Random Acts of Shifeness

I do not recommend the diarrhea diet. I got a visit from the mud butt fairy on Wednesday and I am down almost eight pounds. Not sure what kind of bug I picked up but I have had enough of it and look forward to the situation getting solidified soon. 

Do you think it is a coincidence that my body had a severe case of the mudslides after my doctor told me that it would be good idea to cut back on my caffeine intake? I have been drinking copious amounts of caffeine since I was a teenager so my body might have been a little upset with the news. 

Tank got himself a new middle name. Kyle has been calling him Tank Elise. Why Elise? Well Kyle is related to someone with that middle name and thought it made a good combination with Tank. Mrs. Shife and I get a good chuckle every time we hear it because Tank is a fairly masculine name and Elise is not. 

School is out for summer. Kyle finished up his first year of pre-school and I am a little sad for selfish reasons. I kind of enjoyed that two-hour break twice a week from the big guy because I actually got some stuff done while he was gone. 

This quote from Jase on Duck Dynasty made me LOL: "There’s probably 12 women in the world, probably ex-cons, who look at me and say hey, yeah, that’s worth a shot."

Another quote I heard – and I would rather not say where because it is embarrassing to admit I watched this show – "Get the kids in the house. She's a shooter." Nothing funny about that, right? Because I have a dirty mind, I changed it to "Get the kids in the house. She's a squirter." in my head. I have watched too many episodes of "Californication." 

Hayden and Kyle doing some digging in the sand box.  Well it is only Kyle digging 

as Hayden took time out to pose for the camera. 

I will persevere. I will keep moving forward. I will be the stream. 

My Life as a Pugilist Part 2

I am a lover not a fighter.
I am not a big fan of fighting.
Maybe it is my temperament or the fact that I prefer my face the way it is.
Then again some people might think a few punches to my face might be an improvement.
But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do and sometimes that means you gotta fight.
I have been in two fights.
Last week was about fight #1.
This week is about fight #2.

To the best of my knowledge this is how the fight went down and I might have embellished a few facts but why should I let the truth get in the way of a good story.

Fight #2 - College

I was in my mid-20s when fight #2 occurred. I didn't start my university experience until I was 21 because I spent some time in the U.S. Navy. Despite what you have seen on TV shows and the movies, sailors did not spend all of their free time engaging in fisticuffs at strip clubs. Of course we were at strip clubs but we just didn't bother with the fighting part. The rumor was that Uncle Sammy would not be too happy if you got into trouble with civilians so that was good enough to keep me and my buddies out of trouble and not add to my fighting resume.

I was enjoying my summer vacation in Moscow, Idaho - where I also went to school at the University of Idaho - working a summer job to help pay for college and trying to have fun on the weekends, which usually involved spending more than a few hours at the downtown bars. A nice thing about Moscow in the summertime is that there are about 12,000 less college students in town so the bars are not packed but there are still enough people in town that the bars are not dead.

So one weekend towards the end of summer I was at a bar called John's Alley with a few of my fraternity brothers and a high school buddy of mine who came up for the weekend. It was getting late and the Alley was usually the last stop before you headed home to pass out on your hand-me down, beer-soiled and God only knows what else kind of stained couch.

The Alley had a fairly decent crowd because they had a live band playing and it turns out that people seem to enjoy live music. I know crazy, huh? The band was playing a lot of covers and since I was in the obnoxious stage of my drunk that evening, I proceeded to stand in front of them and yell "Play some Poison dude!" or whatever butt rock band I could think of that moment.

The band was not impressed with my requests but my drunken, unsavory behavior did attract an admirer. I drank myself many things in college but gay was never one of them. Probably helped that I never tried Schmitts Gay. However, I must have giving off the vibe that night because this dude would not leave me alone.

He kept dancing by me, trying to grind on me, and just seemed really interested in taking me home for who knows what kind of shenanigans. It was a little unsettling because the last thing I imagine I am sending out on a Friday or Saturday night is the "I want to go home with a strange dude" energy. I think my chakras might have been jammed.

I tell the Grinder to leave me alone and go dry hump a bar stool. I am sure there was nothing polite about the way I told him either as I more than likely used some derogatory words if I had to wager a guess. Every time the Grinder would try his "I am going to charm your pants off" dance he would bump me and cause me to spill the most precious of items I had at that moment, my beer, and that is where I had the biggest problem with the Grinder. I was like "I know I brought sexy back to this bar but hey, careful, man, there is a beverage here!"

This one-way game of seduction continued on for another five minutes or so before we went straight to DEFCON 1. All my friends are sitting at a table in the back of the bar but they can see everything that was happening, and they got the highlight of the night about one minute later.

