Clogged Arteries Be Damned

This is a picture of Wendy's Double Baconator, or as I like to call it, "God why am I eating this but it's so good and I know it's terrible for me but there's cheese and bacon and meat and aaahhhhhhh...."  If you needed a symbol of my tastes in food, the Double Baconator is pretty much it.  And yes, I said "Double" Baconator.  I'm so sad that it's no longer enough to just order the Baconator.  Now I have to actually have my mouth form the words "Double Baconator" and say it to the drive thru speaker.  Even sadder is they now have a "Triple Baconator", and I know it's not too long before I make the leap into that stratosphere of heart-stopping goodness.  When that happens, I'll be that guy who just rotates two of the exact same sweatsuits every time you see him. One's blue.  The other's black.  But it's the same damn sweatsuit.

The only good thing is that seeing as we're not strong with the finances, eating out has really gone the way of the cop letting you off for driving drunk.  Remember those days?  Man, life used to be good.  You'd have a bit too much, swerve into a pole, Officer Johnny would call you an idiot for drinking too much and the only way you went to jail was if you didn't have a friend who could come pick you up and take your car home.  Now if you just drive without your lights on, you're arrested, your license is revoked and that video of you trying to show the officers how sober you are by doing the moonwalk down the imaginary line they told you to walk is all over Youtube.  Unless, of course, you're a celebrity.  In which case, drink as much as you want and while you're add it throw crack and a dead hooker in the mix because your case will go away quicker than a bowlegged bullfrog gets ate up by a crooked-eyed gator.*

*This was my first attempt at a joke that appeals to the"Hee Haw" masses.  Did it work? No?  Send all responses to:
Hee Haw Joke Distribution Center
P.O. Box 49182
Tennessee or Mississippi or one of them other Southern-Ass States


So the point is that now we do much of our eating at home, it's good for two reasons.  I don't have to yet wear sweatsuits to go order Triple Baconators, and we cook which means the dinners are healthier.  However, BECAUSE we cook, we have a ton of leftovers.  I mean, a ton.  The problem is the kids don't love leftovers so much, and when The Wife isn't particularly down with them either, well, then it's hard to make the sale that leftovers are the way to go every other night.  That means there's a lot of shit that stays in the fridge until you unwrap the foil to see what is underneath and there's some sort of mutant mold monster growling at you spitting soggy meat at you...meat that was dry when you first put it in there.  So, in order to keep this from happening, I have taken to creating some very inventive dishes over the years which not only are original but make use of these leftovers so nothing goes to waste.  They're kind of like a hotdog, making use of all the parts that no one else would eat by itself, but wrapped together becomes a tasty treat, tasty enough to not even question the fact you're eating hog anus.  And it should be said, that for the exception of the Monte Cristo, when I typed in the name of the meal, the concoction I'd created, I couldn't find any pictures, which makes me think these are, indeed, originals that no one has been stupid or reckless enough to create.  For example:

FRIED SPAGHETTI SANDWICH

Yes, there is an actual picture of this, because I made it last night.  Holy shit.  I can't believe how good this is.  Note how it looks a little like a crab cake.  Well it was as good.  I took leftover spaghetti, stirred it around in an egg mixture, then coated it with Italian bread crumbs.  Then I took the patty (yes, it became a patty), and fried it in a skillet of hot olive oil.  One flip to do each side and voila.  It was absolutely outstanding.  This one I'd actually order at a restaurant.  My "Fried Mac and Cheese" meals NEVER turned out this good.  It had this crab cake crunch on the outside but then a spaghetti middle.  To really set it off, I made a grilled cheese sandwich and put the fried spaghetti creation in between the grilled cheese.  I tried to convince myself that since I used olive oil and bread crumbs instead of flour or something that it wasn't too bad.  In the end it didn't matter, because I ran out to get a bag of Cheetos to top it off.  Big Grab.

BREAKFAST TACO

This is one of my favorite meals.  No, not the white woman, although I imagine that she could be cute because her arms don't seem to yet have that tub of gelatin look.  The breakfast taco.  Every time we have tacos I purposely make a little too much meat for the next day.  It's the greatest.  I scramble two eggs, dump the taco meat in the skillet with the eggs, throw some shredded cheese in there too, scramble the whole mixture and dump it on a plate.  Then I take tortillas and fry them in the skillet as well.  When they're warm, I take a slice of American cheese, split it up and put each half on the warm tortilla, dump the egg/taco meat/shredded cheese mixutre on top to melt the American cheese, and Holy God.  I'd wish I could bottle the way the kitchen smells and sell it as the pheromones for fat people.  And seeing as 98% of Americans are overweight, I'd make a fortune.

