I'm a bit of a sports fanatic. Ask my wife. When the NFL season starts she calls herself the football widow. I enjoy watching hockey, although my team - the Senators - didn't make it very far into the post-season. I love basketball, although my Celtics lost to the Lakers in 7 games this year. I enjoy baseball. I like tennis and I'll watch soccer when there's nothing better to do.
Each of these sports have their own quirky activities. Take hockey. Players of this sport love to spit. They must build up a hell of a lot of mucus skating up and down the ice cause they're always spitting.
But hockey's long gone and baseball's in full swing (pun intended). They spit in baseball, too. Sunflower seeds, tobacco juice, and good old mucus build up. They also do something else in baseball. When players aren't slapping each other on the butt, they're grabbing themselves. Like this guy...
I'm not sure if this guy knows which hand the bat's in.
Remember when Roseanne Barr attempted to sing the national anthem at a game and got booed. With good reason: she couldn't carry a bat, let a tune. In response she gave the crowd a salute unique to baseball...
Then there's soccer. From time to time the referee will award a team a free kick. When this happens the other team's defenders line up between the kicker and the goal and...yep, you guessed it. They grab onto their privates...
You may not have known this but there's grabbing going on in tennis, too. Oh yeah! The worst offender is Spain's Rafael Nadal. Anyone who watches him regularly knows what I'm talking about. He has a distinct routine when he serves that he follows each and every time. He steps to the line pushes his hair back behind one ear, then the other and then he does this...
Personally, I think if he switched to boxers he wouldn't have this problem. Just sayin'.
Prior to my recent stem cell transplant in April I spent four days undergoing radiation treatments. Knowing I would lose my hair I prepared myself by getting my hair buzzed off. But not too short. The barber used a #4 clipper.
But the radiation treatments were delayed. My hair grew. And several weeks after the last radiation session I started to lose my hair. But it looked pretty weird - short here, long there - so back to the barbers to get a buzz with a #1 clipper so that it would all be the same length.
This is a big change for me. I'm used to longer hair, making a trip to the barber maybe three times a year. But now I'm basically bald. I wear a ball cap, not just to keep the sun off my head, but also out of modesty. If I didn't wear the cap I'd surely feel conspicuous, think people were looking at me or worse, yet, laughing behind my back.
I needn't worry. My own family laughs right in front of me! My own wife lovingly refers to me as Mr. Magoo.
Case in point. Last week was my eldest grandson's 4th birthday. So we had him and his younger twin brothers over for a little party. He's crazy for Toy Story. We'd already just bought him a talking Buzz Lightyear character. For his birthday we bought him a talking Woody character - you know, the one voiced by Tom Hanks. The doll has 25 sayings, one each time you pull the string in his back. I never thought Tom Hanks could be so annoying, but after 3 hours of "a cowboy without a hat is like a yodel without an oh-ti-doo" I think you understand what I was going through.
I once read somewhere that the average 4 year-old asks roughly 400 questions a day. My grandson is no exception. Now most of these questions are easy to answer. But out of the blue he asked, "What happened to your hair, Grampa?" Now before he'd seen me, my wife told him Grampa looked like Caillou - another of my grandson's favourite characters. My daughter, his mother, says he watches it every day. Now before I could answer came the next question, "Can I feel it?" So we stopped in the middle of supper and I leaned over so he could rub my head for the next 5 minutes.
Later that evening, after everyone had left, my wife and I were laughing about the little one rubbing my head. I confess she was laughing more than I. And then she began to laugh uncontrollably, barely able to contain herself. I said it wasn't really all THAT funny. She said NO she wasn't laughing at that. She was struck by how I reminded her - now get this - of a chia pet! I love you too, dear.
Now if only it were as simple as just adding water.
It's a sign of too much time on my hands that I quietly cruise the tweets of Twitter and status updates of Facebook.
I don't even know why I do it. All I come across are:
- Georgina just found a magic bean on her farm
- Ivan is stocking up on supplies in FrontierVille
- Nancy needs treats to train her pet
- Sandy scored a bajillion in Bejeweled Blitz
The names have been changed to protect the idiots…er…ah..innocent.
I have the following admonition on my Facebook home page:
" I don't care about your bloody farm, or your fish, or your park, or your mafia."
But of course it doesn't seem to work.
Then there are the inane updates about a 2 year-old's toothaches, being sad and having a headache, just walked my dog, hubby's being cute again, so sad it's raining here, just gave my kitty some treats
People…get a life! Like, you think I really care. Why are these people even my "friends"?
