What Part of Adolescent Behavior Should Teachers be Responsible For, Some or All?

First and foremost, let’s begin this post by warning anyone that doesn’t have a sense of humor to cease and desist immediately.  Ion’t need anyone hating on those of us with a few jokes in our hearts.  Real talk. 

Now if all minds are clear, we can begin. 

More times than a little bit, we are forced to be reminded of how bad our sweet little kids are – in the grocery store; during a meditational church prayer; inside a restaurant, a movie theater, or the laundromat.  And after we’ve hung our heads in shame, hidden under a table, rock or some fat lady’s dress, which is of course always the first thing we do from sheer embarrassment of raising such sweet-faced spawns of the devil, we pull out the Parents’ Handbook for Dummies: A Guide to Punishing Kids Who Couldn’t Care Less About Their Weak Ass Parents or Their Dumb Punishment Attempts.  Surely we know that this handbook is nothing more than a reminder of how blunderous we are as parents for not being able to get a grip on our kids in private and often more in public.  “No more to that,” I say!  In this new day and age the finger is no longer pointed at the ineffective parent!   

Stick with me while I explain.  

Once upon a time bad behavior could be blamed as the result of a timid housewife, an absentee father or even a poor environment of a child’s neighborhood.  But now that we’ve skated pass the 1950s, it’s time that we place blame somewhere else.  Let me ask you.  If [working] parents spend more time at work than they do at home, where do children spend most of their days?  No.  Not a juvenile detention center.  They spend all of their time at school, so naturally the first person to blame for the disruptive behavior of the child that no one wants to babysit is none other than the teacher!  

Teachers come into the classroom with one agenda: to teach.  They teach math, science, social studies, language arts, foreign language, even religion.  But they don’t teach discipline.  Why the hell not?  If they know that 69.3% of students in each classroom are offensively bad, why don’t they spend less time writing notes home to parents in an effort to remind us of how we’re failing as guardians instead of drafting up a damn disciplinary education standard to get those attitudes in check?  There’s no need to tell us about our kids’ discipline problems.  We already know they’re bad as sh*t.  What they’re telling us is that there is a lack of effort and responsibility in our classrooms.  Our teachers are too lazy to tell our brats to shut the hell up!  If they are spending more time with our kids than we are, then it’s only fair that they hold more of a percentage in the area of disciplinary responsibility, right?  It’s just common sense.  

Hell, we spend eight hours a day dealing with bad attitudes, unrealistic demands and never-ending chores, all for little to no paycheck.  When we get home, we are expecting the teachers to bombard our kids with multiple chapters worth of homework, detention slips and drained energy from sending their bad asses back and forth to the principal’s office.  When they send our kids home all well rested and free from studying, they are only telling us that they do not value the progression of our children’s citizenship. 


Imagine, leaving the discipline up to the parents.  As if we don’t already have enough on our plates. 


When the kids finally graduate after spending 6 or 7 years in high school, who takes the credit for them graduating?  Teachers, of course.  Why be all finicky when it comes to their behavior?  

Look, teachers.  All we, as parents, are trying to do is be fair.  We’re simply trying to give you the credit where you deserve it and raise a stink when you fall short.  Teach the damn kids some manners and respect so that we don’t have to be called bad parents when they come home with these nasty attitudes.  Stake your claim in the effort of raising some good standing citizens while they’re still young.  Just keep in mind that the next time one of our kids comes home with some foul language that you’re going to get your ass kicked.  Since our feet aren’t super-glued to the playground, they are your responsibility from 8:30-3:00.  So you need to be aware of what they’re talking about; whom they are messing with; when they skip class; when they skip school; fight; fuss; sleep; pout; whine; cheat; and/or lie.  You’re getting paid to do the same sh*t we are too tired to do for free. 

Now if you think this letter is too much of a big pill to swallow, relish in the thought that 90% of any effort is getting started.  And trust me, it’ll probably be easier to digest if you hit the bottle first. 


Quote of the week:  “Education is when you read the fine print. Experience is what you get if you don’t.”