The Grinder made a tactical error as he was approaching me for the 24th time. As he was flailing his arms around like an angry toddler who vehemently disagreed with the assessment that it was nap time, he caught my hand and proceeded to send my large, plastic tub of brew into the air and tumbling to its death on the floor of the bar.

The line was crossed and the Grinder just entered a world of pain.

I pushed the guy. Maybe time has not been kind to my memory of this evening's activities but I swear I pushed him so hard that he went sliding across the floor about 15 feet. Then I ran over, pounced on top of him, and recreated the scene from A Christmas Story when Ralphie gets in a fight with the bully then starts shouting profanities non-stop as he lands blow after blow to the squealing kid.

My friends rushed over and pulled me off the Grinder. Then we were escorted out of the bar by the bouncers. As we were walking home, my buddies gave me a hard time for beating up a gay guy. And my high school buddy told me when I mentioned this story to him again: "I do remember that. It was a relief to see you go to blows with that guy. Because at first, from a distance, it looked like you two were heading into the back for a different set of blows."

My friends were quite impressed with my fighting abilities so yay me, I guess.

Like I mentioned last week, every man has his breaking point and I found mine that night: keep your hands off my damn beer, man.








I will persevere. I will keep moving forward. I will be the stream.

My Life as a Pugilist Part 1

I am a lover not a fighter.
I am not a big fan of fighting.
Maybe it is my temperament or the fact that I prefer my face the way it is.
Then again some people might think a few punches to my face might be an improvement.
But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do and sometimes that means you gotta fight.
I have been in two fights.
This week is about fight #1.
Next week will be about fight #2.

To the best of my knowledge this is how the fight went down and I might have embellished a few facts but why should I let the truth get in the way of a good story.

Fight #1 - High School

After PE in high school we were required to shower before going to our next class.
It was not a big deal as most of us just hopped in and out real fast because it would be a shame to mess up our perfectly feathered hair because –– as I am sure most of you know –– the ladies could not resist the big and often stiff hair wings on the side of a teenager's head.

I occasionally spot that endangered feathered hairstyle at a state fair. It takes me back. And reminds me to never, ever do that again.

Back to the story.

Now the PE locker room is small.
A community shower, two urinals, two sinks, a toilet stall and a few lockers.
The lockers were not too big and stacked on top of each other with a wooden bench that you had to share with a few other guys that were near your locker.

The problem with the bench is that when you were facing your locker there could be a guy behind you going to his locker, and you are not exactly sure what that dude is doing.
I mean you could know but then you would look like a pervert if you turn around and he is undressing or dressing or even worse ... nude.
Then you are staring at his bunghole or even worse ... his penis.
A dude looking like he was checking out people's junk is not the best way to become the popular kid.
Your eyes were staring straight ahead and focused on your locker like you were Luke Skywalker readying to fire his proton torpedoes at the exhaust port to destroy the Death Star.

I had the misfortune of being near the locker of a guy who was a pretty healthy boy if you know what I mean. Besides shopping at the husky section at Sears, he also got quite sweaty during PE so he was one of the few that spent more than a few seconds in the shower.
He was also for some reason not ashamed of his body.
He would walk from the shower naked and then hang out in front of his locker room dripping water and letting it all hang out.
Yes it was as awful as it sounds.
Then he made it even more awful.
Have you seen one of those National Geographic specials where a big old bear comes out of an Alaskan river and shakes himself dry?

I guess furry mammals can shake themselves 70 percent dry in just a fraction of a second.
Well lucky me got to witness that awesomeness live as this is what my locker buddy did in our area.

If that wasn't enough to get me to throw blows, he also had the wonderfully pleasant habit of rubbing his bare, wet ass on my back. Again there is not a lot of space in the locker room especially when you are changing your clothes and trying to get ready for your next class. At this point I don't think it was on purpose. He just did not realize how much space his rear end occupied.

I politely asked Chub Chub to knock it off because I really did not enjoy snuggling with his butt and that the last time I checked I was not a yellow hibiscus that was in desperate need of water.

He obliged.

For a long time everything was cool between us, but all good things must come to an end.
I am not sure what set him off. If I had to wager a guess I would say it was probably me being a jerk and making fun of him outside of PE class.

Plop. Plop.
I heard the big sloppy, drenched footprints heading my way.
Plop. Plop.
But we were cool.
There is no way he is going to.
Right?
Wrong.
He jiggled himself dry like a pregnant hippo that just hopped out of Lake Tanganyika.
Then I felt it again and I certainly had not missed it.
A super-sized absolutely nauseating version of a wet willie.
A wet, hairy butt sliding across my bare back.
I was just sitting on the bench in my towel getting ready to put my clothes on.
Now I was just assaulted by someone's completely saturated buttocks.
I was beyond pissed.
I just jumped up and started punching.
He was naked.
I was naked.
We were recreating scenes from the HBO show Oz before anyone knew about Oz.
He got a few shots in and so did I before we were separated and told to get dressed then head down to the principal's office.
If the fight had to go to the judges I think I would have won a majority decision.
Chub Chub was without a doubt shocked that I went after him because it just wasn't my personality but he never, ever tried to pull anything like that with me again.
Every man has his breaking point and I found mine that day: keep your wet, hairy buns to yourself.







