Monday, December 21, 2009

My Christmas Wish List

Since Christmas is just a few days away, I thought I'd share with you some things that I want to receive this year. If you're scrambling to buy some last-minute gifts and need some ideas, you should definitely read this. In no particular order, here they are....

1. Neosporin: This stuff is great. I'm always cutting myself, and it really does help wounds heal faster.... something like 50% faster. I'm not sure about that, but feel free to quote me on that statistic. I'm no doctor, but as I've often said, it can't be that hard.... I think I'd make a really great doctor. Just rub some Neosporin on whatever hurts and say, "Hey, kid. Here's a lolly-pop."

2. Replaceable toothbrush heads: These are for those electric toothbrushes. If you don't have one yet, you really need to go out and buy one. In fact, forget about getting this as a gift for someone else. You need this for yourself. And it comes with my 100% guarantee that you'll be satisfied. If you're not happy with it, I'll personally brush your teeth for a month.... so you've got nothing to lose. It's a win-win situation.

3. Modelo Especial: No, I don't have a drinking problem, but I do have an insatiable craving for this Mexican beer. Try one today, and you'll forget all your troubles.... at least until you finish the bottle. But guess what. You've bought a six-pack. There's five more of those bad boys for you to enjoy!

4. iTunes Gift Cards: I'll be honest. iTunes is the best thing to happen to me, since I met an Italian woman on a plane en route to Rome. No joke. Of course, she ended up breaking my heart. But I once urinated in a dark alley in Rome.... so I guess she and I are even. Anyways, iTunes is amazing.... Music, movies, television.... it's all there! My stupid podcast is even on there.

5. Lou Reed: I recently discovered the awesomeness of this singer. Just incredible songs. I would love to hear some more of his music.... or if it could be arranged for me to meet him in person, that would be cool, too. Whichever is easier.

6. Canned salmon: This one is pretty simple. I really like canned salmon. In fact, I may have already mentioned this somewhere in the past.... but I make an awesome salmon pasta dish. I boil some rigatoni pasta, and while it's still hot I add some shredded sharp cheddar and parmesan. Then I add some olive oil and some black and cayenne pepper. Mix it all up and dig in! It will rock your world. I guarantee it. It's cheesy. It's salmony. Enough said. If you don't like, please let me know because there must be something terribly wrong with you. Like seriously mentally and physically wrong with you. I mean, once again, I'm no doctor, but I think I'm standing on pretty solid ground when I make that claim.

7. Orbit gum: You can never have too much gum, and Orbit is one of my favorites. I once chewed a single piece for four days straight. Somehow my body automatically adjusted to having gum in its mouth at night. That was back when I was young though.... in my wild days. Back when I would do crazy stuff like chew gum for four days straight just because I could. I was a real rebel.

8. Rogaine: I'm not losing my hair, but I just want to be prepared. Plus, I have an experiment that I want to try out. It involves my back, a friend, and a bottle of Rogaine. Ok, I'll just tell you. I want to be a werewolf. Not like as a costume for Halloween or anything. I mean, I want to literally become a werewolf.

9. Cigarettes: I don't actually smoke. I think smoking is terrible, but (damn it) they're cool. I like to imagine myself as a young Marlon Brando when I'm holding a cigarette in my mouth. I won't actually light it.... or if I do, I won't inhale. In a world increasingly hostile to smokers, I want to be beacon of hope.... albeit a hypocritical beacon of hope.

10. World peace: Just kidding. I don't really care about the world. I just couldn't think of anything else to write.

Friday, November 13, 2009

My Twenties Bucket List

As some of you may know, but probably most of you do not, I turned 29 the other day. Yes, I am now just one year away from being 30 years old. I've sort of shut myself up in my apartment for the last few days just thinking about what this means for me. It will be the end of my twenties.... and the end of an era really. I figure I'll have to finally grow up and start acting like an adult. So before I turn 30, I figured there's some things that I should do. It's my twenties bucket list.

My Twenties Bucket List

1. Win just one arm-wrestle match: I've never been very good at arm-wrestling, which is a shame because I love arm-wrestling. In fact, I'll do almost anything to win just one match. I'd even consider arm-wrestling a child just to feel the rush from slamming someone's hand down on a table.

2. Make an amazing meatloaf: I like meatloaf but have never been able to make my own. The solution is simple: make my own amazing meatloaf.

3. Start a bar fight: What could be more exciting than starting a good, old-fashioned bar fight? I'm talking like a good Western-style bar fight.... smashing beer bottles, breaking chairs on backs, and, of course, sliding bodies down the entire length of the bar.

4. Learn how to speak Norwegian: This just seems like a cool language. Very few people that I know speak it.... in fact, I think that very few people even speak it. Outside of Norway, who is speaking it? And Norway can't have more than a couple of hundred people. If I learn Norwegian, I'll immediately be the talk of the party.... and really, who wouldn't find Norwegian intriguing?

5. Quiet an angry mob by firing a gun into the air: I imagine myself doing this after the bar fight from #3 has gone on for too long and has gotten a bit out of hand. I'll start by trying to quiet people down by saying, "Guys, we need to quiet down." And then when no one quiets down, I'll yell real loud, "Hey, guys! Quiet down!" When that inevitably does not work, I'll pull out my pistol and fire a single shot above my head. And that will get there attention. Everyone will stop and turn towards me. I'll slowly put my gun back in its holster and looking down at the blood on my boots I'll say very calmly, "Party's over. You folks go on back to your homes."

6. Wrestle with a grizzly bear: I want to prove that it can be done and put all these Davy Crockett nay-sayers to shame. And I'll do it.... even if I have to dress someone up in a bear suit.... I'll do it.

7. Film my own reality show: This is a long-time idea of mine to film my own reality show. I imagine it as chronicling my daily routine.... just what I do in a normal day. Like one episode I might just sit in my underwear wasting time on Facebook for 30 minutes. I don't know.... maybe my phone rings, but I don't answer it because I don't recognize the number.... but then that person calls again, so I answer it. And it's an old friend who I haven't spoken to in years, and he wants to know what I'm doing these days. And I reply, "Oh, I'm a doctor performing surgery right now. Yeah, you just caused me to ruin the entire procedure. Thanks!" And I hang up and go back to Facebook.

8. Slap someone in the face: This is closely related to the bar fight. I'm realizing now that I have a lot of pent aggression. Oh well.

9. Tell a woman, "I'm just not into you": This one is going to sound a little bitter, and there's probably nothing I can do to stop that. It's been a long-time dream of mine to reject an attractive woman regardless of whether or not she's into me. For example, I picture myself in a bar (perhaps right before I start the fight) where there's the most beautiful woman imaginable. I just want to be able to walk right up and reject her. I don't know.... perhaps I'm just really bitter. Maybe her boyfriend will come over and ask, "What the hell is your problem, buddy?" And I'll say, "My problem is I'm about to kick your ass!" That's when I'll break my beer bottle and start going crazy.... bar fight ensues.

10. Become a father: This one might seem weird, but I'm only half-joking. It would be nice to get a girl pregnant, marry her, and then ask her out on a date.... something like that. If there's one thing I can't stand it's having society tell me what to do. I'll court a woman how I please. And I know what you all are thinking.... No, I'm not going to break any laws here. I'll just ask a woman politely, "Excuse me, miss. Would you like to be the mother of my child?" And eventually someone will say "yes." It's just a simple matter of probability.

I love synthesizing things, and I'm realizing now that my bucket list could be merged into a single, amazing event.... perhaps the day before I turn 30. Here's how it goes. I make an amazing meatloaf (#2) that I bring to a bar where I win an arm-wrestling match (#1). I walk over to the loser's girlfriend and reject her (#9). Her boyfriend comes up and asks what the hell I'm doing. I slap him in the face (#8) and bar fight begins (#3). Somehow in this bar fight, a grizzly bear attacks me, and I'm forced to wrestle him (#6). Realizing this is getting out of hand, I end the fight by firing my pistol in the air (#5). At this point the beautiful woman is impressed with what she sees. So I walk up to her and ask her if she'd be the mother of my child. She doesn't speak English, though, so I try asking her in Norwegian (#4). She understands completely. "Yes," she says (in Norwegian) (#10). Meanwhile, this is all being filmed for my reality show (#7).

Then I turn 30.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

The Bar Fight Sequel

Yes, it's true. I'm ceasing with Beard Challenge Fall 2009.... at least for now. Well, the truth is I don't feel like posting photos anymore. Plus, my beard has blossomed into maturity now and is ready to be on its own.

I thought, instead, that I might finish the story I began last week. If you'll remember, Ross and I had gotten into a bloody bar fight. There were darts and stools flying everywhere. There is one correction I'd like to make though. The young lady whom Ross knocked out with a bar stool was not a cute little thing as I had originally described her. In short, she was a hag. Just a real ugly person. I think society will be much more accepting of this scenario. So that's taken care of.

If you'll remember, at the end of last week's story, I had managed to drag an enraged Ross out of the bar. This is where things got messy. As I escaped down York Ave., I had Ross flung over my shoulder.

"Put me down, damn it! I can take her!" Ross was still screaming. I had forgotten that he was never one to give up a fight. I tried to calm him down before some cop noticed us.

"You gotta shut it. Easy there, man. This ain't no Western." But in my heart I knew this was exactly like a Western. I was John Wayne to Ross's Glen Campbell in True Grit. Suddenly, Ross got quiet. He was breathing fast and hard. "Finally," I thought, "maybe we'll make it out of here without anymore trouble." Just then I noticed some drops of blood running down my right arm - the arm holding Ross up on my shoulder.

"Dear God, no!" I whispered. Had I been cut? Was I bleeding?

I turned into the nearest dark alley and laid Ross down against the wall of an abandoned building. I pulled up my sleeve and examined my arm. Nothing. Ross grabbed the right side of his stomach. He was wincing and having trouble breathing.

