If it's on a t-shirt..... I guess has to be true.

I agree. Well with the roller coaster part, at least. I do believe life is like a roller coaster. But when Ali Bubba asks why we can’t enjoy the ride, I’d like to give him this answer:

It’s life. The ride is far from enjoyable.

How do you enjoy a ride that consists of the World Trade Towers falling ( and now the possibility of a mosque breaking ground in it’s remembrance, oh my sweet jesus), all the children murdered in countless school shootings, that close family member passing on to the next life way too soon, or having to sit through a half-hour of The View.

If you can honestly sit down and tell me that your life has been like a roller coaster, but you’ve loved every minute of it, then I truly envy you. I can tell you that my life has been much like a roller coaster, but not one that I would prefer to stay on.

So you can’t tell me to just enjoy the ride, Ali.

It’s not normal that I have a problem with one of Ali Bubba’s quotes, but this kind of bugs me. But then again, maybe that’s why he said it in the first place. Excuse me folks while bring you through my brainstorming process. (DISCLAIMER:  You are now entering the mind of Bucky Chini. These thoughts normally happen before he starts writing. However, due to a lack of time and energy, the entire process will be shown.)

Doo da li doo, doo da li doo, doo da li doo…..

Ok, so I can agree that life is like a roller coaster. You already said that! Come on! Ok, but how can I enjoy the ride if the roller coaster is full of bad events and tons of misfortunes? How can I relate this to the readers? I need a story. I have plenty of stories but they are probably tired of reading about my issues. I need a fresh story. Maybe a celebrity story. I need a celebrity co-writer. You know what I really need? Bacon. Anything with bacon on it. Bacon and eggs, bacon cheeseburger, bacon-wrapped shrimp, bacon-wrapped hot dogs, bacon-wrapped…. STOP IT! UGH! FOCUS! ….. Ok, we’re back. See, honestly, I agree with him, completely. We should enjoy life and have fun. Even if it seems like things are not going so well, and there is a lot of negativity around you, you can always strive to make the best out of it. Personally, the break-up with my ex-wife hurt me so bad that I never imagined I’d ever give another woman the time of day. But I’ve now gotten to the point where I realized that I don’t want to be alone forever. And I believe my daughter deserves a nice family atmosphere when she spends time with me. So now, when I think about relationships, it doesn’t scare me anymore. Because now when I do get the slightest bit scared, I tell myself, “You’ve already made it through the worst. Nothing else will hurt like that [divorce] did. And you’re still alive. Nothing will ever compare to that pain so don’t fear the future. Take life as it comes. If something beautiful crosses your path, embrace it. If it turns ugly, leave it be, and keep moving forward.” So yeah, I guess I do completely agree with this Ali Bubba quote. But I can’t go back on what I said, now. How in the hell am I going to get out of this one?

Doo da li doo, doo da li doo, doo da li doo…..

Folks look, Ali Bubba has a lot of good material, but not all of it is worth the time wasted on writing about it. I’m not saying I completely disagree with the quote, I mean, uhh…… I just……. well you see,  Can’t talk, gotta poop!

“If life is a roller coaster, then why can’t we just enjoy the ride?” – Ali Bubba

OK, so maybe not ALL reality TV is bad.

I am of course not referring to living your life like it’s a reality TV show. That would just be dumb. You can’t honestly tell me that these dumbasses will look back on their behavior one day and be proud of how they put themselves on display. So no, don’t be a reality TV star, but instead pretend that your life is being televised and your grandmother watches all the time. (Although if my grandmother was watching my life I’d probably take a shit in the middle of my living room just so I could hear her ask a stupid question.) Or perhaps, you could live your life like it’s being recorded and your children will watch it one day. Would you want your child to say, “My daddy is smart a guy. He handled that situation perfectly. Choking out that gas-station attendant because she laughed at him when he paid for his gas with pocket change would have been wrong. He made the right the decision by calling her a bitch under his breath and walking away,” or “Holy shit! My dad has a mean left hook! And look at the way he’s cutting off her air-supply by strangling her with her emergency-response necklace. Although that was a little uncalled for, it’s going to hurt in the morning.” (I’m just saying, something like could happen. And it will if that whore laughs at me again!)

Here’s the point. I don’t want my daughter to grow up and act like some little hoodlum. So, I must set a good example for her. This goes back to your own personal morals. Now we all slip up and do things that we know we shouldn’t have, life happens. But if you can make decisions with a sound, consciences mind, and keep your morals in check at all times, then when you look back at the things you’ve done you will be able to proudly justify all your actions. But why is this important? But should we care to justify anything? Life happens, right?