I will persevere. I will keep moving forward. I will be the stream.

Random Acts of Shifeness

I was informed by Kyle this week that he didn't love me because I didn't let him have everything he wants. He is really going to be upset when he finds out that I water down his juice. =) 

He also told Tank that he didn't love him because he was not wearing his collar and therefore naked. It is a hard knock life for dogs who like to shed their collars and just be free in the Shifley household.

Kyle told me a joke. I am sure he picked it up from one of his cartoons but he told it perfectly and it made me laugh. Why do birds fly south for the winter? Because it is too far to walk. 

He told me another one today: Why do chickens sit on their eggs? Because they don't have chairs. 

I never thought I would complain about 9 pm softball games but they are rough especially if I have to get up early with the little ones the next morning. I have been doing a lot of stretching and coke to help me feel better in the morning. Just kidding. I don't do any stretching. =) 

In case you are worried, I have not starting doing coke either. I never had an interest in the hardcore drugs. I just knew it was not my thing and didn't need to try any of them to find out. Sometimes you have to go with you gut on things. I have never had a dominatrix squish my testicles with high heels but again I know me, and me doesn't need to experience that to know I would not like it. 

Recently watched "Fight Club" again. Great movie. For some reason this quote by Tyler Durden was stuck in my head today: "Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken."

I don't watch "Jeopardy" at all anymore but I would definitely turn on the tube if they had a category called The Right to Bear Little Arms and all the answers were movies that had a T-Rex or two in it. 

Happy Mother's Day to all you fabulous and wonderful ladies out there. You are awesome especially the mother of my two amazing little kiddos, Mrs. Shife. 

Kyle tearing it up on on his tricycle at his pre-school. And yes he is wearing a "Cars" bicycle helmet in case you were wondering. He was glad that it had Lightning McQueen on it but it was more important to him that his helmet was red - his favorite color. 

New and Improved?

Some of you might remember this story from a very long time ago. It is about me, my sister-in-law, and white thong underwear. The story helped inspire part of my book title, and it was also in the query letter I sent to agents. Here it is, and I hope you like the new and improved version. =) 

There are a few certainties in life. Death, taxes and you can be certain that I was not the inspiration for Sisqo’s, “Thong Song.”

Trust me on this one but just in case, here is the proof. 

My wife was going out of town for the weekend with her sister. The plan was for me to meet her at lunch time so we could switch cars. Her sister was also meeting my wife at our house. 

I was the first to arrive at our humble abode, and since I was not going to see my lovely wife all weekend, I wanted to make her laugh. I knew exactly what I needed to do to make that happen. 

It was buried deep, deep in my panty drawer. The 100% cotton masterpiece: a white thong. Don’t ask me how this banana hammock came into my possession, possibly a late night Amazon.com purchase fueled by alcohol. They really need breathalyzers on computers. But I swear I have never worn it or even had the faintest of desires to wear it. Until that day. 

I throw it on, and any manly feelings I had were tossed out the window. Nothing about wearing these plum smugglers makes you feel sexy, at least to me. I even tried doing my “I’m sexy and I know it” dance. I think it ended up more like the “I’m not having sex with anyone but myself tonight” dance. Meanwhile, I’m completely oblivious to the fact that my wife’s sister arrived. She saw the vehicle in the driveway and thought my wife was already home. So she comes in and is hanging out in the TV room.

And cue the phone ringing. 

I head out of the bedroom, down the hall, take a right past the laundry room, and walk into the TV room to get the phone and there was my poor sister-in-law. Expecting to see her sister, instead she almost got the full monty from her brother-in-law. I imagined that I looked like Mark Wahlberg in a Calvin Klein ad. However, the look on her face told me she really thought I resembled Larry the Cable Guy smuggling a few brown velvet chinchillas in my undies. I’m sure it was even more so when I turned around to scurry back down the hall with my pride tucked in between that small strip of cotton and my butt crack. 

Yep, that’s exactly what was needed to make me feel closer to my sister-in-law: Have her see me with a piece of string up my ass — a vision no amount of alcohol or drugs can ever erase.

This is what Little Miss Hayden looks like after she nearly eats herself into a coma. 

I will persevere. I will keep moving forward. I will be the stream.