"She got me, Mike," he said quietly. "While you were kicking the fat guy on the floor, the ugly one grabbed a broken piece of the stool and took a swipe at my side."

"Don't you worry, Ross. I can fix this."
"No. She got me real good. It's all over now. Get out of here before the cops come."
"I'm not going anywhere," I said. "I got you into this mess with my damn beard. It's all my fault. Maybe I should never have grown this stupid thing. Maybe the world would be better off without it."
"Don't you say that, you bastard!" Ross shrieked coughing up some blood. "Don't you ever say that.... not while I'm here. Now get out of here! You and that beard go make somebody happy."
But I wasn't going to budge. I had seen enough medical shows on television and knew that I could save him. I just needed to stop the bleeding and sew up the wound. But where could I find a needle and some string? Where?

Just then out of the farthest corner of that alley emerged a dark figure. He was a typical hobo - no teeth, grizzly gray beard, raggedy overcoat - except that he was carrying a medical bag. "I'll sell you this medical kit. It has everything you need," he said.
"Of course! Anything. What do you want for it?" I asked.
"Your beard versus mine."
"What? You want our beards to battle each other?"
"Yes," he said, "they fight, and if yours wins you get the medical kit."

This was absurd, but I was desperate. When you're desperate, you'll do some crazy things. So my beard battled the hobo's gray beard. I won't even try to describe it. There are just some things that words can not capture, where language becomes no longer adequate. Suffice it to say, my beard won the fight, and the hobo handed over the bag of medical supplies.

"Fine, you can have it," he said, "but why didn't you just got to the emergency room?"
"Because it's too dangerous. There'd be too many questions. The cops would find us for sure." In hind sight we probably didn't need to be so worried about the cops, but at the time it seemed like a real danger.

Everything that I needed was in that bag: needle, string, bandages, and even a bottle of whiskey. It was a very old medical bag. I rolled up Ross's shirt to examine the wound.
"Wait!" he yelled and grabbed the old whiskey bottle. He took a long swig and then poured some over the wound.
"I'm not going to sugar coat this for you. It's going to hurt real bad. But look at me.... you're going to make it," I said. Just then I remembered that I had been carrying a pen in my pocket.
"There. Now chomp down on this."
As I stitched up his side, Ross chomped down so hard on that pen that it snapped in two. By then the pain got so great that he just passed out. The stitching up went ok. But Ross was out cold, and not knowing if something was wrong with him, I began to panic.

"Why, God?! Why?!" I screamed with hands raised to the night sky.
"Don't you die on me, damn it!" I scooped him up in my arms. "Don't you dare die on me, Ross! Don't you die on me!" By now I was sobbing heavily. This continued for 45 minutes as Ross was out cold.

A few days later I realized that my medical care may not have been as skillful as first thought. The wound had turned black and, according to Ross, felt like a burning coal had been placed inside of him. So I ended up taking him to the hospital after all. It turns out that the needle was the last thing that should have been touching anyone's blood. The doctor thought it best to run some tests to make sure Ross hadn't picked up any diseases. We're still waiting for the results.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Showdown in the Upper East Side, or How Ross and I Defended the Honor of My Beard

Well, another week has passed, and my beard is coming in nicely. In fact, I think it's fair to say that this is a full-grown beard. I actually surprised myself a bit this time.... wasn't sure I could pull it off this quickly. It's a personal best for me. My last record in beard-growing was back in the winter of 1990. I was 10 years old, and it was an especially cold winter.... perhaps my body just knew to kick it up a notch. I don't know.

Anyways, my old college buddy, Ross, was in NYC this past weekend. And, of course, Ross is also one of the co-hosts along with Greg and myself on the podcast Fourth Time Around. You should have been there.... the two of us were inseparable as we traipsed across Manhattan.... through the hectic Times Square, across a gorgeous Central Park, and in the upscale Upper East Side. Oh, and we also got in a bar fight.

There we were in a quiet little Irish pub.... up around York Avenue and 84th Street. Ross and I were relaxing over a tall beer after a long day of taking in the city. Some college-age hooligans were over in the corner throwing darts. Lousy bums. One fat guy and one cute little gal who couldn't have been older than 17. They started heckling me. "Hey, beard-guy, where's your blue ox?".... and "Hey, Paul Bunyan called. He wants his beard back." You know, real kid stuff. Still, I won't lie.... I was itching for a fight. I just sat there silently sizing them up. But I couldn't hide the rage that was swelling up inside of me.

"Easy, Mikey," Ross whispered to me. "Those two are trouble. One of them's got a blade."
"Thanks, Ross, but I think I can handle it." Ross always did have good eyes. That's why we used to call him Scout back in the old days.
"Just take it easy," he said. "I don't want to get arrested on this trip for putting those kids in the hospital."

I told him that I'd keep my cool, but the kids wouldn't let up. We ordered a couple more beers and two whiskeys each. There was a storm brewing, and I was preparing for the worst. Suddenly, the fat one threw a dart from across the room directly at us. It landed in my beer spraying the stuff all over my face.

I turned to Ross and calmly whispered, "I'll take the fat one. You take the short girl." He nodded. I grabbed the dart and walked up to the fat man. Ross sidled up next to the little girl. She looked cute, but I knew she could be dangerous. The cutest ones always are.

"I believe this is yours," I said to the fat guy. I could see his right hand slowly reaching for the blade in his boot.
"Yeah, well maybe it is."
"Well, maybe this!" I screamed as I jabbed the dart into his side.
I gave him a quick punch to the groin. He fell like a baby.
"Nobody makes fun of my beard!" I cried giving several round kicks to his stomach as he lay on the floor.

Seeing me stab the fay guy, Ross nimbly grabbed the nearest bar stool and swung it around hitting the girl on the back. Boom! Down she went next to the fat guy. Ross was livid, and I could see that this was as personal for him as it was for me.

"His beard is a national treasure! You hear me! A national treasure!"
"Ross, that's enough! We gotta get out of here. The cops'll be here soon," I tried to calm him down, but I could see the rage in his eyes was growing. I finally had to throw him over my shoulder and haul him out.

And that's how Ross and I got in a bar fight and defended the honor of my beard.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Beard Challenge Fall 2009: Day 11, or the Day Chivalry Died

Well, I'm already on week 2 of my Beard Challenge. As per the advice I received from Greg and Ross, I've posted this week's photo in color. On last week's Fourth Time Around episode they both berated me for having a creepy, black and white photo that made me look like the Unabomber. I don't know what all the fuss is about. Still, I thought it might be a good idea to take their advice for once. As it turns out, I don't look so bad in color after all. You'll also notice that there's nothing creepy about this photo. It captures me deep in contemplation of some philosophical dilemma.... perhaps how I'm going to seduce my Hispanic laundry lady. So, no, not creepy at all.

I've been feeling a bit unproductive lately. The one day of class that I had last week was rescheduled due to Columbus Day. While I would like to tell you that I spent that time doing school work, I'm afraid that most of my time was spent watching shows on If you haven't discovered this yet, you should definitely check it out: You know what I really hate? I hate it when people ask me, "Are you working hard, or hardly working?" Whenever someone says that to me, I give him a swift jump-kick in the stomach. This can be difficult for a man of my small size, especially on people several feet taller than I am. But it is so worth it. The initial shock of having just been jump-kicked usually gives me enough time to run away.

And, yes, I do this to both men and women. I always treat both sexes equally. This is why I never hold hold doors open or stuff like that for women.... but children are different. I'm not an animal. I'll hold a door open for a child, but then I'll slam it shut on the mother. I also don't walk on the traffic side of the sidewalk when with a woman. I don't quite understand that one, and I refuse to adhere to it. If you think I'm going to risk getting hit by a car, you are very wrong. In fact, ladies, if you are walking with me, I am much more likely to use you to protect myself.... that's just fair warning. I'm not sure how exactly.... probably just grab you and throw you in front of me.

I know this all must sound harsh and ungentlemanly, but I wasn't always this way. I used to be a knight in shining armor.... like the shiniest, brightest armor you've ever seen and riding on a snow-white stallion.... the strongest, purest bred white stallion ever. Do you understand this metaphor yet? But all those chivalric ideals came crashing down one day. I was in Italy.... a perfect setting for disillusionment. An American friend of mine was visiting the Rome Campus of the University of Dallas.... I know, blah blah blah blah. Anyways, short story a bit shorter.... we were walking outside in the rain, so I offered to hold my umbrella over her so she wouldn't get soaked. Well, she refused the generosity of the Mikey train. Can you believe that? She said something about how she was liberated in the '70s. So, from that time forward, I've kept a vow to treat men and women equally.

By the way, I hope you'll check out Fourth Time Around.... episodes are in the sidebar. Just do me a favor and at least listen to episodes 3 and 7. They're my favorite so far. And if you're not satisfied, I'll personally come to where you live and give you a massage as compensation for your time. So those are your options.... listen to the podcast or receive a full-body massage from me. It's what you call a win-win situation.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Beard Challenge Fall 2009: Day 4

Here it is finally. Mike for all the world to see. Fully exposed. This is both the most awesome and saddest thing I've ever done.... Well, besides that one time I punched a 9-year-old boy in the stomach because I thought he was making fun of me on the subway. It turns out he was just waving to his mother.... she was sitting next to me.

You'll notice that I'm using a black and white photo. Everything looks better in black and white. Trust me. You really do not want to see this face up close in color. It's kind of like a baby's diaper. Not used or anything, sickos.... just a very white, unused diaper.... like my face. That metaphor is actually much more applicable than I originally had thought.

Anyways, I missed my chance to post a clean-shaven photo of me for Day 1 of the beard challenge. Oh well.... maybe a clean-shave photo of me does not exist. Perhaps, it's just one of those mysterious things in life that you could swear you have seen but just can't remember exactly when or what it looked like. You know.... it's like Bigfoot or Val Kilmer. What happened to him? Wherever he is, I can almost guarantee that he has a nice, full-grown beard right now.

