The blog that got away

Writing

This one will knock their socks off!

I am not trying anymore.  To write a killer blog, that is.  You see, I have written, as Saddam Hussein would have called it, the mother of all blogs.  The pièce de résistance, the crème de la crème. And what do I have to show for it?  Nothing. Zilch. Nada.  No appreciation. No recognition.  In fact, my hurriedly written pieces have garnered more respect.

To be honest, I can’t remember what blog it was but I know when I was  done writing, I had this sense of accomplishment and thought, “This is good stuff.  People are going to love it.  Freshly Pressable for sure.”   I had all my ducks line up.  My T’s were crossed and my I’s dotted.  The topic was fresh and applicable and the delivery delivered like a professional writer.  At least in my opinion.  Yep, this was the one.

I clicked ‘Publish’ and waited.  And waited.  And waited...If I write it they will come, right? Well I wrote it so why weren’t they coming? I kept checking for that bright orange star signifying that I had received a ‘like’.  It stayed grey. At the end of the day, it had one view.  One view! My dream blog.  My masterpiece, only viewed once!  A virtual slap in the face! How embarrassing!  Damn waste of my time and mind!  I should quit blogging!

Now as I keep blogging, I wonder if I could ever come close to matching the blog that got away, the one you didn’t read.  The one with the one view and no stars.  Like I said,  I am not sure which blog I remember it being a dandy.

So let me ask you, have you ever written such a blog?  One that you seriously thought was one of your better work and then watched as it went by relatively unnoticed?  Which blog was it? I’ll go check it out right now.  In the meantime, go take a gander at my masterpiece.  It’s in there somewhere.

Wife’s not a pretty sight so husband sues her. And wins!

The Ugly Duckling (1939 film)

The Ugly Duckling (1939 film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

Ever woke up and look at your spouse and go, “Why did I marry you? Was I drunk?” Well maybe you were or weren’t but if you also thought, “I wonder if I could sue you for being so hideous?”  Wonder no more, maybe you could.

 

Mr. Feng, the plaintiff, did not always see his wife as an ugly duckling.  No no, things only got ugly after their baby was born.  He was aghast.  “How could both of us have a kid this ugly?” He screamed to no one in particular.  “This is an abomination!  I have disgraced my family and my honor.  This ugly child is not mine.”  He accused her of cheating on him and pressed her to confess that she was indeed the source of the ugliness.  (I guess the baby did have a face only a mother would love).

 

Apparently, before she met and marry Feng, his wife had spent a bundle on supporting the plastic industry.  So basically, the baby had inherited the mom’s ‘real looks’.  Neat how that works eh?

 

Poor Mr. Feng was so put off and felt totally let down that he immediately filed for divorce and sued his ugly wife in the process.  When husband and wife faced off in court, the court agreed with Feng and gave him what he wanted.  As for the woman, she learned a valuable lesson that looks are only skin deep and that’s a shallow depth.  The baby is doing fine, charming the socks off everyone who thinks all babies are innocent and cute.

 

Only in China.

 

 

Save yourself, son. I’m already dead

English: Photograph of a guard at the Tomb of ...

English: Photograph of a guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns at Arlington National Cemetery, taken by RebelAt, August 6th, 2006. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

So I see that the servicemen guarding the Tomb of the Unknowns are planning to stand their ground against Hurricane Sandy.  They would stand guard as they have done since 1948.  Dedication or folly?

 

If I happened to be one of the unknowns and a serviceman who happened to be my son was to say to me, ‘Daddy, there’s a hurricane approaching but I won’t leave you here.  I’ll stay with you no matter what.”  I would reply with, “Shut the hell up and get your ass out of here, you damn fool!  I am done for and you have a young family to live for.  Beat it, son!”

 

What if he insists on staying by my side while the storm approaches? “Daddy, I have been with you since 1948 and there’s no way I am going to leave you now, hurricane or not.”  In my dead mind, I would think, ‘Boy, your mama didn’t raise no fool so shut up with that crap.  I’m dead, you hear me? DEAD!  There’s nothing you can do for me now except save your own life.  You could come back after the hurricane, I ain’t going nowhere. By the way, why the hell are you carrying a gun?  Grave robbers?”