MONTE CRISTO

This is the only one of the meals that I make which actually I could find, and yet it's also the only one that as far as my version was concerned, was a complete and utter failure.  There were two problems with my attempt to make these things work.  I was crocked off my ass.  Utterly destroyed.  A Sunday night.  Spent all day drinking and watching football.  Then as drunks are apt to do, got hungry and started rummaging around for food.  I got the bright idea that since I'm a great cook and had all of the ingredients, I could easily just whip up some monte cristos.  Now first of all, you don't just "whip up" monte cristos, but talking to me at that point was probably like trying to convince a heroin addict that Red Bull gets you the same feeling but without the uncomfortable side effects of prostitution, robbery and lack of usable veins.  I basically poured a half a bottle of vegetable oil in the skillet, made a ham and cheese sandwich with a little bit of flour on it, and started frying it.  It was disgusting.  Halfway through I realized I didn't have enough flour on it, and scrambled to pull it out, put more flour on it and throw it back in.  When it was all said and done, I had a stovetop full of grease and flour, a wife who left it for me the next day to clean up, and a sandwich that spit out grease everytime I took a bite.  Probably the worst thing I've ever made.  This isn't to say I won't try this again, but I can guarantee I won't be drunk when I do.

MELTED POTATO CHIPS AND CHEESE

Wait a minute.  I forgot about this Fail as well.  When I was younger, part of my round shape came because of my love for Lays Potato Chips.  Yeah, the greasy Lays that break apart in your hands and leave grease marks on your fingers.  Well, one day I decided to marry together my love for Lays and my love for cheese into something that sounded good but turned out to be a gruesome mistake.  I took a plate full of Lays, then put a whole bunch of shredded cheese on top of the chips.  Now if I'd stopped right there it may have been okay.  However, I took it one insane step further and threw the whole shebang into the microwave.  Yep.  To melt the cheese.  Well, if you didn't know, Lays chips, when put in the microwave, become even GREASIER.  Yes.  Out of the microwave I pulled a plate where the grease had pooled underneath the plate, and the chips were soggy from the grease and the melted cheese.  The worst part?  I ate them.  From what I remember, it was like eating wet rubber cement.  And I DO remember getting pretty sick afterwards.  Never done it since and never will again.

GRILLED CHEESE TATER TOT SANDWICH

This one is fantastic.  We always make too many tater tots, whether it's with burgers or hot dogs or whatever.  Now along with using them for breakfast skillets with eggs and meat and tomatos and such, I also have a way at lunch to dispose of the remaining tots.  Put some Lawry's on them bitches and throw 'em between a grilled cheese sandwich.  Oh shit.  First of all, if you all don't know about some Lawry's Seasoning Salt, then you don't eat right.  I put Lawry's on everything.  Eggs.  Potatoes. Vegetables.  Pork. Chicken.  My mother-in-law actually makes a special trip out to buy Lawry's when she knows we're coming to town to visit because she knows my love for the stuff.  Anyway, tots and grilled cheese.  Not as bad as Denny's new grilled cheese and mozzarella sticks sandwich and still quite good.  Although I will have to get to Denny's to try that out.  That sounds, well, just scrumptious.

There were a few other meals that I make that didn't make the list, but I tell you, if I can compile about 10 of these things maybe I'll rent a lunch truck.  If nothing else, even if I'm not successful, I can wear a sweatsuit.

Thanksgiving Lunch at the Grade School

Sorry for the late blog today but I decided it'd be worth delaying it a couple of hours if it meant I could talk about today's special event.  Every year the kids have this exciting time where parents can eat with them for their Thanksgiving and Christmas lunch (Yes, I refuse to substitute "Holiday" for Christmas, just as I refuse to say "Bunny Day" for Easter or "Costume Day" for Halloween.  Seriously, let's quit being so ultra PC, people).  So this year's lunch we decided that Kim would eat with our Kindergartener, Sydney, at her lunch at 11:50, and I would eat with Amaya, the 4th Grader, at 12:05.  Well, first before I went there, I had to go to the Price Chopper to mail a letter.  Holy shit.  I KNEW I made the right decision to hold off on writing the blog.  In just TWO minutes I saw:

-  A kid digging in his nose so deep you'd have thought his finger was the lifeline to the miners.  Then he bounced between eating it and wiping it on the cart.  The next time I shop in there and an employee asks me why I'm trying to balance a case of water, a jug of milk, a bag of apples and 15 yogurts all in my arms, I'll say "Because your establishment, Sir, is filled with a bunch of booger carts."

- A woman who asked the guy behind the counter to fax something.  It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't a torn up piece of paper that wouldn't have stood up in a toaster much less a fax machine.  The guy behind the counter started looking for tape.

- And the best thing ever, a guy who was in front of me in line with a nondescript package that clearly contained drugs.  He had a long, gray mullet and was obviously already stoned because when she asked him where the package was going, he said, "Uh...I forgot."  WOW.  Then as I thought about taking a picture of dude, behind me was another guy with a similar nondescript package who says to gray mullet guy, "Hey.  John."  Amazing.  Price Chopper is apparently the place to go if you're weed trafficking through the Post Office.  No wonder I've seen so many Columbians in there lately.

I asked her did she want me to bring McDonalds.  She said no, that she wanted to eat the school lunch.  I begged her.  She didn't budge.