Yes, and no.

Life does happen. However, when certain situations arise we are more often than not put in a position to still make the right choice, or in some cases the wrong choice.

For instance, a few weeks ago I stopped at a local gas station late at night. I pulled up to the pump, got everything situated, and started filling up. The gas station had a small convenience store and I need to grab a few things while I was there. I put $20 worth of gas in my vehicle and walked to the front door of the store. Little did I know that the store was already closed. The emergency lights were on, so when I drove up, I assumed that the store was still open. Plus, I already pumped my gas so I figured somebody was still there. I banged on the door for a couple minutes. I was waiting for the ‘candid camera’ crew to jump out at any moment. After those few minutes, I walked back to my truck. On my way back I assumed that the store was definitely closed but somebody forgot to turn the pumps off. Then it hit me that I just got $20 worth of free gas. And what’s better than $20 worth of free gas? That’s right, a whole tank full of free gas. (No you didn’t Bucky!) You damn right I did. I popped the gas cap, topped that bad boy off, and pulled out of there faster than the time that chick told me she wasn’t on the pill. It was the first full tank of gas I’ve had in about a year.

Did life happen? Hell yeah it did. I was strapped for cash at the time which is why I was only putting in $20 worth of gas to begin with.  Did I make the right decision? Hell no. How could I honestly explain to my daughter if she were to question me about it. I don’t want her to grow up and do stupid things like that, so I shouldn’t do them either and set a good example.

If I was to watch that, years from now, with my daughter, and she asks why I went back to fill up I wouldn’t have a good answer. That will definitely be a replay that I wouldn’t want her to see.

Whether you agree with instant replay or not, you should be mindful of it.

The way I would want to view that replay, to show my daughter good morals, would be to just leave the first time, and not go back to finish off the job. And then possibly even return to the gas station the next morning and inform the attendant of the incident.

I know we all have moments that we don’t wish to share with anyone. Hell, I have moments that I don’t even want to see again. I’ve worked hard at blocking those things out, I’d hate to have some of those things re-appear.

When we think about these events, we wish not to see them again because those decisions we made at those times were bad ones, or at least immoral. So by living your life like it’s televised, you keep your morals in the forefront. Because your morals are always on your mind, it will show in your actions and lead that good, honorable life.

Mr. Cannon was on top of his game when he was using.

Love it!

If I ever find this Ali Bubba character I’m going to buy him a beer.

Now I know some of you may be a little confused about this one. You might be saying, “Bucky, you’re a heartless bastard if you use people.” First off, I am a heartless bastard, so go climb a tree or something. Secondly, you don’t have to be heartless to agree with me, or Ali Bubba. The fact is, we all use people in one way or another whether you want to believe it or not.

I recently moved to New York, from Florida. I know what your thinking. “Why? It’s gonna be really cold up there.” Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m really interested in knowing how it would feel to have my balls freeze off. Why do you care anyways? Moving was a shot to my wallet because I was leaving a nice job, with a promotion on the horizon, and finding a job where I am now residing, Albany, was harder than finding Al Sharpton at a Klan rally. Oh oh, harder than finding leftovers at Rosie O’Donnel’s house. No no no wait, harder than finding a parapalegic track & field team. In any event, I took the first jobs I could get my hands on. I recently downsided from three jobs to two, but those places where I work are about an hour away from my apartment. Beings my schedule is so tight on the weekends, going back to my place would be a waste of time, and gas. For the first few weekends I slept in my car like I was homeless, when I had a chance between jobs. This of course didn’t help the back problems I was suffering from. I was lucky enough to meet somebody who was nice enough to let me use her residence to sleep and shower at. She only lives 15 minutes away from my jobs, so it seemed too good to be true. We have since built a solid friendship and I pretty much live there on the weekends. We joke at times that she is my “suga mama.” I haven’t given her a dime, but she continues to let me use up her electric, water, and food. This is what I consider a great friend. But when does enough become enough? When does she tell me to go buy some groceries? Or at least some toilet paper? (I’m a man, and I take man-sized shits. Lotta TP gettin’ used. Just saying.)

In this case, so far I am using my friend to my advantage. She is willing to offer, and I’m not going to shy away from it because the traveling would absolutely kill my wallet with all the gas I’d be spending. I’m not going to say that using her is a must, but it sure does make things I lot easier. But how long can I do this without over-staying my welcome?