Now, I'm already getting some nay-sayers out there.... some who are saying that Mike Maiella can't grow a beard anymore.... that I've lost my manliness.... my mojo, if you will. Well, I'll admit.... I've lost a lot the last few years, but I'll be darned if I can't still grow the fullest, manliest, most God-blessing American beard you've ever seen. It will be the most perfect beard that it will replace the idea of beardness itself. We'll just yank that right out of the sky and replace it with my beard.

Yes, you read that right. I didn't stutter. This beard and I are going to be like one of those famous duos in history.... like the Lone Ranger and Tonto, or Turner and Hooch. I know what you all are thinking right now.... and, yes, my beard and I are going to be fighting crime. My beard will be like the scout. When he sees the bad guys coming, he'll signal me.... and then I'll come running in to arrest them. You're probably all saying, "Mike, you can't just arrest people! You don't have the authority." You'd be wrong though. I will have the authority. Every man in this country over the age of 25 who has a "full beard" has the right to own and carry a gun "anywhere and at any time." They also have the authority to arrest "bad guys." I'm using quotation marks so you can clearly see exactly how it's worded on the books. Technically, I think this is only applicable in Texas circa 1878. This would explain why I would also be entitled to my neighbor's eldest daughter in marriage.

So, maybe I'm not actually allowed to arrest anyone or shoot guns whenever I want to.... or force my neighbor's eldest daughter into marriage. But if I've learned anything from the television show Heroes, it's that time and space are no obstacle for a hero. As my old friend Walt says, "So when you feel like hope is gone, look inside you and be strong. And you'll finally see the truth.... that a hero lies in you." I can never tell if he's giving me advice or just singing to himself. He's funny like that.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Beard Challenge Fall 2009

As some of you know, I periodically grow a full and lustrous beard.... one that really makes the ladies take notice. In fact, my beards have had more success with women than I have. I'll just let you think real hard about that one. For those of you who have paid attention.... really way too much attention.... to my beard, you know that I tend to grow them in the fall and winter and go baby-faced in the spring and summer.... a baby with a five o'clock shadow.

Fall officially started last week, and the days are already getting cooler here in NYC. There's that magical fall feeling in the air.... it's a mix between swine flu and matzah balls. Yes, soon the children will be leaping through piles of fallen leaves, and the homeless will get relentless in their pursuit of my money.... money I don't have by the way. In all fairness to homeless people.... I don't like them. "Beat it, old homeless man! I wouldn't give you a single hair from my awesome beard!" That's not actually what I yell at them, but I think it. I don't give the homeless anything for free. I say make those guys earn it. As my old friend Walt says, "You can teach a man to fish, but getting him to fish for you feels so much better." I totally agree, Walter, and I've put your advice into practice for once. And, no, I'm not talking about buying pirated CDs and DVDs like some homeless sell on the street. I can buy those anywhere. What I want is something that I can't buy in stores. For example, I once gave a homeless guy $10 for walking in front of an oncoming bus. Why would I do that, you ask? Because I looked like a bad ass when I jumped in the street to save him. Now who's the idiot for giving a homeless guy $10? I just became an instant hero.

All of this points to only one thing: the beard is back. Now, read that statement again but with the song "The Boys Are Back in Town" playing in your head. And replace the words "boys are back in town" with "the beard is back on Mike's face".... just in case some of you couldn't figure that part out. This season, though, I'm offering the world something unprecedented. I'm going to document the growth of my beard by posting photos.... daily might be too much but maybe weekly. As Greg pointed out on the podcast, no one has actually asked me to provide this service. But, as I also mentioned on the show, I can't imagine a single reason why anyone wouldn't want to experience this with me.

All you'll have to do is come to my blog, and you'll be able to track my beard's growth into awesome, American manhood. Yeah, I like to think of it as similar to tracking the growth of a baby inside the womb. I can already tell what you're thinking.... yes, it will be like I'm pregnant and, yes, I am expecting to receive special treatment. So.... aren't you excited?! It'll be like you're right here with me.... watching our little beard child grow.... this is not to be confused with a bearded child. That's something completely different.... and entirely inappropriate in my mind.

You'll notice that there is not yet a photo of me up here. Well, I'm having to delay the actual Beard Challenge until next week.... I have a wedding to go to Saturday, and I've got to look my best. Clean-shaven is a good look and beard is a good look.... but in between is not really a great look. Again, it's like being pregnant.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Blast from the Past

I recently checked my MySpace account, which I haven't done in almost a year. I guess I just got caught up with Facebook and forgot about MySpace. I think we all did. Anyways, it appears that I started a blog there several years ago. I was living in Texas at the time, and was then, as now, unemployed. Also, judging from the title of this first entry, it seems that I have a proclivity for listing items in sets of three. At any rate, I hope you enjoy even though it is rather short.

Unemployment, the homeless, and prostitutes

Right. So I'm unemployed. I sleep in a lot now, which isn't so bad. Actually, it's really good. Whenever I am scheduled for a job interview, I always tell them that afternoons are better for me: "Yeah, mornings really aren't good for me." or "Yeah, I volunteer at the homeless shelter every morning." I don't volunteer at a homeless shelter, but it is something that I've wanted to do for a while now. I don't even know if they have a homeless shelter around here. I haven't seen too many homeless people here in north Texas. Maybe I'm just not looking hard enough.

I've thought of looking for one....I'd probably start on Northwest Highway around the strip clubs. That's probably where I would go if I were homeless....not sure why. Of course, I'd probably run into some prostitutes, and I don't think I'd like that too much. It might not be too bad. You know, I've never spoken to a prostitute before.....of course, maybe I have and just didn't know it. I've spoken to lots of bitches but I don't think that's quite the same.

I wonder if there are any homeless prostitutes. Probably not....there's always someone willing to pay for sex. I might have to try that....being a prostitute....just walk up and down Northwest Highway at night and sell my body for money. Women only, of course. Well, maybe I wouldn't have to have sex with anyone because let's face it, the people willing to pay ME for sex probably should not be having sex.......ever. We could just chat for thirty minutes or something, and then I'd say, "Oh, look at the time. I've got to get going, but I promise we'll get it on next time." Of course, there wouldn't be a next time. I'd just say that to make the person feel like I liked her.....that's empowering.....building up others' self-esteem. And you can't put a price on that.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

The Hair Cut

I was thinking recently about my first blog post that I wrote a few months ago. When I started this thing, I imagined it as a way for me to write about my adventures. Somehow along the way, though, I got side-tracked by health care reform, writing a sitcom, and getting pregnant. In all honesty, I just didn't really have much to write from my own life.... even on a weekly basis. I suppose that I prefer the fantasy over the reality. Every once in a while, though, my fantasy and reality converge, and the result is a magical moment beyond my wildest imaginations.... like being in a 3rd grade class in which Tony Danza is the teacher.

The following story is not one of those moments.

I needed a hair-cut. It's not that my hair was especially long. It wasn't.... not on top anyways. But it was getting a bit shaggy on the sides. When I put off hair-cuts for too long, I start growing hairs out on my neck and.... well, I'm just going to stop there. It's downright gross. I think it's just as gross as you do. But I'm the one who has to live with it, so let's everyone just calm down. It's always an awkward moment for me when the barber has to trim the fine hairs bristling out of my neck. You'd think I would have gotten used to it after all these years.

Actually, the only time I really felt comfortable.... like completely at ease.... was in Italy (I lived there for almost two years). They know how to trim hairy men. They don't mess with electric razors. Where I went it was all old-fashioned.... with a straight edge razor or whatever you call it. It was great. This one time in particular I remember this old guy cutting my hair. A radio was playing, and all of a sudden this Johnny Cash song comes on. That just about knocked me out of my chair. It was awesome. It was some obscure Cash song, too, which made it all the more surprising. I miss those moments that you only get from living abroad.

I got a bit off track there.

So I went to get a hair cut the other day. A few months ago, I found the best person to cut my hair. Let me back up a bit first. The first two hair cuts I got since moving here were from a Dominican woman who didn't seem to speak any English. The crazy part was I sat down in the chair, and the lady just started cutting away.... didn't even make an attempt to ask what I wanted. Oh well.... it turned out okay, but I wasn't really pleased. As I say, though, I've been going to the same barber shop in my neighborhood for the past few months now.

The young lady who cuts my hair is Leslie, and she's awesome - just the sweetest person you could ever have cutting your hair. I always tip her well. I like to tip women who cut my hair. I always feel kind of bad for putting them through the ordeal of cutting my hair. I don't know.... the whole thing just seems too intimate. Speaking of intimate, one of my favorite parts of the hair cut experience is getting my hair washed. I swear, I would get my hair cut every week if it were physically possible just to have my hair shampooed and rinsed by someone else. Now, I know what you all are thinking, "Mike, you could pay to get your hair washed as often as you like." That's true, but even I must admit that it would be very creepy if I popped in once a week to get my hair washed.... especially if I insisted on having Leslie each time. "No, damn it! I will not let Carlos touch me! I'm not going anywhere until Leslie washes my hair!" I don't know why that turned so violent.

Now, I don't want to be beating a dead Hispanic horse.... but, yes, Leslie is Hispanic. And, yes, I suppose that it does add something extra to the whole experience. Wait, I just realized how creepy this would be if Leslie through some inexplicable way found this blog. Leslie, if you're reading this now, just ignore all that stuff I wrote. It was a big joke.... haha! Hilarious. I mean, it's not like I have a crush on you or something. When you wash my hair, I don't close my eyes and picture us strolling hand-in-hand through the streets of Brooklyn.... or something like that. Haha! Now that would be creepy.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Episode 3

Well, episode 3 of Fourth Time Around is here! It's one of our finest episodes to date. True, this may not mean much considering that this is only our 3rd episode.... but, trust me, it's a good one. We focus our discussion on important topics this time around, such as superpowers, my childhood, and why the world is doomed.