So back to the school.  Yeah, Amaya wanted to eat the school lunch, which I had last year.  Ugh.  I'll explain why "ugh" in a bit.  Anyway, the time in line was made much better when some kid announces "WE GET ALL THE PUMPKIN PIE WE WANT TODAY!!!!"  Everyone is starting to get excited until someone asks him why and he points at a sign:

"FEES DUE TODAY"

Holy crap.  If a 4th grader in a school in the suburbs can mistake "Fees Due Today" for "Free Pumpkin Pie", then our city kids REALLY don't have a shot.  Regardless, I started laughing and so did Amaya because my God that was stupid.  Anywho, after milling through the kids to get to a table, we sat down and the first thing Amaya does is drop a large chunk of her turkey on the floor.  Great start.  However, an act which would have called for a lashing at home, would go overlooked today, because when I'm at school in front of the kids, I'm not "Mad Dad" anymore, I'm "Glad Dad".  I joke, I make fun of the kids, I basically am just there to have a good time.  And you have to be that way when you look down at what you're eating:

I've served better meals at shelters.

This was it.  Now I guess it's not meant for full-sized adults, normally, but damn.  THIS is why I offered to bring in some sort of fun meal.  Now the pumpkin pie WAS good, but really how can you mess up pumpkin pie.  One of the girls across from us says, "OOOOHH.  This pumpkin pie is heaven!!  If I were to die right now I'd be happy with this pumpkin pie!!! Oh, but I don't eat the pumpkin pie. I just eat the frosting."  Outstanding.  Then this old couple across from me who's 4th grader was obviously a mistake when they thought the mom was in menopause because they were ancient, starts nitpicking the food down to the ingredients.

- This turkey sure is dry.

- Ugh.  Did they put butter in everything?

- I don't know how much of this I can eat.

- At least the roll is wheat bread.

Meanwhile I was scarfing it down and really needed more.  Seriously, I don't care how it tastes, if I'm hungry you could butter up a fedora and put it on a bed of acorns and if it's cooked right I'll eat it.  So by this time the "only eat the frosting" girl was on a roll with her making fun of people.  Thank goodness she wasn't making fun of me because here's an excerpt from the blog about LAST year's holiday meal, when one girl DID make fun of me...my goatee in particular:


At that point, I felt threatened, like I was on stage and being heckled, which I was, and by a 9 year old girl who thought she was Bonnie Hunt at that. And I know the other parents heard this turn-of-events and knowing who I am, were probably interested to see my reaction. 


So I turned it on, and did what I do best...I DESTROYED HER. I went into a full-blown impromptu standup act (age appropriate) on how I was growing hair everywhere to compensate for not having any on my head. I said I would grow hair out of my nose, my ears, even my fingernails so I could tickle Amaya. The other girls were dying with laughter. One turned red she was laughing so much. Other parents started laughing. She kept trying to talk and I mowed right over her. I busted into a bit taking the Avatar doll Amaya had gotten in her Happy Meal, and had a mock conversation between me and the doll(who had this funny Argentinian accent for some reason), about how my mustache and goatee were great, and it was great to talk to me. EVERYONE was dying. The girl just shut up. When I felt I made my point, while the other girls were still laughing, I leaned in and honestly said this to her:

"I do this for a living. You didn't have a chance."

This time, things were civil.  The only person this girl was making fun of was my daughter which, let's face it, along as it wasn't me I was okay with it.  In fact, she caught my daughter for some reason buttering her roll with the pointy side of the spoon and called her on it.  However instead of letting this play out on it's own and my baby getting too abused, I seized the opportunity and started a bit where I ate everything with the pointy end of my spoon.  I started eating Amaya's potatoes with it, my pumpkin pie, even the rest of my turkey, stabbing it with the spoon's point and claiming how this was the way people were going to eat in the future.  I convinced the girl not only to eat the rest of her frosting with the point but to draw her name in the pumpkin pie as well.  The kids were dying but her mom did not seem pleased.  Now I was becoming a bad influence.  The girl then starts telling kids to eat their food by chanting "Eat it or wear it! Eat it or wear it!"  To prove her point she puts dots of whipped cream on her cheeks and nose.  One girl sticks an entire glop of mashed potatoes on her forehead.  I was egging her on.  I didn't realize that the only people laughing at the table were me and the kids until a teacher came over and chastised the girl for playing with food and said we were too loud.  My God.  37 years old and told to "Settle down" by an elementary school teacher.  Probably not my proudest moment.

Jeez.  OKAY.  I'm hurrying.  Stop yelling at me.

When lunch ends, it's pretty much got the precise choreography of a military procession.  They raise their hands in sync, grab their trays and follow each other in an orderly fashion.  As you can see Amaya was trying to make sure everyone was following orders and moving in a timely manner.  The 75 year old janitor was yelling at kids, "I didn't drop that!", "You dropped that!"  so the line was kind of being held up at times when kids would stop to clean up a grounded tray for fear of being hauled to the closet and punished.  Afterwards she asked me to stay for recess because today they were playing soccer.  I didn't because the last thing I wanted to do after eating was play soccer in the cold and drizzling rain and possibly chuck up processed mashed potatoes on the soccer field, although I probably should have because it would have made for a pretty good blog post.  And now my stomach's hurting.  How do these kids eat this everyday?  Well, I need to fix this stomach pain.  I'm thinking a breakfast burrito should help.  

