Monthly Archives: December 2009

Movie Review: Jennifer’s Body

Total Running Time: 102 Minutes

Starring: Megan Fox, Amanda Seyfried, Adam Brody, Bad Acting

For those of you who don’t know… I’m a self-professed, shallow male who is a big fan of Megan Fox’s “body” of work.  Well… you can now make that “was a big fan”… in more ways than one.

The only reason I had any desire to see this movie (actually I bought it) yesterday was because it had Megan Fox in it.  If it had starred anyone else I might have given it a look at the $5 movie bin at Wal-Mart a year or so from now… but that’s it.

While I can’t say this is the first time I have bought a movie I haven’t seen yet and not liked it… I can say that it’s probably the most disappointed I’ve been in a long time at the outcome of the finished product.

Up until I watched this movie, I had only seen Fox in the two Transformers movies of which didn’t really require much acting… just mostly running in slow motion, looking terrified, screaming, standing there looking hot and the occasional line like “RUN SAM” or “LOOK OUT SAM” or “LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!”

My advice to her would be to stick with these kinds of roles.

In Jennifer’s Body she is the lead.  She is the one who drives the movie.  She is the one who all the 16 year old high school kids (who the movie was marketed to) couldn’t come to the movie theatre and see because the movie is rated “R”.  She is the one who rocketed the movie off the cliff and slammed it into a neighboring mountain… killing it instantly.

In the movie, Megan plays a high school cheerleader named Jennifer (following me so far?) who is quite simply a total slut… pardon the expression… but it is true.  After a misunderstanding she winds up as the unwilling participant in a tainted ritualistic sacrifice leaving her body to be inhabited by a demon.  A demon which can only survive off the FLESH OF HORNY TEENAGE BOYS!! 

Who comes up with this stuff?!

Well… her name is Diablo Cody and you might remember that name because she won an Academy Award for her screenplay: Juno.  Juno was a movie about teenage pregnancy, and while it might have had its Hollywood undertones, I thought it had its fair share of warm moments.  It also was an excellent vehicle for Ellen Page to showcase her fantastic acting ability and deliver Cody’s quirky script writing.

Diablo Cody’s better, more sufficient movie for her writing style…

Fox doesn’t deliver the same ability to deliver quirky lines or act and Cody’s quirky lines don’t work in a horror movie.

I am very sad to report that I had really hoped to be surprised by Fox’s acting ability so she’d prove to me that she was actually a good actress and could make it in Hollywood!  I wanted to believe that she hadn’t gotten to where she is because she looks so good.

I was wrong and I’m afraid people are going to figure out that she’s just another pretty face destined to eventually get her own reality dating show because no one wants her to bring their film down into the abyss of misfit movies.

I could go on about the unnecessary language, the obvious fact that Megan Fox could not pass as a teenager anymore and Cody’s obvious disenchantment with Christianity… but I won’t.  Instead I wanted to mention that in this movie Fox looks emaciated!  I would think that if her character is eating teenage boys she could have had a little more curves!?  Her best stick figure interpretation in this movie is only going to further the insecurity of impressionable girls!  While I don’t advocate obesity… I don’t advocate looking like you’re hung off a coat rack either.

Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body

I still consider Megan Fox very pretty… but she’s been knocked back a few notches.  If I ever ran into her at Olive Garden… I might only spill part of my Chicken Con Broccoli… not all of it.

All in all… I give it two out of five nasty bearded guys…


Five (Good) Questions

1. What’s your New Years Resolution?  Watch for an upcoming post on mine.

Are you going to stop

Maybe you want to  more!

Maybe you want to stop being a !

Maybe you want to learn how to ?

2.  So I’ve been reading my “how to get rich and famous by blogging” book and it keeps pushing the issue that I need a “theme”, i.e. baseball, parenting, celebrity gossip, blah blah blah yadda yadda yadda.  Since all of you are my disciples… tell me if I should stick to my “random thoughts” or should I start focusing on one particular thing to write about?  Preferably something I write that you find I’m particularly good at expressing or that you find helpful to you… or that makes you wanna poop yourself because you’re laughing so hard.

3.  Do you want to read a very informative and highly educational post I wrote about farting?  The more people who say “yes” will see it published in an upcoming post. 


If there’s more “no’s” then I’ll go ahead and post something about how I used to have this strange swollen tick-like looking bulge in my bellybutton that I eventually had to get removed because I knew I would never be able to get married with it.

4.  Would you rather see “Avatar” or “Sherlock Holmes”?  Whichever one gets the most votes… I will go see and write a movie review for you… because I know you care what I think.


Who will get my $8?

5.  What was your most fulfilling Christmas present this year?  Be worldly.  As I mentioned earlier… mine was this:

The more people who answer the questions… the more fun this will be people…

Quick Hits

Love this song:

“Your lipstick stains on the front lobe of my left side brains”

What???? Crazy awesome song. It’s my new ringtone.

Love this show:


Who knew that the pawning business could be so interesting! 

Answer: Not Me

Who knew that the “History Channel” had anything interesting to watch?