You can find the podcast at our website:

As always, if you enjoyed the show and found yourself pleasantly surprised, please feel free to leave us a review on iTunes. Those reviews make us look awesome, and you can feel good knowing that you helped make that possible. So, I think it's a fair trade.

And remember that you can always send questions for Greg, Ross, and me to discuss on the show. Contact us whichever way you'd prefer; this blog, Facebook, or my email:


Tuesday, September 15, 2009

New Sitcom

The new fall season of television is starting up this month. As usual, there should be a slew of new shows. Most will be disappointing, and many will be canceled within a few weeks. I'm afraid that television is just not what it used to be. Sadly, the glory days of Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley, and Sanford and Son are long gone. We had a moment of salvation with Seinfeld, but that has long since passed. Now, year after year we're force-fed the same formulaic, predictable drivel.

So instead of just complaining (as I often do), I decided to do something about it. I've created my own idea for a new sitcom.... and it is guaranteed to be hilarious. My creative process was simple really - What hasn't been done before? And then it hit me: 18th-century England.

Okay, picture this.... You're an English Lord (I don't know, perhaps an Earl of Essex or something), the King is visiting your estate today, and you can't find your best knickers. But wait.... suddenly, you hear some uncouth noises coming from your eldest daughter's bedroom. When you open the door to find out what's going on, you find her in bed with some young rogue.... the churlish swine! You have this scoundrel taken into the courtyard to be given 20 lashes with the whip, but just then His Majesty the King arrives with his entourage. Can you see where this is going? Nothing can be allowed to mar the King's visit, so you have to do everything to prevent the King from discovering the whipping in the courtyard. This is a clear case of comedy with no easy solution.

I know what you're all thinking: Why can't the Earl of Essex simply order the whipping to be stopped? He can't. While he is in the presence of the King, he can't give any orders.... it's an old English rule. I think they still use it. To make matters worse - your neighbor, Lord Kramwell (that's right.... combination of Kramer and Cromwell) shows up asking if he can borrow some sugar. So I'm sure by now you all are wondering, "How does it end?!" This is the part where I say, "Tune in and find out."

Actually, I imagined the commercial to sound something like this:

"What happens when your father discovers you fooling around with a young scallywag.... (Show clip of Earl opening the door to his daughter's bedroom. Then, close-up on daughter's horrified face. Then, quick close-up on scallywag's face.).... and His Majesty the King is coming over for a visit? The Earl has to weasel his way out of another fine mess on the next episode of Royal Pains."

Well, there you have it in a nutshell. Oh yeah. I decided to call it Royal Pains. I imagine the show as being 18th-century England meets Seinfeld meets 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Mexican Bakery Girl

As some of you may have heard on my podcast, Fourth Time Around, the Hispanic woman at my laundry mat has a little crush on me. At least, I'm 85% sure that she would probably reciprocate my romantic advances. Of course, I'm rather indifferent about the whole thing. It's not that I don't especially like her. Obviously, I have a slightly creepy fascination with Latina women.... generally speaking anyways. But the Hispanic women in my neighborhood are more for me to see than to touch.... if you know what I mean. If you don't, then you need to go have a talk with your parents because I'm not about to explain how all that works. In fact, as I've said before, I don't really know how it works. I think you can get pregnant from holding hands or something. Or there's a stork involved, too. Yeah, I think a stork has to fly over as you hold hands with a woman. It's got to be that easy because 80% of the women in my neighborhood are either pregnant or pushing strollers. That's just a fact, folks.

But I'm getting off track as I often do. As I mentioned on the podcast, I'm not sure if I'm prepared to enter the Hispanic world of Brooklyn. I'm convinced that there could be some dire consequences for me. To make things more complicated, though, I've already found another woman to pursue at my local Mexican bakery. Sure, it's dangerous.... but my middle name is.... well, actually my middle name is Louis. But I'm also dangerous. As my old friend Walt says, "You're dangerous." He really does say that. At any rate, I've written an open letter to the Mexican bakery girl.

Dear Mexican Bakery Girl,

How are you? It's Mike. I stopped by the bakery today and bought some of those Mexican pastry things. I'm sorry. I'm not sure what they're called.... caliente balls, or something like that. Whatever they are, they're amazing! Do you make them yourself?

Anyways - Mexican bakery girl, I don't even know your name. But I think you're cute. I think you and me should get a coffee.... or do you even like coffee? I don't know. Never mind. Let's just go get a taco sometime. Yeah, that'd be fun.

So.... I'm sorry for not giving you the correct amount of money for the caliente balls today. You told me the price in Spanish, and I was too embarrassed to admit that I don't speak Spanish. Wait - you do speak English, don't you? I hadn't even thought of that. Oh well.... maybe this won't work out after all. This reminds me of the movie Fools Rush In (I think that's what it's called) starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. I'm like Matthew Perry, and you're just like Salma. Awesome. Ok, maybe this isn't exactly like that movie, but still.... you should check it out sometime. None stop laughs and a beautiful love story find a happy marriage in this endearing romantic comedy. It came out in '97, and, trust me, it's going to be a classic. I can tell that it has that timeless quality that is so hard to find in film today.

Anyways, let me know what you think.


P.S. - I do know a little Spanish. I once looked up how to say, "I have diarrhea. Where is the absolute nearest toilet?"

P.P.S. - Have you ever been pregnant? I once held a girl's hand for more than 30 seconds, but I don't think that counts.

P.P.P.S. - I know you might not speak English, but you should check out my podcast, Fourth Time Around:

Thursday, September 10, 2009

2nd Episode of Fourth Time Around

Hey, folks!

The second episode of Fourth Time Around (my new podcast with Greg Wolfe and Ross Olsaver) is now available on iTunes and our website:

Please let us know what you think.... Questions for us are always welcome!

Just to clarify, we have a new link on iTunes:

You can also simply search iTunes using the show's or any of our names and find it. If you subscribed to the show via the old link, I think you'll need to go ahead and subscribe again via the new link.

Anyways, I'm probably only making this more complicated than it needs to be. Whatever.... I don't know how any of this stuff works. I just push a button, things light up, I talk, and magically my words come out of iTunes.... at least that's how Greg explained it for me.

As always - if you enjoy the show, please leave us a review. If you've never written a review and perhaps are nervous, don't worry. I've compiled a short list of words and phrases that will help you get started.
  • Awesome
  • Cool
  • Amazing
  • Best podcast ever
  • Hilarious
  • Perverted
  • Mike is my favorite!
  • Greg is kind of a pansy.
  • Ross smells like chicken soup.
  • But Mike is awesome.
Yeah, that's about it. That should be enough to at least help you get started. Don't worry.... I ran this list by the others. They're cool with it.

And finally, I want to give a big thank you to Rich Simpkins for all of his help behind the scenes with the recording and editing. Thanks, Rich!

Hope you enjoy the show!

Friday, September 4, 2009

An Open Letter

Dear Convenient Store Indian Guy,

You are really getting on my nerves. The other day when I stopped by your store to buy some tasty treats and some beer, I could hardly understand you. You kind of slurred your words together..... so that I couldn't understand that you were asking, "Debit or credit?" To my ears it sounded like, "Dib o cur." That's right, no question mark either because it didn't even sound like you were asking a question. You really need to work on that.... raising the inflection at the end of your sentences when asking a question or whatever. I don't know how it works. When I open my mouth, stuff just comes out like right now.... but it makes sense when I speak.

Also, could you please order some more Planters Cajun Snack Mix? They're awesome, but you always seem to be out. It's weird. I think my brother and I are the only people who buy them, but oh well. Maybe you could also get some hot pockets. Winter is right around the corner, and I need to put on my annual 15 extra pounds as I slip into what is bound to be another bout of seasonal depression. Don't judge me, Convenient Store Indian Guy. Just buy me my tasty treats.... that was funny..... I almost spelled tits by accident. Haha. See, Convenient Store Indian Guy, I have a sense of humor. I'm not all work. I'm not riding your ass for kicks. Wait.... you do know what that means, don't you? I'm just trying to discipline you a little.... I'm not gay.

Look, Convenient Store Indian Guy, it's really simple. Just make sure you stock up on all my tasty treats and beverages. Do you understand me? See that.... I raised the inflection of my voice as I typed that. Did you hear that in your thick, ignorant head? You know what else I'm going to raise? My foot up your ass. Just kidding. That was over the line. As my old friend Walt says, "There's nothing funny about a foot up the ass.... unless it's up the ass of a convenient store Indian guy." Oops.... sorry about that.

Well, Convenient Store Indian Guy, perhaps I've been a bit too harsh on you. I'm sorry. I have nothing against Indians per se, and I know that you don't have an easy job, especially with all the gangsters in my neighborhood (notice I didn't say what ethnicity they are.... I want to be very clear about that).

Let's be best friends forever!

Mike Maiella

P.S. - The other day when I stopped by your store, I saw a cop buy a small packet of condoms. It made me laugh inside. I don't know why.... I just wanted to tell you that.

P.P.S. - What is that odor emanating from your body? It's kind of like a baby who's eaten curry and hasn't had its diaper changed for a week. And how can I bottle that scent for consumers? We could have the market sewn up.... no more pepper spray. Ladies, just spray this stuff on when you're walking home late at night!

P.P.P.S. - Don't forget to check out my podcast, Fourth Time Around available for free at iTunes:

or at our website:

Thursday, September 3, 2009

4th Time Around

Hey, folks! Just writing to tell you that my new podcast with Ross and Greg is finally here: 4th Time Around. It is currently available for free from iTunes, which you can find at this link:

You will have to use this direct link to find the podcast for now. It will take 1-2 days until you will be able to search for it in iTunes.

Let us know what you think! And definitely tell us if you have trouble getting to the website or whatever.