I Am SUCH a Bitch.

I don't know what's wrong with me.  I've always been scared of spiders.  REALLY scared of spiders.  Well, bugs of any kind, really.  When it comes to my existence at home, to go along with my lack of carpentry or fix-it skills of anytime, my inability to find a job, and the fact that I am the person in the house who not only cooks, but LOVES IT!!!, my fear of bugs really puts a dent in that whole "man of the house" thing.

The problem is that with everything else, I can fake my way through it.  Either I luck out and bumble my way into fixing something, or my in-laws do it when they visit, but either way the stuff gets done.  Jobwise I plough through with odd jobs here and there to go along with unemployment that keeps the trains running on time.  However, the bug thing is one thing that I can't fake.  I'm terrified of creepy crawlies and the kids know it.  The problem is how do I tell them that they shouldn't be afraid of bugs and bees when I'm the bitch running to the sink to get Spider Killer to spray because I refuse to kill it as many others would:

- I don't want to step on it, because I am terrified that I will step on it, but with the arch of the shoe where it will not get smashed, but will then climb around and into the shoe or up my leg.

- I don't want to smash it with a paper towel because I am terrified the thing will bite me through the paper towel or napkin as it's dying.

- I don't want to pick up a shoe and smash it because I'm afraid when I get down to it's level I will miss and it will be one of those jumping spiders and leap onto my face, killing me.

Although I despise the movie "Arachnophobia", I will say this:  Skinny John Goodman has NOTHING on Fat John Goodman.  Fat John Goodman was awesome.

I know, it all sounds stupid.  I'm pretty sure the problem with bees stems from when I was a teenager.  One summer, I'd be in my bed and then all of a sudden get stung by a bee.  This happened for a couple nights in a row.  We chalked it up to a couple bees just being in the house.  That is, until I laid down one day and felt a whole bunch of stinging in my legs at once.  I jumped out of bed, and lifted up the covers.  I'll be honest, it's a sight that to this day I will NEVER forget.  A whole pack of bees.  Squirming, seemingly attached to the sheets.  Aside from the tremendous amount of pain, it was absolutely terrifying, like something out of a Stephen King movie when Stephen King was scary and not doing "The Langoliers", which, by the way, was THE worst tv miniseries I've ever seen.  A bunch of animated Pac Man-looking creatures with teeth gobbling up the Earth.  That's another image I'll never forget.  And if you don't remember them...

Yeah.  This actually AIRED on NETWORK TELEVISION, people.

Anyway, I had been stung so much that I started breaking out all over from the evil bee sting juice injected into my legs all at once, and had to go to the hospital for the anti-evil bee sting juice antidote.  It was awful and to this day I run from bees because who knows if I'm still allergic or not.  It turns out that the window was cracked all summer for air, and the bees had built a hive right inside the window.  What they were all doing in the bed is beyond me but it was such a frightening experience that I didn't sleep in my bed for weeks until my dad could guarantee me there were no more bees.  But even worse than my hatred for bees is my full-on arachnophobia.  To be honest, I didn't even want to google "John Goodman Arachnophobia" for the photo because I didn't even want a picture of one of those big ass spiders from the movie to pop on my screen and scare the shit out of me.  Anyway, I am still shaking as I am typing this, because of what just happened downstairs in the basement.  I was in the storage room, which is filled with all sorts of boxes and Christmas trees and other junk.  As I was looking for something, I turned my head and saw the biggest spider I've ever seen in my life.  Holy shit.  I froze.  I just looked at it.  Even if I wanted to I couldn't step on it because I only was wearing socks.  If it came in my direction, I was dead. I was so scared that you wouldn't believe.  You're talking to a guy who has jumped out of a plane before, and yet my legs were weaker at this moment than they were when I was standing up at 13,000 feet.  Now thankfully, I think the spider thought I was a real man, and took off in the other direction.  It seemed like it was going to stand still, so I ran upstairs, grabbed the Spider Killer, then came back downstairs, and put on some shoes in preparation for the battle.

Unfortunately, however, by the time I got done putting on my armor and readying my weapon, when I crept back into the storage room, the spider was gone.  I was mortified.  Now, like a homeowner who's eyes have been duct taped during a home invasion, I had no idea where this big, black bastard was.  And I still had to search for what I was looking for in the first place.  I had the Spider Killer in my hand, looking on the walls, under the water heater, any place that spider could be.  It was nervewracking.  And when I couldn't find him, I slowly went towards the back of the storage room to continue my initial search for what I was looking for.  I tore through the boxes with the speed of a 16 year old who has sex for the first time.  By this time, I was shaking uncontrollably.  I kept looking in a box, then on the floor for the spider.  In a box, on the floor.  I probably was in there all of 15 seconds because I felt like the spider was in there waiting.  If he came up behind me I'd have probably frozen up and not even been able to use the Spider Killer.  This is how bad I am.  Finally I gave up on what I was looking for and ran out of there.  However, now I was even more scared than I was to start, because now I know that this big, huge spider is in here.  This terrifies me for many reasons.