Answer: Not Me

It’s amazing the stuff people just bring in that they “happened across” in their attic or basement i.e. a check that was actually signed by John Hancock HIMSELF or an authentic Civil War coat… that they then want to sell for $2,000!!  NEWSFLASH PEOPLE – that’s a once in a lifetime artifact that I’d hold on to if I were you!!

Anyway… the show does make history interesting as the dudes that man this shop are pretty savvy in knowing what’s fake and what isn’t and give a short synopsis of the history of the item itself.

The best is when someone things they have a real Civil War gun or a whip used by Harrison Ford in Raiders of the Lost Ark and it turns out they just have some crappy replica not worth more that the boxer briefs they’re wearing.

Love this book:


Bunny got this book for me for Christmas.  If you know me… then you know I hate to read.


This book is great.  I’m not even halfway through the third chapter and I’m hooked.  DLG is only a year and a half old but reading some of the things in this book bring tears to my eyes regarding things that will come in the future.

Being a good father and husband is all I really want to be in this life.  Seriously.  This book helps solidify that for me.

Love this photo:

It captures everything I ever imagined in being a father.  On Christmas day… it isn’t about me any more… it’s about her and her baby doll stroller. 

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

On the other end of the spectrum…

Hate this show:

“The Situation” and “Pauley D” of “Jersey Shore” on MTV show us how many brain cells they currently have operating in their pistachio sized brains

Okay… how freakin’ stupid does MTV think we are?  Seriously!

#1 – Who names themselves “The Situation”… what does that even mean?

#2 – “The Real World” is lame enough without having to substitute 8 strangers for 4 meatheads and 4 hoochies on the beach…

#3 – It’s nice to see guys aspire to be so classy as these steriod freaks

#4 – Anyone who wears a rosary obviously isn’t smart enough to realize it’s not actually a necklace…

#5 – Shows like this make celebrities out of total low life, low class, spoiled overtanned douchebags who live to party until they wake up one day to realize they are totally empty and without purpose…

MTV is really becoming more of a vehicle to use if you’re needing to throw up that fish sandwich you just had at Long John Silvers that entertainment these days…




Fast food seafood?  That just doesn’t sound right…

What To Do For An Encore?

Well Christmas is over…

Now let depression take over.

It’s always so hard to face the New Year because so much time, effort and excitement is put towards Christmas… so that when it’s over… you haven’t got anything to look forward to anymore.  There’s always those “New Years Celebrations”… but those are just an excuse for most people to drink alot of rubbing alcohol and gasoline.  I guess there’s Valentines day… but that’s just not the same.   Then you’ve got “New Years Resolutions”… which are usually forgotten by mid-March or so (an upcoming post on my New Years resolutions is coming).  So there’s really not much to look forward to until next Christmas.

But… it was an awesome Christmas… full of fun, laughter and… well… snow actually…

View from the front porch…

We quite literally got snowed in for Christmas.  It was the craziest amount of snow I’ve seen in Oklahoma in quite some time.  For once… the Oklahoma weathermen actually got a forecast right!!  When the storm hit… I was working (on Christmas Eve mind you) and had to drive home in it.  It took me two hours to get home from my work which is about 10 miles away.

And I was one of the lucky few who didn’t wind up like this…

But… a nice white Christmas added to the Christmas feel for when Santa came and laid out all the presents for our household. 

Earlier in the week when we spotted Santa coming out of a local strip joint.  He smelled like cheese fries and booze but DLG didn’t seem to mind.

He’s actually lucky he didn’t his cranium split in half with my baseball bat because when I heard his fat ass squeezing through our chimney at 3AM I thought someone was breaking into the house.

Daddy’s Little Girl’s presents…

Bunny’s presents…

My presents…

DLG had been through one Christmas already… but was only about 5 months old and could really care less.  This time… I think she got the idea

She loves her princess chair/bed.

She also loved her little kitchen complete with all the accessories.  She’s right where a little lady belongs… in the kitchen.  FYI – that was a joke… I’m totally kidding.

If you read this post… you’ll know that I showered Bunny with gifts this year.  Probably more than I ever have.  I don’t really know why. 

Wait.. oh yeah… because I love her.  And she’s hot.

Bunny displaying her favortie gift of the crapload I bought.  Let me just say… I ain’t gay or nothin’ but I can pick out some SHOES!

… and they’re the right size!!  Damn I’m good…

I got some good stuff too… nothing to eventually trade for a wallpaper job but good stuff nonetheless.  I got this from Bunny for the Wii we bought several days ago:

I freakin’ love it.  It’s an awesome game.  I know we’re centuries behind everyone because we just now got a Wii… but I guess I’m just catching up. 

It’s almost as much fun to watch Bunny play the game as it is to actually play it:

I’ve never laughed so hard.

And she bought me this:

I’m reading it currently and I fully expect, that when I’m done with it, to be bigger than Google.  Don’t worry… I won’t forget about you guys: The Little People… who are going to help get me to the top of blogosphere.

After the Christmas presents were opened I unfortunatly was unable to throw this giant snowball on Bunny while she took a shower:

So I ate it instead.

And we eventually had to brave the snow and ice to take our nice warm butts up the road to Bunny’s grandma’s house for Christmas.

The two most beautiful girls this Earth has to offer… it doesn’t get much better.

DLG also got to experience the phenomenon known as “snow”‘ for the first time… and thought it was delicious.