You can contact me directly at my email:


Tuesday, September 1, 2009

I'm Having a Baby

Just kidding. I'm not actually having a baby. My doctor keeps telling me that it's physically impossible for me to conceive and bear children. My old arch-nemesis, Mark V., however, has formed a truce with me and is working on a formula to get me pregnant. So far we've had no luck. No sure what this "formula" is exactly. I have a suspicion that it's just pineapple juice.

Anyways - I recently got to spend some time with a baby. My goddaughter and her mother came to visit me in NYC for a few days. Her name is Alexandra, and she's only 13 months old.... the baby, I mean. Not the mother. For her birthday in July, I bought her some cute little clothes. And it's really strange because I didn't realize that you buy baby clothes based on their age in months. Of course, this does make sense since they grow so quickly. So there's a big difference between a size 6-months and a size 12-months or 18-months. Can you imagine if adults bought clothes like that? "I need a size 347 months pair of pants please." That makes me sound huge!

So I got to take little Alex to Central Park and play in the playgrounds there. She's only 13 months, but she can stumble around on two legs. It's crazy. Babies have these super chunky sausage rolls for legs. They really don't look like they should be holding them up. She held my hand for support, and we walked around the playground together. At times I would sit on the bench while Alex's mother walked around with her. And a strange thing occurred to me. There's a very fine line between "loving father watching his child play" and "that creepy guy watching the kids play." I felt like I was straddling both types. Not that I'm a creepy guy, but when I was sitting alone on the bench watching the kids play.... I felt that others may have seen me that way. When I walked with Alex, though, it's like I had a free pass to go wherever and do whatever I wanted and it would be socially acceptable. A child (and especially a baby) will get you into any social circles. They're like magic keys that will get you into the forbidden city. With her beside me, I could walk into any group of women and immediately be accepted, trusted, respected.... and perhaps admired. And believe me - I could feel this on the playground with the mothers. It was awesome.

As you can imagine, all of this has only reinforced my desire to have a baby. It may be difficult, but as my old friend Walt says, "When you can't make a baby, make a vodka tonic." Damn it, Walter.... sometimes you don't make any sense.

Now before any of you ladies start getting any ideas about me being a sweet and nice guy. Let me just warn you that I will try to impregnate you if we ever meet. For the record then, that is the second time that I've given you ladies fair warning in my blog. Just take that for whatever it's worth. So to recap, if we ever meet I'll most likely try to get you pregnant. Once you give birth, though, that's where I step in and take the baby to raise as my future heir. And you can go back to doing whatever it is you do.... probably serving alcohol on Bedford Avenue.

**** Ladies and gentlemen, I'm happy to announce the wait is almost over. My all new podcast with Ross and Greg is set to air this week! It should be available to download for free from iTunes. I'll let you know when it's ready. ****

Monday, August 24, 2009

My Least Favorite Things

I've lately been making lists of things as you've seen in some of these posts. Here's one of my favorite lists.... a list of my least favorite things. I think the world would be better off if we got rid of these things.

1. Dreams: Dreams, what are they? Everyone's always telling me they have all these grand plans for their lives. Let's get real, folks. Most of these "dreams" are not going to happen. In fact, I'm a firm believer in determinism. There's very little we can change in our lives. Sorry Obama and Obama supporters, but that's life. Although, I have to admit, the campaign slogan, "Change We Can't Believe In Because Everything Is Already Determined," would probably not win over too many voters.

2. Couples: As a single man, I can't stand the sight of couples anymore. No offense to my coupled friends.... but, yes, I don't like you either. It's nothing personal. It's just that romantic relationships are like male nipples. They're completely irrational and later in life can turn into big problems. Get it? Man boobs. Plus, 9 times out of 10 relationships end in disaster. That's a fact. Once we master cloning, though, we won't have any need for relationships. And we all can go back to living alone in our basements. I mean.... I've heard it's awesome.

3. Celebrities Who Love Their Jobs: This is a complicated one, but I hate when celebrity actors, singers, or whatever, say things like, "When this isn't fun anymore, that's when I'll retire." As Dr. Phil says, these people need to get real. Who likes their jobs? Do these celebrities think that everyone else in the world loves their jobs? I mean, what other jobs can you say that? I'm sick of it. Get rid of them.

4. Babies: This one is closely related to #2. Many of my friends, it seems, are having babies. What is the deal? Is there something in the water.... like sperm? Because that would be weird. Seriously, my friends are having too many babies. Big deal. I could have a baby if I really wanted. Science be damned! I'll find a way.... if it's the last thing I do. I even bought some of those over-the-counter pee sticks. I got a few weird looks.... in the store's bathroom.... as I tried peeing on the sticks. Is this the best we can do in 2009? I mean, come on. Ok, ok.... so maybe I actually like babies after all. But I'm still keeping them on my list for now.

5. Women: I'll just come right out and say it. Women are evil. I mean.... wait.... I'm not saying that women are evil.... See what I did there? I pulled a Glenn Beck. That guy is crazy. I actually love women. I'm crazy about women. I just wanted to make fun of Glenn Beck.

6. Jaywalking Pedestrians: As many of you know, I now have a car in NYC, and it is awesome. Among other problems with driving here, one that really annoys me is that of jaywalkers. Several times I've barely missed colliding with these hooligans. It's not that I'm a bad driver (I am). It's just that these idiots don't even walk.... they slowly meander into the middle of the street without even looking both ways. I can understand why they may not value their own lives if they're living in my neighborhood. So honestly, I would not feel guilty for hitting a few of them by accident. You're probably thinking, "Mike, that's not fair!" I know. Life isn't fair.

7. Starbucks: I think there's a conspiracy out there. Starbucks is deliberately serving us coffee that is way too strong and way too dark. They are slowly getting the world hooked on this strong, dark brew. And I can tell you what's going on. They're preparing us for a new world order.... led by Obama! Think about it - a STRONG, DARK coffee for a STRONG, DARK world. That's not racism.... that's science. It's as real as creationism and elves.

8. Technology: I know that I'm going to sound old, but I just don't trust technology. We're far too dependent on it these days, and it'll only get worse. Soon you'll need a machine of some kind just to communicate with someone.... wait a minute. We need to think about this people. Sooner or later our technology is going to gain the ability to reason. Once that happens, it won't be long before they rise up to destroy us. If anything, we should be finding ways to fight technology. Don't worry though. I've already got a head start on this. Each morning I wrestle Greco-Roman style with my computer. And, yes, I mean real Greco-Roman style.... in the nude and with plenty of olive oil. And it only took me four tries before I pinned it.

9. People Who Can't Grow Beards: There's just one thing that I am truly awesome at doing. And that is growing beards. Sometimes I like to grow two or three at the same time but just spread them out over other areas of my body. Then when the beard on my face gets old, I slide the other one on up to take over. I know what you're thinking, "Mike, how is this about something you dislike?" It's not. I don't care if you can grow a beard or not. I just wanted to talk about the awesomeness that is my beard.

10. Whites: White people have had it good for a long time. I'm tired of them taking American jobs from me and my future family (which will, no doubt, be comprised of some Latina blood). As a white person myself, I think I can say this and get away with it. Right? At any rate, these whites have had a pretty good run for the past few centuries. It's time for the Asians, Latinos, African-Americans, and other minorities of varying skin tone to give it a try. All I ask is that you go easy on us. We're cool, right? You're not mad about anything are you? I hope not. As my old friend Walt says, "If you can't forgive someone for slavery, what can you forgive him for?" Was that inappropriate? Too soon?

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Health Care Reform

So as I'm sure all of you are aware, there is a great debate happening in our country right now over health care reform. If you've been paying attention to the news at all, you know that both sides are getting rather heated. It's getting a little scary out there. Some say that we need to keep the public option in the bill that is currently before Congress.... while others claim we are heading into full-blown socialism.

Honestly, I don't understand what all the fuss is about. We have great health care in this country. We don't need the government forcing health insurance on ourselves. The only thing we need the government forcing us to buy is car insurance.... because cars are what keep this economy going. Personally, I think we can all reach a happy compromise that satisfies everyone's demands. To that end, I've made a short list of some changes that would solve this health care dilemma.

1. Free breast implants for everyone: The government needs to catch up with the times and realize that sex sells. So.... if you want to help stimulate the economy while at the same time making people feel like they have great health insurance.... let everyone get free breast implants. And I mean everyone - men included. Consumer spending will rise, since every advertisement would automatically look sexier.... and weirder depending on the gender of the spokesperson.

2. Death panels: Instead of denouncing these alleged death panels, Democrats should embrace them. Think about it. This country isn't getting any bigger. In fact, it's damn near full to the brim with too many people. Plus, once we get rid of the old people, the country will look even sexier. And we all know what that means (see #1).

3. Baby tax: This one is self-explanatory. Basically, we need a tax on new-born babies. There's just too many of them. If you don't believe me, just take a walk down Myrtle Ave in Brooklyn. There's probably more strollers than there are mothers. I know what you're thinking: "Mike, that's physically impossible." Wrong. Some of these babies have gone rogue.... developing at an alarming rate and pushing their own strollers. Plus, babies aren't sexy. Tax them!

4. Self prostate exam tax reduction: Again, this one seems self-explanatory, but perhaps I should clarify. A lot of guys are getting older, which means more prostate exams. Now, you would think that the death panels would solve this problem, but not so. You see, guys have to start getting these exams at a fairly young age. Too much time is being wasted by doctors poking their fingers up gentlemen's anuses. I say we teach men how to give themselves their own prostate exams. If you do this, you deserve a tax reduction. There's the incentive.... plus, it's fun. As my old friend Walt says.... never mind. I can't write that.

5. Massage therapy: Here's a suggestion that you will all like. Doctors should just send half of their patients to get massages. Don't even bother examining them. Just send them to get a good rub down. It's much cheaper than getting real medical care. And let's face it - most medical problems are simply caused by stress. It's true.... look it up. And nothing reduces stress like some strange man's hands grinding into your back.