 

 

 

 

Massage Table Confessions

Massage

Massage (Photo credit: o5com)

After or while reading this blog, please don’t think I’m a pervert or a weirdo or strange.  Ok,   maybe I’ll accept the last two but not pervert. Read on.

Saturday morning found me in a salon, lying on a massage table getting pampered.  Whenever I go for a massage, I think of all the embarrassing things that could happen to me and that’s why I am never too comfortable with being rubbed.

This morning, I made sure to drain my bladder so I won’t have the sudden urge to ‘go’ while on the table.  As my masseuse kneaded my suddenly sensitive muscles, I thought, ‘What if I farted right now?’ With that thought, I made a conscious effort not to fart.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop my hungry stomach from making complaining sounds.  Then as I started giving in to the relaxing sounds, I thought, ‘What if I fell asleep and started snoring?’  I then made another conscious effort to stay awake.

The most troubling thought of all came later.  ‘What. If. I. Got. A. Boner?’  Well gosh darn it! I tried to rein in that thought before it made a total escape but it was too late.  There it was, ‘What if I get a hard on?’  Fortunately, I was lying on my stomach so I did not fear the embarrassment of such a display but that didn’t last forever.

“Turn over on your back, please.”  Oh no!  Now really, what if I do get a hard-on? Believe me readers, I am 100% honest, I had no thought of getting a rise, pardon the pun, out of my massage experience.  I am happily married and was actually talked into getting a massage by my wife. As a matter of fact, my thoughts do no discriminate and I do get them regardless of the sex of the person giving the massage, so there.  I am not a pervert, right?    Now as I lay there on my back and feeling very vulnerable to the whims of my male organ, I went through a wide array of thoughts aimed at arresting any unwanted lower body developments.  My thoughts still ended up taking off in the wrong directions.

Sexually stimulating images paraded through my mind like the red carpet.  Come on, rise to the occasion.  Do it, I dare you.  Come out and play.  NOOO!!  I thought of my mom and my sister and of painful experiences.  No use. I imagined that my masseuse was an old croon.  Nope, that didn’t work either.  She kept changing back to who she was.  Finally, I had nothing left and just relaxed and gave in to the skillful manipulation of my masseuse.

My mind, sensing that I had thrown in the white flag and surrendered, backed off.  I was able to enjoy the rest of my massage. No farts, no snores, no pissing urges and no boners, well maybe a hint of one but barely worth mentioning.

I can’t believe I just shared such intimate details with you.  It means I really trust you and we are developing a close relationship.  Keep coming back, I have more tantalizing stories.

Greg Norman Dropped on Golf Course By Big Bird

Norman tees off at Royal Birkdale

On a golf course in California, Greg Norman, popularly called ‘The Shark’, was dropped presumably from the sky, on a golf course.  He was still breathing and very much alive and it was thought that a bird must have picked  him up while swimming and dropped him on the course, close to the 18th hole.

Hold on…one sec…My more-informed wife is just telling me that I am reporting erroneously.  Greg, she says, had nothing to do with this story. She said that I should go back and read it again.  Gimme a minute, I’ll be right back.

Aha! I got it. An actual shark was dropped on a golf course!  OMG!  Look up it’s a bird, no, it’s a sha….Ouch!!  You could never be too safe on those golf courses eh?

So the story is that a bird, (well I did get that part right) was the culprit or shark thief in this case of whodunnit.  Now I am thinking, if a bird could grab a shark from the sea and drop it on land, we have a much bigger (no pun) issue than a live shark on a golf course.  Was it a pre-historic type bird?  Maybe a phoenix?  Well thank goodness it wasn’t Greg Norman, The Shark.

 

Don’t be late for your own funeral

Mi Funeral 2

Ever wondered what it would be like to be at your own funeral?  I have.  I wondered if all my friends would show up and who would cry.  Would my family break down?  What would they say about me? How awesome I was? Well for one lucky Brazilian, he got his questions answered.  He was present at his own funeral.  No, not in a coffin in a coma.  He was literally looking down on his dead body.  Ok, let me straighten things out here.

