A Warm Christmas Story... NOT: How I made a woman abandon her child

Well it’s Christmas time and that seems to be the season to share sweet stories to warm the heart and spread good cheer.

I’m not going to do that.

I am going to share a story though, it’s one about Halloween.  My wife and I tend to have a bit of the child in us, meaning we never really grew up.  In my case, I’m sure it’s because my mother dropped me on my head one to many times.  Something having to do with slippery hands due to soapy dish water or something.  Or so she says.  Because we never really grew up, when Halloween would roll around, we would dress up, maybe go out, or at the very least hand out candy (or in my case pretend to hand it out while eating it).  When our daughter was found under the cabbage patch, we were dutiful parents and took her out trick-or-treating, dressing her up in cute little outfits.  In fact, she was born on October 23^rd, and on the 31^st, she was dressed as a pumpkin.  A tiny, cute little pumpkin.  As she grew older, we came to realize she wasn’t really into the whole going door to door thing.  So, we decorated our house, and as a family handed out candy.

Before my daughter was born, I put together my own special costume.  I had a cloak made from black velvet made (like the figure of death), found a really sweet skull mask with while curly hair and I made glasses with red LED’s in them (yet another invention I came up with first and never made money on).  When I dressed up in this costume and stood still, no one would ever think I was actually a person, which of course, made for some good laughs when I suddenly grabbed them.

Well for decorating, we went all out.  Fake coffin in the yard, black lights, a strobe light, skulls and bones in the yard, scary music playing, the whole nine yards.  It was quite the site and people started coming from miles away to see our house every year, along with the guy in the costume (me) who would suddenly become “real” and scare you.

We had to be careful though, because the smaller kids were usually to scared to come up the house to get their candy, even with their parents holding their hands.  But being careful, we rarely had problems.  The parents and older kids loved it and that was the target audience.  The little kids got their candy, and older kids and parents got a little scare from me either before or after they walked by me to get candy from my wife and daughter.

But one year, we had a really good laugh over one poor lady that got just a little freaked out.  I was standing in my usual spot, totally still, the kids were streaming by whispering about how scary that statue was when this lady, her sister, and their kids came up.  This lady was particularly vocal about how creepy I was.  When their kids got their candy and started to walk away, I stepped in behind them, just walking along, not saying a word.  As we reached the end of the driveway, the kids coming up were making a lot of noise about me and she happened to be laughing the whole creepy guy thing off.  As she turned to her sister to say something, she saw me out of the corner of her eye and that is when the fun started.

This woman dropped her kid’s hand and started running.

There was only one thing for me to do.  I started running after her.

She hit the end of the driveway, screaming like Jack The Ripper was after her and took a left turn.  I was right on her heels.

Now, I must clarify something at this point.  I’m not a small guy.  When this happened, I wasn’t small then either.  Not as big as now, but heh, still bigger than average.  This woman?  Large.  I’m not making fun, but this is important.  Why?  Keep reading.

About 20 feet down the road, this woman, who was still screaming like a little boy being chased by a Catholic Priest, looked behind her and saw me right on her heels.  At this point something amazing happened.

You know the Road Runner Cartoons?  Where the Coyote, on a rocket, or whatever, gets right on the Road Runner’s heels and that bird beep beep’s and is GONE?

Perfect replica in real life.  This woman was G.O.N.E.  I couldn’t have caught her if I was on a jet.

Mean?  Maybe.  Childish? Certainly. Fun? Definitely.  Don’t judge, it’s not like she abandoned her kid completely, her sister was there remember?

The funny part about this, besides making a large woman forget her kid and run like mad, was that she came by the house this year.  I wasn’t in my costume and I was standing there and she said to me:

“You probably don’t remember me, but years ago you scared me and chased me down the street”.

Oh I remembered her alright.  We shared a few laughs over it and hugged.  Then she started to leave and left me with this parting comment:

“I’m glad you aren’t wearing that get-up this year.”

Mistake?  Oh yes.  I still have that costume, and I will be ready and waiting on her next year.  Maybe I can catch her this time, but seriously?  I doubt it.

I’m a terrific PokeCat Trainer, just ask my wife.

One of the great things about having pets is the various things they do that make you laugh.  Dogs are good for a few laughs, but cats?  Now cats are a laugh a minute.  For no other reason than when they mess up, they try to act like “that just did not happen, you saw nothing, in fact pics or it DIDN’T happen”.  Cats have certainly cornered the market in arrogance.  Much like my 18 year old daughter.