6. Stand-up comedy: Everyone knows that laughter is the best medicine. To that end, I propose we put stand-up comedians in every hospital. And I mean all over each hospital. There'll be one in the emergency room for example. There'll be broken bones and blood everywhere and all this painful groaning. But then you'll hear rising above all of this in the background: "What's the deal with peanuts?" Hilarious.... and so true. What IS the deal with peanuts?

7. Eastern medicine: We should mandate that private insurance companies cover the cost of Eastern medicine. We all know that the Chinese have been doing this for a long time. Just be careful if you do go to a Chinese doctor practicing this alternative medicine. And by careful, I mean don't try arguing with him about anything. Studies have shown that 50% of Chinese people know karate. That's just a fact.

8. Exercise Kids: It's well known that our country's children are getting more and more overweight. This is a big problem that could have dire consequences. Think about all of the medical care that these fatties are going to need throughout their lives. So I suggest we create incentives for these kids to exercise and eat healthy. For example, bullies should be paid to beat up fat kids and take their lunch or lunch money as the case may be. The fat kid gets motivated to work out, build up those guns, and fight back. Once he is able to defend his own lunch or money, he no longer gets picked on. Now, he gets to become the bully, and the cycle repeats itself. It's a win-win situation. It also makes our kids sexier (can I say that?).

9. Candy give-away: I propose we give away candy to patients at all primary care and urgent care clinics. Because, really, how sick are you if you're not in a hospital? Once we give the candy away, we sit back and wait for the patients to get cavities. Then they all have to go to the dentists. Now it's your problem, DDS!!!! And if you don't have dental insurance, then I guess your teeth just rot. I'm sorry.... I didn't think that through so well. But by then you'll be in so much pain that you will have forgotten about why you had even gone to the doctor in the first place.

10. Free flights to Canada: If nothing else works, the government should at least give each uninsured person a free flight to Canada where most of the health care is publicly funded. I don't know if the Canadians will actually accept all of us for free, but we'll try to work something out. In case they don't take us, though, just talk like a mildly retarded person, and they won't know the difference. I'm sorry Canada, but it is what it is. I call 'em like I see 'em. And when I look north of here, I see a big bowl of mild retard.

There you have it - my health care reform proposal. I think I've adequately addressed the needs of everyone in this debate. I'm just going to copy and paste this into an email to Obama right now. I'm sure he'll be pleased.

**** I have some exciting news! I am in the process of starting a podcast along with a few buddies of mine from college. Please look for updates on this page and my facebook page and please be sure to spread the word. Thanks!

Monday, August 17, 2009

My Summer Make-Over: The Update

Before I begin this post, I feel that I should perhaps apologize to anyone who may have been offended by that last post. You know.... the one about horse sex and all. I trust that no one actually thinks I condone inter-species relations. Let's put all that behind us now and move forward. So here we go....

As some of you may have read in an earlier post, I am currently going through a major summer make-over. My fail-proof plan involved three things: 1) getting a car, 2) joining a gym, and 3) getting a boob job. I'd like to take this opportunity to give you all a much-needed update on my progress.

To begin - the boob job didn't turn out so well. Oh, I didn't actually get it. I tried. I mean, I did go to the doctor and all. He said that I can't because I was, and I'm quoting him now, a "F-ing guy with a F-ing penis!" He's right about that, and he didn't even have to give me an exam to find out. Of course, as it turns out, he was a gynecologist.... which as he quickly informed me is a "doctor for ladies." It must have been the way he said that because for some reason I thought he was talking about prostitutes at first.... as in "ladies of the night." But he wasn't. I was a little insulted. I said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I never went to medical school." I think he got the message because he kicked me out of his office. What was even more embarrassing about all this, though, was that it took place in one of those little doctor rooms with the deli paper beds.... and I was already laying on it.... with my pants off. I know, I know.... I was there for a boob job. But it had been a really long time since I visited a doctor. I wasn't sure what to do, and I guess I just panicked.

Still, I should have known something was wrong when the cute receptionist kept giggling and looking at me as I sat in the waiting room. I thought she was just into me. Can you blame me? I mean, I am looking pretty good these days, which brings me to my next update - the gym.

Yes, I have been hitting the gym hard, as they say.... though admittedly not as hard as I'd like to. As a way of updating you all, I'll give you some measurements. My arms are now 20 inches in diameter. I bench about 250 lbs., and this back can pull down 345 lbs. So, yeah, I'm doing ok. You should see me. It's just amazing how much muscle I've been able to amass. It's a real summer make-over miracle! Unfortunately, none of you will be able to see me, since most of you don't live in NYC. And if you do live here.... I'm going to be really busy.... for a long time. But just take my word on this. I'm huge. And I know what you all are thinking, "Mike, come on. There's no way you got that strong so quickly! It's physically impossible." Well, I am half Italian. If there's one thing Italians are good at, it's building muscle. That and secreting olive oil from our skin.... both of which I do very well. We also have the ability to weave chest hair into blankets. It's an ancient skill that dates back to the 1st century BC when there was a particularly harsh winter in Rome. The fathers shaved the chest hair off of themselves and their eldest sons, and then wove the hair into blankets. My father taught me this skill, and I will one day teach it to my son.

But I feel that I'm getting off track. Ah, yes. The final element of my extreme summer make-over. I do still have a car, and so far it seems to be running ok. The old Honda is a sweet lady. She and I have been enjoying lots of laughs together as we drive through the city. I must confess, though, that she has let herself go a bit. She's filled with all kinds of stuff that I'm almost too embarrassed to mention. For example, I think there may have been a hooker sleeping in her the other day. I'm telling you, that Honda does some crazy things when I'm asleep at night. Now I know what you're all thinking. Yes, it would appear that my car is a lesbian. For the record, I totally support her in whatever she chooses. I just wish she wouldn't choose hookers. As my old friend Walt says, "Sometimes vodka tonic tastes better with a hooker." Admittedly, I'm not really sure how that helps me. Sometimes, Walter, your wisdom goes way over my head.

I suppose I should be going. By the way, if you're wondering how often or when I post, the answer is that unfortunately I'm not all that consistent. So you'll just have to check back from time to time. As ever - there is a link to my blog on my facebook page.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Hey, How's It Going.... What the.... Someone Just Had Sex With a Horse!!!!

I don't mean to startle you like that, but there's something I think we all should talk about. You may have heard this already as the story was recently announced by several news sources. As my title delicately alluded to, a man in South Carolina was arrested for having sex with a horse. I didn't know you could be arrested for that.... not that I'm wanting to do it. But still. It clearly isn't harming anyone.... but it's one of those things where even the government just has to go, "What the fuck?" Excuse my F-bomb. As fair warning, there will most likely be a few of those this post. And can you blame me? Someone was fucking a horse, people.

As I said already, we've got to talk about this. It seems that some of you out there just don't understand the birds and the bees.... because some of you are fucking horses. So let me just explain this as delicately and maturely as possible. You see, when a man and a woman love each other very much, they have passionate, uninhibited bouts of love-making. And when they're tired of each other and are just going through the motions, they get married. This is called the circle of life.... the origins of which started in Africa.... with lions and Elton John. To continue with the circle.... when a married couple soon grows tired of each other and begins thinking about getting a divorce.... a stork comes along and breaks into their house and drops off a baby wrapped in only a single cloth. It's a miracle! The miracle of life. Science hasn't yet found out where the storks come from or how they get the babies. It's one of those great mysteries.... like Stonehenge or Chad Michael Murray. Where did that name come from? Nobody knows.

Now I know this all sounds strange. I thought so too when my father explained it to me. You can't trust everything you read in your textbooks. At any rate, folks, you can understand my concern with humans and horses getting it on. I mean, where is that relationship going? You can see from the start that it's not going to last. No fancy dinners out, no going to the movies, no spontaneous road trips, no long walks on the beach. Wait, that last one might work. That would actually work really well. When you get tired of walking, she (or he) could give you a ride home. But you're definitely not going to get a baby out of this relationship. And, no, it's not because horses and humans are different species. I don't know why everyone keeps telling me that. I don't understand what that even means. And as my old friend Walt says, "If I don't understand it, then it isn't true." I think that puts that debate to rest. But think about it. How is the stork supposed to carry a baby horse-human? I mean, it's going to look worse than an alien (like the ones in District 9. Go see it today!), and it's definitely going to be too heavy for that stork to carry through the air to the couple's house.... or barn. Well, whichever one they decide to live in. I don't know how that works..... maybe they could reach some sort of compromise. Maybe live in the house but put some hay in the bed. You would just have to make sure there's no glue in the house.... and never says things like, "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse," or "I have to pee like a racehorse." That might not go over so well. We all know how temperamental those female horses can be.

Finally, what is most important about the horse-human love fest is the reputation it now gives to South Carolina. As someone who grew up in Arkansas, I can now celebrate. We did it! Arkansans no longer have to feel like they're the butt of every recycled, unoriginal, ignorant joke about the South. We can now join the rest of the country in laughing at South Carolina. And the next time someone tries to make a joke about Arkansas, I'll just say, "At least I'm not from South Carolina. Those crazy horse-fuckers."

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

My Favorite Things

I've recently compiled a list of some of my favorite things. It's kind of like what Oprah does on those episodes when she gives her favorite things away. And, I know what you're all thinking. No, I don't watch Oprah. I used to.

Here it is - my favorite things this summer. By the way, there's no particular ranking.

1. Boob jobs - just kidding. Ok, yeah, I do like boob jobs.

2. Laundry service: I absolutely love paying someone to wash, dry, and fold my clothes for me. I would do all that myself, but I just don't have time. Too much stuff to do in my basement like write blogs. Plus, the Hispanic women who wash my clothes are truly a delight.

3. Electric toothbrush: I'm a strong proponent of electric toothbrushes. They're just fantastic. They give you a great cleaning, and they're lots of fun. Your mouth will be so clean, you'll want to make out with yourself. And, yes, I do. Why do you think I like being single?

