Happy Valenti…BLAH BLAH BLAH

Start a new life where it matters most…at McDONALD’S.

Big mac, filet-o-fish, quarter pounder, french fries, icy cold milkshake, sundaes and apple pies….!

big-spender


Happy Valentine’s Day

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A Valentines Day Pick-Me-Up for the Single and Lonely

Valentines Day is a 50/50 split when it comes to love, romance and the acts of.  We all know what the 50% of lovers will be doing:  Fine dining at the local McDonalds; wolfing down boxes of $1 store chocolates; and admiring the beauty of last year’s plastic single CVS rose.

But what will the other 50% of Valentine rejects be doing?  They’ll most likely be searching for last minute hookups, bootycalls, dates; buying the biggest bag of popcorn they can find to go along with all of the break-up, thriller and horror movies they can get their lonely little hands on; and trying to avoid phone calls from all of their happily UNsingle friends who are dying to boast about the romantic evening they have planned with their significant others.

Why the hell didn’t anyone ever create a ‘Scrooge’ character for Valentines Day?  I guess that’s just another one of life’s mysteries that makes one go, “Hmm.”

Alas, to everyone who is lonely this year, don’t worry about it.  In fact, consider yourselves lucky.  All of those rent-a-romances who are going out of their way to make this one day magical will tirelessly spend the next 320 days trying to compete with the sparks of tonight, not realizing that those failed attempts will be even more of a let down after the single rose has dissipated, the chocolates have gone to their waistlines and their significant others have started to hit the gym for the seasonal breakups, separations and wandering eyes that the summer months bring.

How’s that for a Happy Valentines Day? …Suckers!

Are Blind Dates Worth the Trouble?

My dear, poor, unsuspecting friends; we need to have a little chat about something we all know about but are sometimes too shy (or embarrassed) to discuss.  BLIND DATES.

Blind dates are not always all bad.  They’re not always all good either – unless you have a horse shoe up your ass – but most people aren’t that lucky (unless you consider having a horse shoe up your ass lucky at all).  So today we’re going to discuss a few key signs that indicate if you’re on your way to a successful blind date or something that’s quite the opposite.

THE INITIAL CONVERSATION 

Every blind date begins with a series of simple telephone conversations (or in this day and age, email, instant or text messages).  Whatever the case, these are typical introductory conversations where both parties try to paint beautiful pictures of themselves with washable paint.  Don’t be fooled by the initial blind date pre-face convo.  Whether over the phone or on paper, this potential person may sound like you just want to stick them in your back pocket.  The voice coming from the other end of the receiver or the other side of the computer screen gives you a false sense of hope, expectation, and anticipation for something that would be no less better than wolfing down a liter of flat soda and a stale bag of popcorn.

In a nutshell, this convo is usually a set up for a major let down.  However, the initial conversation will probably be the highlight of the date itself.  Stick around and you’ll find out why.

MEETING FOR THE FIRST TIME 

Meeting that blind date for the first time is the moment of do or die.  There’s a part of you that knows if you don’t go through with ringing the door bell or opening the front door for that “potential could-be,” you’ll kick yourself in the shin for depriving yourself of something that could be a sure thing.  However, you could also be introducing yourself to a big bag of shame.  Always keep in mind that in this very moment, you are either in for a few hours of great fun, conversation and company, or a seemingly endless amount of boredom, acute disgust, and/or ideas for revenge for the idiot who thought you and this non-date-worthy schmuck would be a match made in heaven.

Whether you’re pleased with the view from the outer exterior of the person you’ll be sharing the next few hours with or not, you’ve only come upon the first test.  There’s still a small inspection that must take place that will dictate this person’s character a little more than the fluffy initial conversation(s) you may have shared prior to meeting for the first time.

Below are a few tips that will shed some light on the person’s consideration of self, company or situation.  These tips tell how this person sees him/herself and in some cases, their relationships.

  • If you step on a pile of potato chip crumbs somewhere between the living room and the dining room, chances are this person is a pure slob who doesn’t know how to keep house.  They also can’t keep secrets and surely has something hiding in the closet, just waiting to fall out.
  • If there are piles of bread crumbs on the dining room table, keep an eye out for ants.  Where there are crumbs, there are ants.  Either your date is one trifling mofo (motherf*cker) who simply lets the chips fall where they may (metaphorically and literally) or you’re going to be charged extra for bringing a pig to the restaurant instead of a person who knows how to eat respectably and excuse themselves from the table when it comes time to fart before the after-dinner mints.
  • If there are onion peels on the dining room floor, your date will most likely have a problem with personal hygiene.  It’s a proven fact in a book that hasn’t been written yet that onion peels equate to having a closeted funky underarm problem.  Or worse.  An underarm odor in places other than the underarms!
  • If your date utilizes any time telling you about past surgeries, hospital visits or major or minor ailments, they’re probably crazy and you’d do better to run for the border now.  If you’ve never believed it before, believe now that misery is happiest when it has company!