- Now he can find a home in one of the boxes down there, and the next time I go in there looking for something he'll be there, and will bite me and probably kill me with his poison.

- He could crawl out of the storage room and into the main area of the basement where he'll be waiting for me to watch football next Sunday.  Christ, he could lurk on the couch bed under the covers.  He could be in my next case of beer.  Good God, I don't know if I can ever go back down there.

- He could crawl up the wall and into a pipe or something and make it into the main house area.  He could be anywhere.  In the sink.  In the bathroom.  In the living room.  IN MY BED.  My God.  He could crawl in my mouth while I'm sleeping.  I'm officially in panic mode.

- He could be a SHE.  And since I didn't kill her, she could have been so large because she was pregnant and will now give birth to a million more spiders just like her.  Okay, things are very clear to me now.  I will never go in that storage room again.  Either someone else will have to go down there or we're not having a Christmas tree this year.

Now I feel like things are crawling on me and I'm itching and afraid.  It's the worst.  I just want this thing to come out so I can kill it.  SHOW YOURSELF YOU UNHOLY BASTARD!!!!  COME OUT AND FIGHT!!!

You know what...you may be saying to yourself, "Good Lord is Shaun a bitch."  And some of you will undoubtedly email me and comment here saying, "Good Lord are you a bitch."  To that I say shut your non-spiderfearing mouths.  This is a legitimate problem, people.  What should I do? Hypnosis? Bigger shoes? Buy a tool belt where I can keep the Spider Killer attached to my hip at all times?  What I really need to know is how long spiders live.  Is it days, weeks or months?  The answer will help me get through this.  Wait a minute, is that him!?!?!  Oh.  No, it's just a piece of fuzz.  Crap is this going to be a long few days, weeks or months.

So porn is good then? Or...

Okay, don't get me wrong.  Kim Kardashian is stupidly hot.  Ridiculous.  The type of hot that when you see them walk by at the grocery store...check that.  You NEVER see this type of hot at the grocery store.  Just sick.  This is not a blog to debate her looks, degree of beauty or size of ass.  What this is, however, is simply a statement on how celebrity is made anymore.  I woke up this morning afternoon and the first thing I saw was a People Magazine with Kim K. on the cover, talking about how she's 30 and thought she'd be married by now.  Then I sit down at the computer and on AOL there's an article about Kim K.'s new swimsuit line.  Now I just have one question...

DOES NO ONE REMEMBER THIS IS THE GIRL THAT GOT FUCKED BY RAY J...ON CAMERA????

I don't get it.  I remember back in the day that doing porn was pretty much the end of someone's career.  I remember articles about this porn star Tracy Lords who tried and tried and tried for YEARS to get into the mainstream acting world but no one would give her a job because she'd blown 3-trillion guys and a couple of horses in her career.  And Rob Lowe couldn't act for 10 years after the tape came out of him in an orgy with a couple of girls, one who was underage.  Now someone does it and it's the springboard to a fabulous celebrity lifestyle.  I mean, seriously, who the hell was Kim K. before Ray J dropped the hammer on her?  Before that ass was flopping around on every red-blooded American man's computer, I had never heard of her.  Now she's got reality shows, perfumes, clothing lines, articles in People...all because (and I'm not trying to be crude here but it's the truth) she gave up the ass.  So this blog is dedicated to those people who were either dumb or smart enough, you decide, to have sex on camera and parlay it into becoming a legitimate household name where people now have for some reason forgotten that they became famous because they had sex on camera.  And seeing as this has to do with PORN VIDEOS, people, there will be some PORN VIDEO LANGUAGE.  So if you're offended by PORN VIDEO LANGUAGE, then get over it, remember we're all adults and read on.  PORN.  (There, that should be enough mentions of porn to get this blog found on all the search engines).

PARIS HILTON

Again, NOT doubting her hotness, but come on.  Good Lord.  The girl became famous for sucking dick on camera.  That's it.  A night-visioned, green, weird-eyed spectacle that sucked dick for 20 minutes, and became a superstar because of it.  The fact that she played a LEAD role in a feature film afterwards truly destroyed any respect I had for the movie industry.  Paris Hilton is a no-talent bimbo who has touched a nerve in me so badly that for the first time in my life I used the phrase "no-talent bimbo".  I'm pretty sure the reason she can be arrested so many times for DUIs and Drug Possession and get away with it is because in the back of his mind the judge thinks that if he's lenient, Paris will do what his wife has refused to do for the last 15 years because she lost her teeth and the feeling of his member in there feels like she's being forced to swallow a squid.

RAY J

For the love of Ray J?  No.  For the love of Christ.  You've got to be kidding me with this guy.  First of all he gets to plow one of the hottest women on the planet.  And secondly, it turns him into a freaking celebrity.  Before he was just "Brandy's little brother".  After this, people actually started letting him record music, and he had a HIT reality show where he was given his choice of as many beautiful women as he wanted to find "love".  I despise Ray J.  And in looking at this picture, it really makes me think that Kim K and Ray J knew EXACTLY what they were doing when the tape "leaked".  I mean look at her.  She's got makeup on and is doing that acting "this is the greatest moment of my life" look, and his fake ass has the camera pointed to the exact side to correspond with the crook in his penis so it looks larger than it is.  No idea what that means.  But the point is that if Ray J hadn't done this tape, brotha would probably only be on television when TMZ reported his latest arrest for selling crack.

