Monthly Archives: March 2010

Oldie But A Goodie: The Chris 2.0


I’m at a point where I’m at a loss for words.  I gotta lotta crap going on.  So… I’m delving into the “Virtual Hugs” archive and re-posting one of my more favorite posts.  Enjoy…

————————————————————————————-

After years of pouring over designs, schematics, drawings, prototypes, etc…. I have finally finished what is going to make me millions:  a completely functional, lifelike android of myself.  Ladies and Gentlemen… meet “The Chris 2.0”

Front side of the Chris 2.0

Back side of the Chris 2.0

I originally came up with the idea for an android of myself when Bunny wanted to watch “The Man in the Moon” and I thought, “Wouldn’t it be cool if I had an android of myself to watch this movie with Bunny while I did something else!”

Viola!  The idea for Chris 2.0 was born.

The Chris 2.0 is a completely “green” product made from recycled materials like aluminum cans (inner workings, wires, protective coating underneath “skin”, etc.), plastic bottles (fingernails, toe nails, etc.), newspaper (clothes, body hair, etc.), old computers, glass (eyes), beer koozies (skin) and every copy I could find of “The Blind Watchmaker” and “The Secret” (glute padding).

The Chris 2.0 is not only an environmentally friendly product by means of what he’s made of but because he also does not run on fossil fuels.  Simply plug him into a wall outlet with his charging cable (sold separately) overnight and he will be completely charged for you in the morning.  Chris 2.0’s  outlet for charging is located in his left ear.

Chris 2.0 is easily stored in the corner because he stands upright and doesn’t take up a lot of square footage

To keep the Chris 2.0 completely lubricated you do not need to worry about keeping his zerts squirted with grease like your Dads old Kubota tractor.  Instead… simply supply the Chris 2.0 with a can of Sprite twice a day and he will run smoothly.

Chris 2.0’s inability to swallow the Sprite is a minor defect in my design.  For this reason he has to lay on the floor to absorb the Sprite.  Hopefully this kink will be worked out by the time Chris 3.0 (due out next year) is completed.

One of the many fine details of Chris 2.0 is that he is equipped with as many as 100 different facial features.  Some of these are:

Happy,

Sleepy (probably needs to be charged),

Suspicious,

and Confused.

Chris 2.0 can also be dressed in regular clothes… sort of like a full size Ken doll.  Or if you prefer him to wear no clothes at all that is an option.  Chris 2.0 is anatomically correct in every way.

Chris 2.0 in his Texas Rangers attire: a perfect friend to take to the game!

Chris 2.0 in his cold weather clothes and ready to shovel the sidewalk (“shovel the sidewalk” app only $2.99, see website below)

Chris 2.0 has been programmed to complete basic applications from the most menial to the most complex.  All of these tasks can be completed while you sit on the couch and watch “The Real World season 92”, “Rock of Love Bus season 11”, “The Bachelor season 114”, or “When Animals Attack episode 444”. 

A newly purchased Chris 2.0 comes with five basic applications (run vacuum, clean cat litter box, make bed, iron clothes and pick up dog crap).  If you want your Chris 2.0 to complete more tasks, you can purchase them at the Chris 2.0 online app store.  These applications can be anything as simple as playing “patty cake” with your kid or making pancakes to something complicated like flying a jumbo jet or cutting through the space time continuum.

Once your Chris 2.0 is downloaded with a certain application he will be ready to perform that application when he is simply told to do so.

Chris 2.0 cleaning a cat litter box

Chris 2.0 vacuuming the floor

Chris 2.0 flying a jumbo jet

Just in case you’re worried about Chris 2.0 developing an independent will aside from what he is programmed to do… don’t worry.  The casing of his brain is made from a leftover aluminum tin can of garlic spaghetti sauce I found in the trash so if he starts to develop an independent will it would not be hard to remove his tin can brain with a golf club, baseball bat or a shotgun.

Chris 2.0 was designed for the working man.  I didn’t have plans of developing him in small quantities for only the massively wealthy.  If you own an iPhone or Playstation 3… then you too can own a Chris 2.0.  The fact that Chris 2.0 is made completely from recycled products makes him available for the low low price of only 399.99!  Or six monthly payments of $67.  Or twelve monthly payments of $34.

Don’t let the opportunity pass you buy to purchase a Chris 2.0 today.  He’s fun, affordable and attractive.

Call 1-800-BUY-CHRIS20 or visit our online shopping center at www.chris20

All major credit cards accepted.

