ready to call the police thinking youâve been robbed when you notice a note on the kitchen table.Â Itâs from your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend of seven years indicating they are leaving you because theyâve decided theyâre gay and want to move in with their gay lover whom theyâve been seeing for the past six years.Â Be strong.
Just then the electricity cuts off along with your air conditioner and its 104 degrees outside.Â You forgot to pay your bill and now that youâre broke you couldnât pay it if you wanted to.
You begin to sweat and start to cry when you notice a foul smell coming from somewhere in your home.Â Looking around you realize your dog "Snowball" has died and is lying in your hallway.
Just then you grab your side in pain as your peptic ulcer is acting up again, no doubt brought on by the recent events.Â You want to call your doctor but now you don't have any health insurance.
So there you are, thinking your life now has all the makings of a hit coutry western song as you scream, "TIMEOUT!"
In a previous post I wrote about my pet peeves with social networks but I felt it only fare to comment on people who are addicted to texting via their cell phone.Â So, here is my top ten list of âyou know youâre a text message junkie ifâ¦â
10. You text or tweet someone useless information (i.e., âIâm hungry,ââ Iâm happy,â etc.).
9.Â Â Your first response when someone asks you a question, in person, is to grab your cell phone to text them the answer.
8.Â Â You constantly look for deals on cell phone plans with unlimited texting even though you just signed a two year agreement.
7.Â Â You dream in text messages.
6.Â Â You donât own a landline telephone.
5.Â Â You know all the abbreviations for common text words and phrases.
4.Â Â You have trouble writing or speaking or otherwise communicating with human beings.
3.Â Â You created your own website called www.ILoveTexting.com.
2.Â Â You call 911 anytime you misplace or lose your iPhone or Blackberry.
And the number one sign that you're a text junkie is...Â You text people that are sitting three feet away from you and they text you back and this can go on for hours without anyone speaking to each other.
As you may or may not know, Miss California contestant Carrie Prejean was asked a question by Perez Hilton regarding gay marriage during the recent Miss USA pageant.Â You can see her response here:
Whether you agree or disagree with her answer is really not the issue.Â The real issue is do you think she's hot?Â I think she's really hot but that's just Satan trying to tempt me.Â Oh, I kid Satan.
The good Miss Prejean claims to be a Christian and that's just fine and dandy.Â I was raised Catholic so judge not lest ye be judged I think applies here.Â Instead, I simply question Miss Prejean's sincerity.
Prejean recently released a statement that, in part, reads:
"My comments defending traditional marriage have led to intimidation tactics that seek to undermine my reputation and somehow silence me and my beliefs, as if opinion is only a one-way street. I am a Christian, and I am a model. Models pose for pictures, including lingerie and swimwear photos.â
Never mind how she chooses to frame the issue. What would Mary Magdalen do?
Photos surfaced on thedirty.com of a topless Miss Prejean that she or her spokespeople claimed were taken when she was only 17.Â It was later confirmed that the photos were taken, in fact, when she was 18 and with her full consent so she had to backpedal on that one.Â I don't claim to be a deeply religious man but I'm pretty sure thou shall pose semi-nude in panties, smiling and looking directly into the camera is not one of the Ten Commandments.
A Miss California Pageant official recently confirmed previous reports that Prejean received free breast implants, organized and paid for by the pageant, weeks before the Miss USA competition â presumably because Christians with big boobs have a better chance at winning pageants, just like it says in the Bible.
Last year Prejean modeled lingerie for the E! network's pre-Oscar "Countdown to the Red Carpet." Carrie was dressed in a bra, underwear and stilettos.Â I think Miss Prejean is cool on that one because in reading the Ten Commandments and scouring my pocket Bible, I could not find anything on thou shall not wear a bra, underwear and stilettos on E!'s Red Carpet.
Again and for the record, I'm not judging Carrie for all of the above.Â But if being a Christian means walking around in your underwear, posing semi-nude in photographs and getting free boob jobs, then I guess I'm going to Hell.
But maybe it's not too late and I can be saved.Â Can someone lend me a pair of stilettos and a thong and be brave enough to film/photograph me?
So the other day I had a session with my shrink, Dr. Betty Crocker, and she informed me that I apparently have a funny little foot fetish for women's feet.Â I think I may need to find another doctor.