Ali Bubba tells us not to exhaust our resources. This can be interpreted two ways. You can look at it as using and using just until there is nothing left to use, wait until the stock has built back up, then use it again. For instance, I could continue to take my man-sized shits and use up her toilet paper until it’s almost gone. Meaning I would stop robbing TP just before it becomes a problem and she tells me to buy somemore. I could lay off for a little while, maybe drop the kids off at the super bowl down the street at the corner store. Then after a couple days, when she buys more butt-wiping material, go back to using her facilities again, and repeat the process. The other way to look at it would be to replenish those items myself, or find other means to make up for it. My pockets are still on that Slim Fast diet so maybe cutting her grass, or doing her dishes, would ease her mind knowing I’m running up her water bill. If at all possible I could physically replace the items I am using. I could buy her some toilet paper (did I mention man-sized shits?), or buy some groceries.

I think this is what Ali Bubba is talking about when he says not to exhaust to people you use.

Using people could be as simple as talking to your friends about problems; they are acting as a shoulder to cry on sometimes. If you think about it you are using their time because they could be doing other things like watching TV, or playing Xbox, or many other things that are more entertaining than listening to your garbage (I mean, problems). Not exhausting that resource could be letting them use you as a shoulder to cry on when they need it, or sometimes just a simple thank you will suffice.

So is it ok to use your friends? Hell yeah. You can say what you want but you’re probably doing it anyways. You just have to be careful, because if you use something too much, eventually it will be gone.

“A smart man uses people, a fool exhausts them.” – Ali Bubba

When you are in the privacy of your own home, and you feel like calling your girlfriend “Buttercup”, that’s fine. If the rest of us don’t have to hear it, then do whatever floats your boat. If you’re in the car and you feel like calling your boyfriend Punkin’ Butt, whatever. (Although, if you call me Punkin’ Butt in the car prepare for that Chris Brown-beat down. I promise you’ll be calling me more than a rude boy after I’m finished.) But seriously, nobody wants to hear this shit when we are out in public. Is it that hard for you not to act like a child while out in public?

Let’s look at some of the names that get tossed around from time-to-time, and why people deserve an ass beating saying these in public because they are the dumbest names ever.

Pookie – Easily mistaken for Dookie

I would like to meet the guy who invented these and get MY fist stuck in HIS teeth. Jackass.

Jujube – “It’s ’cause she is so sweet.” Oh yeah? Does she stick to your teeth until you’re ready to punch a kitten because you can’t get it out, too? Either way you answer, you’re an idiot.

Honey Bunny – WTF mate? Is it a bunny made of honey? Is the bunny eating the honey? Do bunnies even like honey? Ugh, too confusing already.

Cutiepie – This is what you call a little girl wearing a dress and going to church. If you use this, I’m just going to say it, you’re pretty much a pedophile. Congrats.

Babushka – Really? You guys do realize that this is a scarf that old Russian-women wear because their jaws are falling apart because they have no dental coverage and their cavities are eating their face away, right? It also means “grandmother” in Russian. So not only are you calling your partner a piece of clothing, but also an old lady. Otherwise known as a moo-moo.

Baboo – I actually had to Google this because I didn’t even know what it was to make fun of it. Google kicked back two things. It’s the name of a villain from the Power Rangers, and a Swiss airline. Yeah, enough said.

Cinnamon Buns – Yikes. You’re going to call your girlfriend Cinnamon Buns? Bold move there pal. I think John Bobbit called Lorena “Cinnamon Buns” once……… Once. (if you haven’t seen Johnny Dangerously you have two options. 1 – rent it, or 2 – kill yourself)

They are way too funky for me.

Honey Bunch – The only Bunch I’m down with is the Funky one. And if Marky Mark ever heard you say this to your girlfriend, he’d beat the brakes off of you. Then he’d take your girl home, get her pregnant, and make you pay child support, for his seed.

Shnookums – Seriously, what the hell is a shnookum?

Now the regular, un-original names don’t really bother me that much. Baby, babe, and sweetie are lame, but feasible. But let’s get a little creative people. Here’s a list of names that I would actually applaud the reciting individual, should they use these terms out in public.

Donkey Butt (should they be packin’ the mack in the back of their ‘ac)

Bring on the cancer!

Sugar Tits (thanks Mel)

Stinky (any type of BO will suffice)

Face Lift (should they have received voluntary cosmetic surgery)

Silicon Mountains (do I need to explain?)