In Search of Non-Morning Person Support Group

Seems to me I remember sharing with the world how much of a morning person I am not some time back in 2009.  Still, all my mornings pretty much begin the same – brutal traffic that points its finger and laughs at me as I cuss all the way to work; stale bagels; and yesterday’s coffee.  Today seems to be as good a day as any to reiterate how much I despise people who bombard me with useless conversation about how they are doing when it’s clearly marked on my forehead how much I don’t give a damn; customers who call the office first thing in the morning to ask questions they seem to already know the answers to; and coworkers who are not considerate enough to let me take my coat off before pawning their work off on me so they can play endless games of internet Bejeweled.  

Perhaps if my night ended in a peaceful manner, filled with salty french fries, a throwback comedic marathon, like “I Love Lucy”, and a foot massage from a rich princess who runs a country somewhere in the tropics and looks like Kim Kardashian, I wouldn’t feel like coming to work with a machine gun full of bubblicious chewing gum and stink bomb pellets.  Alas, I’m not that lucky, and neither are those people who float across my threshold on cloud 9 any time before high noon – aka, lunch!  Especially if they aren’t toting a box of piping hot Popeyes chicken or seemed to have left their manners at home and omitted to say, “Good morning,” before tossing words around like, “I need you to,” and “I know you’re busy but…”  Those are the people who get their car doors scratched with a pair of keys or accidentally runs over a glass bottle of Millers Genuine Draft without any idea of what kind of non-morning person would do such a thing to them. 

Now by mid-day when my mood has calmed and my taste buds have settled on what it desires for the lunch time fix, a whole new wave of gripe and grudge takes over my body once my eyelids have become heavy and the clock does anything but move its big hand closer to the 12 and the little hand on the 5.  This is around the time when office colleagues, business vendors, and out-of-office meeting guests should all enter my personal space with caution.  To put it mildly, only approach me if wearing a suit of armor while holding a bungee cord to assist me in an early dismissal of work through the 17th floor window.  But seriously, what are the chances of that happening?  If your answer is “little to none” much like my answer is, there is an alternative solution.  Boredom is the next overwhelming feeling after passing the I Don’t Want to Be Here stage of the day.   Here’s when practical joke mode kicks in.  

Accidentally jam the photocopier, fill all the toilet bowls in the building with Bounty paper towels or make prank 911 calls from your boss’ desk phone and just sit back and wait for the fun part to begin.   

I would’ve included a nice clip of an overflowing toilet but you did just eat your lunch in the previous paragraph and that simply would’ve been another mess for you to clean up before quitting time.  At any rate the day must go on if you wish to continue receiving your paychecks.  So as much as I would love to sit here and continue telling you how much of a morning person I am not, or an afternoon person for that matter, I must dust off my glue gun and stick some folders to the bottom of the file cabinet in hopes to never see them again.  But if you have some time, let’s meet up after work for a drink.  By then I will be in the jolliest of moods and won’t mind so much stupid comments, selfish company or inconsiderate people because I’ll be too consumed by alcohol to give a sh*t.  

Five o’clock isn’t that far away.  I can make it.  After all, 90% of any effort is getting started.  


Quote of the week:    “Oh, you hate your job?  Why didn’t you say so?  There’s a support group for that.  It’s called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar.”   -Drew Carey

Back Off, Sucka!

There comes moments in everyone’s life when you just want to tell someone to “Back Off!”  It’s not an unusual feeling and it’s not always as rude as you may think, especially if that person is doing all but verbally asking you for the reminder that they should mind their own damn business.  

Sometimes children want to tell their nagging parents to put a muzzle on and allow them to be children before being prematurely molded into old bitties.  Sometimes residents want to tell their neighbors to put blindfolds on and stop peeking out their windows when late night booty calls ring the doorbell.  Often times, co-workers want to shoot paperclips in the eyeballs of their nosy colleagues when they dig deep and pass judgment on the private events that have taken place in their associates’ personal weekend lives.  Even pets deserve a certain level of “back offage” when they demand a high level of attention.  

Everyone at some stage of the game reserves the right to be wrong, shady, introversive, keep secrets and make their own mistakes without someone else’s snotty nose minding the business that doesn’t belong to them.  There are a dozen ways to tell someone to back the hell off and lucky for you, Hottywood is here to help you figure out the proper way to get your point across!  Rude doesn’t always have to be bad.  It can be considered simply as being frank.  No matter how you spin the word, I promise you’ll only have to spin it once.  