Out of complete boredom, have you ever just made something up while talking to people?Â I use to do that when I was Catholic and confessing to my priest and, as you could imagine, that use to get me in a whole lot of trouble.Â On one occasion the priest actually consider performing an exorcism on my behalf.Â Rather than tell him I was simply pulling sins out of my ass, I opted instead for a couple dozen Hail Marys and twenty or thirty Our Fathers.Â Whew!
Anyway, for whatever reason I told my shrink that I didnât understand why some women really pamper their feet and others donât.Â Some women trim their toenails, clean the toe jelly out, clip the hair and paint them up nice while others are content to allow their feet to look like Frodoâs from The Hobbit.
No sooner than I said that, she caught me looking down at her feet which happened to look just like Frodoâs.Â Oops.
Coincidentally, it was right at that moment that the good doctor began to scold me and tell me how my âfoot fetishâ was clearly a sign of my inability to have intimate, meaningful relationships with women.Â Then she slipped off her shoes and attacked me with the longest, sharpest pair of toesnails I had ever seen.Â It was like fight club with feet and I was at a serious disadvantage.
The cuts I received by Dr. Crocker are healing nicely but I do have reoccurring nightmares and the site of nail polish now tends to make me a little queasy.
Now Iâm not saying I have a foot fetish and you can bet Iâll never bring up the subject again with âLethal feet Betty.âÂ But if I did have a thing for feet, Iâd be in good company.Â Here are a few people alleged to have foot fetishes:
â¢Â Â Â Tommy Lee
â¢Â Â Â Ludacris
â¢Â Â Â Marilyn Manson
â¢Â Â Â Ricky Martin
â¢Â Â Â Rosie O'Donnell
â¢Â Â Â Elvis Presley
â¢Â Â Â Alex Rodriguez
â¢Â Â Â Christian Slater
â¢Â Â Â Britney Spears
â¢Â Â Â Quentin Tarantino
â¢Â Â Â Andy Warhol
In any event, Iâd like to hear from the ladies out there on why you do or do not pamper your feet and if you're a member of a local feet Kung Fu fight club.
The other day I was relaxing outside at a local pub, soaking up the sun while soaking my liver and I witnessed one of the saddest, funniest things unfold before my eyes. There was a person driving a beat up Volkswagen beetle and while talking on their cell phone drove right into, of all things, a telephone pole.
The vehicular/cellular challenged dunderhead was looking straight ahead so it wasn't like he wasn't watching the road. Instead, he apparently was suffering from a very common phenomenon known as idiot-with-a-cell phone syndrome or IWACS for short.
Just because you have a cell phone doesn't mean you have to use it all the time, wherever you are, no matter what you're doing. Many people have just turned into walking cell phones.
Talking on your cell phone while driving should be an obvious example of what not to do while traveling at 55 miles per hour but let's let that one go. And if you don't think that's an accident waiting to happen, you could be an IWAC.
Instead, let's talk about the person who thinks it's absolutely imperative that they take a call while in line at, say, the bank. They endlessly blather on about what they just ate, where, how much it cost, who they were with, why they ate there, how they now have a case of the farts, etc., etc. etc. After about five minutes of mindless chatter, I just want to take their Motorola RAZR and slit my freaking wrists.
I still get a kick out of those people who don't trust their technology and feel they have to talk really loudly while using their cell phone as though the person at the other end may not be able to hear them on such a tiny phone. I mean if you're talking to the point of screaming, why use a phone? At that decibel level, the person can probably hear you without the phone. CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?
Why do some people feel they must be in constant communication with everyone on the planet?
If you're an IWAC, I have a suggestion for you. Why not do away with your cell phone and learn to be clairvoyant? No pesky phones with dead zones and costly contracts. Just enroll in Madame Babushka's Clairvoyant Academy and you'll be communicating with anyone you wish, whenever you wish, even dead people. âHi uncle Sylvester. What's hell like? Is it hot? Is it a dry heat or just really humid?â
Well, South by Southwest 2009 has come and gone and so has my liver.Â No, really.Â Has anyone seen my liver?Â He answers to the name of âSparky.â
SXSW is always a blast and this year was no exception.Â But with all the music and parties comes lots of alcohol and my liver never seems to hold up more than 9 days of non-stop tequila and beer consumption.