Chris 2.0 says “Thumbs Up!!  Yeah!!”

 ————————————————————

I’ll have new material tomorrow or the next day… gimme a break now….

 

Daddy’s Gonna Raise Him A Baseball Girl!


So I’ve been waiting for a moment when I could meld a photo of DLG with this photo of myself:

Little did anyone know on the field that day that I stood there… destined to become an all-conference HONORABLE MENTION in 6A baseball for the state of Oklahoma in 1996, 1997 AND 1998!!  Take that Stephen Strasburg (signed a $15 gazillion contract right out of college last year if you don’t know).

Well… the other day a buddy of mine came over with his five year old who had just gotten out of T-ball practice and I snapped this pic of DLG:

So… there’s a little bit of an age gap between my picture and hers… but who cares? 

Okay maybe you… but you don’t count.

If DLG had been a little boy… I’d already be carefully training her hand-eye coordination, strengthening her rotator cuff and plastered her room with baseball images.  But alas… she is not of male origin.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I can still teach all the rules of the game.  There’s nothing cooler than a girl who knows more about baseball than most dudes.

Also, if she marries a pro baseball player… I could get season tickets for free!

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm….

————————————

One week until the baseball season starts… who else is excited?  And who isn’t?

Who Wants To See My Junk?


No you perv… I’m not talking about my testicles!!  You think I’m some kind of freakin’ freak?  I’m talking about all the junk cleverly hidden all throughout our house!

Weirdo.  What kind of blog do you think I’m running here?

Anyway, back before DLG was born, Bunny and I decided to clean out each and every nook and cranny of our house in preparation for the arrival of our little one.  We meticulously scoured every room, every closet, every drawer and every cabinet of our house and successfully gathered enough crap to acquire $350 worth of cash at our garage sale.

That was almost two years ago.

We need another one.

How does this happen?  We’re not particularly “rich folk” that squander our money on golden shoelaces and diamond-rimmed Styrofoam cups.  We buy block cheese… only them “rich folk” can afford that “shredded kind”.  We don’t buy “Post-It Notes”… we buy “Post ‘Em Notes”, the bastard child of the “Post” family.

You’ll know you’ve “made it” when you can afford this stuff on a regular basis.  Us normal folk have to shred it ourselves.

Yes somehow we manage to accumulate “stuff”.  While it may not appear if you walked into our house that we were particularly cluttered (and we’re not), then you haven’t opened a closet door, a drawer or gotten brave enough to look in our attic (God save us all).  In fact I don’t know if “accumulate” is the correct word… we “absorb” stuff… kind of like “The Blob”.

I sure am using quotations a lot in this post… kinda like Chris Farley… loved him…

Gone far too soon…

Anyway… we absorb things because while it outwardly may seem we’re pretty clean people we actually just do a very good job of keeping things out of sight and consequently… out of mind.

Kind of like the booger I just wiped into the deep inner recesses of our couch.

One of the things on my “to do” list this summer is to clean out my attic:

An unassuming door, the tip of the iceberg, the whole kit and kaboodle

If you don’t hear from me in several days… I’ve been eaten by the giant rats and spiders that have procreated in this virtual megatropolis for the vermin I can only most closely relate to the spawn of the devil.

Wish me luck.  I’m goin’ in (some day).

I’m A Simple Man


Several months ago for my birthday, my beautiful wife fulfilled my every fantasy and took some boudoir photographs for me which I eagerly filled up a picture album with.  I enjoy “reading” it from time to time… okay… all the time.

Unfortunately for her, I suffer from OCD tendencies, so I’m constantly obsessing about new things I can do with these pictures.  I wanted to get a poster of my favorite “pose” and hang it in the garage but haven’t been able to find a place that can blow up a large poster with very good resolution (yet… if you know of one let me know).  I thought about getting my favorite picture on a t-shirt… but I wouldn’t really be able to wear it out.  Then, after some internet research, I finally decided what item would be the least expensive yet most useful and fun:

Voila!  That would be bunny on a frosted beer mug.

I’d show you a closer image… but Bunny would smash me like a taco shell

I drink a few beers on the weekend and what would I rather have looking me in the eye while I’m drinking a beer than Bunny in lingerie? 

Absolutely nothing.

20 Questions


I’m thinking of an animal. 