If there’s one thing she has to learn: stay away from yellow snow.

Despite it being a white Christmas and the fun involved in introducing DLG to it and the sheer excitement you get from looking out the window at something different… it did have it’s downside.  It prevented us from being able to see my family as they live a good 2 1/2 hours away when there’s no snow!  But… once the snow and ice clears… we’ll have a delayed Christmas with those beloved folks.

All in all… it was a great one.  I look forward to many more in the future with my little family.  I hope you and yours all had a good one as well.

Remember though… even though it’s nice to get “stuff”… it’s never more valuable than those you get to spend Christmas with:

I’ve already got everything I’ll ever need…

Called To Love

God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.  1st John 4:16

Amen, I say o you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.  Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.  And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.  Matthew 18:1-10

“I’m not a smart man… but I know what love is.” – Forrest Gump

It’s hard to believe that it was almost 20 years ago when I knew (and still know) beyond a shadow of a doubt that God spoke to me.

I had faith back then that I do not have now.  I had the faith of a child.  I had a faith uncorrupted by the trials of every day life in a world filled to the brim with more seemingly important things than a relationship with My Creator.

I remember quite vividly laying on the top bunk of my bunk bed in my room praying fervently for God to “talk” to me!  Prove to me that He was real.  Give me a test or give me a vision like he gave some of the prophets in the bible.  Do something… ANYTHING in fact to prove to me that he was there!

I lay quietly waiting on my top bunk for a shaft of light to beam through the ceiling that was a few feet from my face.  Instead… a thought came to me and I mouthed it out loud as to engrave it in my memory bank a little more clearly.

“You are going to be like the prophet Hosea… whose wife left him and he loved her so much he would continue to find her and bring her back.”

I lay there wondering where this thought came from.  Was it just my mind coming up with a random thought trying to prove to myself He was really out there?  As a child of around 10 or 11 I was familiar with many bible stories like that of Noah’s Ark, Moses parting the Red Sea, Sampson and Delilah, etc.  But I’d never heard of Hosea. 

Maybe… I was stretching.  Why would God want to talk to me anyway?  I was just some kid who liked to shoot bottles with my BB gun and read Archie comics.  I wasn’t a prophet in the bible… that kind of stuff doesn’t happen these days.

I finished my pursuit of The Almighty that night and turned to my side and went to sleep.


The next day I was sitting in my mother’s room talking to her about something.  I can’t remember what.  She was putting on her make-up.

Then I remembered the previous night’s “random thought” I’d had while praying for a sign.  My mother was (and still is) a bible connoisseur, a righteous woman worthy of sainthood, a person familiar with all the stories in the bible as I’m sure she’s read the book from cover to cover several times.

“Mom… is there a story in the bible about a guy whose wife left him and he continued to go after her?” I asked.  I phrased the question this way because I wanted my mom to say the name “Hosea” as proof that maybe… just maybe… my thought wasn’t as random as I had thought.

Without knowing what had happened to me last night or that this moment would perhaps be one of the more defining moments of my life I continue to fall back on time and time again through my adult life she said, “Why yes, that’s the story of Hosea.  There’s a book in the bible about him.”

I was sitting Indian style on the floor and dug my heels into the carpet as I processed the information my mother had just told me.  Without knowing the implications that this revelation would resonate through my life as I continued to grow into a young man, a husband and a father… I simply stated, “Oookaaay.”

I proceeded to tell my mother what had happened to me last night and she very calmly assured me that this indeed probably was God “speaking” to me.

But I was confused.  As a human being incapable of seeing the big picture that God sees, I interpreted God’s revelation to me that I was literally going to live the life of Hosea i.e. my wife was going to be a prostitute and I was going to have to constantly go out and rescue her (anyone who wants to know… prostitution is not Bunny’s profession).

My mom assured me that this was probably not the case.  The story of Hosea itself is a story of love.  Its story and its underlying message is a parallel of Gods love for us.  Hosea is the physical example of God… and his wife is us.  Hosea loved his wife so much he put up with all of her crap and continued to bring her back despite her constant unfailing ability to fall away again and again.  He loved her unconditionally.

Are you seeing the similarities between Hosea’s story and God’s love for us?

I understood the similarity then but the seeds of my impatience had already germinated and I was DYING to know the exact meaning of my story!  I couldn’t believe I had to live my life to figure out what this vision meant!


I’ve lived almost 20 years of my life since that moment and when I look at the snapshot of my life that has occurred during that time I only now am beginning to see the culmination of this vision starting to come to fruition.

The birth of Daddy’s Little Girl and the evolution of the love that has grown for my wife through my trials and tribulations has only mutated my ability to love beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.

Pieces of this untamed ability to love unconditionally were seen in blips through my young life as I couldn’t decide which pillow to take with me on vacation because I was “too afraid” to hurt the unselected pillows feelings or worry incessantly about the feelings of other peoples feelings over my own.  I simply did not know how to tame the lion of love tearing from its inner sanctum… deep within my soul.

As I have just crested over the age of 30… I’m only now starting to uncover the tip of the giant iceberg of understanding love and how to use it… or “tame” it if you will.  I have so much more to learn… so much more to experience… and so much more to love.