I might have mentioned this before, but my wife collects things.  Mostly cats.  Live ones.  I’m convinced that she purchased a cat caller that was built by the US Military on eBay and is using it every morning, because every time I turn around there is a new cat at our house.  Seriously people, I can’t keep up with all the names.  I usually try to ignore them, but when they pester me, I usually degenerate into calling them names like “you!” or “Dumb Cat”, or the really inventive “Fur-Ball!”  Now, my cat name memory may be faulty, but it just might have something to do with the fact that my wife insists on adding the word butt to the end of every cats name.  She not only has a fascination with cats, but apparently their furry butts as well.  But we won’t get into that right now.

The trouble with having so many cats that come in from time to time is that, like any arrogant animal, it will insist in getting all up in the middle of everything  you are doing.  Like cooking.  And eating.  Shooing them away doesn’t work.  Spraying them with the water hose on the sink works well, at least so I hear.  I admit to nothing because my wife will surely read this post.

It’s a pretty common occurrence to hear her in the kitchen cooking, where she obviously belongs by the way (man Imma pay for THAT comment let me tell you) and hear her raising her voice at the cats who insist on whatever food she is cooking they have a right to and climb all over the counter when she is trying to get ready to cook.  Me?  I just slap… I mean gently pick them up and put them on the floor.

Well, the other night we were watching TV and just so happened to be eating in front of it while our daughter was out.  The cats, knowing better than to come my way, were all over the couch, surrounding my wife and quite obviously acting like the Mob and saying “hand over the food and no one gets hurt”.  After hearing her say “No (insert cats name) butt, NO!) about 1000 times, I got rather annoyed.  After all, I was trying to watch TV.

About this time, what I thought to be a rather brilliant idea hit me and at once acted on it.  It is a variation of the Pokemon training for those in the know.  I stood up, stomping my feat in the “all felines prepare to be killed by Godzilla” dance.  It went something like this:

A group of wild hungry cats appear!

I use Cat Dance!

It’s supper effective!

Problem was, it was a little to effective.  Next thing I know, cats are literally flying all over the place from my frightful Godzilla impression.  They were in the kitchen.  They were in the hall.  Both have slick floors.  Things were getting knocked over left and right.  The sound?  Like a group of angry teen girls having their makeup taken away.  And their cell phones.

I, of course, laughed and said “Oh my God did you see that?” as I turned to look at my beautiful wife, only to find she had been replaced by an evil demon.  Being the smart man I am, I ran for cover, under the kitchen table, where I stayed for 3 hours while she picked up the pieces.

So although I made mommy kitty annoyed with me, my PokeCat Training exercise was a total success.  Now, every time I walk in a room where they are, they go running, only to repeat the whole sliding and scrambling thing all over again.

So, here is to me, who could give all those Pokemon trainers lessons, provided mommy kitty wifey poo doesn’t kill me first.

Work, Work, Work and Then Some More Work for Dessert and The Bass Pro Shop

I had planned on posting something today.  Honest.  I’m not trying to put you all off, because hey, I know you wait by the computer simply so you can read what I write.  But today was rather busy.

First, I had to run a friend around town to various places because he can’t drive and I am the picture of good will.

The funny thing though, was we went to the Bass Pro Shop.  Normally, I would have expected to see rednecks wall to wall.  It is, after all, the Bass Pro Shop.  You know, full of fishing, hunting, and camping gear, as well fishing boats and ATV’s.  Did I see rednecks?  Yes I did.  Did I see non-rednecks?  Yes I did.  Besides your normal run of the mill redneck, the place was PACKED with, well, baby boomers and people who seriously doubt know one end of a fishing rod from another.  You know, the kind of people who are most likely to spend their weekends in a mall, a museum, or in Starbucks drinking ridiculously priced coffee, slinging croissants and writing on the MacBooks.  Why they were there?  A complete mystery.  In fact, the place was so packed with people, you could barely MOVE.  I asked one of the employees if they were giving stuff away, since it was so packed, but he said no and had NO idea what the deal was.  He also added, in a rather cranky aside, that it had been like this for a week.

So, if you come to Richmond, Virginia, the place to hang is apparently the Bass Pro Shop.  A place where rednecks, boomers and the artsy types come together as one.  If this isn’t a quantum rip in the universe, I don’t know what is.  I’m seriously freaked out though and I’m not going near that place again anytime soon.