  1. Is it a mammal?  Yes
  2. Is it bigger than a breadbasket? Sometimes
  3. Does it have fur?  Yes
  4. Can it be domesticated?  Yes
  5. Does it have a tail?  Yes
  6. Does it meow?  Yes
  7. Is it a cat?  No
  8. Uh… okay… does it fly? No
  9. Does it live in a cage?  No
  10.  Does it bark?  No
  11.  Does it use a litter box?  Yes
  12.  It’s a cat!  That’s not a question but I’m counting it anyway
  13.  I don’t care… it’s a cat… what the hell else can it be?  Okay that was a question and the answer to it is “lots of things”.
  14.  You’re stupid.  Okay that was unnecessary and that still counts as a question.
  15.  Can we go to the movies or something?  No.  Now that’s a question, but it’s not pertaining to this game we’re playing.
  16.   Fine!  Is it a whale?  NO!!  Quit being ridiculous.
  17.   Is it a lion?  You’re getting warmer but still no.  I’ll give you a hint… it’s in the “cat species”.
  18.   Uh… a cat?!  NO!  You’ve asked that twice already!  Why do you keep insisting it’s a cat?  I just said it’s in the “cat family”.
  19.  Okay… is it a Coyote?  That would be in the dog family… so no.  Last question.
  20.  Are you freakin’ daft?  What?  I don’t even know what that is?  If you had tried a little harder you might have guessed it.  I was thinking of a cat.

I’ve been saying it was a cat the whole time!

No you didn’t.

Uh… yes.  Yes I have.

The End.

I Imagine It Going Something Like This:


Believe it or not… I’ve never been in a (fist) fight.

No… I’m not a wussy.  I’ve just never been in the situation.  I like to think that my demeanor leads me to be the peacemaker more often than not.

But I’ve played out an entire scenario in my mind as if it was happening right before me.  It goes a little something like this:

I had made my way down the dark alley to try and shave a few minutes off the clock in an effort to get to work on time.  Before I could make it to the light at the other end of the alley, I was surrounded by seven shady looking dudes.

“Gimme your money”, belched the immensely fat ringleader whose massive face was adorned with a tribal tattoo, “Better yet, give us yo money and them fancy shoes you got!”

Several of the other gang-members lightly prodded me with their steel pipes and iron tubing all the while cackling at their newest catch of the day.

If only they had known what they were getting themselves into.

I quickly snatched one of the steel pipes that had been poking me for the last several seconds.  In one fluid chopping motion I forcefully laid claim to the skull of one of the gang-members.  Surprisingly, I clocked him atop his skull with such force, that his body began to separate into two pieces as if he were a vertically standing stick of butter being sliced in half by a samurai sword.

A mere second after I’d snatched the pipe… one gang-member had officially become two gang-members.  The only thing holding his left and right gang-member parts together were the jeans he’d been wearing far below his waste-line.  The blunt, rounded steel pipe could not cut through denim after making its way through human flesh and bone while bouncing off vital organs.

One down, six to go.

“Pauley V!” yelled the dude standing next to him.  “You’re going to pay for what you did to Pauley!” and he ran directly at me with his head lowered as if he were a battering ram.

I simply punched the top of this guy’s head and without much effort at all, telescoped his head inside the inner-workings of his rib cage.

Two down, five to go.

The other gang-members, sensing their rapidly diminishing group, decided to attack me in a much more formulated manner.  Three rushed me and I was forced to take the brunt of a few kicks and punches.  While two held me back, the third punched me about my person.

Gaining confidence at their ability to kick my ass, they made a costly mistake: they loosened their grip.

Given this advantage, I quickly reached inside the laughing mouth of the tool that had been punching me, grabbed his brain and ripped it back out through his mouth.

Three down, four to go.

Before the brain I was holding could stop pulsating, the two thugs who had held me down reached into their pants and pulled out their revolvers. 

Noticing the immediate danger of this, I grabbed one of the steel tubes that had used to previously prod me and bent it into a “U” shape.  As the shots were fired, I effectively caught the incoming bullets inside the tube which consequently turned the bullets around on the shooters.  They both fell to the dirty alley floor having shot each other in the face.

Five down, two to go.

Sensing this fight to be a losing battle, the face-tattooed ring leader started to run down the alley while saying “Shadrack… kill him so I can get away!!”

Shadrack appeared to be rather large, muscular Amazonian woman.

“Now it time to finish this silly game,” she said in broken English.

