“I wanted a new leg, and all I got was this lousy anus.”

March 19, 2008

You’ve probably already heard about the poor woman who went in for a leg operation and got a sphincter switch instead.


  1. If she likes the new butthole, does she get to keep it?
  2. How much does a new butthole cost?
  3. Where is the butthole store (and I don’t mean Wal-Mart)?
  4. Did they cut the tags? I’ll bet they didn’t even cut the tags.
  5. How awkward was it in the operating room when they realized their mistake?
  6. Will the court members be able to stop giggling at the malpractice trial?
  7. Will the woman’s lawyer tell the jury the difference between a leg and an asshole?
  8. Will she have to drop trou in front of the jury, so they can see the new one sparkle?

Really, folks, it’s not funny at all . . .


You Can Still Fart in America

February 7, 2008

farting-preacher.jpgAlas, the rumors aren’t true.

It was reported that Camden-Rockport Middle School had banned intentional flatulence, which is properly defined as “flatus expelled through the anus” and that intentional farting could result in detention. However, Principal Maria Libby says that there is no new school policy on blowing ass, although she admits that “farting can still be considered a disruption.”

Says student Jordan Taylor: “They [eighth-grade students] would do it [heiney honk] in science class and other places. It’s a natural occurrence, and we all do it 16 times a day.” Hey, maybe you only do it 16 times a day, my little eighth-grade leprechaun, but a real man does it 16 times an hour.

One student expressed mixed feelings as to whether or not the public fart show was appropriate. Mixed feelings? If delivering a butt burp were ever appropriate, it wouldn’t be funny.

“Remy LeVine said he was in the class when CRMS science teacher Brad LaRoche talked to all the eighth-grade boys about the issue, as well as the consequences.”

Oh, I’ll bet that meeting was a hoot . . . or was it a toot?

Sexual or Excretory . . . That is the Question.

January 26, 2008

The FCC is always good for a chuckle. They are proposing a $1.4 million dollar fine against ABC affiliates because a woman’s tushie appeared on TV nearly five years ago. Apparently, the “NYPD Blue” episode showed “multiple, close-up views of a woman’s naked buttocks.” (Netflix, here I come.)

Apparently, the debate is over the exact status of a woman’s ass. Is it an excretory or sexual organ? ABC argues that the tookas is not a sexual organ. The FCC disagrees, which makes you wonder what they’re doing at the Christmas party.

So, let the debate begin. Is the booty an excretory or sexual organ???

Or both??

Firming Up the Gluteal

September 10, 2007

Women are paying more attention to our butts, fellas. Some of the top-of-the-line bottom treatments include: scar and hair removal, “butt therapy,” hip reduction, hip implants, fat reduction and removal of chicken pox scars . . . .

Or, you could shave your own ass, stop scratching your butt when you have chicken pox and do a few lunges.

Next patient, please.

Spandex Fetishism

September 14, 2006
  • A bumpersticker I saw yesterday: Hell . . . it ain’t the heat, it’s the humidity. Hmm, didn’t know that.
  • Words of profound wisdom from Larry the Cable guy: “The Lord Jesus died for my sins, and if I ain’t sinnin’, then he died in vain.”
  • If you work in a parking garage, I have a tip: If I’m pulling into the garage, you don’t need to wave me in. I’m okay.
  • I suddenly realized that even though I could name a lot of people that Justin Timberlake has dated, I have never heard him sing. Does he sound like a girl? ‘Cause that’s probably why.
  • Does anyone else find themselves lost in Wikipedia? The other day I spent two hours reading up on pro wrestlers I used to watch as a kid. I certainly don’t watch wrestling anymore, but I couldn’t stop myself from finding out what happened to Junkyard Dog (he’s dead). Anyway, when you’re wandering through Wikipedia, you never know where you’re going to end up. You might, say, stumble across an article on spandex fetishism. You’re welcome.
  • I need to keep a parenting journal. The girls are saying and doing so many cool things, I keep thinking to myself, “I’ve gotta remember that!” Why is it that in order to fully appreciate a moment, you have to be acutely aware that the moment is going to end?
  • Last night I finished the first draft of my second screenplay. I feel pretty damned good about this one. It’s nice to finally feel like life is pushing you down a clear path. Of course, the odds are ridiculously long, but it’s all been a refreshing change of pace.
  • I became unbelievably aroused looking at this. I know some of you will, too.
  • It suddenly occurred to me that next month is Halloween. Now I’m giddy. I’m thinking about being a fat Elvis this year. Not sure. All I know is that it’s the most wonderful time of the year. Vampires, werewolves, witches, goblins, dank dungeons, misty woods, ah . . . I’m alive again.