A car wash attendant in Sao Paulo, Brazil was shot to death and his body taken to the morgue.  For some strange reason, the body was thought to be of a different attendant and the brother was brought down to identify him.  He claimed it was indeed his brother who was lying dead and funeral arrangements were made by the family.

At the wake, the very much alive dead guy walked in to announce that he was alive and kicking.  Well some people ran, some fainted and one guy pulled out a gun and shot the now dead-but-was-alive guy, killing him instantly.  (Okay, I added that last bit for emphasis. Sue me).

After the minor interruption, everyone all laughed ‘kkkkk’ and sat down to a nice meal of whatever Brazilians eat at funerals.  While they were enjoying the meal that was for the once-thought-dead-but-now-alive man, the real dead man rose up in his coffin and declared, ‘What the hell is going on here?”  To which someone reply, “We are enjoying a meal here, lie down and shut up!”  “Not over my dead body!” The real dead man retorted.  (Yes, that was added on for emphasis too.  Double sue me).

In the end, a brawl broke out when the (I am tired of saying this) alive-but-thought-dead guy  realized the real-dead guy was wearing his clothes.  He ripped them off immediately and the father, realizing he had spent hard-earned money on a coffin for his once-thought-dead son, dumped the real dead guy out so he could return it for a refund.  So here is a naked dead guy on the floor while the family drink skol.

I’m having a hard time differentiating truth from fiction here and getting carried away with this so go read it for yourself here.

Prostituting our kids?

Tiara

A while ago, I was surfing the television channels for something to watch.  I settled on Kids and Tiaras out of curiosity.  After about five minutes, I had to change the channel.  I felt uncomfortable and pervertish sitting there watching girls who were basically still toddlers, parade around scantily clad and posing suggestively.   I really couldn’t see the point this show was trying to make and didn’t want to stick around to find out.

Here Comes Honey Boo Boo is a reality show about a 7-year old self-proclaimed beauty queen who made her way from being a contestant on Kids and Tiaras to her own fame, dragging her family along for the ride.  (Or is that the other way around?  I think her mom did the dragging).  Alana Thompson, HBB’s real handle, has made it known that she doesn’t enjoy the limelight and hates meeting fans but the people who are leaching off her success apparently weren’t listening or couldn’t here her over the noise of the falling coins.  I can’t hear you, Boo Boo, the ka-ching! is too loud!  Here, have some more juice.

I have an issue with this.  Pedophilia is one of the most hated and disgusting crimes out there.  Why? Because it preys on our innocent kids.  In an ironic twist, we parade our little ones around in teasing attire for those with bad intentions to admire.  Is it the money?  If it is, then isn’t this a form of prostitution?  Aren’t we then robbing our kids of their innocence by putting them through this?  Isn’t this a form of ‘preying on innocent kids’ also?

At 7 years old, Honey Boo Boo’s mom gives her a home-made brew of red bull and mountain dew, called Go Go Juice.  This is equivalent to two cups of coffee and is given to keep the little honey awake for her stints.  God forbid she falls asleep like a little girl.  Red bull and caffeine to a 7-year old? Isn’t that what Britney Spears’ drink?   What else are they giving her?

Shows like Kids and Tiaras and Honey Boo Boo are embarrassments to our society.  We preach one thing and do the other. We vow to protect our kids but we dangle them in dangerous situation that messes up their lives forever.  Aren’t we a sick bunch?  People who watch this crap and actually enjoy it are like those who would enjoy a real-life game of The Running Man.

I don’t care how cute Alana is or how funny she was on Dr. Drew or Kimmel or whatever talk show she made her rounds on.  This is wrong on all fronts.  If you have no clue what I’m talking about, Google her.

One of the best things is watching kids being kids. Unfortunately, they only have one chance at this.  Should we deny them that chance?

Note:  I started this blog primarily to write about the funny side of serious situations but children are very dear to me and I can’t make light of anything that affects them negatively.

Note:  After publishing, I noticed that WordPress’ weekly writing challenge was debating whether kids should be allowed in adult oriented places.  Well the situations mentioned in this blog are adult scenarios and ‘places’ that these kids are being placed in, are they not?