The second thing was that I had a lot of paperwork and other things to do for work.  So, although I didn’t get the post I wanted done, I wanted to check in, see how you were all doing and tell you about my rather busy day because I know you all wanted to know.

Dear Santa: My Christmas List for this year.

Well Santa, it’s that time of year again.  The time when the malls over crowd, people become rude, and people put lights on everything.  Including boats.  Don’t they realize water and electricity doesn’t mix?  Oh well, let’s not get distracted.

Santa, I want you to know, I know the rules.  You have a naughty and nice list, and you check it twice.  You bring good things to good little boys and girls.  With a twinkle in your eye, you somehow make everyone smile, despite the fact they want to be rude.  It’s probably because you’re so fat.  Everyone laughs at fat people, as I well know.

Now Santa, I know that you aware of when I’m awake and when I’m asleep.  I know it wouldn’t come as any surprise, to you, that I haven’t exactly been at my best over this past year.  I’m not trying to make excuses or anything, but please consider a few things.

There are something like 500 cats that keep invading us.  All that cat fur makes my allergies go nuts and makes me just a wee bit cranky.

Since I drive so much, I tend to experience that on again, off again, road anger thing.  I’ve probably passed on a few rude gestures as a result.

My daughter and I?  Well, we are a lot alike and you know what that means rights?  Put us in the room together for 15 minutes and well… words will be exchanged.

My wife, bless her heart, is a patient and laid back person.  For some reason, I tend to try her patience constantly.

I also find some kind of perverse joy in picking on both the wife and daughter.  Like laying in bed in the morning, when it’s still dark outside, and staring at my wife until she opens her eyes and greet her by saying “HI!” with enthusiasm.  I do this, knowing that as a narcoleptic, she despises waking up and could put an angry, hibernating bear who has just been poked with a stick, a run for her money.

So I won’t be surprised, or disappointed, to find coal in my stocking this year.  Just try not to leave coal dust on the floor ok?  It might upset the wife.

Despite all this, I do, in fact, have a Christmas list.  I thought I would pass it along to you, just in case you are feeling especially Ho-Ho-Ho’ish this year.  Please note that my list consists of nothing for me.  If I happen to benefit from it, that’s just all a big fat bonus.  If you get me what I want for Christmas, well, you’re gonna find a whole big mug of spiked eggnog and lots of chocolate chip cookies.

So without further ado, here is my list this year Santa.  Please, oh please don’t disappoint me.

1.       I’d really life, for my first gift, for my wife to get her self confidence back. She had it taken from her some four years ago. She didn’t always have enough to begin with, but when that thing happened four years ago, it really got her down.  So I’d really appreciate it if you could get her a giant dose of self confidence.  She is a woman with a big heart.  As big as yours I’m willing to bet.  Beautiful to.  You only have to look at our lovely daughter to know where her looks came from and it certainly wasn’t me.  She deserves it Santa.  To feel self confident again.  To be able to face each day, knowing anything that comes she can handle.

2.       The second thing I would like is wisdom for my daughter.  She is at that age where she needs to start making adult decisions and I don’t think I’m the best qualified to guide her.  So, like Solomon, I would like for her to have great wisdom, to make the right choices, to have a chance at a great future, to know when to cut her loses, to be able to keep her heart whole and to know that everything has it’s season.  She has so much potential, Santa.  I want her to be able to realize it.

3.       The third thing I would like, is for our Government to change it’s ways.  To have those who run our country have their hearts grow three sizes, just like the Grinch.  To get in touch with the common man once again and start serving them as they are supposed to.  To make them realize that this is a great country, not because of it’s name, but because we are a sum of all are parts, and have the freedom to keep it that way.

4.       The fourth thing I want is for all those young girls, the ones who for whatever reason, lost their innocence at such a young age.  Some to have babies, being babies themselves.  Others to think that all their worth is wrapped up in their bodies, when it should be that their worth is in being a person, with feelings and to have a future full of possibilities.  To find true love, not one based on sex, but from who they are.  I would like the young boys to realize that the mindless pursuit of sex doesn’t provide for their future.  For them to realize that one day they will be adults, with responsibilities.

5.       The last thing I want for Christmas Santa, but certainly not in last place, is for everyone, everywhere, to remember the true meaning of Christmas.  That it’s not about money and presents, but about family, and that we were all once given the greatest present of all.  To know that Christmas is about celebrating the birth of Christ, who gave his life so that we could have everlasting peace.  I want people to realize and know that kind of love, for everyone in their life.