To the mean old farts at church that can’t get with the crossroads of secular and gospel music:  Remove the batteries from your hearing aid when it comes time for the youth choir to sing their Sunday morning selection or risk the brakes on your wheelchair being tampered with.  Silence is golden


To the single friend who has more advice to give to their coupled pals:  Spend more time worrying about why no one wants you instead of evaluating why your married associates are having trouble in paradise.  Those friends have done something well enough to get hitched that you obviously haven’t mastered yet.  Loser.     


To the bill collector who bombards consumers with repeated phone calls and threatening telephone messages:  You should consider yourself lucky that you’re hiding behind a telephone receiver, but never underestimate the power of switchboard.com and a gang of anti-telemarketing vigilantes.  Karma’s a bitch, bitch!  


To the school teacher whose come to a conclusion of why a student isn’t grasping the essence of a particular classroom study lesson:  The problem isn’t with the student; the problem is that you really aren’t that great of a teacher and you’re probably going to get your ass whipped at 3 o’clock by an angry parent for failing to do your job properly in teaching that child the basics.  Run for your life!   


To the desperate round-da-way chick who keeps trying to give up the booty to anyone who’ll take it:  Nobody wants to be bothered with someone who has a VIP pass to the free clinic. 

Don’t back it up.  Back it off, huzzy!   


To the supervisor who keeps asking his/her employee about the status of a project:  Realize that in the amount of time it takes for you to walk over to that employee’s desk, a family of baby snakes can devour the flesh of a nuisance human.  Silence speaks volumes.  


[…and finally] To the person who simply won’t shut the hell up:  Either you stop talking or you may find yourself packing a bag for a very quick trip over a long cliff.  Hush already, will ya?  

If some of these commanding demands are a little too extreme for you to use on anyone who’s getting a little beside themselves where your business and peace of mind is concerned, then maybe you need to go somewhere and grow a backbone, because honestly more times than few, being direct is your best bet in telling someone to back the hell up and stay out of your beez-wax!  Truth be told you’re not being rude.  You’re being honest.  And if being honest is too hard for you to share with someone else, then the first thing you need to do is be honest with yourself.  The second thing is to realize that 90% of any effort is getting started. 


Quote of the week:   “You can’t stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you.  You have to go to them sometimes.”

Pep Talk: This Too Shall Pass

I often preach that every day can’t be full of peaches and cream, and my days are no exception to the rule.  In fact, today in particular, seems to be the day when everyone wants to kick me while I’m down.  Today I’ve been talked about, lied on, challenged, rejected, and underestimated.  I gotta tell you, I don’t like this feeling.  I don’t like feeling like I’m in a constant battle with no army; feeling attacked and insecure.  Though I’m a firm believer in the motto, “THIS TOO SHALL PASS,” it ain’t over until it’s over.  And until it’s really over, the sh*t still hurts.     

Now I might feel a moment of defeat in this never-ending millisecond of a day but I’m pretty sure that when the right sized brick bounces off my noggin, reality will set in and I’ll regain my rightful place in the land of “F*ck Them All,”  …that is after the mild concussion subsides from that damn brick falling on my head.   

Even still, life is hard — some days moreso than others.  But ask yourself, “If it were easy, would it be worth it?”  I don’t think so.  My cowboy hat may not have the biggest brim and my jeans may not have the sharpest crease but I declare that the spurs on my boots are as sharp as they come and I’m still the fastest draw in the west! 

Listen; the truth of the matter is sometimes we have to get kicked – all of us, myself included.  It reminds us of how strong we are.  It also gives us a good enough reason to swing a monkey wrench.  Monkey wrenches come in handy for screwing up someone else’s plan and partaking in any form of revenge

I might feel bad now but it’s only for a moment.  A long moment but a moment nonetheless.  So keep kicking me, b*tches, so I can keep swinging this wrench!  I need the occasional reminder that my journey is worth the fight and nobody can protect me but me.  There may be nothing I don’t know but I don’t know everything.  [#Oxymoronism at its best.]  What I do know is when the troops are no longer standing behind me, I have the biggest weapon of them all watching over me from on high.  And I dare anyone to challenge that.  