But I'm going to get them back. Yep. I'm gonna start sending old fart updates and see how they like it. That's right. How about Facebook For Old Farts? Has a nice ring to it. So let's get started, shall we? Here's my Top Ten:
1) "Got up seven times to pee last night."
2) "That asparagus I had for dinner gave me diarrhea."
3) "Just let the biggest fart ever rip while watching TV. Wife not talking to me."
4) "Gosh, my pubes are itchy."
5) "Just trimmed my nose hairs."
6) "Found my car keys finally. Now just have to find car."
7) "Eww, I hate it when I throw up in my mouth."
8) "Backed up over the cat this morning. Wife still not talking to me."
9) "Lord I hate when you pick a booger and it's stuck to your nose hairs."
10) "Oh, boy, you should have seen all the gunk I had stuck in my teeth before I flossed this morning."
There bejewelled, mafia, and farm aficionados. How do you like them road apples?
This post originally appeared at Sound Off To America where it was quite a hit, so I thought I'd re-run it here. Hope you enjoyed it.
You know it's a slow news day when these kinds of stories capture the headlines.
Here's a guy that gives the rest of us dufuses a bad name.
In Austin, Texas last week some guy tried to rob a gas station with a gun... a caulking gun! He pointed the caulking gun at the attendant and demanded money. I wonder if he had "beady" little eyes and moved quickly.
This is just so stupid on so many levels.
"Uh, is that thing caulked and loaded?"
"Hands up. Any sudden moves and I'll seal you."
"No one will suspect me. I'll have an air-tight alibi."
The gas station attendant was some 68 year-old dude. 68? Yeah, he'd probably just been let go as a WalMart greeter. Anyway, he hit the 17 year-old robber over the head with a plastic trash can who ran away with his buddy...a transgender prostitute he'd picked up earlier in the evening.
Doesn't this story just keep getting better and better?
"Is that a caulking gun in your pants or are you just glad to see me."
"Hey, big boy, you're not the only one with a silicon job."
"Aw damn, my caulking gun just prematurely ejaculated!"
Police tracked the suspect down to his mobile home, where he lives with his mother. Somehow I could just tell the guy lived in a trailer park.
Seems the motive for the botched robbery was the pair were raising money to buy and smoke crack.
It was doomed to fail, though. Caulking fills cracks.
In the end, I guess you could say the whole affair was one big caulk-up!
In what must have seemed like a scene right out of the film 8 Heads In A Duffel Bag, Southwest Airline cargo workers in Little Rock Arkansas recently made a grisly discovery. Imagine your typical baggage handlers tossing around luggage and boxes and things in the cargo warehouse when all of a sudden a human head rolls across the floor. I don't know if it happened that way or not but somehow workers discovered 40 to 60 whole and partial human heads.
WTF? Yep, and after a little tete-a-tete they contacted the authorities. Now the airline would normally ship "human specimens for medical purposes" but in this instance it seems the cargo of craniums wasn't packaged properly. They were in plastic containers closed with duct tape as opposed to being vacuum sealed. Huh! Well, sure, that's a no-brainer.
Now, for me, this story raises a couple of questions. Number one is where the hell do the heads come from? Do people donate their heads to science? Not that I'm aware of. Didn't guillotines go out with the French revolution? And partial heads? Does somebody chop whole heads into pieces because they can get more for the parts? And where do they do this work? In a "head" shop?
The heads are destined for "a doctors' continuing education program". I guess when they learn their patients come with a whole body to be treated they'll think they were better off a head.
This story certainly gives new meaning to getting ahead.
Oh and if you haven't seen 8 Heads In A Duffel Bag with Joe Pesci, here's the trailer from the 1997 film...
Okay so many of you knobs went for the obvious this week. Hello? Lights on but nobody home? I'm not talking about your high beams here. We better nip this in the bud. Here are some of the week's most titillating captions:
Perennial player Moooooog showed his bra-wn with...
The day I decided I wanted to be a cat.
A proud 00dozo stuck her chest out and let fly with...
The local animal shelter unveils its new ad campaign for Adopt-A-Pet Week
A couple of boobs Kelly and Chris each had variations on...
A man's dream girl: a pussy between the boobs.
But our breast...um, er...breast caption this week had to come from FreakSmack...
WARNING... DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME!