So that concludes my list Santa.  I know it may seem life a lot, but isn’t that what Christmas represents?  Miracles? 

Thanks Santa.  I’ll make sure to leave out some carrots for the reindeer.

Yours Truly,

Kevin

P.S. If any of your helpers really look like this, feel free to bring them along and I’ll serve them milk and cookies.

Is there anything that can stop Chuck Norris? Yes there is.

So I came across yet ANOTHER Chuck Norris joke today.  I will admit that when this fad first started, it was ridiculously hilarious.  Sort of like the whole Mormons and Magnets joke.  But it’s been so long, that honestly, it’s starting to get a little old.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I am not saying Chuck Norris is old.  I value my life.

Anyhow, it got me to thinking.  Since Chuck Norris is so bad, so tough, so awesome, was there nothing in the universe that could pose a threat to him?

After long deliberation, I finally came up with the answer.

But first, let us just establish Chucky boy’s credentials ok?

Chuck Norris has already been to Mars; that’s why there is no sign of life.

Chuck Norris died 20 years ago but death is to scared to tell him.

Death once had a near-Chuck Norris experience.

Chuck Norris does not need twitter…. He is already following you.

Chuck Norris once urinated in a semi’s gas tank as a joke. That semi is now known as Optimus Prime.

When the boogeyman goes to bed at night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

There is no theory of evolution, just a list of animals Chuck Norris decides to let live.

People, I could go on.  For days.  So, just to be clear, Chuck Norris is awesome.  He is a butt kicker of the highest order.  Nothing can stop Chuck Norris.  Except one thing, one person, one man.

The Burger King Man.

You see, the Burger King is on a whole different level than Chuck Norris.  He is the man who is.. the burger KING.  With an ever smiling face, tights, and a CROWN.  And he is rather tall.

You might be thinking that Chuck Norris could easily take this smiling man, who goes around passing out whoppers at weird moments, but nay, nay, I say.

How can this be?  Well, when you look at Chuck Norris, you see a guy that isn’t tall, has enough black belts to hold up the moon, can kick some serious butt, and you just know he isn’t scared to take you on.

But when you look at the Burger King Man?  You see a tall, skinny man, wearing tights, and a Mask that is always and I mean always smiling.  The creep factor is so out there that it is, quite simply, beyond belief.  Why, the Burger King once was sitting.  In a guys BED, before he woke up.  When the guy woke up, he was obviously scared out of his mind, but STILL TOOK THE WHOPPER.

I’m telling you, this man could make you take arsenic, that’s how creepy he is.

So put them in a ring together?  This is what would happen.  Chuck Norris, being Chuck Norris, would jump from the parking lot, being mindful that he can’t actually fly, but decide to come down in the ring.  The Burger King Man would step over the top rope, being so tall, and carrying a whopper, with cheese.  Chuck would get in fighting stance, preparing to demolish this foolish looking icon of fast food.  The Burger King, unfazed, would simply hold out the Whopper, again, with cheese.  Norris, because he has been running around being so awesome, would obviously be hungry and would greedily snatch the Whopper, and the cheese, being scared, would follow the Whopper.  Norris would then take a large bite, because hey, he IS Chuck Norris, and would promptly choke on it and die.  The Burger King would be left standing in the ring, the only one left alive… with a big smile on his face, his crown’s jewels glistening in the lights.  The winner?  The Burger King Man.

End of Chuck Norris.

All Hail the King.

It’s just a bit nippy out there and now I’m a wanted man.

Sometimes, my mouth gets the better of me.  I’m sure you’re surprised by this fact, since I’m obviously so intelligent and all, but alas, it’s true.  This time, not only did my mouth get the better of me, it got the better of a whole lot of people.  Confused?  I’ll explain, in simple words.

The current cold spell on the east coast is my fault.

Although I can often be found playing in my lab, using all kinds of interesting chemicals to discover interesting things (I could tell you some real stories here people), but one thing I haven’t managed to do yet is invent a way to control the weather.  Despite this rather startling fact, my statement stands.  I’m to blame for all this cold weather.

I should have known better.  I’m no dummy.  In fact, on an average of several times a year, I can be rather brilliant.  But despite my enormous mental ability, I screwed up.  Big time.