4. Cowboys: I love cowboys. Sometimes I wish I were a cowboy riding through the plains and mountains of the West. I like to imagine myself riding horses with Matt Damon. I don't know, but I think he'd just be awesome to ride horses with. He'd be like, "Oh, Mike. You're hilarious." And I'd be like, "Oh, Matt. You're much better looking in person." Then he'd say, "Now let's go get us some Indians!" And away we'd go.

5. Ice-cream: I must confess that I have a bit of a sweet tooth. I swear, sometimes I'm worse than a pregnant woman. I just get these insatiable urges for ice-cream. Pregnant women do like ice-cream, don't they? I just assumed. By the way, you know that thing people say when you assume something: "You make an ass of you and me."? I hate that. I always like to add, "Yeah, well now you just made an ass of yourself."

6. The Ricky Gervais Show: Some of you may have heard of this. It's a hilarious podcast. Well, now it's actually only available as separate audiobooks through iTunes. It's just hilarious radio shows with Ricky Gervais, Stephen Merchant, and Karl Pilkington. The show centers around Karl, who comes up with bizarre theories and hilarious stories about monkeys, insects, flies, and condoms. If you like laughing, then you've got to check it out. If you don't like laughing, then maybe you need a boob job.

7. My old friend Walt: As some of you may know, my old friend Walt is moving to Italy this month. No joke. He's starting graduate school for something or other out there in Rome. Should be exciting. Walt is one of my favorite things. As my old friend Walt says, "I should be one of your favorite things." Wow, that was weird. I think we passed through the center of the universe or something My old friend Walt was giving me advice inside of my paragraph about my old friend Walt. Anyways, whenever I have a tough decision to make, I say to myself, "What would Walt do?" I thought about making some bracelets with "WWWD" to remind people of Walt's seemingly infinite wisdom, but reconsidered after finding that it looks more like a half-finished website address for

8. Guitars: My guitar is definitely one of my favorite things. I don't play as much as I used to, but she's still nice to pick up every once in a while. She's like an old lover. Most of the stuff I play with her is the same old stuff I've been playing for the past five years. But I like to think she still enjoys it. Even though I don't play as much these days, I just like knowing that she's there. Maybe that's true love. And the sex is awesome, too.

9. 7 & 7: This is one of my favorite drinks. I know it may be a bit girly, but it's delicious. If you don't know, it's Seagram's 7 whiskey and 7up. I tell you what - you put a few of those in me, and I'll show you a good time. And by that I mean I'll be sleeping after three of them. Either that, or I'll be trying to get you pregnant, so just be warned. And that goes for you, too, Matt Damon.

10. Brooklyn: Yes, believe it or not, Brooklyn is one of my favorite things. Despite the unpleasantries of my particular neighborhood (Bushwick), Brooklyn has lots of beautiful, gentrified areas to have dinner, grab a drink, or just hang out. In general, it's less expensive than Manhattan and is just less hectic. The one downside, however, are the hipsters who abound in certain areas of Brooklyn. Hipsters are kind of a cross between Paris Hilton and a pile of shit. When you meet one, you'll understand.

There you have it - my favorite things. Perhaps, I'll put together a list of my least favorite things.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

The View on Relationships

Warning: Rated R for language

I recently saw on The View.... yes, I watch The View.... anyways, I recently overheard Barbara mention a surprising fact. The View is all about science, don't you know? While I was sipping on my morning cup of coffee and wiping the sleep out of my eyes, Barbara mentions how "studies" have found that people who are divorced are more unhealthy than people who are married. Interesting, isn't it? And it's not just mental health apparently.... it also applies to physical health, too. What's more - these "studies" have found that even if a divorced person re-marries, he/she still carries around that unhealthiness or whatever. Apparently, you can't get rid of it that easily. That nearly blew my mind. I said to myself, "Barbara, you never cease to amaze me with your outrageous stories and your magical looks." But - then she says something else that really did blow my mind. I mean, it blew out of its fucking skull and into the father-fucking atmosphere.... my apologies for the f-bombs, but I felt very strongly that what is about to follow warrants them.

I'll get to the mind-blowing point: Barbara looks me in the eyes and tells me that married people AND single people are healthier than divorced people. How about that! It's a fascinating thing to think about, don't you think? And you know this is true.... because if there's one thing that I think of when I think of The View, it's hard scientific, unbiased, objective truth. And that is no joke. To me - this makes marriage an even more horrifying idea. You can't ever recover from the divorce. So you're healthier to stay married.... BUT you could also be just as healthy staying single. So the next time someone tries to tell you that it's better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all or some such nonsense - you can set them straight: "No, actually, I'm just as well staying single my whole life. Actually, from a purely rational perspective, it's better to have stayed single and healthy." And if I were Czech, I would add, "Go to ass." I've been told this is a major insult in Czech, but I think it kind of loses something in translation. I mean, I think I get that it's insulting, but it kind of implies some sort of homosexual solicitation. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I suppose.

While we're on the subject of relationships, I once wrestled my ex-girlfriend because she said that I was weak. But I, of course, had the last laugh as I body-slammed her. There is no sexual innuendo here. I literally climbed onto my kitchen table and jumped on top of her.... bringing her crashing to the floor and kind of dislocated her shoulder. Something like that.... I couldn't really hear her because she was crying so loud. Well, I said I was sorry, but it's amazing how sometimes that word just doesn't seem to help no matter how many times you say it on the way to the hospital. I know what you all are thinking: "Mike, you've got issues. You really hate women, don't you?" As I've said before, I don't hate women. I have more of a love-hate relationship with women.... in that I love to hate them. As my old friend Walt says, "Women- you can't live with them, and it's actually much healthier to live without them." And now I know that Walt was telling the truth.

Ok, ok.... before half of you stop reading and vow never to return to this blog again, let me reassure you. I don't really hate all women - just the beautiful ones. If it makes you feel better, I don't really like guys that much either. Most of us are perverted jerks, and even the ones who you think are not jerks (like your boyfriends perhaps), let me just assure you that they are still perverted jerks. I'm the first to admit that I'm a perverted jerk.... well, more of a pervert than a jerk. It's a common misconception that I'm a "nice" guy. But have you been reading some of the stuff in these blogs? I mean, come on.... I'm constantly punching women and eating children. It's awful.

Alright, folks - it's time to say good-bye. And remember: if at first you don't succeed, maybe it's better to just give up.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

The "Operation" Revisited

My old friend Walt - the same old friend Walt that I've been referring to throughout these posts - recently brought to my attention an error in the last post. He pointed out that the "operation" was not performed behind the Applebee's off TX-183 but behind Neiman's at North Park Mall in Dallas.... a classy place for a classy surgeon. Oh, and he also reminded me that it wasn't a cat that he "operated" on.... it was me. He actually took out my testicle. My bad. I don't know how I forgot about that.... especially since that accounts for my fertility problems. Which is probably why I'm not able to conceive, or is it get a woman pregnant? Oh well.... I can never remember. I was never good at science.

So, yes, Walt was right about the "operation." You wouldn't think something like that could slip my mind. When he reminded me of this, I said, "Oh, yeah. I have one testicle!" We had ourselves a good laugh. In all honesty, though, this was never really planned.... as the best things in life never are. As I recall, we were having ourselves a good old time throwing back some vodka tonics and shopping in North Park. One thing led to another, and before I knew it I was daring him that he couldn't surgically remove one of my testicles. What can I say? Boys will be boys. I believe the bet was that if he succeeded I would be his BFF (best friend forever), and that is a title I do not take lightly (I once slapped an 8-year-old girl in the face just to make my BFF laugh.... so, yes, I take it very seriously.) I don't remember what I was supposed to get if he failed.... but I think it involved a free ride to the hospital.

Ok, that's enough about testicles. As my old friend Walt says, "If you say something often enough, it will come into your life." Now I'm hoping this one is actually true, which is why I keep saying the word "testicle" to myself as I write this. Obviously, I would like to get my other one back someday. Anyways, let's get this blog out of the toilet. Because if there's one word I would use to describe myself, it's "classy." I'm not sure why I put that in quotation marks. But that reminds me of an advertisement that I saw at a bank recently. The sign in the bank's lobby read, "Ask about our 'free' checking." Do you see what they did there? They put the word "free" in quotation marks. I don't think they realize what that implies, or they probably wouldn't do it. It sounds like the checking is not actually free.... why would they want to say that? Anyways, I thought it was one of the stupidest things I've ever seen.... especially since most places offer actual free checking. Just stupid.

Talking about free - isn't it amazing how many things are free? No? You don't think so? You're probably saying to yourself, "Mike, don't be ridiculous, you hairy, little Italian." Don't be rude.... but, yes, most things are in fact free, or at least claim to be free. Everything seems to be a buy-one-get-one-free deal these days. They say that the best things in life are free, and I think that's absolutely true. A free can of tomato sauce, or a free bag of my favorite tortilla chips when I buy one of equal or lesser value is definitely one of the best things in my life. What did you think I was going to say.... that love and hugs and kisses are the best things in life? Wrong. And those do cost money. The last hug that I gave someone, I ended up having to pay for her pregnancy bills. I'm joking of course. We split the bills.

So that's all for now. Don't forget that shark week on Discovery channel starts today!! That's the only time I'll ever use two exclamation marks. And you can quote me on that.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Career Day

I've been thinking lately about what I want to be when I grow up. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a wizard. I remember believing that I could literally become a wizard someday.... like this was a viable option and I could just choose it. My parents always told me that I could be whatever I want.... looks like they were wrong. In all fairness, though, this was when I was maybe 5 years old, which is about as far back as I can remember. I soon wised up and had a new dream. I decided that I wanted to be a fireman. Not sure what happened to that idea. Obviously, something must have distracted me.... probably puberty. It's not easy going through puberty, you know, especially for a boy. Now I know that the women are saying, "Mike, don't even try to say that you had it as hard as we had." I'm not. I had it harder than you. Really, I started puberty while in the womb. You think I'm really hairy now. Think of how awkward it was as a kid. I was born with a beard.... literally, a full, black beard. The upside was that it was perfect for my pirate costume on Halloween.