The stunt pictured was performed by, or under the supervisions of,
trained professionals. Attempted recreation could result in serious injury
including: puncture wounds, scratching, biting, nausea, loss of hair, problems
sleeping, constipation, cat calls, and in rare cases erections lasting more than 6 hours...
Congratulations FreakSmack. You be hangin' with dufus this week. And thanks to everyone for playing along. See you all next Wednesday for a new edition of Pause Ponder and Pun.
The sun is shining on South Africa. South Africa is home to the 2010 World Cup. And the world it getting a glimpse of a South Africa they may never have seen...or heard before.
Have you been watching soccer's World Cup? Of course you have...viewership in the States has doubled since the last Cup four years ago. If you have, you know about the vuvuzela controversy. If you haven't, you should tune in to see just what I'm talking about.
A vuvuzela is not a lady's hoo-ha. No, no, no that's something else altogether. A vuvuleza is a plastic one-note horn. And do fans blow them when there's a goal or a fabulous play? No. No? That's right they play them constantly from the opening minute throughout the game and into extra minutes.
To the viewer it sounds like your watching, or listening to, a giant bee-hive. Oh, and it's very, very annoying. They are annoying to the point that there have been discussions about banning them. Players have complained that the noise is constant, deafening and it puts them off their game.
The vuvuzela is not unique to South Africa. If you listen carefully you'll hear the odd honk at a baseball or football game. But what is unique is the sheer number of them at each match. And the sound that sheer number makes. It's as if those people doing the honking never take a breath. It's unbelievable. As a result, there's no passion in the game. There's no "oooh" or "aaah" over a great play. There's no explosion of "yaaaahh" when there's a goal. There's no chanting, clapping or singing.
Just this bloody, constant "mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm"
for 90 minutes.
But don't take my word for it. Listen for yourself...
It's like the song "Flight Of The Bumble Bee", except played on a trumpet with one note...and the trumpet player's on steroids!
Soccer will never be the same.
Did I say the sun was shining on Africa? If you want my opinion you can take your bloody vuvuzela and stick it where the sun don't shine.
When I spent a couple of weeks in the hospital back in April, following my stem cell transplant I wanted to let my family and friends know how my recovery was progressing. So I snapped a couple of pictures of myself so they could see for themselves.
My doctors think they've discovered what my problem is.
Now for some reason I didn't get a lot of replies to this note. No one seemed to notice my head had shrunk significantly.
So the next day I sent the following...
Any ill effects from your radiation? None whatsoever!
Hey, the camera doesn't lie!
For a look at how other Theme Thursday participants covered off "camera" just click here.
Why do they call it a Dutch treat when a couple share the cost of a meal? I've often wondered, but never knew. The only Dutch treat I'm aware of is from my childhood. I grew up in Scarborough which back in the mid 50s, long before amalgamation, was on the outskirts of Toronto. I lived on a street of strawberry boxes, a term used to describe the size of the houses. Two doors down lived my best friend, Jeff. Jeff and I spent a lot of time together, mostly at his place. Jeff's mom was Dutch and very hot. And she had some charming Dutch expressions when she got angry with us. Now, since I don't speak or understand Dutch I can only repeat what I thought I heard. One expression sounded like "hot for dick a ma" and the other I could have sworn she said "peein' in the sink". But I digress.
Since I spent a lot of time at Jeff's it only made sense that I often ate there. And here comes the Dutch treat. Jeff's mom introduced me to a number of great Dutch delicacies. For breakfast she made this wonderful concoction made up of cocoa powder, icing sugar and sugar. The idea was to spread it on hot, buttered toast. Mmmm, like a chocolate bar on toast.
But that was nothing. For lunch we had hagelslag sandwiches. Silly me, back then I heard "ha hoe slaw". Anyway, hagelslag is known in English as chocolate hail. You sprinkle this stuff on buttered bread (the butter holds the chocolate particles in place) top off with another piece of buttered bread and eat.
And on those special occasions we had sandwiches made with Vruchten Hagel, Dutch for fruit hail. Fruit hail is small bits of coloured sugar, with flavour added to make them look like little candies. It was a little crunchier than the chocolate hail.
See, I'm not making this stuff up!
Imagine, chocolate, sugar and more sugar. Boy was my dentist happy. My parents not so much because my dentist discovered I had seventeen cavities. I think he's the guy that first uttered the phrase "drill, baby, drill'.
Needless to say that brought to a quick conclusion my Dutch treat!