As long as I’m focused on my goal, strong in my faith and have $4.55 in my pocket to buy some chicken wings when this emotional moment has passed, I’m good.  No…I’m great!  I’m blessed.  Sometimes it’s hard to remember that when times are at their lowest peak it makes the end result so much more worth the victory dance.  The best part of remembering the good news is that 90% of any effort is getting started.  

Hey, even a man with all the answers needs a little pep talk from time to time.  And I have no problem talking to myself because I am my own best listener and I make the best sense to me. 


Quote of the week:   “Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you’re scared to death.”

The Ineffective, Yet Highly Enjoyable Hottywood Diet

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a fat kid trapped in a skinny man’s body.  Some say they hate me for that; some say they are jealous; and others haven’t bothered to form an opinion one way or another.  You may think whatever you want of my ability to eat 200 chicken wings in one sitting, but you can’t help but to admire my commitment to stuffing my face until my stomach or ass reach a code red for explosion.  Before we go any further, I’m reminded of a limerick my family used to sing to me every time I farted after a big meal: 

“Better to let it out and be ashamed

Than to hold it back and bust a vein!” 

Most of you who are reading this right now are probably grossed out by what you’re reading, but sometimes even clean reading can get a little messy.  Here’s when you challenge your sense of humor and either go with the flow or just go.  

I didn’t bring you here to discuss my gastric issues.  What I came here to say is “down with dieting — BOOOO!” What’s the point?  It’s no fun.  After all, the first three letters of the word “diet” are D-I-E.  Having said that, below is the very ineffective, yet most highly enjoyable Hottywood Diet, guaranteed not to make you lose a single pound!  Hey, look at it this way, the more fat that dangles around your love-handles only means there’s more of you to love.  Own up to it.  Hell, I do.  I’ve already decided that in my next life I’m going to come back as a pie-eating champion.  

Anyway, enjoy the not-so-helpful diet tips below.  If you’re going to eat yourself into a frenzy, you might as well enjoy every last crumb.  


Avoid nothing!  Eat any damn thing you want.   That’s the best part about the Hottywood Diet.  There are no repercussions; no second thoughts.  Just enjoy the moment.  And if anyone tells you to avoid any kind of food, you tell them to avoid the fist that you’ll be throwing at their forehead.  …and you’ll only be throwing a fist because you probably ate the last cream pie. 


  1. Eat about 25%-50% above your calorie maintenance level.  More, if you’re an overachiever or one greedy motherf*cker. 
  2. Don’t spread your calories into 5-6 small meals.  Instead, eat 5-6 big meals!  Dessert and snacks count as bonus points.  If you’re going to go all out — go all the way.   
  3. Drink plenty of kool-aid and carbonated sodas instead of tasteless water.  Alcohol is also a fun beverage to wash your meals down with, especially in the morning. 
  4. Toss your weight scale in front of a herd of angry ostriches.  If you follow this ineffective diet, you won’t need it anymore.   
  5. Exercise is the ENEMY!  Don’t bother working out.  You’ll be too tired after you eat anyway. 
  6. And last but not least, the only pills you should be taking are those “All-Night-Long” pills for men and women.  Who the hell heard of taking a pill to curb your appetite???  Talk about a hard pill to swallow, geez.   

People of Earth invest way too much time, effort and energy into attempting to lose weight.  Everyone except people in a few third-world countries of course, but that’s a horse of a different color.  If we weren’t meant to eat ourselves into deep dips inside our couches, then why on Earth is food so good?  Don’t blame us for eating the heavy carbs and loads of sugar.  Our appetites are keeping businesses afloat – Popeyes; McDonalds; Sonic; Dairy Queen.  We’re contributing a lot to the livelihood of businesses; keeping jobs filled; providing an American justice.

I could go on and on about how we should avoid b*tches like Jenny Craig and that whole Nutrisystem scam sham.  You only have one life to live so you might as well live it to the fullest…or live while being full.  And it certainly doesn’t take 90% of any effort to do that.  Especially if there’s a ham bone tied to a string on a stick at the end of effort’s trail.  