Per-riff-erals (if they have a lazy/crazy eye)

Those are just a few, I’m sure you have a few of your own. If you have any funny ones, go ahead and leave a comment. But in the meantime, let us stop the usage of the elementary pet name for our significant other. It’s very annoying.

 What’s the real definition? Maybe Mr. Right is a funny guy. Maybe he is a good dancer. Maybe he can do the thing with the cherry stem. (speaking of, seriously who cares if you can tie a knot with your tongue? Is that really supposed to be sexy? I don’t get it. Unless you think it’s a calming thought knowing that if she loses both her arms in a horrible boating accident that you won’t have to help her tie her shoes every morning, then I just don’t think it’s important. Just sayin’.)

 Now it’s obvious, because we all want different things in life, that every woman’s idea of Mr. Right will be different. But let’s look at some of the main points that I’m sure most women would appreciate.

 First, would probably be trusting. There’s nothing worse than knowing your significant other is going out to meet a group of friends and not being 100% that they are going to make the best decisions. This doesn’t have to be infidelity issues, it could be simply safety issues. Having trust in them that they won’t bring home “the gift that keeps on giving”, or trusting that you won’t be awaken at 4:30 in the morning to bail them out of the slammer is a good thing. Seriously, if I get a call in the early morning that you need bail money you’re going to have to wait. I don’t get much sleep to begin with so you’re not going to get me out of bed once I’m in it.

 But here’s the catch-22. If you know that the man you are with has had these issues in the past then you’re never going to completely trust him. You will always be thinking, “I wonder what that asshole is doing now. Probably talking to some whore.” So now you get worried and text him 10 times every hour to make sure he knows you still exsist and that you’ll chop his balls off if he cheats on you. Who wants to deal with that? But if he hasn’t given you a reason to distrust him, the word “yet” always finds it’s way to end of every sentence. So now either way you look at it you are never completely sure that he is being faithful. This is usually when you go crazy and follow him downtown to the bar to spy on him. You hide in the corner and just wait for him to slip up. Meanwhile, you’re ordering drink after drink, getting hammer, and get to the point where you can’t even see straight to realize that he has already left. Then you go crazy and go home, pace your apartment, and dream up a senerio that will lead to a blow-up where you pull a knife on him and try to cut his face. But your too drunk so you miss, trip, fall on the blade, and blame him for the whole thing. I’m just saying, it could happen.

Oh, my bad homie, there he is.

Maybe Mr. Right is a guy whom you can just sit with at home, with a cool cup, and watch television. But then what if you don’t like the same TV programs. He wants to find out if Tiger Woods learned how to hit a golf ball, again. You want to watch some rich whore complain about the new Bentley that she really wants, but has no money to buy it because her husband keep the accounts frozen because she is actually just a money-hungry gold-diggin’ biatch. Or they want to complain about their husbands that are never home, and how they are probably cheating on them. And that ironically adds to your insecurities. But let’s be fair and assume you agree on a channel to watch. “We don’t even have to talk all the time. I just want him to sit and cuddle with me,” you might say.

I say, bullshit.

Because if you’re sitting watching TV, and a commercial comes on with a really hot chick showcasing a new panty line from Victoria’s Secret, what’s the first thing that pops into your head? “That bastard better not be thinking about her. He better just have his eyes closed.” In fact, some of you are even bold enough to put us in the most awkward postion when you say, “Do you think she’s attractive?” This is when the Earth comes to a dead-stop because we know either way we are screwed. Saying yes means, to you, that given the chance we would drop you like a bad habit and go for the supermodel. (dirty little secret: if you truly believe we would, then there’s probably a good reason why, and in most cases your probably right.) If we say no, then you either think we are lying or you follow it up by asking, “What don’t you like about her?” This is the point were we, as men, say we have to take a dump because we need to remove ourselves from the situation as soon as possible because our answer somehow directly relates to you and the way you look.

 ”I just want somebody to take care of me,” is a big one. Here’s the problem ladies, there is not a single human being in the solar system that can completely take care of you, because without fail at some point, you are all freaking crazy. Hot and cold. Up and down. In and out.

 Dealing with you women is like traveling through a life-size maze. It’s fun and excited at first, but eventually we hit a dead-end and just look up at the sky and wonder what the hell happened.

 So there is no such thing as Mr. Right because you have no idea who he is. So, stop comparing us to this figment of your imagination and it will make everybody’s life easier. Accept us for the beer-guzzlin’ booby-watchin’ speed-lovin’ sports-followin’ butt cheek-grabbin’ video game-playin’ money-hungry mother f@#kers we truly are, and get over yourself.