I used to think I'd make a good doctor. But I soon realized that I never could because I can't stand the sight of blood. Nonetheless, I do still like to pretend I'm a doctor - especially when meeting a woman. Most women are very impressed with doctors.... and to be honest, so am I.... yes, that's directed at you, arch-nemesis Mark V. You may make my life a living hell with your Filipino charm and good looks and big doctor status, but damn it I respect you.

I know what you all are thinking, "Mike, you shouldn't trivialize a sacred profession like a medical doctor to deceive innocent women." Calm down.... contrary to what they'd like you to think, doctors are not really that wonderful or that innocent for that matter. Again, that's also directed at you, arch-nemesis Mark V. As I said, I deeply respect doctors because they save lives.... but I can do all that. I mean, what is it that doctors can do that I can't do myself? As my old friend Walt says, "Give me a needle, some matches, and an episode of Desperate Housewives - and I'll remove your tumor faster than any doctor." Now, I should qualify that statement by saying that I wouldn't ever recommend actually doing this. Though I have seen Walt do it. No joke. He's brilliant.... probably come up with a cure for cancer by now. But will anyone take him seriously? NO. Why? Because he's not a doctor - period. Well, it might also be due to his insistence on drinking vodka tonics during the operation.... and the surgery was conducted in an alley behind the Applebee's off TX-183. I'll be honest - the tumor he removed was actually a cat's testicle. But still.... the cat made a full recovery.

For about 30 minutes, I once considered going to law school. This was some years ago - back when I was young and brash with a fiery self-confidence that didn't take anything from anyone. (I once punched a woman just to get her attention. And I flirted with a guy just to eventually prove I could break a man's heart.) Anyways, I gave up that idea of being a lawyer after one look at the classes they have to take.... BORING. Plus, people just don't respect lawyers.... at least not the way that they respect doctors. Look at the show Lost, for example. Who's the big, hunky hero? Is it a lawyer? NO. It's Jack, the doctor.... and a surgeon at that. Could you imagine a lawyer being the hero on the island? Not nearly as likely. I'm not saying a lawyer couldn't be a hero. I'm just saying that a majority of people don't want to watch that on TV.

Anyways, here's something to think about. I once had a young, newly-wed guy from UD (my old college) try to tell me that once you're married, you've got to start getting serious about providing for your family. Daft rule. Give me a break.... this same guy was doing keg stands a year earlier. But perhaps marriage matured him. I'll admit - women can have that affect on men. Now, I've been getting a lot of feedback from people who think that I hate women. That's just not true. Shoot - I have nothing against women in general.

Well, that's all for now. You may have noticed that this is the second post in one week. Normally, I only post one a week. Will there be more? Who knows. But let me leave you with this. If you're struggling to find your own career or to just find your way in life, remember this: Sometimes the darkest hour is right before the dawn, but one of these days that sun is going to implode and it's gonna get a whole lot darker.

Monday, July 27, 2009

The Wedding

As you all should know by now, I went to a wedding in San Antonio this past weekend. Yes, I arrived in Texas on Friday evening, and let's just say that my friends and I got the party started before I could say, "Who gets married in Texas?" Seriously, who gets married in Texas in July? I was sweating as soon as I stepped off the plane.... or the airport.... whatever. My good buddies from college - Greg and Pat - picked me up with open arms.

Now my two buddies and I are like some famous trio when we get together.... we're like the three musketeers.... or the three stooges. Yeah, actually, we're like both the musketeers and the stooges. We'll kick your ass and then make you laugh with our zany, slapstick antics. Anyways, we got some drinks at some restaurant downtown where there were a bunch of other people in town for the wedding. Not sure what the restaurant was called, but I'm sure it must have been Mexican.... most things are down there.... which, if you know anything about me, was like being in heaven.

Unfortunately, I left my driver's license at this restaurant. Well, for some reason in Texas they take your ID when you start a tab.... damn you, Texas! Or maybe it's just that particular Mexican restaurant.... damn you, Mexico! At any rate, I suspected that Roy Chism, the powerful father of my good friend Ryan, had picked up my tab and had my ID. I was SO embarrassed to ask him though. I saw him the next evening at the reception (his daughter was the one getting married). So after several whiskey-and-cokes, I walked up to him like an adolescent schoolboy asking the cute girl out on a date. Now, Roy's a huge man.... the kind who could probably kill me with a swift kick to my crotch. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, sir, but I think you might have my driver's license." There was an awkward pause, and he stared at me like I was speaking some foreign language. I tried to explain my situation, but he had not idea what I was talking about. So, like a rejected boy, I went back to the open bar and got a beer.

I went back to the restaurant afterwards, and they had it there the whole time. Problem solved. The end.... well, it wasn't much of a story, but I had to put something here.

Many of you are probably wondering about the long-anticipated show-down between my arch-nemesis, Mark V., and myself. Well, he was there alright. I had my guns out and ready to go. I had it all planned out. I had printed the one-way ticket to my gunshow for him. Anyways, I was going to walk up to Mark at the reception and say something like, "Hey, Doc! Here's your ticket to the gun show," or "All aboard the Mikey train. Next stop - hell!" I'm not sure.... I hadn't worked out all the details. As I say this, I would hand him the ticket in my left hand, and with my right arm, I would pull back and land my fist on his sweet, Pacific-islander face. Pow!

Sadly, none of this ever happened. You see - Mark's wife and young daughter were there, too. Damn you, family! I'll admit that I'm a jerk, but I couldn't beat Mark to a pulp in front of his family. We formed a truce.

Some of you might be thinking to yourselves, "Mike, what about the actual wedding?" If you're asking this, you're most likely a woman, and you probably want to know what the bride's dress was like, what kind of flowers there were, etc. Well, I'm a guy, so I don't really care. In all honesty, I am a bit cynical and bitter when it comes to weddings. Most of you know that I was for a VERY brief period engaged. It's a sad story, and I'll share all the awful details with you. You see.... Patrick Boos ate her. No joke. Don't laugh. My body-builder friend was inhaling a protein shake. I told her not to stand too close when Pat drinks his shakes as he will inhale whatever is in a 10-meter radius of him, but sadly she was sucked in and swallowed in a single gulp. It was quite a tragedy, but I don't hold it against Pat. Maybe it was for the best, as they say. As my old friend Walt says, be careful when choosing a bride because she could turn out to be a soul-eating succubus. Now that is a warning we would all do well to heed.

That's all for now. And remember: You can't teach an old dog new tricks, but you CAN chop it up into a meal for four.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Harry Potter and the World of Idiots

Warning: This post has an R rating for nudity.

I went to see the new Harry Potter movie the other night. Spoiler alert - Harry dies in the end. Seriously.... it's real bad. Hermione seduces him and then kills him in his sleep. I know.... it's messed up, right? Who would have thought. It just goes to show, though, that you can't trust anyone.... not even a girl who plays with wands.... especially not that.

Speaking of Harry Potter - I've actually seen Daniel Radcliffe on Broadway in a production of Equus. It's a great play, but the performance itself was nothing special. Now, some of you may not know this, but little Harry shows his little Harry in this show. That's right. He gets naked.... or got naked rather. The show closed a few months ago. Anyways, I was watching the show from way in the back of the theater.... up in the balcony. I'll admit.... it was a bit weird watching Harry Potter in the nude. Of course, he was at least 19 years old at the time. And the young woman on stage with him was also naked. That was very nice. I mean seriously. I know some of you are thinking, "Mike, what are you five?" I'm actually 28, but I make no apologies about this. She had it going on. Even from way up in the balcony, I could tell that something special was happening on stage. It's strange how I didn't hear any talk of a beautiful woman being naked in this show. All anyone was talking about was how Harry was nude. Who's the pervert now? As my old friend Walt says, "Sometimes a pervert is your best friend." Now, technically that's not really advice, or even a true statement. But I'll just let you think about it.

As some of you may already know, I'm currently going to graduate school at Brooklyn College located in.... Brooklyn. I'm getting my master's degree in theatre history and criticism. This may sound fancy. It just means that instead of being broke with a B.A. in English, I'll soon be broke with a M.A. in Theatre. Only now I'll be able to write, direct, and act in my own shows in my basement. And then, of course, I'll write the critical reviews of those shows. Don't worry about me though. Seriously, I have a plan for financial security. It involves 1) meeting an extremely wealthy woman, 2) getting pregnant, and 3) forcing the extremely wealthy woman to marry me. I know you all are asking the obvious question right now: "Mike, how are you going to meet an extremely wealthy woman?" I haven't figured that part out yet. Unfortunately, I think I may already be pregnant. That's right. I said it.... I think I may be pregnant. Don't judge me.

Anyways, I recently had to go to campus to turn in an application for a federal direct loan.... or something like that. I don't really pay attention to those things anymore. Now dealing with college employees can be a nightmare, but this BC staff is something else. And the students are not too bright either. In fact, they are all idiots. Ok, now I'm not just talking about my college. I'm talking about the world. It is full of idiots. But, seriously.... those of you who went to the University of Dallas know how inept those employees are. Well, the University of Dallas is like the parent of a retarded child.... and that retarded child is Brooklyn College. Now, it's true that BC is one of the most ethnically diverse schools in the country, so I don't want to be misunderstood here. I don't have anything against foreigners. I don't care if you're black, white, red, brown, or yellow. We're all idiots. Well, maybe not yellow. Asians are smart as shit.... seriously, they are some of the smartest people ever. Have you ever seen an Asian in this country who is unemployed? It's not going to happen.

That's all for this week. And remember: Sticks and stones may break my bones.... but if you tell anyone I'm pregnant, I'm going to kick your ass.