Now I’m not shoving any food down anyone’s throat so if you gain a few extra pounds, good for you, but you can’t say it was at my hand.  In fact, my hands are full and greasy, thanks to these fries and this fully loaded pepper jack burger!   So on that note — peace out ya’ll!  I’m about to make my inner fat kid very happy. 

Nom Nom Nom


Quote of the week:   “Sex is just as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other.” 

Hottywood’s HORRORscopes: Week of August 1-7, 2010

Not every week can be as good as the last but there’s always fun in finding out what’s in store.

Below are Hottywood’s cookie fortunes, as revealed by the moon and the sun, in addition to the itch on the bottom of his foot.   

Take heed.  Knowledge is power.



December 22 – January 19 

It’s not a good thing if your fingers look like you’ve been changing oil all day.



January 20 – February 18

Put your feet in the right place,  then stand strong.  Just make sure you’re not walking your dog at the time.  NobodyLikesASh_ttyFoot.com



February 19 – March 20   

Having toenails like a garden rake is not sexy. 



March 21 – April 19 

It’s probably time to change your perfume/cologne if the scent of a backed-up toilet is the first thing people smell when you walk through the door.



April 20 – May 20 

If you can draw a ‘Hop Scotch’ template on concrete with the heel of your foot, something’s definitely wrong.



May 21 – June 20 

As long as you’re happy expecting nothing, you’ll never be disappointed. 



June 21 – July 22 

Age doesn’t protect you from love. 



July 23 – August 22 

Blame someone else for all of your mistakes.  Wear comfortable shoes.



August 23 – September 22 

If you think you’re going out of your mind at work, you are.  A cubicle is nothing more than a padded cell without a door. 



September 23 – October 22 

Whatever the law is that prohibits you from being wrong only exists in that little box that you live in. 



October 23 – November 21 

Don’t leave your lunch on the side of a public restroom sink. 



November 22 – December 21   

Beware of cross-dressing midgets. 


Quote of the Week:  “If Harry Potter is so magical, why can’t he cure is own eye sight?” 

Potty Problems: A Public Disgrace

Over the course of the last year, we’ve discussed some very interesting mistakes that the common man or woman makes.  We’ve reviewed the flaws and faults of a relationship gone wrong, personal hygiene – from the root of the hair all the way down to the ashy, unclipped toenails.  We’ve talked about liars, cheaters and everything in between.  We’ve touched base on bad ass kids and the “what not to do’s” while sitting in church.  All of these topics are still very valid today but there’s one thing that we must not overlook; one topic that is probably not in the database of any normal person’s conversation.  Lucky for you Hottywood is anything but normal!  I hope you’re sitting down for this.  Better yet, I hope you’re standing up because today we will spotlight the disaster of sharing a public restroom. 

As convenient as it may be to stop and pee-pee or even perform restroom feat #2 in a public facility, there is no denying that the sh*t is gross – so much so until it’s almost understandable for a person to hold their business until they’re in the privacy of their own home.  Now we can sit here and state the obvious of why public restrooms are disgusting – beginning and ending with sanitation, but putting aside the truths of stained toilet seats and rolls of toilet paper with only enough paper to give your ass one good wipe, there is the issue of the dang-blasted smell!  As if walking into a public potty and taking a whiff of the less than fragrant aroma of unwashed body parts weren’t enough, there’s also the offensive scent of accrued combined ass gas that covers the dank room like cracked paint on walls.  No amount of cotton would ever be enough to shove up your nose to mask that deplorable smell.  Funk discriminates against no one.  Women and men alike, should take pride in applying some soap and water to their bums, family jewels and va-jay-jays as well as consider changing their eating habits so that the waste that’s released from their ass doesn’t smell like shark infested sea-water. 

It would probably be more of a convenience if we could just remove our noses like a Mr. Potato Head doll.  However modern technology hasn’t brought us to that era just yet.  Michael Jackson tried it once and the poor guy never did get his nose on right after that.  But you have to admit that the idea is pretty intriguing.  You’ll probably give it more thought the next time you’re sitting in a stall next to someone who’s had two cans of pork & beans for lunch.