Shadrack then picked up an entire dumpster full of trash like it was nothing more than a bowl of cereal and tried so smash me with it.  With moves I learned while in the British Special Forces, I slid between her legs as she smashed the dumpster to the ground with such force it sent cracks deviating from the area the dumpster landed.  As she picked up the dumpster again and turned around for round two, I put all my force behind a roundhouse kick that sent her knee in the opposite direction of the way it normally bends.  As her knee continued to bend in this unnatural way, the weight of the dumpster helped shatter the femur and tibia en route to blowing the kneecap clean out of her shredded skin like a frisbee.

She screamed a scream I can only closely relate to a baboon scream and fell to the ground.  The dumpster fell on her head and smashed it like a ripe cantaloupe.  “Seeds” and roughage splattered the side walls of the alleyway. 

Six down, one to go.

The tattooed ring-leader of this newly minted “one man gang” was now near the end of the alleyway and about to make his escape from getting handed a one way ticket to hell. 

I once again grabbed another steel tube, this one still straight, not bent.  Once upon a time, I had thrown javelin for the US Olympic team… but that had been a while… and I wasn’t trying to hit a moving target.

Before “Face Tattoo” could break into the light that separated the alley way from  everything representing his freedom from me, I slung the steel tube with such force I could have sworn I tore something in my throwing arm.  The hollow tube whistled through the air and quickly found its mark.  It penetrated the ring-leaders back, right between his shoulder blades and made its way through the fat man’s person and produced a few feet of tube protruding through his chest.

He stopped several feet short of the light, turned around and looked at me.  He grabbed the tube and slowly and agonizingly pulled the tube from his body.  When the tube was extracted, a “core sample” of himself fell out of the tube and onto the ground.  Several inches of back fat, spinal cord, heart and sternum bone fell out of the tube and landed perfectly formed as you might see before you cut some Pillsbury sugar cookie dough from the grocery store.

Looked something like this… except without the wrapper, chocolate chips and sugary after-taste….

“Who… are… you?” he managed to say before collapsing on his core sample.

I shrugged my shoulders and laughed, “My name’s Phoenix… Phoenix Blade”.

Then I went to work… I got in trouble for being a couple minutes late.

Or something like that.

Times Are A-Changin’ (Again)


Preface:  I absolutely have no qualms with kids in day care at all.  Personally for us… it didn’t work so don’t think I’m judging anyone by the decisions they have to make.

It was almost a year ago when I wrote about Bunny’s transition from career woman to stay-at-home mommy.  I was initially opposed to the idea… having to survive off my income alone scared the crap out of me.  We had survived as a couple on dual income (or DINKs i.e. Dual Income No Kids) ever since we’d been together.  Now that a beautiful child was in the mix I couldn’t imagine how we would ever survive without two incomes.

Fortunately, the good Lord had us in his crosshairs. 

I was initially opposed.  I thought she should at least try to find another job.  “How are we going to survive without two FULL incomes!” I’d argue.  “Tons of kids go to day care every day and there’s nothing wrong with them!”

Through the tears welling up in her eyes, she would convey to me how much she hated leaving DLG with someone else.  It should be her responsibility to raise our child… not someone else.

My priorities were indeed all jacked up.

But they changed.

Bunny is with DLG every day and loves her in a way that no day care worker could ever convey.  Would DLG have received “love” from day care workers?  Yes… but it wouldn’t be mama’s love.  That is more precious than any salary.

My heart became increasingly softened to the idea as I watched DLG grow and become (what I truly believe) the most beautiful, most intelligent, most loving little girl in the world today.  She’s almost two now with the vocabulary to match most three year olds.  She can count to ten, sing part of her ABC’s, sing Yo Gabba Gabba songs, remember friends names and identify her mother’s boobs every time Daddy asks where they are (much to his amusement).

Tears of joy stream down my face in thanks to her for making me a believer.  I can’t believe I was ever opposed to her being a stay-at-home mom.  I was undeniably selfish.

It’s funny though how things have a way of working themselves out.

————————————————————————–

Bunny kept an open mind about working again: “If the right thing came along,” she’d say, “I’d maybe explore the possibility of going back to work.”

As it turns out, she’s a valuable commodity in the workaday world.

She was lead kicking and screaming down a path that resulted in an offer of a job making nearly twice what I make currently.  It was even in the line of work she aspired to be in before we’d even met each other!

I can’t tell you how many prayers, talks, sleepless nights, tears of anguish and refiguring numbers we’ve had between the two of us trying to make a decision on what to do.

We finally decided the opportunity was too good for her to pass up… especially in this economy. 

So, she will start her new job in a little more than a week.