If I am to be an example of Christ’s love for His people… then I am to love unconditionally.  I am failing at it miserably because I am inherently human.  But I want to start by letting all of you know… that I love you.  I may not even know you and you may not believe me… but know that I love you because you are a child of God just as I am.  I am always here to talk if you need… but can be unreachable.  But get this… God is never unreachable.  If you can only turn and become like children and have the faith of a child… then He might be a lot closer than you think!

I love you all for reading.  Please have a Merry Christmas and don’t forget the true meaning for why we celebrate this holiday.

Cheating Death Pre-Papa K Style: Episode 1

Let’s get away from all the drama shall we…


From the chronicles of a complete college dumbass.

For those of you who don’t know… I was your typical college stereotype.  I was usually out all night, could sleep until noon (or at least five minutes until class), get up and eat McDonalds, call around to see where the next party was and do it all again.

For about a year, my best friend and I lived in an apartment that qualified as “section 8 housing”.  Section 8 housing was for a special class of folks whose income amounted to nothing more than a few frozen green beans and some stale Ritz crackers.  Unfortunately for us, these folks usually found a way to trade in their green beans and crackers for baggy jeans, stained NFL coats, stolen cell phones, guns and crack. 

This transformed them from just being poor to “gangstas”.

When we originally moved into the apartments, our leasing agent was nice enough to house us in a building with a bunch of other people fitting our “poor college student” demographic.  A “poor college student” is nothing like a “gangsta” insomuch they desire not to “cap” anyone or they aren’t “GONNA MAKE YOU BLEED SON!”  They really are just trying to make it through college so they can graduate, put in their hard work and pay their taxes so they can support the “gangstas” and their inability to take care of themselves.

An example of what we had to deal with…

In our quest to obtain the American Dream, we chose this section 8 housing because it was cheap and the leasing agent put us in a building adrift from the “gangsta” riff raff. 

Alas… that leasing agent moved away and was replaced with another.  As our friendly college neighbors graduated and moved to nicer complexes complete with swimming pools (no dead bodies!), rotundas (no gun fire!) and free Sunday morning continental breakfast (no dirty crack whores!) our new leasing agent replaced them with aspiring rappers, aspiring drug dealers and aspiring uninspired wastes of space.

In order to get to our cars each morning we would have to run in a serpentine fashion so as to avoid being a target for an early rising “gangsta” who got bored sniffing paint long enough to want to shoot something.

My roommate and I were especially annoyed at the constant disturbance these “gangstas” were causing and after numerous complaints to the leasing staff had done absolutely nothing (we fear their lives were more than likely threatened) we decided to take action.

But that idea for action was quickly squashed because we realized that we enjoyed living more than the momentary satisfaction we’d get out of screaming at Tupac’s brother and his emaciated Snoop Dogg look-alikes which would result in the complete separation of the skin from our bodies.

So… as I would try to sleep at night and the Bloods would talk about what they were going to do the next day to the Crypts right outside my window… I lay there wishing for one moment I could harness the power of lightning to fry them all.  That never happened… but something just as empowering did.

One particular early morning after a full night of partying and on my assent back to the third floor where our apartment was located, I strolled past the door of a known “gangsta”, one who I knew in fact frequented my window at all hours of the night.  As I glared at his door through my faded eyes hoping that I somehow might be able to channel the ghost of Genghis Khan into his bedroom… I noticed his shoes laying at his doorstop.

I stopped because I had a brilliant idea.  Mind you… a brilliant idea to an individual who’d just drank his weight in Keystone Light (the college drinker’s beer of choice: 30 ‘stones for fifteen bucks!! Couldn’t beat it!!).

A college boys dream…

How could I get back at these “gangstas” and stay undetected?  How could I fulfill my dream I’d had many a night as I listened to them caterwauling outside my bedroom window?  How could I inflict some kind of miniscule aggravation to the individuals who’d made me contemplate learning the fine art of torture?

Well… to pee in this guys shoes of course.

It was no earlier than 4 A.M. and not even “gangstas” stay up that late so I lowered myself to my knees (as to prevent any unnecessary splashing) and began the extraction of the processed beer that was already banging against the wall of my bladder.  I proceeded to fill the shoe and start on the other when I ran dry.

I stood up and nodded my approval at my handiwork.

I then walked the few short steps to the door of my apartment, walked in and passed out on my bed.


It wasn’t until the next morning, over a morning hangover, that I realized the severity of what I did.  I wasn’t upset at myself for peeing in a “gangstas” empty shoe, quite the contrary actually… I was feeling pretty good about it!  I envisioned the look on his face as he stuck his foot into that shoe and *squish*… “What the ‘bleeeeeep’?”  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  It would have been divine to see that look.  But when I sat and thought about what could have happened…

I could have been mid-pee and the “gangsta” could have opened the door.  Despite the fact it was 4 A.M…. anything was possible.  Then at that point it wasn’t me envisioning was his face looked like sticking his foot into a shoe full of pee… it was my face looking down the barrel of a shotgun, or the end of a machete or a syringe full of drain-o.

I shuddered at the possibilities of what could have happened.  I shuddered that I could have died last night!  All for peeing in a shoe!