Foul smells aside, one can’t overlook the serious violation of personal space.  Something about sitting on a porcelain throne, knowing there’s someone sharing your experience in the stall right next to you introduces a catastrophic level of privacy invasion.  It goes far beyond the definition of “T.M.I. [Too Much Information].”  That level of discomfort is a sure fire way of blocking the concentration flow of excrement release.    …hey I’m trying to keep it as clean as possible here.

To make a long story short, the bottom line is that public bathrooms sit high and pretty on the top of the “Just Kill Me Now” list.   The only thing attractive about them is the convenience.  Despite the  realism of the disgusting smell and the invasion of privacy, there’s a funny little phrase that comes to mind: “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”  I suppose in everyone’s life there comes a time when you just have to pinch your nose tightly, close your eyes, hold your breath and take one for the team.  Thank goodness 90% of any effort is getting started, even in a situation as funky as the public restroom on Route 66. 


Quote of the week:   “The next time you’re in a public bathroom, cheer and clap loudly every time somebody breaks the silence with a bodily function noise.”


Assess Your Own Personality

It’s time for an individual personality assessment.  Half of the people who take up the Earth’s oxygen need no one to tell them what kind of a screw up they are.  Alas, the other half of Earth’s people can’t wait to point their fingers and redirect the focus from their own jacked-up characters.  Though it’s no secret that the people of Hottywood are less than afraid to speak their minds when it comes to that one bad apple in a bunch, HottywoodHelps.com challenges you to assess yourself to gain a better understanding of how people perceive you.  

Keep in mind that if any of these characteristics offend you, then you’re probably more guilty of being type-cast than you’re willing to give yourself credit for.  Unfortunately that’s a problem you have to deal with within yourself.  Hottywood can only help you realize you’re not as perfect as you want everyone to believe.  


The Diva 

The “diva” is probably the most common pit-sniffer there is.  Initially the Italian term diva, first introduced in the 19th century, was used to describe a celebrated female singer in the world of opera.  As time progressed, drag queens’ wigs got bigger, and heaven forbid we dare forget the phenomenon we all know as the woman who vows “Crack is Whack” – dear old Whitney Houston, the term [diva], by extension, grew to describe women, and in some cases men, in theatre, cinema and popular music.  Today a diva can be anyone who believes their sh*t doesn’t stink; someone who prides themselves on living on a plateau above from common folk.  And by ‘common folk’ we are referring to anyone who doesn’t give a damn about the diva at all.  The diva is most likely to get beat up in an alley by someone with a low tolerance for self absorbed people.  


The Powerhouse 

The “powerhouse” is that man or woman who knows he/she is the sh*t but spends more time displaying the reason for being the best at the game through action than word of mouth.  They are the person the diva aspires to be, but unfortunately can’t cut it as.  The powerhouse is typically strong in will and determination and will not rest until a job is done to their satisfaction.  If there was ever anyone’s paper to copy off of during a test, he/she is the person you’d bully into giving you [all the right] answers.  They’re intelligent and resourceful — sometimes too much for their own good.  There aren’t too many days that go by where you don’t want to tie their shoe strings together out of sheer envy.  They are bad mamma jammas but will let you tell it instead of announcing it for themselves.  They deserve kudos for their less than humble personal awareness and probably will get the accolades by any means necessary, simply because success is the only option.  


The Asshole 

The “asshole” will stand out in a crowd like a puppy’s aged crap load.  They demand your attention to their snake-like ways.  They are trouble; danger; red flags, even.  Everything about them stinks – their personality; disposition; intension; motive; loyalty.  You name it and it stinks!  They are on the bottom of the totum pole merely because no one likes nor trusts them.  They are typically the first to throw you under the bus or even in front of it, for nothing more than their amusement.  Like the diva, the asshole is prone to getting his/her chest pumped with a round of half eaten M&Ms shot from the barrel of sawed off water gun.  When you see an asshole coming your way — and you will because they’re on every corner, like liquor stores and churches — slap them on the forehead and take off running in the opposite direction.  Just be cognizant that the asshole is all about payback.  To them, revenge is sweeter because it keeps asshole-ish drama going.    