DLG will not go to a day care.  We’ve hired a very nice nanny named Miranda after running her through a gauntlet of questions, checking her background, talking to her friends, following her home, having her spend the day with us and implanting a device in her brain so we can listen to her thoughts.

After everything I’ve said, you may be asking yourself, “Why?  I thought you wanted DLG to be with her mama?”

Well… I do… but after weeks in thought and prayer… we’ve both come to a realization that we’re being led somewhere in completely the opposite direction we had originally planned.

But you’ll have to wait until a later post to see what that is. 

In the meantime, you can keep my beautiful Bunny in your thoughts and prayers.  While for some, it may not seem that difficult to leave their kids in the hands of others… it is tearing Bunny to pieces.  My heart honestly breaks a thousand times over for her.  While the opportunities in this job are there for her to be involved with DLG more than any other job… she still feels like she’s abandoning her post earlier than she had planned. 

I assure her she is not.

There are not enough things I can say in this post about how proud of her I am.  She has been a wife and mother for the ages… and that will never change.

I love you honey.  Thanks for being my hot wife and DLG’s hot mommy.  Thanks for being with a “5” even though you’re a stunning “10”.

My Endorsement Of Someone Who Probably Doesn’t Need Endorsing


I’ve gotten addicted to Twitter lately (tweet me bitches!).  I’m not really sure why.  

Anyway, in my quest of following as many celebrities as I can and hopefully getting Kim Kardashian to “tweet me” I ran across one of my more favorite comedians: Rob Huebel. 

 I don’t get it… but that’s what makes it funny…

I became familiar with him on a sketch comedy show he and two other comedians did called “Human Giant”.

He’s not in this next one… but it was one of the funnier episodes I’d ever seen on the show:

I was also surprised as crap when Rob showed up in an Olive Garden commercial!!  Being completely serious!  I thought it was kind of a joke in itself… turns out… he got tricked!  According to his MySpace blog (oh how I wish I could find a video clip of it… but alas, I cannot).  I love he owns up to the fact that he looks and felt like a complete douchebag for doing the whole thing.

I get Robs random humor.  It’s weird and quirky.  I like to think of myself as a bit quirky… but after reading Robs stuff on Twitter I know I’ve got a long way to go.  A random sampling of some or Robs tweets:

Pearls are not made by keeping sand in your butt for a long time. Whoever started that rumor should be punished.

Someone above my hotel room is peeing hard right now. Or maybe it’s a ghost. A ghost who hasn’t peed in like 200 years makes more sense.

Sunset in Hawaii. Saw a whale jump out of the ocean. For real. Thought I heard him yell “check deeez baaaallllzz!”

I burned the roof of my mouth with faulty soup. Now it looks like that nazi’s melting face from ‘Raiders’.

Newsflash for all mannequins! You aren’t fooling anyone. We don’t think you’re humans so quit trying to trick us! Idiots.

I’m gonna work out everyday just to make one arm totally huge. And the other will be tiny. So I can look like a crab. But not as smart.

His Twitter profile page is the first page where I’ve looked through his history of tweets because they’re friggin’ hilarious.

His stuff reminds me of “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy” that used to run on Saturday Night Live during the late 90’s.

So here’s to Rob Huebel… funny guy.  Congratulations.

Wanna follow Rob’s hilarious tweets?  Click this phrase:  Scabs are a delicious and nutritious way to avoid getting AIDS.

Someone Out There Doesn’t Like Me


I think on every writer’s way to making themselves heard, and if they’re heard by enough people, they’re bound to piss someone off.

My brother, a far more AWESOME and HILARIOUS writer than me, used to write for the sports section of my hometown paper and would get irate coaches or pissed off parents scolding him for something he misquoted or kids name his misspelled.

Phillip Yancy, the author of “What’s So Amazing About Grace” (an excellent book I’m reading currently), is rather fearless in some of the questions he answers about spirituality and in turn… pisses off A LOT of people.

I’ve had disagreements and arguments as a result of some of the things I’ve written but no one has attacked me personally… up until recently.  I hadn’t been so “lucky” as to have someone write something oozing with hatred for me. 

If stirring the pot is indeed part of becoming a (somewhat) successful writer… then I guess I’m on my way!

Back before I changed to my current “Hands To War” blog… I was at “Virtual Hugs”.  I changed because I wanted a new start and quite frankly… the name “Virtual Hugs” was starting to just sound a little too sissy for me.  I still check Virtual Hugs from time to time to see what kind of attention it’s getting despite the fact it hasn’t been actively updated for a while.