 P.S. After proofreading this post, I’m sure I destroyed my chances of having a girlfriend ever again. But hey, somebody had to say it.

It's OK Grandma, you probably don't have a lot of facebook friends 'cause everyone you know is dead.

I really don’t have anything against Facebook, persay. I utilize it quite frequently. It’s a great way to keep in contact with your friends and meet new friends. But I must admit it’s getting a little intense. The Facebook craze has reached it’s way to the geriatric wing. I have ladies, who are most definetly at least on social secrutiy by now, come in to my work and talk about finding old friends of theirs on Facebook. What?! Last time I checked you Polydent-using peeps couldn’t even turn on the computer. “Young man, can you please help me with my Jitterbug cell phone. The buttons are too big for me now, I’m used to the keyboard on my new Internet Buddy Dell Laptop.” Anyways, good for them. I’m just a little pissed cause the excuse of, “Oh I don’t bother with that intraweb voo-doo because it’s too complicated,” mumbo-jumbo was just your laziness telling me to print out your directions from Mapquest for you. Sneaky bastards.

But for the real reason for my rambling today. I would like somebody to explain to me what kind of powers Facebook holds. I have read numerous times on others’ statuses, “Please let this be a better day,” or, “FML. Can you please stop everything bad from happening to me?” Honestly, why ask an internet webpage to stop the bad things from happening to you? Are the Facebook gods going to shine down on you, solve your problems, and pick you up 20 more friends in the process so you can have the most Facebooks out of all of your real friends? (Speaking of Facebook friends vs. real friends….. oh nevermind, that’s a whole other story.)

And if you aren’t talking to the Facebook gods, then who the f#$k are you talking to?

I’m guessing that you are hoping somebody will read your comment, immediatly comment back asking if there is anything they can do, and then you have to wait an entire day after you reply, “yes,” because, and here’s the kicker, they got too busy dealing with the shit-storm called their life to get back with you. That’s what we call irony. But the self-motivated ones don’t find it necessary to announce their problems, they just deal with them.

Shit! I stand corrected. God is on Facebook.

The best is when people post, “UGH! I hate my life! Don’t even ask!” Really? If you didn’t want anybody to ask then you probably should have thought about it before you announced it to the ENTIRE FREAKING WORLD!

Ok, maybe I’m being a little too critical. I haven’t been as synical with my writings lately (note all the positive themed Ali Bubba posts) and maybe I just have to get this all out right now before I explode with anger. But let me take a step back for a second.

Whooosaaahh……. Alright, and we’re back.

Folks, let’s be real. Crazy things happen, good and bad. I can understand when you want to tell people about the fun and exciting things that are going on. They are your friends and facebook is just a way to let them know. Facebook is a medium. (ok, that didn’t last long, getting bitter once again) ITS A MEDIUM! If you don’t know what that means then you have no business even being on a computer cause you have been deemed too damn stupid to use any electronic devices. In fact, close this page and just walk away. I don’t want retards reading my posts anyways. (oh no he didn’t) Yes, yes I did.

If we can agree that Facebook is just a way to talk to your friends then why do you find it nessecary to announce to the general public that your life sucks? Furthermore, what makes you think anybody gives a shit?! “My life sucks. I just lost my wallet with everything that identifies me in it! (dare I say) FML!” Yes, your life does suck. Not because you lost your wallet, but simply because you are taking up bandwidth on the Facebook server with a bunch or crap that nobody wants to read anyways. Get a life!

Do like the rest of us grown-ups do, instead of wasting your time talking to Facebook just talk to an empty bottle of Captain Morgan. Outty.

I am 25-years-old, and I will be very surprised if I make it past thirty. It’s not because I’m on some super-secret-squirrel-shit with the CIA and already have contracts on my head. It’s not because I have cancer and I’m terminal. Although, I’m sure I have cancer anyways. We all do. But the reason I believe I will be departing this world soon is because I’ve pretty went through the cycle of life. I was born, went to school, graduated from high school, got married, served in the military, had a child, made some mistakes, got divorced, put in work in the civilian-world, made some more mistakes, went through my mid-life crisis and became an alcoholic, recovered, and moved to start a new life.

Still bumpin' the Lost Boyz like me? Guess you're old too.