PAM ANDERSON

Probably the first big one that I can remember.  I mean the tape, not her...well you know.  And this was also the first tape that I remember not doing any damage to an actress' career.  Instead, it made her an even bigger star and created a legend out of Tommy Lee and his ginormous third leg.  Pam Anderson, to me, was sticking it in our faces with this one.  She had already created a successful Baywatch career out of nothing more than extremely large breasts and absolutely no acting talent whatsoever, and now she releases this tape that pretty much had every woman saying, "Shit, I wish I looked like that" and every guy saying, "Shit, I wish I looked like that".  Thankfully Karma has exacted SOME revenge, as today's Pam Anderson has morphed into something out of a Tim Burton flick.  Gruesome.  Abhorrent.  Disgusting.  Let that be a lesson to you young girls out there...plastic surgery does NOT stand the test of time.

MONTANA FISHBURNE

Now this one's just sad.  It's the first time I think I've ever seen a person actually come right out and say "Yeah, I really can't make a regular career based solely on my talent, so I'm going to do a sex tape and become a star like Kim K. and the rest of the sluts."  I mean, the fact that you would stoop to doing a sex video with a guy who looks like "Where's Waldo" and Flavor Flav had a love child is telling enough.  But even worse is, YOU'RE ALREADY RICH.  Your dad is Laurence Fishburne.  WHY would you destroy the tracks of the gravy train that would be chugging along your entire life, in an ill-conceived attempt to become famous?  I mean, let's be real...I had to google your name, Montana.  Your sex tape did nothing but ruin your relationship with Dad and cast a light on you as a money and fame-seeking tramp who will do anything to become a household name.  But in the end, this tape may have worked as well...she's gotten modeling work since.  

TONYA HARDING

The DUMBEST sex tape in the history of sex tapes.  The fact that a woman could be an olympic disgrace, convicted of assault and tied into one of the craziest crime conspiracies in the history of celebrity news could STILL get away with releasing, and making money, on a sex tape is absolutely insane.  And for crying out loud, it worked.  After she and Gillooly released this thing, she went on to do all sorts of shit.  Celebrity boxing, a ton of other reality shows, and she currently is one of the featured "comedians" on The Smoking Gun show on cable.  And ironically, she's probably making more money now than the legitimate athlete and star, Nancy Kerrigan, that she had whacked with a crowbar.  Outrageous.  

VINCE NEIL

Oh come on.  Really?  Okay, I'll give you that Vince Neil was a bad ass lead singer, but seeing him flop around on camera was like watching a manatee on a treadmill.  This was a desperate attempt by a has-been rocker to put himself back in the limelight and by God, it worked.  Since this tape, Neil went from obscurity back into mainstream television.  He's been on a freaking million reality shows, and not just cable crap...network television stuff as well.  But this luck shouldn't be surprising considering he drove drunk and killed a guy in the 80's and served 15 days in jail.

However, thankfully, not all celebrities who go this route have created fortunes out of their lack of shame.  There have been some epic fails in the celebrity porn tape phenomenon which hopefully will serve as lessons to those who think their ticket to fame and fortune is on a purposely leaked DVD.  

Looking at this makes me ill.  Paul Bunyan meets Ron Jeremy.  A tape NO one wanted to see yet was shoved down our throats anyway.  In the end, however, Screech's tape was the biggest joke of a release since Ishtar.  

And this is the blog post you get from hungover Shaun.  

SPECIAL EDITION!!!!

Well, don't say I don't love you.  SO many people watched that Boyz II Men VLOG, and SO many people said, "I wish you'd have done more of the song!!"  that I took the remaining footage and edited together another verse.  It's only 30 more seconds but it's more than worth it.  So here ya go.  Watch it and then go make love to your significant other...or if you don't have a significant other, buy a pumpkin.  They're soft by now and...okay, that's enough.  Enjoy.

I'm Such a Charlie.

Well, actually I guess I'm not this Charlie.  You see, he's a janitor, which apparently I'm not qualified to be.  You think I'm just being overly-dramatic?  Well, why don't you chew on this letter I got today, while I go configure a proper noose that will hold a 170 pou...160 pound man from a ceiling fan.

Dear Shaun:


We appreciate your interest in the position of Custodian-10089290. After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that you have not been selected for this position.


We will retain your candidate file in our database and may inform you of job openings that match your profile if you selected this option. 


We thank you for your interest in Cintas and wish you all the best in your career.


Sincerely,
Cintas Human Resources

Now there are a few things that bother me about this.
1. Uh, yeah.  I didn't get a janitor job.
2. This is the second janitor job I have applied for that I didn't get.  The first janitor interview took place in a converted house/office with two hookers who also applied for the job.  I'm guessing there were some extra "interview techniques" that I didn't know to perform.  And yes, I said, "janitor interview".
3. Um, if I wasn't qualified for the JANITOR position, exactly what mf'ing job opening on your website WOULD match my profile?

and, my favorite part of this whole thing...