AFTER DINNER KISS

By the time dinner has concluded, your ears have probably bled from all of the listening to nothing you’ve indulged in over the course of the last couple of hours.  Either that or your eyeballs have fallen out of their sockets because you didn’t want anyone to notice how embarrassed you were to be in the company of someone who is obviously below your standards.  Hell, below anyone’s standards! 

The bottom line is though you’re at the end of the date, believe it or not, the catastrophe has only just begun.  You’ve now come to the point of needing to figure out one good reason to bypass the good night kiss.  This usually happens somewhere around the invitation back inside for a nightcap, cup of coffee, or…you guessed it, crunchy cheese curls.  Now if you were smart, you would’ve been thinking about an excuse the moment all your hopes and dreams were shattered when you saw your date for the very first time.

Never go out on a date — first or otherwise — without having a good reason for skipping over the good night kiss; even if it means stopping by your local novelty shop first, to pick up a pack of ass-breath chewing gum.

You always have three options to get out of the good night kiss; (1) come up with a good lie or excuse for not kissing at all (which we’ve covered in the previous paragraph) before meeting up with the date; (2) rip your lips off completely (which isn’t most likely, otherwise you’d be just as f*cked up as your date); or (3) sew your lips together with needle and thread.  Honestly, you’d kill two birds with one stone by stitching your lips together.  By using such a dramatic force of act, what you’d actually be saying (or implying since your lips would be sealed shut) is, “I don’t want to kiss you and I don’t want to discuss why the hell I don’t want your lips touching mine.”  It’s simple and to the point.  It may not be very nice, but who cares?  You know damn well that you have no intention of seeing this person ever again, so manners aren’t necessary.

Now let’s recap.  How can you tell if your blind date is aiming for a nose-dive straight to hell?  Notice the table crumbs, critter infestations, framed hospital photos, onion peels, table manners, chappage of the lips (yes, I made up a word)  and finally the conversation or lack thereof.

Peeping out a bad blind date isn’t that hard to do.  The signs smack you in the face like a heat wave.  You just have to know what to look for, or at least know how much you’re willing to take before you abandon the date altogether to go play in oncoming traffic.


Quote of the week:   “Some relationships fail because people change and forget to tell each other.”

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Who Ate the Last Chicken Wing?

Guys and gals, it’s time that we sit down and have a little interrogation chat about something that’s even more important than world peace – a little matter of who the hell ate the last chicken wing?! 

Eating a man’s last chicken wing is like asking a woman about her age or weight.  You just don’t frikkin do it unless you’re trying to get your ass kicked!  It ranks up there with carjacking, lying and retail false advertisement.  Sure, a guilty culprit may lick the grease off their finger tips or wipe them clean on the fabric of their shirt or jeans, but the evidence lies in the pores of their skin and the aroma of their breath.  And a true chicken fanatic can sniff out the guilty like dogs sniff each other’s butts.

Evidence is eminent.  There is the trail of chicken crumbs; hot sauce stains; and grease-flavored belches.  There is the tummy rub; the heavy eyelids; and the smile of cured hunger satisfaction.  But the one thing that every last-chicken-wing-eating-thief fails to remember is that the last chicken wing usually has someone else’s name written all over it.  And when chicken lovers come back to the table to find that the last wing has been polished off, all hell breaks loose and no one is safe!  Especially if that last wing belongs to ME!

Women love diamonds.  Men love football.  Children love candy.  Old people love prunes.  Young people love booze.  But what about all those folks who scrape up their last dime for a single fix of a box of wings?  Popeyes, KFC, Golden Skillet, Wings & Things, House of Wings, New York Fried Chicken, Church’s Fried Chicken, and even Bojangles makes a killing off of people who are ashamed to enter a 12-step wing anonymous program, and you mean to tell me that there is someone in the world who thinks it’s okay for a greedy mofo to come along and snatch the last wing like a scavenger?  Even pigeons have more couth.

Now if you really want to piss someone off, don’t call them out of their name; don’t insult their intelligence; don’t even miscalculate their change.  Eat their last piece of chicken.  Just be prepared to run for the border because an ass whooping is on its way like a bill collector coming to collect a debt!

Actually, let me paint a more specific picture.