During all that I’ve thrown my back out numerous times, I have chronic knee problems, I’ve accumlated enough speeding tickets for three-lifetimes, my ass is already starting to sag, most of the music I listen to is considered “old school”, and I’m almost to the point where staying in and relaxing is more fun than going out with friends to party. My point is that I’ve done pretty much all you need to do in life. You might say, “But Buck, have you ever driven a race-car, or seen one of the Seven Wonders of the World, or made love to a Mongolian immigrant while snorting a line off of a hippos ass?” My reply would be, “Have you?”

In reality, life is what you make it. Not everyone is destined to walk the Great Wall of China, or even come in contact with a Mogolian immigrant. So we all make choices that could, or could not, work out in our favor. There’s no way in telling if the decision you make, as you are making it, is going to be a good one or a bad one. Well, that stands true as long as you can’t predict the future. But then again Ms. Cleo fell off the face of the Earth. Think she saw that one coming? Hmmm.

Forrest Gump’s mama compared life to a box a chocolates because, “You never know what you’re gonna get.” We can relate that to decisions we make. Sure we already know what decision we are going to make, but we have no idea what the outcome of our actions will be. Some times you make the right decision, like picking the chocolate with the caramel in it. Some times you royaly ‘F’ things up, compare that to biting into the one with that mushy pink shit, yuck. But you know what? No matter what decision you make at that time, as long as you know you made it with a clear head, then you shouldn’t be ashamed of what you did. Stand by your decisions, because nobody else will. If you do bite into that chocolate covered pink stuff, be a grown-up and take it on the chin, but remember what it looked like so you don’t have to eat it again.

OK, so if it's on a shirt it must be true.

If you can manage to remember your pitfalls, and not fall into them a second time, you won’t be sitting with an empty box, slobbering on your belly-rolls, wondering what happened to your life. So I do agree with Ali Bubba, and Forrest Gump’s mama, that life is like a box of chocolates. However, I don’t entirely agree that we are destined to stare at a box, empty of chocolates, and full of regrets. Like I said, we all make decisions that we believe are the best at that given time. Are they always right? Psh, HA! Can a double-hand amputee throw up the dueces?

The point is that even with all our bad decisions, you shouldn’t feel any regret because of them. If you’re smart and eventually want to better yourself so you don’t make those mistakes again, you will never wonder what went wrong because you will have already found out and learned from it. As far as getting fat, well that’s all on you.

“Life IS like a box of chocolates. You may enjoy it now, but eventually everything is gone, you get fat, all while wondering what went wrong.” – Ali Bubba

Told you, don't even look at them.

So I was in the store the other day, working as usual, and saw something that got my attention. Actually, it left me starring at the couple that I was observing. Part of my job is to greet people when they enter our store. I saw a Middle Eastern couple come through the doors and head in my direction. I noticed that the woman was walking behind her husband at the same steady pace his was, two steps behind him. This first got my attention because most couples like to walk side-by-side when they enter the store. Being in the military, and doing a little bit of traveling, I am not ignorant to Middle Eastern culture. I am aware that in a traditional Middle Eastern marriage, the wife walks behind her husband and, in most cases, is not even allowed to talk. In fact, if a lady is out with her husband, and you even acknowledge her, the husband will become very angry. The women are supposed to be there by their man, but never seen or heard. I greeted the husband, not making even the slightest eye contact with the wife. As they walked by I followed them with my eyes as they made it to the electronics section. The wife was matching her husband, step-by-step, remaining behind him at all times. But, here is what caught my attention. When the husband turned his body to look at the big flat-screen TV, the wife went out of her way to remain behind his line of sight. This blew my mind. But I start thinking (I know, that never ends well, right?), even in this day-n-age, is it completely outdated and barbaric to sympathize and possibly even practice this way of life?

Short answer: Absolutely not. In fact, we should all incorporate this belief into our everyday life.

Let’s take the marriage out of the picture. Let’s take away the fact that women have made great advances in society since the 50’s and 60’s. If you can’t handle that, then shut the hell up and go cook me a steak. I’m hungry! But, let’s look at this as a companionship above all. Figuratively speaking, the greatest friends you will ever have are the ones that are behind you every step of the way without having to be vocal and arrogant about it. These people just want what is best for you. They don’t have to announce their ability, or even their willingness to help you. They just do it. So if you can imagine this wife just being a good friend, then she is simply turning the figurative thought into a literal motion.