The Unpredictable 

The “unpredictable” person is that someone that’s all right to be around because you never know what to expect.  Just as soon as you think you have their page all read, they’ve written a new verse.  This person is one who can surprise you when you least expect it – and I mean that in both the good and bad sense of the way.  They can be as needy as the diva, as confident as the powerhouse or as shady as the asshole.  Their prediction of personality could depend on the time of day, the direction of the blowing wind or the rumble of a lactose-intolerant stomach.  You can roll the dice all you want but you’ll never know how your luck is going to run with this one.  The fun part is figuring it out, then dealing with what you get.


Many are guilty of carrying one of the traits of these common characteristics – ‘many’ meaning ‘everyone.’  No one is innocent enough not to pull it off, unless they are about not-born yet years old.   There’s a little bit of a diva, a powerhouse, a certain level of unpredictability…and yes, even a great or small amount of an asshole in each of us.  It’s what makes us special and interesting, to say the least.  The hard part is keeping a great percentage of those overbearing qualities to ourselves, however the good news to that is 90% of any effort is getting started.


Quote of the week:      “Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change.”

People in Hell Want Ice Water

Somewhere in our cold steel-plated hearts there is a soft spot for those less fortunate than us.  And though we often feel guilty for turning a blind eye to those poor folks who beg for change at the bus stop or stroll up and down the metro train asking for money to get out of the subway, we can’t help but to ask ourselves, “Where do we draw the damn line?”  

There has to be a breaking point when it becomes okay to scream at beggars and panhandlers – using our outside voice, of course – to tell them that the only thing we can spare is the Employment section of a newspaper.  

Guilt is nothing but life’s gag gift.  It’s just an unfunny way for the universe to laugh at us for one thing or another.  However there are some times when you can return that unwanted poorly wrapped swag bag.   No one is – or should be – stupid enough to feel compelled to offer their hard earned funds to people whose hardest [and only] job is to beg for spare change.  The average person would be more than happy to oblige sparing an ass whooping, but there’s not much one can buy with that.  

“Dear Mr. & Mrs. Beggar, I wish I could help you this time but I really don’t want to.” 

Seriously, enough is enough!  As if watching those horribly sad Save the Children infomercials weren’t enough to guilt us into giving our last dime, here you come bombarding us with your liquor-stained breath as you attempt to make your sob stories even more saddening than the poor kids over in the mother land who suffer from kwashiorkor.  And on top of it all, you come begging with an asking price!  It’s no longer $.50.  You ask for anything anywhere between $2.00 – $5.00.  That’s just enough money to go out and by yourself a ½ or whole pint of gin, vodka, or any cheap brand of dark liquor.  

With the economy the way it is now, who the hell can afford to make ends meet and buy your booze?  Sure, you may want us to believe that you’re not an alcoholic but trust me,  the smell of liquor seeping out of your pores is a dead give away!  And you try to mask that scent with a heart wrenching, “Excuse me sir, can you help me buy a sandwich?”  HELP YOU BUY???  What are you bringing to the damn table?  

Look, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not encouraging people to put a pad lock on their wallets and spray ‘Begger-Begone’ all over themselves like it’s some kind of insect repellant.  What I am encouraging is for people to realize that they don’t have to be bamboozled into paying for someone else’s bump.  Especially if they’re not at a nightclub getting someone all liquored up in hopes of getting lucky later on.  Believe me, what you won’t give them, some poor, unsuspecting and obviously affluent fool will.  Whether that fool is you or the person standing next to you, you can rest assured that it won’t be me!  Even if I have to try really really hard to be tight with my change, I find comfort in knowing that 90% of any effort is getting started. 


Quote of the week:     “Keeping in mind that many people want many things – people in hell want ice water but you can bet that’s not gonna happen.”

Lunchtime Confessions: Don’t F*ck w/ Man After He’s Eaten

Contrary to popular belief, anyone or anything that stumbles across a hungry man’s path 20 minutes before and up to 45 minutes after the high noon lunch hour better be well-clad in metal armor and armed with a can of air freshener because stepping into that kind of line of fire [while someone is hungry or full] is a sure way to get the sh*t beaten out of you. 