THEY SENT THIS TO ME TWICE.

Yes, as if that first kick in the gut of "You really don't meet the stringent requirements we here at Cintas place on our Janitorial positions" wasn't enough, they felt the need to send me this email two times in a row.  Sort of to say, "Heh.  We here at Cintas would just like to REALLY make sure you understand how pathetic you really are, by sending you a janitor job rejection letter...twice.  Tomorrow you will also be receiving a certified letter by USPS, as well as a note by carrier pigeon.  We also assume you do keep a morse code machine in your home.  It will come in as dot dot dot, dot, dot dot dot dot, 5 more dots and a beep.  We would ask you not to reply to the morse code as it is an automatic sender and your reply will only serve to wake up the stable of carrier pigeons that maintains our Rejection Notification Office.  Thank you for your interest in Cintas."

DEPRESSED CHARLIE

 I really hope that one day dude just snaps and beats the hell out of Lucy.  If I was on the jury, I'd say the chronic back injury he suffered from all those years of missing the football warranted the violence. 

So maybe I'm less a Charlie from Sunny in Philly and more a Charlie Brown.  The luck sure isn't there.  And although I don't say "Good Grief" as much as I do, "This is bullshit, Goddammit", the comparison is apt.  Let's start with the night at the toy store tonight, THE worst night yet.

When I first get there, I know we've got a truck so I'm already not in a good mood.  Then Bitch Johnson who thinks she's the leader when she's not, comes over and addresses us.  She tells us that we need to watch where we leave boxes and it's not someone else's job to clean them up and whatever.  Thankfully Karma got that package of weed I sent in the mail, because about an hour later, she cut herself on a box.  She ran up to me all frantic and goes, "OH. OH.  That's not good! That's not good!"  I look and say matter-of-fact, "I'm sure there's a first aid kit."  Then she runs off.  Good.  That's what you get for playing God.  Apparently God bleeds, though, doesn't She.  Anyway, she wasn't even the worst part of the night.

After a few minutes, the actual real Boss takes me and three other guys to the back.  I thought we were going to put boxes on the shelves or something, which I wasn't happy about because that's rougher work than opening boxes.  Well, I was in for an even worse surprise.  We were going to unload the semi.  Now, I hadn't done this before, so I had NO idea what I was getting into.  Basically a guy rolls boxes down the shoot, Bossman calls out a color, throws a box to us, and we lay it on the pallet that corresponds with the color.  Now for the first 30 minutes or so, I was actually having fun.  It was like playing catch.  He'd toss the box, we'd catch it, run it to the end zone, (or pallet), spike it (lay it down on the pallet), and turn around and catch another one.  It's a lot of running and catching.  However, after about a half hour it went from a game to torture.  The boxes never stopped.  And when a pallet was full we had to lift it, drag the whole thing out to the store, run back and catch more boxes.  I lost all concept of time.  My legs were hurting like a stripper who's only bit is doing that squat/booty-dance thing that, while fun to watch, doesn't make up for the bullet wounds and C-section scars.

The boxes kept coming.  We kept catching and running. I was sweating like a slave and being treated like one too, as Bossman pulled out bottle after bottle of water, drinking it in front of us in what seemed to be a blatant taunt while we picked cotton drinking our own sweat for sustenance.  The only thing is the slaves had it better because at least they weren't as hot seeing as they could go shirtless and were outside in the fresh air.  This warehouse smelled of stale butter and rape.  And for all their Kumbaya's and such, those slaves couldn't have handled this shit today.  For one, you needed muscle, and skinny-ass slaves, while fit, were bred for endurance, not strength.  Secondly, after about 2 1/2 hours of catching and moving boxes, I looked down at my hands.  They were akin to what one who's name was Toby might have seen after a long day in the fields in the slave days of yore...black, grimy, a smell of fear, misery, and want of the white woman.  Thirdly, I am way off base here and before I alienate everyone who reads this blog who isn't white and in charge, I'll stop right now.

Finally, around 1:00am, after three straight hours of unloading this truck, Bossman says, "Why don't you take a five minute break."  Oh really?  Thanks, dude.  Even sports coaches know that you can't bust players' asses for three straight hours without some sort of time to recuperate.  So five minutes just isn't going to cut it.  But whatever.  I officially hate you and I've done my time, and if you are one of the people who subscribe to the stereotype that "blacks are lazy", well, my friend, wait till you see me after this "five minute break".  Asshole.

HOMICIDAL CHARLIE

When you look at Charlie Manson and think, "Christ, he actually looks better than me, then you're REALLY in trouble, Mel Gibson."