I woke up on my kitchen floor the other morning in front of my refrigerator with its door wide open and the only thing left inside was a jar of pickles.Â I felt a pain in my side and itâs then I realized Sparky had run away, again.Â He does this every year but returns weeks later.Â This year may be different as the little guy left a note stating he may not return.Â Iâm worried he really must be upset this time because he left his favorite blankie behind and he never goes anywhere without his favorite blankie.
Maybe he didnât run away this time.Â OMG!Â Maybe Iâve fallen victim to one of those organ harvesting stories we all read about.Â Maybe Sparky has been stolen and is in an ice chest somewhere â scared,Â cold and missing his blankie.
I sketched a picture of Sparky so if you see him please tell him to come home or respond to this post with details of his whereabouts.Â No questions asked.
If you're like me, minus the paper bag, you probably get a lot of SPAM email.Â I'll get beauties with subject lines like, "Update your monster to the newest tool" or "Surprise her with your steel package."Â Classy.
Most of them get caught by my enormous SPAM filter but some manage to slip through the gaping crack of my inbox.Â I then have to lovingly delete them with my hard, plastic mouse.Â Good times.
Sometimes, in an effort to remove the sticky SPAM from my bulging inbox, I accidentally release its contents onto my wide, erect monitor.Â Even worse, recently I gave into temptation and unwillingly followed a particularly meaty SPAM back to its homepage money shot.Â And what would you imagine I found on the other end?Â ViagraÂ® for men AND women.
Of course I've heard of ViagraÂ® for men although I assure you I've no need for the little blue pill, thank you very much but, ViagraÂ® for women?Â Smells fishy to me.
Growing up, every boyâs rite of passage into manhood involves dating Rosie Palmer and or getting a hold of some Spanish Fly to drive the girls wild with desire.Â But sadly I quickly learned that an aphrodisiac for women was nothing more than an urban legend and that my time would be better spent finding a cream that would remove the unsightly hair from my palms.
Fast forward years to my ViagraÂ® SPAM email and now I was intrigued.Â After all these years and through the advances in modern pharmaceuticals, could there finally be a libido enhancer for women? I mean c'mon.Â As disinterested as most women are in having sex, this would have to be one ginormous little blue pill.
After some quick research on the Internets I concluded that ViagraÂ® for women is essentially a hoax.Â Nonetheless, I was surprised to find out that there is a very large and underserved market for libido enhancers for women.
Just how large? Some 43 percent of women suffer with sexual dysfunction, compared to 31 percent of men, according to University of Chicago researcher Dr. Edward Laumann. And some $2 to $3 billion will be spent within the next ten years on products aimed at improving the sex lives of these women.
Some studies have concluded that a woman's lack of sexual desire is more psychological rather than physical.Â Ah ha!Â I knew it!Â The excuse, "Not tonight.Â I gotta headache" is pure BS.Â What she's really saying is, "Dude, I'm just not that into you."Â Ugh... wait a minute.Â I don't know which sexual barrier is worse - physical or psychological?Â Either way, they both probably mean no nookie for me tonight.
Not to worry.Â With such a throbbing market at stake, my money is on the greedy pharmaceutical companies to find a solution faster than a prom dress hits the floor. C'mon science!Â Luck be a lady tonight!
Have you ever shared a secret with someone, hoping they have the same secret? Hoping to make a human connection? Like that you like to make sexy farm animal sounds during love making. "Mmmooooooo!"
Then they say, "Ugh...eeww. No, never."Â And then I say, "Yeah... me neither."
Is it just me or do we all spend a lot of time trying to be accepted, liked, loved by others and what we say just seems to get in the way?Â "Ugh, no UB.Â That's just you."
Take an honest look at your relationship with your friends, loved ones, and definitely the people you work with and see if they generally fall into two categories: those who you'd like to talk to when you call them on the phone and those you'd rather get their voicemail instead.Â "Actually, UB, I like talking with everyone on the phone."
So it's just me who finds that most of my dialog and interaction with human beings is strained at best?Â "Wow UB!Â You're a mess. Maybe you need to talk to your shrink, Dr. Betty Crocker?"