Then I realized… I didn’t and the story was really funny.   So I told everyone.


I may not be able to cap someone… but I can discretely pee in the shoes of a “gangsta” when they’re not around.  I think that automatically makes me a “gangsta” right?

Man Math

Allow me to let all of you into the types of conversations that men have occasionally.  Or… perhaps “cavemen”, “pigs” or “horn toads” would be better words to describe the male gender at these moments in time.

But first… a few quick points:

I consider my wife and I in a unique situation because she’s completely comfortable with me talking to her about these kinds of things. I can tell her that Megan Fox is ultimately one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen and she won’t go into a jealous rage then eviscerate me using the nearest ball-point pen.

My ability to spot beauty on completely shallow level in members of the opposite gender… is exactly just that.  What I mean is that’s only as far as it goes.  I love my wife too much to stray.  I’ve never understood how a man could cheat on their wife!  The closest situation I’ve ever put myself in to cheat on Bunny… is occasionally in my dreams at night… and even there in the deep subconscious of my mind I’m unable to do so.  Being faithful is part of my DNA, it’s part of my make up, it’s just who I am.

I don’t want to paint a picture of a man without fault though.  I laid it out there for  the world to know several months ago in admitting a secret addiction I had that rocked our relationship for a time.  Seeing the disappointment in Bunny’s eyes after such an episode stirred my soul in such a way that I never wanted to put us in even a remotely similar situation again for the rest of my life.  For the first time in our relationship, I had a moment where I thought I might lose her… and it scared me.

Bunny knows I’m extremely attracted to her because I tell her every day.  I thank God every day for blessing me with such a beautiful wife… both outside AND inside.

But this post was supposed to be about Man Math…

Men, to our core, are visual creatures and there’s nothing wrong with that… it’s the way we’re wired, programmed and unfortunately it seems to drive conversation once a few beers are consumed at local sports bars on their “free” nights.  Four large draught beers can lead to some pretty inane conversations.  What was a pretty deep conversation can turn south as fast as a random thought will allow it.  In this instance, we were talking about our childhoods, how we shaped out to who we are today and how we met our wives.

Then suddenly… we were coming up with a point system.  A point system with a scale of zero being the lowest and ten being the highest to rank our favorite physical qualities on the female form with which God apparently loved more because face it… women are the more attractive species.

Our favorite physical attributes (and what I’m sure to be the favorite physical attributes with most red blooded males) in no particular order: face, chest and rear.  While the face is clearly out there for the world to see and make judgments on… the other two attributes are hidden behind varying degrees of different clothing where only the shape of these meaty objects is seen.  For men, the idea of what’s behind the curtain will keep them up at night, give them fits of memory loss and the ability only to speak in sentence fragments.

It’s attraction at its most basic level.  It’s testosterone doing its job.

“How piggish and chauvinistic” you must be saying to yourself if you’re a woman who’s out of touch with reality.  If you’re a man… then you’re shrugging your shoulders saying “Uh… I plead the fifth.”

Now, if you’re giving up to ten points to three different body parts that would make a “score” of 30 as the highest an unknowing participant in our little game might obtain.  Some of the more recognizable females and their scores would be:

Janet Reno – 0 points

Richard Simmons – 1 point

Rumor Willis – 5 points

Kate Hudson – 10 points

Drew Barrymore – 19 points

Fergie – 22 points

Megan Fox – 27 points

Kim Kardashian – 30 points

Bunny – 30 points

Officially, this is the shallowest list on the planet because I’m strictly going off the physical attributes these women were born with… or added on later in some cases! 

But alas, despite the seemingly shallow nature of this post, there is a hidden message: BEWARE!  But beware of what?

Before you lose all hope with me… I want to let you know this list is strictly made from my initial attraction instinct.  Their “X” factor makes them undesirable.

“Well Chris,” you might say, “I’m ready to close this post down because you’ve righteously lost my respect and I’m reporting you to the authorities… but before I do… what’s the ‘X’ factor?”

Good question “Voice Of The Annoyed Female Reader”. 

The “X” factor takes away the physical attributes.  Quite simply the “X” factor is… attitude and personality.  This vastly changes the above list.  Without knowing most all of these people personally, I would assume based on what I hear through the media and from my friends in the business (Hey P. Diddy!)… the list might rearrange to something like the following (from worst to best and the reasons why):

Janet Reno (great personality still wouldn’t help)

Megan Fox (stuck on herself)

Kim Kardashian (dumb)

Richard Simmons (doesn’t know he’s a woman)

Kate Hudson (dated Alex Rodriguez)

Rumor Willis (must be nice to have Demi Moore as a mom and Bruce Willis as a dad… I’d be an actor too)

Fergie (peed herself during a concert)

Drew Barrymore (once flashed David Lettermanm, brilliant personality, sense of humor)

Bunny (no contest… Boudoir photographs, makes beautiful children, has curves for miles, priceless)

Quite a different list now!  I’m unashamed in saying who I think is beautiful physically but equally unashamed in admitting they probably have the intelligence of a post-it note and if it were possible… would marry themselves.