So after the five minute break, I was rejuvenated a bit, and decided to forgo the lazy bit and actually work, moving pallets, dumping boxes, etc.  I knew my lunch was in an hour, and I honestly was considering going to lunch and never coming back.  I brought my lunch but I was so sore and pissed off by this point that I just wanted to go home. And I should have.  I went to McDonald's at 2a for "lunch", ate in the car because I was sick of everyone, and then something happened.  I had my first Coke in I don't know how long.  Holy shit.  When you haven't had Coke in months, it's like that first hit of heroin the morning you get out of rehab.  It was amazing.  I loved it.  I was smiling in the car listening to "Just Got Paid" by Johnny Kemp, and for one brief second I wasn't so pissed anymore.  Not only was I drinking Coke, which was awesome, but I was picturing Johnny Kemp doing the exact same thing I was doing, but his life probably sucked even more because seriously, at one point he was Johnny Kemp the singer.  Now he's Johnny Kemp the clean up on aisle four.  Sad.  Much sadder than me.  So I decided to go back in.

DRINKING CHARLIE

HAHAHA!!!!  What a freaking mistake that was!!!  I walk in there, and things have gone to shit.  There are boxes everywhere and really nothing has been done.  For some reason they had all the old people out opening the boxes, and their frail little fingers can apparently only move so fast because of the Bersitis or whatever they've got.  There is something called "Bersitis" right?  Well, even if there isn't it sounds like something old people would get in their fingers.  But the point is that the stupid Bitch Johnson fake-ass boss was running around telling us to do one thing, the second-in-command who looked like the spawn of Bill Gates and Rita Rudner would tell us to do another, and nothing was getting done.  And tonight I told them that.  They didn't care to listen but just wanted to bark out orders that meant nothing.  Me and the other guys started talking about how shitty things were and how we wanted to get drunk.  Well, they MENTIONED how vodka would be nice, to which I felt the need to display my true self by saying, "Sure, vodka's nice, as long as it's backed up with Jager and about a 12 pack of beer."  An unsure chuckle.  I felt the need to continue by saying, "I think a 10am drinking start tomorrow sounds about right."  No one responded.  That's fine.  I'm guessing if I had said, "I'm guessing a 9am start to stalking that senior citizen who lives in the apartment next door" would have been something better for them to identify with.  Honestly, the ONLY fun time I had from 2:30-6 was when I opened a box of these plush dolls called Webkinz, and in 1.2 seconds this scenario ran through my head:

ME: Hey girls, guess what Daddy did at work today?
GIRLS: What? What?
ME: I opened a box of WEBKINZ!!
GIRLS:  Really? Did you bring us any?
ME: No.  No, I did not.

I found that funny for some reason and I laughed out loud.  The rest of the night was really disorganized and stupid, topped off by the end of the night, when I was leaving, and of course Gates Rudner asks me all disappointed, "You're leaving??"  After I said yes, he says all smug, "Well, you know we've got three more trucks next week...so, you know, it's going to be like this all week."  I said nothing and just walked away.  Because I'm thinking that "We" don't have anything next week sir.  YOU might, but WE sure don't.

The Things I Do For You People.

So the other night we go to a choir concert for our 4th grade daughter and a few other grade school classes.  Not really the most exciting of ways to spend an evening, especially when it's Monday Night, there's football to watch, and you just know that the groups are going to harmonize about as well as if Whitney Houston and Alex Trebek came out with a duet called "Let's Play Jeopardy, and Then Do Crack."  I mean, the lyrics would probably be pretty comical, but the sound would be just awful.

Anyway, in watching these groups I just kept thinking how these music teachers should really work on getting these kids to be good at ONE note, and get them to learn about rhythm first.  And it's not the kids fault they can't carry a tune. It's the music they listen to.  (Holy crap, did I just pull a "these kids and their music today"?  Good God I've become every cliche'd old man in every comedy sketch ever made).  But the point is made.  The Lady Gaga and the Akon don't give kids anything to strive for.  That's why American Idol sucks anymore, and the only contestants that actually get far on that show are the ones who idolize groups who could sing, like those from Motown and such.  You know, it's hard to describe how harmonizing works by just using words.  This calls for something drastic to make those of you who think Ke$ha and Justin Bieber are great "singers", and rethink your stance on what great music is all about.  I give you drastic.

You know, as I type this at 6:30am, after being up all night putting that stupid thing together, it makes me think of something…SHARE THE BLOG PEOPLE!  SHARE THE FACEBOOK "JUST GIVE UP" PAGE!  Seriously, you're sharing articles from Newsweek and The Onion and Smoking Gun...throw me into the mix, huh?  And big ups to the few of you who ARE sharing it regularly.  See? I'm cool…I said "Big ups". Damn right I'm still young.  And cool.  Wait I said that already.  I said cool twice, didn't I.  Ironic how I'm claiming not to be old when I can't remember something I said five words ago.  What was I talking about again? (Heh.  Alzheimer's joke.  Neat.)  Oh, that's right…sharing.  Look to your right.  Sharing takes a click.  Then go to the Facebook page.  Oh wow…there's a share button there too.  Help a brotha out, y'all.  Or if you don't want to help me out, at least let your friends see what you've been laughing at the last month.  Just like Father MC said, "If you do for me, I will do for you…"  Holy crap, I just quoted Father MC.  Shoot me now.