Don't we have anything in common?Â What about music... do you like music?Â "Yes."Â Great!Â Who do you listen to?Â "Well UB, I really like Katy Perry."
Damn it... Just when we were starting to make a connection.
Well, it's that time of year every horny person waits for all year longâ¦ Valentineâs.Â Because letâs face it, if you can't have great sex on Valentine's, you're either not in a relationship or your married with children.
If you're like me you're probably saying, "Holy crap! Valentine's is tomorrow! I better hurry up and get my lover something special before all the good stuff is gone."Â I'll be racing to the store along with a thousand other sappy schmucks, fighting at the last minute over crap nobody else wanted.
My Valentine's list (compiled minutes before I start shopping) typically consists of the standards: a sappy card, chocolates, flowers and ill-conceived dinner plans.
I won't elaborate on what kind of card I usually buy because I think cards are over rated and a scam.Â Cards are like prescription drugs... there's one for every occasion, even the ones you've never heard of.Â âHappy Valentineâs Honey and hope your shaky leg syndrome gets better.â
Chocolatesâ¦ Ah, chocolates.Â Chocolate manufactures love Valentineâs because they have an excuse to sell us a bunch of assorted nasty chocolates stuffed in a heart-shaped box that they normally could not give away for free.Â You want some chocolate covered candy?Â I got your chocolate covered candy right here pal.
Flowers are a must on Valentineâs.Â Men: go for the dozen roses â trust me.Â Despite every woman saying, âOh you shouldnât have,â what sheâs really saying is, âOh you shouldnât have gotten me a bushel of crappy carnations for $3.99 you cheap ass, no-getting-nookie-tonight, bastard!â
Then thereâs the romantic Valentineâs dinner which Iâve never understood.Â How are you suppose to get in some quality tantric love making in the evening when youâve been stuffing your face all day with chocolates, cookies, cupcakes, and then topped off with dinner and massive amounts of alcohol?Â âStart without me Honey.Â Iâll be passed out on the bathroom floor.â
And so the pressure is on every year to make this Valentineâs more special than the last and to get or do that special something for your lover that tells them, âI love you.â
Why not take a page from Briâs Valentineâs book of love?Â Bri, one of the cast members from the JB & Sandy Morning Show, intends to give her boyfriend Jocob something every man wants on Valentineâs.Â Iâm reminded of the quote from the now defunct Newlywed game show.Â In response to a question by host Bob Eubanks about the "weirdest place youâ¦ have ever gotten the urge to make whoopee," a female contestant replied, well I think you can imagine what she said.
Checkout the video to see what happens when you offer everyone in America some free pancakes - retail value, $5.99.
OK. Maybe it didn't happen that way but on February 3rd, Denny's restaurant really did give away their signature breakfast, the Grand Slam®, to everyone who showed up at their door between 6am and 2pm.
Did you get yours?
You know times are tough when people will line up for hours, some reportedly in their pajamas, just to get a free breakfast. C'mon people! I mean I know the economy is in the toilet but either you're very hungry or things are so bad that you're trying to eat your way to a heart attack so as to escape your financial meltdown.
I don't know why Denny's did it. Maybe their food sucks so bad they feel they need to give it away. Last time I ate there I had to strap myself down on my toilet for three days. So I'd rather eat my dog with some butter and a side of bacon than eat at Denny's for free and I'm really fond of my dog.
Now don't get me wrong. I'm down for some free food but only if it's quality stuff. Like if McDonald's wants to give away some of their tasty McRibs, count me in. Chomp!
Here's the UB take on the big game:
What in the world was the slide across the stage and bang his crotch into the camera all about? Thankfully there wasn't a wardrobe malfunction.
Where was the E Street Band? There were so many people on stage I could barely see them. And have we not gotten over bringing the gospel choir onstage to try to get some cred? That was over in 1989.