The more I thought about this, the more I envied this couple.  Now, I’m sure the main reason the wife was submissive, and the husband the dominant one, was because of their beliefs and culture. But, I thought about how this practice even came into play. The creators of this culture, with good-hearted intent I would imagine, had an idea that the man would be the strong, domineering individual in the relationship. On the flip side, the wife would be the strong support system that the man needed to carry their family on the pursuit of happiness. But how does this relate to our culture, and why in the hell should we even acknowledge this out-dated way of life?

I’m not telling you to yell at your significant other when they speak out of turn, or that it’s ok to treat them like an item.

You are now officially allowed to smack bitches.

(Although, I’m not saying you can’t do that either. Sometimes peoples be runnin’ wild and you gotta yoke a bitch up!) But I am saying that we sometimes we need to be as humble as possible and still help out our friends without expecting something in return. Do you think that if this lady at my store “behaves” and doesn’t cause any problems, that she will get a gold star at the end of the day? Or maybe extra allowence? Or pancakes with sausage and bacon? (If you didn’t at least chuckle at the sausage and bacon comment, you need to expand you’re knowledge past the MTV channel.) She doesn’t act right expecting to recieve anything (although she probably does it so she doesn’t get a beat down later, but that’s not the point). The point is that even though she was acting submissive, she was actually being very proactive in being a great companion. And this way of companionship builds trust between the two. The man, in some cases, will not see or hear his wife. But, he knows that she will always be there, even if there is no proof. This amount of trust can only make the bond greater.

But this doesn’t just apply to those who are married. These pricipals can be used with every friendships that we share. We should strive to be like this man’s wife. I’m not saying that we should be quiet and invisable to our friends. But, being a friend that someone can always count on, someone who though not seen or heard will always be behind you no matter what, is the kind of friend that we should all strive to be.

Beef #1 – Ugly People Having Babies

See what happens when fuglies procreate!

I am not a runway model by any means. I couldn’t be in a commercial selling hair or face products. There’s no way in hell I could be a foot model (I don’t even like looking at my feet). But I also don’t consider myself to be that bad looking either. I’ve been told I’m easy on the eyes. I’m hoping that’s a compliment. And my beef really isn’t with the ugly person having the baby. My beef lies with the person impregnating/being impregnated by the ugly person. I mean seriously. You know you messed up when you show your buddy a picture of your future baby’s mama and the first thing he says is, “Is she nice?” And think about this for a second. When ugly people have babies, what are the chances the baby is going to be ugly? Pretty good, yeah, and who wants to see any more ugly babies. Isn’t it awkward enough having to look at a person and lie right to their face when you say, “What a cute baby.” Folks! If you come across an ugly baby, do not, I repeat, DO NOT tell the parents they have a cute baby. If worst comes to worst, just don’t say anything at all. Just keep your mouth shut. Don’t give those poor people a reason to think that we want to see another one of their gargoyle creations. Just let them go on without praise. Eventually they will all die off.

Beef #2 – The Use of Handkerchiefs

Go ahead you dirty f*@k, put those boogers in your pocket for later.

“Hey Sir, that was a mighty-hefty sneeze there. Would you like a tissue?”
“No thank you, you little punk. I’m gonna take this old snot rag out of my pants, wipe my mucus covered face, then shove this bad boy right back into my pocket.”
Seriously, what in the name of O.J.’s bloody gloves are you doing here? So you have to blow your nose, and instead of using a tissue, you decide to pull out a rag from your back pocket. The rag was used earlier today, so it now has crusties all over it, and now it’s on your hands too. Now you are rubbing the handkerchief on your face. You might as well just skip the hanky, and just blow your nose into your hands, and then smear it all over your face. And then to top it off, when you’re done with the hanky you put it back into your pocket? Are you serious here? Who in their right mind thought this would be a good idea?
“Franklin my boy, we need to market a new product.”
“I’ve got it! Let’s sell a cloth-like product where people can wipe their boogers and save them for later. The more unsanitary, the better!”

Beef #3 – Grown Men Peeing on the Toilet Seat

This is absolutely ridiculous. This has been a beef of mine for quite some time. When I was in high school I worked at a watch store in an outlet mall. We would cater to the hot dog vendor just outside the store by allowing the manager and his employees to use our bathroom. I was the newest employee to the watch store so my duties included cleaning the bathroom. Every day, Don the Hot Dog Man (or Don Juan as we sometimes called him), would come in and ask, “Can I use your restroom?” Sure he seems innocent, but it was hardly a question. It was more like, “Hey son, I’m gonna use this restroom right here.” He was a fairly large fellow; Italian with a thick New York accent. I could care less if he wanted to use our bathroom. The problem was he always seemed to pee everywhere except in the toilet. So this last time when he came in and asked to use our facilities I replied, “Sure, just make sure you get it in the bowl this time will ya?” Now I understand a little splatter is going to happen. I splish-splash on accident at times too. However, I don’t leave it for the next person to clean up like an asshole. Fellas, if you can’t find your penis in time to keep things under control, fine. First, get that checked out, second, just wipe it up.