The good thing about what I have stated as my opinion here is exactly that: my opinion.  You may like girls that look like dudes in which case Janet Reno may be at the top of your list.  Or you may like girls who wear sparkle shorts in which case Richard Simmons would be at the top of your list.  You may have a different “three things” you look for physically! Maybe you like legs, eyes and armpits.  Or maybe you like stomachs, backs and knees.  Whatever your poison may be… my “30” may add up to be your “10”… just depends on your preference.

In closing, whether you want to believe it or not… we all (both men and women) play this game in some capacity.  We all may not add points in our head, but we all size up a person when we meet them.  Any straight man is going to look at any hint of cleavage when given the opportunity.  Sorority girls are going to fight for the attention of the football quarterback.  But the fact of the matter is if your wretched soul happens to be wrapped in a pretty package… you may find yourself back at “0” on the list that really counts!

Ways To Get A Discount On Wallpaper

This story comes as a request from my sister, who several weeks ago suggested I write about it by posting a comment under one of my “Five Questions” post.  See people… I listen to your advice!

My father, as long as I’ve been alive, has never been big on Christmas gifts.  I can remember times before I was around the age of 10 where I just don’t think he really cared what my mother might have gotten for me.  I got all the plastic swords, stuffed blue raccoons and transforming robot water guns I asked for.    


Back when I got all the red bears and cheap plastic swords a kid could ever need… 

But once he decided to get intimately involved in what was bought for me for Christmas (or any other occasion where gifts may be involved) the enjoyment of being able to open a gift and actually get what I wanted… became only a distant memory.   

I can actually remember the Christmas of 1989 when perusing a toy store wide-eyed and bushy-tailed with my mom and dad right after we’d moved back to the States.  I pointed out many things that caught my eye… mainly action figures or Nintendo games or anything else kids my age slobbered over.   

“Hmmm… what about this?” My dad said as I scampered through the aisle containing model airplanes, boats, cars and the like.  I turned around and looked at what he had found.  It was a huge box containing the million pieces required to put together a “Visible V8 Engine”.  Once assembled it would work like a real engine!!   

I couldn’t have been less interested.   

We spent the next several minutes in front of that damn thing while I endured an earful of information spewing from my dad’s mouth that went in one ear and out the other.  I remember his discourse being something about how this model engine would “teach” me something.   

I obliged my father by looking him in the eye and nodding my head in agreement as he satisfied his need to lecture me about the worth of this “toy” as opposed to the emptiness that a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure or Mario Brothers video game would give me.  I feared that if I challenged him on this issue I just might get emotionally pummeled with the vast expanse words my dad had at his disposal to make me feel as though I was the size of an action figure myself.   

I agreed that I might be interested in putting together the V8 engine… but gathered up the courage to say that I would enjoy the vast expanse of other toys I had shown him before his discovery.   

On Christmas day, I received none of the things I had asked for.    

Piled underneath the other toys my father thought had some other value other than to just “play” with was… the “Visible V8 Engine”.  It was a happy scene for my father who talked about what a good time I was going to have putting this thing together.  Maybe… after I put it together… I could disassemble then reassemble a real one!!!   

That thing sat in my closet for years and to this day… I don’t know what happened to it.   


Unfortunate proof that I probably started getting things I didn’t want a lot sooner than I remember…   


Fast forward a couple of Christmas’ and you’ll find me as a 12 year-old with the realization that this situation wasn’t going to get any better.   

I looked forward to receiving the JC Penny and Sears gift catalogs ever year so I could rip through the pages to tag everything I wanted only to be disappointed every year.   

Instead of the potato cannon… I got a “Build It Yourself Volcano”.   

Instead of the complete set of limited edition baseball cards… I got a “Learn How To Play Harmonica” kit.   

Instead of a Whoopie Cushion… I got a tent.   


SEE!  That’s a fake excited look on my face!  I don’t think that thing ever came out of the box!!  I love not camping.   

Maybe I just went through those magazines and highlighted what I wanted because I thought that somehow… just one time… I might get what I asked for.    

It never happened.   

In the Christmas of 1991, I honestly don’t remember what I had asked for… I just remember I didn’t get what I wanted.  Although, between my parents and my two brothers, there was some buzz that I was going to really like my main present.   


“Now make a silly face like you don’t know what it is.  You really don’t know what it is!?  Oh, you’re going to love it!” Said my mom…   

I was told to keep from opening it until all the other presents had been opened and by the time we ritualistically went around the room methodically opening each present… I was chomping at the bit to see what this thing was.   

I pushed aside the cassette tape holders and magnet game to make room for myself as I tore off the wrapping paper.  Once the paper lay on the ground and the revealed present rested in my arms, the small audience in our living room sat ready for the moment when my brain finally registered what it was that I was holding in my hands.    

That moment didn’t come.   


“Uhhhh… what the hell is this?”  I said as I let it dangle precariously from my thumb and index finger.  My dad’s sphincter tightened so fast it left a hole in his lounge chair.   

My mom finally filled in the blank, “It’s a metal detector”.   

 “Oh”. I said.   

The first thing that came to my mind was: “I didn’t ask for this… but it’s still actually kinda cool!”  I had never operated a metal detector before but the possibilities of things you might be able to discover on our 300 acres were endless!  I was excited to get out and try out my new “toy”.   