I have no problem with 10th Avenue Freezeout. You know how I feel about Born To Run (earlier post) so no need to drag it through the mud. Artists---I know you gotta sell albums, but on Super Bowl Sunday nobody wants to hear your new song...hence the big yawn when Bruce broke into the new song he threw into the mix...then he did Glory Days and changed the words from a baseball to a football song. It was painfully obvious to me long ago when this song first came out that Bruce knew nor cared anything about sports...he called a "fastball" a "speedball"....nobody ever in the history of baseball called it a "speedball"...his use of "hail mary" and his attempt to fake a pass looked feminine. All I'm saying is Boss, go with what you know on the big stage. Overall his show was ok but a bit glam for a rock n roll icon.
If you watch any NFL football at all the referees have GOT to be getting on your nerves. There are a small handful of them that think the game is about them...they must tell their kids "look for daddy on TV today, I'll throw a flag just for you." They can't WAIT to throw a flag to get their face on television. It is ruining the game for me. There were several penalties called that were obvious non-penalties that just sucks the life out of the game...and it seems that the NFL rewards the biggest camera-mugging refs with putting them in the Super Bowl!!!!!! Astounding!
I was shocked. UB has been a life-long football fan and seen nothing but misery out of the Cardinals. I thought they played well and deserved to win if not for a couple boneheaded plays. What a shame. It's not like Pittsburgh looked like a championship team, although they did what they had to do to win. Pittsburgh fans, never forget...you ESCAPED the Super Bowl with a win over the Cards...so you might want to keep it down just a little, ok?
We all know that the Super Bowl commercials have gone downhill but this lot was particularly amateurish.
The Pepsi "MacGruber" commercial was just plain unfunny. I saw what they were going for, but they didn't pull it off. And the Doritos Crystal Ball...is the guy throwing the Crystal Ball into the boss' crotch STILL considered comedy? That may be funny to third graders, but PLEASE.
Didn't look like she lip synched, sounded good. Way to go Jennifer...especially after her recent family tragedy.
We've got to come up with a new word to call each other dude. Dude, I mean, EVERYBODY, even girls, are calling each other dude now, dude! Dude, there's gotta be a new word dude. Let's like, get together dude and see if anything pops into our head,ok dude? There's even a beer commercial about dude now dude! Dude, isn't that like our "jump the shark" moment dude? See ya later dude.
Recently one girls' basketball team beat the other one 100-0.
The coach for the WINNING team got fired because of the outcry of his lack of sportmanship in beating the other team so badly.
Now UB is all about sportsmanship. HOWEVER, this is a perfect example of what is wrong today with how kids are being taught. Today there is no such thing as losing. Everybody gets a trophy just for showing up. This has nothing to do with what the real world is going to be like for these kids when they become adults. Reality is much different from what the "we all are winners just for trying" mentality is. People lose. People get fired. That's life. You do not prepare them by teaching them that you are a victim if you don't always win.
Why even keep score.
One team was better than the other, period. perhaps the league is at fault for not having a mercy rule, but the reality of sports is, you teach your team to play hard until the horn sounds, period. That is how you teach winning and earning victory. If the other team can't keep up, IT'S THEIR FAULT. NOT THE WINNING TEAM'S FAULT!
Kids today are ill-prepared to face defeat in life, and you cannot learn through defeats such as the 100-0 trouncing if you are not allowed to. if the other team gets the blame. What the team that suffered such a horrible defeat should take away from this is....NEXT time, we will prepare better, get better players, whatever it takes to win. And then maybe they get beat 100-30. Then it'll be 100-50, etc., etc.
BUT, the winning coach got fired...so that the bleeding hearts could look like they are interested in fair play. GIVE ME A BREAK. I've got one word you...
The following girls are supposed to be hot, but once you stop drinking and wake up, theyâre not and I donât know HOW a few of them ever even were thought of as hot.NUMBER FREAKINâ ONE
Gwyneth Paltrow- How in the world do you think this snobby, pale unnactractive bag âo bones is hot? Puh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze. Sheâs not even a good actress.
Angelina Jolie Why does everyone have a heart attack over this ultra thin, strange and perverted woman? What is soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo gorgeous about her? She is knock-kneed, a man thief, evil, and possibly a real vampire.
Kirsten Dunst The worst teeth in movie historyâ¦and you could find 200,000 hotter girls in Austin than herâ¦and she canât act.
Pamela Anderson All fake. She looks like a cartoon.
Kate Moss If you like your women malnourished with needle tracks, sheâs the one for you!