If you or anyone from your entourage decide to sit down for a meal with Hottywood, you can be sure there will be some deep fried chicken wings on the menu.  You can also be sure that when it comes down to the last piece, your fingers better be bound inside your pockets, ‘cause Hotty don’t play that!  Now I may have posed the question of who ate the last wing from the previous meal I shared with a few compulsive wing eaters, but trust me, that question was asked merely to warn the guilty perpetrator.  Because if there’s one thing that never lies, it’s my nose!  I can sniff out some bullsh*t and I can sniff out some chicken wings.  And I will find you!

“Watch your back ’cause I’m coming for you, sucka!”

_________________________________________________________

Quote of the week:   “A greedy father has thieves for children.”

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[REPOST] Dear Santa: Real Talk

A LETTER TO OLD ST. NICK

Dear Santa,

I’ve been thinking.  For the last couple of days I’ve had the pleasure of going all ‘Terminator’ on those barricuda Christmas shoppers at the mall.  As much as I’d love to say I enjoyed getting toys snatched out of my hands, my feet stepped on and my face scratched by some old lady because my shopping cart was blocking hers, I have to admit that this year’s Christmas shopping experience has been one great big ball of cow poo!  With that in mind, I wonder what you would do if your ass didn’t have those little brown-nosing elves to get all of your Christmas shopping out of the way, and eight reindeer to fly you over traffic jams, bird-flipping drivers and cops who are itching to give you a ticket.


I bet you wouldn’t handle it so well would you?  By the end of your experience, you’d probably be somewhere in a bar getting completely wasted.  Trust me, there are about 30 million, give or take another 30 million people – plus me, who end up in a bar fight after Christmas shopping.  If you think that’s bad, just wait until the post-Christmas sales.   I’d pay to see the look on your face if you had to deal with that.

Goodness gracious, Santa, I see why your hair is white and you’re so fat.  You are under a lot of stress.  You’re probably getting drunk all the time.  Santa, are you an alcoholic?  Is that why you have reindeer chauffeuring you around vs. you driving a big old U-Haul truck? Well, any way, what goes on in your home isn’t my business until it hits prime time news.  So enough of the drunk-Santa jokes.  Actually Santa, I kind of feel for you. While we regular Joes only have to shop for our small families, you have to shop for the entire world.  You have to be mindful of the old, the dirty, the unpleasing, the ungrateful, the arrogant, the evil and the rude.  That has to be a job in itself, attempting to satisfy those who are never satisfied at all.  Who could blame you for getting smashed?

You’re probably in cahoots with drug dealers, bank robbers and psychiatrists, because I couldn’t imagine any sane, sober person attempting to take on the challenge that you’ve committed yourself to.  And that sweet old Mrs. Claus is probably some bitter old skank who can’t count to –5- and only bakes burnt cookies to pay you back for keeping her trapped all the way in the North Pole.  She can’t even get any because you’re out shopping all year for other people.  She’s probably always PMSing because she’s too far away from civilization to have an affair; and no doubt the elves are out of the question. And in your spare time, you probably only have time to practice your aim for when you sh*t bricks down the chimneys of everyone who mocked you all year long, leaving yourself too grumpy to shut Mrs. Claus up and break her off a lil somethin’ somethin’.  Not to mention you’re probably always tired and in a grumpy mood because you’re strapped for cash, having to feed all them damn elves and those hungry ass reindeer.

Geez Santa, I was ready to rip you to shreds.  But now that I understand merely the possibilities of what you have to deal with all year long that we normal folks only have to deal with about 7-14 days out of a year, I’ll let you off the hook.  In fact, I’ll do better than that.  I’ll raise this glass to you in honor of keeping up the tradition of Christmas.  It’s because of your drunk ass that we are guaranteed to get laid on Christmas eve, and if the gift is good enough, on Christmas night too.  Thanks to you, our kids are nicer, our mother-in-laws don’t call, and our employees show up to work on time.

Kudos to you Santa!  Not for being lucky enough not to be the 100th person in the checkout line when the cash registers opens to the 3rd customer; kudos to you for only being fat after having to deal with all of that drama at home.  Just promise me one thing: That you and Mrs. Claus won’t remake any Ike/Tina or Chris/Rihanna Christmas specials.  I don’t think out networks can handle that right now, well not in the midst of our administration shift and all.

Well, that’s about it for now, Santa.  Keep your head up.

~Hottywood


Quote of the Week:    “Get your ass out of the street if you can’t see where you’re going.”

Your Luck is About to Change

When the moon crosses paths with Jupiter, you will appear more charming than you actually are. This will be a perfect time to meet a soul mate who has just established a career as a professional parrot feeder.


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“Tracks of an Underground Advice Columnist”