In case you didn’t notice… I’m holding it backwards.  Stupid idiot kid.  

My dad, my brother and I got out that afternoon to see what we might be able to discover hidden beneath the surface across the seemingly endless expanse of farmland on which we lived.  My dad took the opportunity to operate the metal detector while my brother and I dug out the “hot spots” that indicated there might be gold bullions, civil war weapons or buried pirate treasure.  

We hunted for several hours and came up with nothing more than rusted pieces of unintelligible metal.  I never got to operate “my” Christmas present that day.  My dad kept it close to himself.  I felt his apprehension in letting me “carelessly” operate this expensive piece of futuristic technology.  He wanted to protect his “investment”… if only for a little while longer.   

My brother and I went out with it again a couple days later without my dad and actually managed to dig up a 1918 wheat penny… not a valuable find by any means but my mind could go a thousand different places on how it wound up in our wheat field.   

Once again, I was reduced to digging duty while my much older and more responsible brother was given the task of protecting the metal detector from me.  I really wasn’t even allowed to look at it.  Touching it was really out of the question!   

Snow and ice then sidelined our treasure hunting for several weeks.  It was far too bitter cold to endure digging through frozen dirt only to find rusted metal and old tractor screws.   

It wasn’t until several more weeks after the weather had warmed up again before I contemplated taking out the metal detector again.  I went to the closet where I knew the detector was… only it wasn’t there.   

“Do you know where the metal detector is?” I asked my dad as he read the paper in his leather Norwegian chair in the corner of our living room.   

Without looking up from the Ponca City police blotter he said, “Well, you didn’t seem that interested in it so I used it as a trade chip to wallpaper the basement”.   

 is equal to    ??  

I can’t really tell you what hit my mind first but it was one of the following:   

–          “So… you traded MY present to wallpaper the basement without asking me!?”   

–          “I only got to use it twice because the weather was too cold!”   

–          “WTF!”   

–          “The only time you buy me a present I don’t ask for that I actually somewhat like you trade for WALLPAPER!!   

–          “I was THIS CLOSE to finding buried treasure!!”   

–          “I wonder how much tickets are to Canada because I may run away tonight!?”   

After a short discussion where an apology was never given for using what rightfully belonged to me as trade bait… I turned and walked to my room where I stared into space for about three hours.  I knew… somewhere in the deep inner recesses of my mind that this wasn’t normal.  I knew somewhere in the world… kids like me got what they asked for and didn’t get their presents exchanged for something as unexciting as wallpaper.   

So… my life went on.  I went through countless other gift giving situations where I was blessed to get badminton rackets with no net, a promise of a CD-ROM drive that never came to fruition, a book about the physics of baseball and other “gifts” my dad thought would stimulate my mind rather than corrupt me and turn me into the antichrist.   


By the time Bunny and I shared our first Christmas together I was so brainwashed into thinking that I was never going to get what I asked for.  When I actually did get what I wanted… I was stunned.    

My gift giving skills had been so locked away and rusted it took a real professional gift-giver like Bunny to help me uncover the gift giver extraordinaire that I am today.  It only took our first Christmas of me giving her crappy gifts to fix that problem.   

Postscript:  After writing this story I went out and bought probably the most Christmas presents I have ever bought for Bunny and DLG.  I was at the mall for four hours and left with sore elbows and fingers that had been rubbed raw from the cheap rope holding the largest bags together that the stores could afford to give me.  I was tired and worn out… but extremely excited to see the joy in the eyes of those whom I had bought the gifts for once they’re unwrapped on Christmas morning.  Perhaps the memories of what I had written were fresh in my mind and I was prepared to crush any inkling of doubt I had that I was a gift buyer like my father.   

Postscript #2:  For all my fathers faults at horrible gift giving and other various and sundry things, let me just say that I love him very much.  Despite the fact that he gave away probably the best gift he ever succeeded in buying me… he did A LOT monetarily for me (college, supplemental college spending money spent on books and booze, insurance, etc.) and for that I am extremely grateful.  The man just didn’t understand the concept of giving someone a gift that THE OTHER PERSON wanted.   

Final Postscript:  Don’t leave me a comment about how presents are not the meaning of Christmas and I should have been happy just to have a roof over my head…I know that and I was.  You were probably one of those kids that got what they wanted anyway so shut it.  



He’s Out There

Now that you’re a regular reader of mine and I’ve got you pulled into my world of talking about random crap like boobies, beer, Megan Fox, my wife’s boudoir photographs and any other number of inappropriate things… I want to talk about something of substance for a moment: God.

My relationship with Him has been a rather incredible journey that I feel will only continue to hit its low moments and its high moments until I gasp my final Earthly breath (hopefully) many years from now.