A long time ago, a caveman came up with this rule while he was sh*tting in the bushes moments after ingesting a baby dinosaur leg.  Sadly, the caveman was attacked by the mother dinosaur, which followed his scent back to his camp after she couldn’t find her young.  What the mother dinosaur didn’t know was that it is never wise to mess with a man after he’s eaten.  Because every man would prefer at least 30 minutes of self time for his food to digest and his gas to pass, f*cking with him before his stomach settles is one bad idea — even for a dinosaur.  The ass kicking of the mother dinosaur led to two things:

  1. The extinction of dinosaurs, and
  2. The rule that no one should mess with a man after his greedy ass has finished eating.

For this rule to have existed since the dawn of time, you would think that in this modern age, stupid ass office employees and nagging wives would’ve learned to keep their damn mouths closed during a very memorable pre and post experience of the stuffing of the face.  Alas, they have not. 

Work and home are two of the most common places where someone has received a horrible beat down because people have chosen to violate man’s only chance of peaceful, self-deserved alone-time.  So many of these violent acts caused man — and congress — to insist that the average man spend his post-eating quality time in a restroom facility, closed off from the rest of the unappreciative world.  There has not been, unfortunately, a time set aside for all the greedy bastards who have yet to embark on a pre-eating stage of hungrism.  Because of the lack of commitment in protecting our citizens from such a brutal warning of no measure, it’s just advised to keep your damn distance until you’ve heard a belch or smelled a fart for yourself. 

Many citizens of the great working world have all agreed that there are key phrases to let a person know when the window of opportunity is temporarily nailed shut for any approach of annoyance or plain old bullsh*t.  Such phrases are listed below:

  • F*ck off.
  • Get the f*ck out of here.
  • Go f*ck yourself.
  • I don’t care. 
  • Who gives a sh*t? 
  • If you value your life, then go away. 
  • Now’s not a good time and never isn’t looking so good. 

These are just a few warnings to let a person know when now’s not a good time. 

It doesn’t take that much exertion to avoid getting your face smashed.  Just keep your pestering ass away from all people whose stomachs growl louder than their raspy voices or whose butt stench smells like cheese and dill pickles.  Once you’ve mastered the art of knowing when to stay the hell away from people, you’ve mastered a very useful skill.  All it takes is a little effort.  And 90% of any effort is getting started. 


Quote of the week:   “Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.”

Free Advice For Someone Who’s Always Begging to Borrow

Many times we, as the soft-hearted jelly fish that we can sometimes be, are underestimated by our kindness and generosity.  Though those are two traits most people would consider to be commendably worth having, there are those moments when we, ourselves, would have to argue otherwise. 

It’s not uncommon for a person with a heart made of gold to loan out money, advice, time, effort or even their bodies, depending on the amount of whining one does to gain sympathy.  But as much as our hearts allow us to say yes, our minds must play the devil’s advocate.   

Rhetorical Question:  “Who the hell do you think we are?”

We, the kind and just people of the world who feel sorry for all you stingy, needy ass people who can’t or won’t go out and do for your damn selves, have finally taken a stand to unite and say, “F*ck no! Don’t ask.” 

As harsh as it may seem, it’s about damn time that we strike you over the head with what many people call “tough love.”  And by “tough love,” we mean rigging the brakes on your means of transportation.  How else are you going to learn to take care of yourself if those folks who are way better and more sufficient than you are don’t tell your ass “no” every now and again [or at least more often]?  You are depending on people who are smart enough to take care of themselves but dumb enough to take care of you, too.  That’s not fair. 

  • It’s not fair to the fools who are too nice to say “no.” 
  • It’s not fair to the mother who failed in raising you better. 
  • It’s not fair to your kids of whom you are leading a shameful example, and   
  • It’s not right for the universe to have your lazy ass breathing the same air as someone who has more worth and purpose of living. 

I know this is a little cruel but deal with it.  It’s the price you have to pay for always having your hand held out; always expecting something for nothing.  You might as well be a puppy.  Do you feel bad yet?  Because you kind of should.   There’s no reason for a person to be a lazy, trifling, no-go-getter when the world around them scuffles for a better tomorrow.  You need to stand up and move to the side because you are doing nothing but dirtying up the coat tails of the person who stands ahead of you in the game called life.

You want some real advice?  Don’t worry, it’s free.  Get a job or get lost!  Neither takes that much effort.  After all 90% of any effort is getting started.    The rest is money in the bank. 


Quote of the week:     “Borrowing is not much better than begging.”