So, how cold is it? (Feel free to groan in horror)  Why, it’s so cold, that my breath freezes and I walk smack dab into the middle of a block of ice.  It’s so cold, parts of my body disappear in abject fright, like my nose and ears, retreating into my head to cower and wish for tropical locals.  It’s so cold, I’ve been thinking of buying a padded bra for my moobs to keep from putting someone’s eye out.  It’s so cold that my daughter kicks me in the shin every morning when I take her to school.  It’s so cold, the horde of neighborhood cats that come to sponge off my wife, but won’t let you touch them, are actually begging to come inside.  It’s so cold here In Virginia that the Governor has declared a state of emergency and has issued an arrest warrant for little old me (keeping in mind that little is a relative term when it comes to me).

How did all of this happen?  What was it exactly I did to bring all of this down on all the unsuspecting citizens of the east coast?

Well, it all started in the summer.

You see, our central air decided that it had put in enough effort and it was time for a vacation.  Then it gave up the ghost.  Of course, it decided to do this during the hottest week we have seen around here in years.  My family suffered through an entire week of high temperatures and unbelievable humidity.  Sleep?  Impossible.  House work?   Impossible.  Grass cutting? HAH! The grass was crispier than McDonalds French Fries.

I was talking to my wife, whining and complaining about the heat, and I happened to make a bold statement that I’m now regretting.   What was it I said?

“Honey, when winter gets here, you won’t find me complaining about the cold, just you watch.”

Oh, if only I had a time machine so I could go back and edit that statement.  Like adding the words: “unless, of course, it’s cold enough to re-freeze ice”.  Just so you know, re-freezed ice is like refried beans, only without the farting.

But since I can’t do that, I have to go out into the cold, shivering, wondering how many bruises I’m going to get from my breath blocks of ice, and hopping no one’s eye gets poked out.  But don’t think I’m complaining mind you.  I am, after all, a man of my word.

But my God is it cold out there.

So Mother Nature, you’ve gotten the last laugh.  Have fun with it while it lasts because eventually, spring will return.  You may have won the battle, but not the war.

Mother Natures Cranky and It’s The Capitalist’s Fault

I will be going out of town for a few days so I might not post until I get back.  However, I came across an interesting article today and thought I would share and comment on it.

Apparently, as a Capitalist Country, we are to blame for the current weather plaguing Venezuela!  WOW!  I never knew we had that ability!  Did you?

 Original Article HERE.

President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela places the terrible amount of rain his country is getting on the Capitalist Countries of the world.  That was a real puzzler to me, until I thought about it for awhile.  I think it must work something like this.

In short, Capitalism is based on competition.  And Making money.  And laying people off left and right due to the poor economy and the massive amounts of money CEO’s absolutely must make, because hey, they are CEO’s.  It costs a lot of money to dress in a suit, type on a laptop, and talk on the phone all day, deciding if profit margins will make him that million dollar bonus this year.  Because people have lost their jobs, profit margins are slim and that bonus?  Might not happen.

So there was a conference in Pierre, South Dakota, because there is nothing else to do there, were all the CEO’s got together to talk about their bonus situation.  The news was grim, so they had expensive cake, Starbuck’s Coffee, and Strippers.  Of course, they all flew there on their private jets, because they are CEO’s and can’t travel like normal people and they are not too happy about the new TSA groping and Naked Body scanners.  Who could blame them?  Everyone knows all CEO’s are fat, balding, Middle Aged men and don’t want to be made fun of.

After days of drinking Starbucks by day and lots of Alcohol by night, and flirting with the strippers, who had to take massive amounts of Prozac to keep from barfing from being flirted with by fat, bald, middle aged men, they finally came up with an idea.  There idea was absolutely brilliant and designed to make the word suffer, since they had to suffer by not getting their million dollar bonus.

They sent their idea to Walmart.

You read it right. Walmart.

Why?

Because everyone knows Walmart secretly runs everything with their super-lowprice-power.  That’s why they have 30 Walmarts per city.  Their power comes from the fairies they keep locked up in their Super Walmart Wharehouses.

Somehow, all these CEO’s convinced Walmart to force their fairies to manipulate the weather, all so people could lose their homes and drown in South America.

You might think I’m joking, because obviously the weather is controlled by Global Warming and the sum total of less than 1% of Carbon Dioxide us Capitalists and non Capitalists put into the atmosphere, making the planet colder hotter by the second.   But no, in actuality, the weather is controlled by the Walmart Fairies.

So Hugo Chavez, you caught us out.  We certainly DID make it rain in Venezuela.  Why?  Because you’re a douch-bag of monumental proportions and our Capitalist CEO’s need their million dollar bonus this year.

Although how this plan is going to help them get it I haven’t quite figured out yet.  Anyone got any idea?