It’s a funny thing having a relationship with an entity you cannot see, hear or touch.  In fact, as I wrote that sentence it seemed a little ridiculous.  What you may not know though is if you are an atheist, agnostic or struggling Christian… God may be a lot closer than you may think… you’re just so used to looking at things through your desensitized eyes

We’re bombarded constantly with TV shows, celebrities, books, magazines, etc. pushing the idea that pure chance created our world, our bodies, our environment, our brains and our ability to differentiate between right and wrong and on and on.  Science, with all its positive uses, has slowly and methodically given people a reason to doubt His existence.  Sadly, I am a piece of what the world has become.  I am in the middle of the sea of Earth’s population looking heavenward for a sign that God truly exists so I may rejoice in the fact that they were all wrong… and I was oh so right.  Unfortunately, I don’t think the face of God will appear in the sky or flames will consume Mount Everest.  Since this does not happen… all non believers will roll their eyes at me, shake their heads and continue living their life with the notion that when they die… they just die, or some other ill-conceived notion conceived from our tiny, pea sized intelligence.

But why do we need a sign of such insignificance?  Why does God need to do something as simple as write in the sky when he’s created the human reproductive system that gives you children from nothing!  Did pure chance create this:

Daddy’s Little Girl: created by complete circumstance?  I think not.

A non believer would tell you “yes”…that in 8 billion years anything is possible.  But I have to disagree… a human reproductive system created from nothing is entirely impossible without some massive intelligence running the show.

Science can show us how we maybe could have been created by chance with the help of controlled environments, experiments, lab results, microscopic studies of the human DNA, etc. but… aren’t we just the “less superior” intelligence looking at all the pieces to the Master Craftsman’s ultimate creation?  If we can create something in a controlled environment aren’t we just the far less intelligent creator of our own little “world”?  How ridiculous is it to think that if we can create something in a controlled environment… that it suddenly implies that it would happen entirely by chance in the real world?  If a bag of trash shows up in my back yard… I’m going to assume that some asshole dumped it there… not that it materialized all by itself!  And that’s just a bag of trash… not a human reproductive system (at least I hope one’s not in there).

Point being… we are completely incapable of seeing the “big picture”.  We are so focused on ourselves and the things that God doesn’t do we can’t see Him right in front of us!

Some common utterances:

“Chris, what about 9/11?  Where was God then?”

“Why is there disease?  If God really cared there’d be no disease.”

“What about all the innocent children kidnapped and murdered by unstable freaks?  Seeing that stuff makes me doubt there is a God.”

All of these are good questions and questions that should be explored before embarking on a relationship with Him. 

These are all horrible things.  And from the depths of my piece-of-corn sized brain I cannot 100% answer your question as to “why”.  But what I do know is that we live in a fallen world.  We made the decision long ago for God to take a back seat and He has obliged us in our choice.  Thus, we know how much He loves us.  Despite his longing for us to come home He allows us to see for ourselves what life without Him is like.

And let me tell you people… have you seen the world lately?  We’re not doing so well on our own.  Through the centuries we’ve continued to fall more and more away until God has turned into an undistinguishable blur on the forefront of our brain that continues to whisper to us time and time again only for us to push it aside for the next immediate satisfaction.

I’m convinced the supernatural God is right in front of us.  But that’s exactly what he is: supernatural.  Since we’re vastly far from being supernatural ourselves, the idea that there’s actually something there is completely preposterous to most.  It may be a good thing we can’t actually see God come to think of it because I’m sure the creator of the universe looks vastly different from anything we could conceive in our minds eyes.  Pooping your pants would be the least of your worries.

In closing, I’m the furthest thing from perfect… drastically far from it in fact I’m sorry to say.  Some might even say that I’m a sinner… to which I would say “yes, I am”.  But I know where I came from.  I know where my wife came from.  I know where my daughter came from.  I know that when I do something wrong… I feel guilt and I repent.  Because of this, I know that one day… it’ll be my time to go and I probably won’t be ready… my OCD won’t let me.  But in my heart of hearts, I know there’s an incredible place beyond the realm of human understanding that not even though most brilliant minds that have walked this Earth would be able to conceive.  There will be no OCD, there will be no struggle for power, there will be no pain and there will be no more questions.  I really don’t know what there will be… but just knowing what isn’t there… is enough reason for me not to explore the question any further.

God bless you… whether you want to believe it or not.

What Are We Going To Do!!!

I just realized something.  It’s going to be 2010 in several weeks.  For the past 10 years, we’ve been wearing glasses for New Years parties that look something like this:

2008glasses.jpg image by davidd1

Or this…

Now that one of the eye holes is going to have a “1” in it instead of a “0”… what kind of fun glasses are we going to be able to wear?  I can’t see your eyes being in both the zeroes while the “1” is planted right between your eyes!  Something like this:

That would look weird and you’d get all off-balance with most of the weight of the glasses shifted to the right side of your face.  I believe this massive difference of weight on partiers faces, coupled with whatever mixture of Southern Comfort, Ecstasy, Keystone Light and buffalo wings they have in their system may cause a mass riot in Times Square during the New Years celebration.  I’m staying home! 

What about the companies that made these “2007”, “2008” and “2009” glasses?  Are they going to go out of business?  I would assume that those glasses probably sold out and accounted for a huge profit.

Forget all the hype around 2012… we need to be preparing ourselves for the mass hysteria that will be known as “The Massive Weight Shift Caused By The ‘2’ On One Side Of The Celebratory Glasses That Read ‘2010’ And The Absence Of Equal Weight On The Other Side Of The Glasses Worn During The New Years Celebration Causing Mass Chaos In The Streets Of New York City”… or “The Worlds Dumbest Riot” for short.