Friday musings

Holy Hoffmania. Here is a fabulous link about America’s living legend.

The new season of “Lost” hasn’t even started and I am already pissed. The third season starts October 4, runs 6 episodes, and then disappears until January. Does Mr. Shife need to choke a bitch? I wish they would just follow the format of 24 and start in January and just run non-stop episodes until May. Here’s a link if you want more info.

Ever watch “The Colbert Report?” Better Know a District is one of the recurring segments on the show. It offers a humorous explanation of a different Congressional district in each segment and includes an interview with that district's member of Congress. Last night (7/20) Colbert interviewed Robert Wexler from Florida’s Fightin’ 19th. Well Colbert always asks these political figures loaded questions and usually portrays them in a horrible light. Last night was no different as he got Wexler to admit he liked cocaine and hookers. Wexler is running uncontested in November so Colbert said let’s pretend what you could say that would totally derail your campaign and ruin your chances if you were running against someone. So he told Wexler to finish the following sentences, I enjoy cocaine because and I enjoy prostitutes because. It was awesome.

I heard two things last week that had me rolling.
I was flipping through channels and stopped for “The 40-Year-Old Virgin.” Steve Carrell’s character was talking about how a girl he met at the speed dating was “hurtin’ for a squirtin.”
And on last week’s episode of “Entourage” Ari told his staff to find Drama a job, any job. He provided an example of the type of work he deemed acceptable – a porn shoot where he was getting gang raped by a gaggle of silver-backed apes.

Have a good one.

The danger of pleated pants and other shenanigans

Wow, it has been a while. Almost three months as a matter of fact. Not that you have been counting or anything. But here I am ready to embarrass myself one more time by sharing some interesting anecdotes from my so-called life.
I sincerely hope it will not be another three months before I post something original but for now let’s just take it one blog entry at a time.

First incident: Pleated pants.
Let’s just say it is not a good idea to wear pleated pants around strange women.
Who knew a crisp blend of cotton and polyester could be so wicked?
Basically when you are sitting down in these dastardly trousers the groin area RISES to the occasion. It is like a pop-up book. And on page 12 Little Johnny sports wood.
No shit they are an easy-wearing, relaxed fit!!!! It looks like you just sprouted a frickin’ oak tree in your pants.
Who the heck tailored these pantaloons? Viagra?
I feel like an effin’ pervert every time I have a meeting. I look down and whammo, it is Erection Planet.

Second incident: Losing my hearing.
Recently took a road trip with Mrs. Shife. She was enjoying a book on tape on CD and I was watching a DVD. I guess I should mention that she was driving.
Anyway, since I am about 95% deaf in my left ear, she can change the stereo’s balance to the left side and listen to it as loud as she wants. I can hardly hear it since I am watching my movie with headphones on and did I mention that I am about 95% deaf in my left ear.
Fast forward about a week and I am in the car cruising home after work. I just downloaded some new stuff, The Shins and Black Stone Cherry, and I am ready to rock out with my slightly sender yet effervescent cock out. So I turn on the radio, turn on the iPod, and I am ready to … Hey, what’s going on here? This sounds like shit. I can hear it but not real well. I crank up the stereo. I crank up the volume on the iPod. And I can hear it, but it still sounds like crap. All I am thinking is that my hearing is getting worse. I am getting old. First the gray pubic hair (note: I only said hair, not hairs) and now the original surround sound is starting to suck even more.
Yep, about halfway home I realized that stereo balance was still all the way to the left, my deaf side, and that is why the music sounded like crapola.

Third incident: Holy crap.
I actually plan a bowel movement during my day at work. I go in there, take care of business, and maybe do some light reading. It is good way to unwind and get some peace and quiet. Unless some other butt hole shows up to drop off a payload, and then I need to wrap things up. I just don’t like crapping next to someone if I can avoid it. My noises are fine, but listening to Shitter McGavin next to me is not high on my favorite activities list. The thought of dumping at the airport is almost nightmarish. OK, on with the story. I was busier than a bull’s ass during fly season at work yesterday. I had like a Kit Kat and a Diet Coke for lunch. So the previously scheduled poo was postponed. I head home and maybe my butt has been trained and is used to crapping at work because I felt no urge to go at home. I wake up late, and as I was rushing out of the house to get to work on time I felt the ache. The abdominal pain. Sweat beads forming on the forehead. The clenching of the cheeks to keep the levees from breaking. Oh the humanity. The turds were honking for the right of way. Can I shit in my cup holder and still drive the car? I race to work, run up the stairs, kick open the door to the bathroom, and as soon as my bare ass touched that seat it was like a shit grenade went off. It was a fecal explosion. Poo pandemonium. The water even splashed up and got my butt wet. It was horrible. So the moral of this story is don’t have a crappy day.


And I took off my Comments link, but if you want to say hi just send an email to mrshife@yahoo.com. Have a lovely day.