The other day, I had two new comments on Virtual Hugs that needed to be moderated.  If you’re not a blog writer, then this means “someone new” has posted a comment about something you’ve written.  The comments were in response to an old post I’d written almost a year ago as part of a series I’d written about my tattoos and what they meant.  Felicia had this to say about my post:

Wow. You’re a jerk. I know the “dragon lady” and her “dragon man” very well . They are really kind people oh and before you talk about peoples “weight problem” you should take a look in the mirror you’re not that great yourself. I hope you’re tattoo fades. Rude ass.

Apparently she thought of some other things to say because she made a second comment:

Oh not only that how lame could you be? A blog about your tattoos. Puhlease you do not have works of art. Oh and congrats on the nautical star you’re like so original. Typical douche tattoo.

Of course, you’ll need to read this to know what she’s referring to when talking about the “dragon lady” and her “dragon man”.  Basically, the lady that gave me the tattoo was rather large as was her husband.  While, I admit, I probably could have omitted the part about how large they were, it still didn’t take away from the fact that (a) she did a great job on the lettering, (b) she did a crappy job on the crown (c) I got the tattoo in a double-wide trailer, and (d) I was understandably nervous at my surroundings.

I responded to her comments:

Hey Felicia, you’re right… I’m not that great myself… never claimed to be. I also never doubted that the dragon lady and dragon man are very kind people. The fact that dragon lady was so large has nothing to do with the fact she was a nice person.

Fact of the matter is… this is my forum to write and I can write about whatever the hell I want to write about. So if you don’t like it… don’t read it.

This is my old blog BTW. If you wanna make more hateful comments on my current stuff go to http://www.handstowar.wordpress.com

I’m guessing she was upset that I called the dragon lady and her husband “whales”… that is a derogatory comment and for that I apologize.  Perhaps I should have called them “gigantic”.  I’m sure if you asked them they would agree with me!  It certainly didn’t seem like they were in any hurry to lose weight judging by the way her husband lounged behind an empty pizza box and gnawed on Cheetos while watching “The Last Samurai”.

The dragon lady looked nothing like this… but she did tattoo me with a sword… okay maybe not… nothing in this picture represents my tattoo from her at all come to think of it

I certainly am not one to judge people and their problems because I have plenty of OCD, anxiety and depression problems that I skewer myself with often but I was just explaining things in my post “as I saw it”.  My impressions of their location and their physical appearance had nothing to do with the job she did or the kind of person she is.  Dragon Lady was indeed very nice as was her husband.  I have no problem with them as people and I’m sure they deal with their own demons as we all do every day.  But the fact remains, I wouldn’t recommend her if you wanted to get a tattoo and I would recommend her to move her shop out of her double wide and work on eating a little healthier if she wants to build her business.  I’m sure they’d both feel a lot better about themselves.  That’s not judging… it’s the truth and sometimes the truth hurts.

Also… while a nautical star tattoo may not be particularly unique, I don’t think it completely classifies me as a douche.  She obviously didn’t read the most recent post about all my newer tattoos either because they are decidedly unique and “non-douchey”.

The true mark of a douchebag I suppose

Okay… I’m done.

Happy St. Patty’s Day


You better be wearing green!  If you aren’t I’m going to come through your computer screen, a la “The Ring”, and tear your still beating heart from your ribcage!  Oh wait… I mean, I’ll pinch you.

With St. Patty’s Day (SPD) upon us, I’m reminded of the story behind why we are supposed to wear green on SPD.  It goes a little something like this:

Several hundred minutes ago, there was a midget-dwarf named Milfred.  Now, a midget dwarf is exponentially smaller than a midget AND a dwarf, so he was only about 10 inches tall.  Unless he wore his Barbie shoes… and then he was about 10 ½ inches.

Milfred loved the color green.  He lived inside a hollowed-out head of rotten cabbage with nothing but green furniture, green carpet, green clothes, green… everything!

One day, when he was on his way to Wal-Mart, he stepped out of the front door of his rotten cabbage house and was accidentally stepped on by a bum known only as “Captain Rubbish”. 

Unfortunately, he suffered several ruptured arteries, a broken neck, 13 broken ribs, a shattered femur, two ruptured lungs, a squished brain and a smashed flat small and large intestine.

He died instantly.

So we wear green in remembrance of Milfred, who loved the color green but was accidentally crushed by a giant bum named “Captain Rubbish”.

HAVE A GREAT ST. PATTY’S DAY!!!

Go drink your green beer now in memory of dear ol’ smashed Milfred