Have we not heard the bells at midnight?

J.K. Rowling Has a Nice Ass

August 25, 2006

  • Got your attention, eh? Well, what is your first reaction to this pic?
  • It’s nice to see some things don’t change. While watching Mr. Rogers with my girls, he came through the door, singing his theme song like always, changing his shoes and into his sweater, then said, “Hi, neighbor, I’ve been thinking about zippers today.” Me, too, Fred. Me, too.
  • A botched sewer line repair caused sewage to back up into an Omaha woman’s home. Here is what she had to say, as quoted in full in the news account: I came downstairs and this seat was full of poop. It smells really bad. He put his snake through this here pole. As he was doing that big turds of poop was coming of this drain.
  • This evening, a young lady came to the door. All she wanted, she said, was my opinion on some products. She gave me two cans of air freshener, and asked me to tell her which one I would choose if I were shopping. She told me I could keep the one I chose as a gift for helping out. Then, they brought out a vacuum cleaner, and asked if they could come inside for a moment. I told them that I didn’t have time for all that. She thanked me and left . . . and took back the air freshener. Bitch.
  • Lately, I’ve been thinking about time. It amazes me how fast it moves anymore. I read an “out-there” book about time and time travel that floated the idea that time is more relative than we think, that when we have those days when time seems to crawl or speed by, that it really is crawling or speeding by. Time moves at different speeds; it’s not just in our heads. Not sure why I brought this up.
  • I’ve always been a bit of a loner. For me, the hard part of being a stay-at-home dad is the lack of alone time. Sometimes, I just don’t want anyone pulling on my hand, telling me to “come downstairs and play.” But then, I realize that they won’t want me to play with them forever. Eventually, I will go from being a mythic figure to the most uncool being on the planet. They won’t want me around at all, but I won’t take offense. That’s how things go. A time will come when I can’t be cool, even if my guitar amp is louder than their stereo could ever be. That day will come sooner than I expect, because time always moves fast on the good things.
  • I have to say that I’m almost certain this is the first blog post in history to contain the phrases “J.K. Rowling has a nice ass” and “big turds of poop.” If you can find anyone else who beat me to it, I’ll send you a dollar.
  • Oh, and why doesn’t Blogger’s spell-check recognize the word “blog?”

"Damn Near Killed ‘Em"

July 2, 2006
  • I love scented candles. My current favorite is called vanilla sugar. The aroma gets me all hot and bothered. The fun thing about getting a new candle is sneaking up behind my wife and saying “Hey, smell this.”
  • I was in a giant retail store, and I saw a young girl begging her mother to get her a snow cone machine. The mother resisted, and eventually said “oh, all right.” The pure joy on that little girl’s face made me smile. It’s a good lesson for me and other parents. Sometimes, you have to say to hell with tradition and expectations and habit and say “oh, all right.”
  • We had our home theater projector set up to watch a movie (Used Cars “We’re blowing the shit out of high prices!”), and when we shut it off, the TV (tuned to HBO) came back on, and we were greeted to the sight of a naked woman kneeling with another woman putting her hand in a very dark place. It was a Real Sex episode about butt lovin’. There were a bunch of couples exploring themselves and each other, and one geek in a cardigan taking measurements and walking around with a magnifying glass or some shit (pardon the expression). It was hard to turn away, butt, I mean but at least I got to use the old joke “rectum? damn near killed ’em!” about fifty times. Mrs. Jimmy was appreciative, I’m sure.
  • Yesterday, I had lunch with these two beautiful toddler girls. They are my daughters, but something has happened. They sit at the table to eat. No more high chairs. They drink out of regular cups and use silverware and daintily wipe their mouths with a napkin. What happened to the helpless little twitching creatures that could fit in the crook of my arm?
  • We watched Memoirs of a Geisha finally. If you love beauty, you must see this film, preferrably on a big screen. The story is beautiful, the cinematography is beautiful, the scenery is beautiful, the people are beautiful. I loved it. A perfect movie.
  • Bumpersticker spotted on a, um, bumper: “Black on Black Love . . . It’s not a crime.” I don’t get it.
  • I had to drive almost to hell and back to get a few simple fireworks for our daughters to enjoy. Fireworks are illegal in the People’s Republic of Omaha. You’ll be damned if you can find a diving board at a swimming pool, or the freedom to ride a bike without a suit of armor so you can feel the wind in your face, or the option of buying enough cold medicine for your family. I’m so glad the busybodies of the nannystate are working so hard to protect me from myself. Soon I will receive a certificate absolving me of any responsibility for myself whatsoever.

Have a great weekend.