Beef #4 – Handicapped Drivers

No, that's not his poop face, he just can't see past the steering wheel.

So hold up. It takes you 30 mins. to get out of bed and make it to the john, it takes you another 10 mins. to put your teeth in, 15 mins. to make it in to your car and get situated, and we are supposed to trust you to drive to Denny’s and not kill anyone? The only Grand Slam you should be worried about is when you ram into that 12-year-old girl riding her bike. I don’t understand how a person with physical disabilities and diminished reaction time can be trusted on the road. I think every year, folks over the age of 65 need to take the Spider Test. I am of course refering to the movie Goodfellas where a young Michael Imperioli (he played Christopher Moltisanti on the Sopranos) was told to dance by Joe Pesci’s character. It goes a little something like this.

Goodfellas Spider pt. 1
Uploaded by soulpatrol. – Full seasons and entire episodes online.

My theory is if you get shot, your reaction time is too long, therefore you are deemed too slow to drive. Plus, now you have a hole in your foot, so driving is out of the question anyways. It’s a sure-fire way to make sure these slow-drivin’ hard-candy-lovin’ diaper-wearin’ geriatrics stay the hell out of our way! If you are dependent on a walker or a cane to move from point A to point B, YOU SHOULD NOT BE GETTING BEHIND THE WHEEL!

You got beef with my beefs? You got any beefs in general? Shoot me a line or two in the comment box. If I find enough that intrigue me I’ll make a part two. G’day.

This is the only person with a valid reason to say "FML"

I am pleading. No, I am demanding. Stop using the acronym “FML,” the words “fuck my life,” or any other version/variation of the thought.

Forums such as Facebook and Myspace make it very easy to proclaim to the world that your life is shitty. But folks, seriously. We all have problems in life. We have our own crap to deal with, so do you think we seriously give a rat’s ass how horrible your life is?

“Just got my nails done, and one already broke off. FML!” Really? How about I run your hand over with an 18-wheeler while you’re trying to pick up a lucky penny? Then you can complain about you hooker-like nails being ruined. Or how about I shove your fist up your ass and you can complain about how shitty your nails turned out. (get it? shitty? anyone? no? ok.)

“FML! It’s 3:00am, I can’t sleep, and I have to up in two hours!” Really? Indulge yourself in my weekend schedule. I drive an hour to work to clock in at 1 pm on Saturday. I work a full shift, get off at 9 pm, and drive to my next job that starts at 11pm. I work a full shift there as well. That shift ends at 7am, and I’m back to the first job by 11 am. In between, I’m lucky to fall asleep in my truck for a couple hours. I work from 11am to 7pm on Sunday, maybe rest for an hour before I’m back to my night job at 11pm. After another full shift, getting off again at 7am on Monday morning, I make my way over to my day job for one last shift. But wait, I don’t get any sleep in-between these shifts because I clock in at 9am. And oh yeah, I work until 9pm so that makes it a 12 hour shift. Two weekends ago I was grinding hard for 65 hours, with only three hours sleep. Fuck my life? Nope, you’ll never here me say it. So be lucky you get any sleep at all you selfish mother fucker.

This has nothing to do with the story. But I figured I'd try to make up for the first picture.

“I got in a car wreck today. They didn’t even have insurance. FML!” Really? You were able to complain about it, which obviously means you’re still alive. What about those who have family, and ones they hold the dearest, get hit from a drunk driver leaving them paralyzed, or even dead. Don’t “FML” your little fender bender. Get the hell on with that mess.

FML. You really want somebody to fuck your life? Give me a call. I know people, who know people, who break knee caps. Let them fuck up your life, then you can complain while you sit in your air-conditioned home watching The People’s Court and eating brownies.

You people are so lame. Find a new hobby besides complaining about your trivial occurances. You have to be pretty self-obsorbed to even think that somebody will console you, or even care, that you spilled bleach on your favorite t-shirt.

Have you read any of my previous posts? My life has been fucked for over a year-and-a-half now. But nothing makes me think that any of you would give two shits about my life.

I’m just saying, this shit is played out. So kill the noise, son!