I Got Blocked!

Writer’s block from hell has set in.

The past two weeks I’ve been all out of sorts. I’ve walked into walls, fed the kids rocks, and spent hours chasing the dog around the backyard screaming “come here piggy piggy.”

I guess it’s not technically writer’s block because I’ve been writing.

I write a lot for work. I wrote (and drew) a little something something for JC Little and her blog that should be posted soon! Stay tuned!

But as far as here. Well….it’s been sporadic at best.

So, I’m going to just free write about a few blog ideas I’ve been toying with, post it and move on hoping it solves my problem.

At first I was going to write something about politics because…well because you better have voted today! Except you people…please don’t vote today.

I was going to continue the post I’d done a week or so ago about my kids running campaign ads against each other and write about them at polling stations telling voters as they walked by that the other candidate pees on Dora’s map and at night tells their most inner secrets to a stuffed SpongeBob doll.

But then I was all, “that’s stupid. You can’t recycle old posts like that.”

Then I thought about writing a post about how my wife just got prescription glasses.

She’s had headaches for a longtime and recently it dawned on her that, “holy shit. I think on account of me not see’n too good (she’s from the south) I reckon I might need me some spectacles.”

Originally I thought she said “testicles” and promptly ripped my clothes off, tackled her, and was seconds away from “the sex” when the pepper spray hit me.

So, she got her eyeballs checked, a prescription written, and yesterday, picked-up her new eyewear.

Then, as I was sitting at my computer working she walked by sporting her new glasses. BUT!!! Not JUST her new eyeglasses, but also her tight-fitting spandex running gear.

*Side Note: I have a huge….HUGE glasses fetish. I have no clue where it stems from. Maybe I had a super sexy elementary school teacher that sent me down this road, but regardless… glasses do it for me.

*Side Note’s over…back to the stupid.

My foot started thumping like a happy puppy’s tail, my eyes bulged from their sockets and immediately my wife reached over, tapped my nose hard and said, “NO!!!! DOWN BOY!!!! NO!!”

But then I was all, “you can’t write about that…it’s just too revealing and women sporting glasses will avoid the ever-living hell out of you!”

Finally I contemplated the fact that our stupid damn new dog, who I’ve affectionately named “That Furry Fuck I Didn’t Want Yet My Kids And Wife Talked Me Into But That Now The Wife’s Even Overwhelmed By Even Though It’s Always Left To Me To Take Care Of Him Dog,” has an obsession with peeing on our damn kitchen carpet.

He’s awesome everywhere else throughout the house. But for some reason, that red carpet is his pee-bitch.

But then I was all, “who cares? Everyone’s dog pees in the house at some point and who wants to read about your damn pets?”

So…that’s how my brain’s operated over the past two weeks. Yet, I’ve blogged and yet, I blog today.

So, with that, I make my final plee to the blogging lords and ask them to free the brain!!!!

Guess we’ll see what their verdict is over the coming days! Hang in there reader kids, I promise it’ll all come back!!



Back to My Southern Roots

So I’ll start off by apologizing to my blog readers who’ve given me shit (rightfully-so) for ignoring their giggle needs. I’ve had a rough 4 days…but I’m back!!!

So, my grandmother died. She was 90…I grew up with her as a huge part of my life….she rocked….and now she’s gone. But, she’s happier now so it was more of a celebration. Except, the celebration happened in Anderson, S.C.

Now let me just toss in there that I grew up in North Carolina. Born, raised, went to college, got my first job, first blow job, first relationship with a “little person and his pet horse,” first beer, first throw-up in front of my mom after drinking a whole bottle of MD 20/20 and trying to play it off like I had the stomach flu, first masturbation scene and first girlfriend who still journals about how badly I messed herup…all in North Carolina. So I love the state, SOME of its people, hate its ideals, wish the tobacco industry would rot in hell, and wish all racist bastards would burn a slow death. But other than that…I love it!

So my grandmother’s funeral was on Sunday at 3 p.m. An extremely convenient time for someone who lives in Chicago and has a boss that…well, let’s just say, gets inconvenienced by his worker’s personal life’s problems. But I sucked it up.

Saturday I hopped a plane to Raleigh, N.C., where my brother lives. My bro is just over 2 years older than me and has turned into one kick-ass friend. He’s got a wife who should be knighted for what she’s had to put up with, and two insane boys, 1 and 5 years old.

Long story short, we decide to drive to S.C. on Saturday (4.5 hour drive). We get there at 9 p.m. and meet my mother, her husband, and my godmother for dinner at Applebees. The Clemson game is on, everyone’s in orange, I desperately want a beer but no one else is drinking at the dinner table. Oh…and I’m also a vegetarian.

This seems to surprise a shit-ton of people, I’m not sure why, I’m guessing because I’m such an asshole they think I’ll tackle, kill, and maul any living thing that comes my way, but not so kids…it’s not so.

So the waitress doesn’t know this little tid-bit about me yet, which my step-dad loves to point out. So everyone’s ordering and it gets to my brother’s 5 year old who says, “I’ll have macaroni and cheese, and celery sticks.”

Silence.

Then the waitress looks up from her pad with a horrified look and says, “You ain’t gonna eeaaat no meeeeeat?” in the worst southern accent you could imagine. Immediately my very southern step-dad says, “wait till you get to the numbskull next to him. He eats lettuce and beats too cause he’s a vegetarian!!!”

And the amazement ensued. How could anyone live a life with no meat?!!!!

The next day, we’re on our way to the funeral - me, my brother, sister-in-law, their 2 kids, my mom, step-dad, uncle, and his two kids (teenagers). We have about an hour before we need to be at the church for the family-only graveside service. So we decide to go eat and we’re following my uncle who claims he “knows where to go” for some eats. I shit you not…we pull into a fucking McDonalds.

Wearing suits, on our way to bury a loved one, we eat our lunch at McDonald’s. On top of it…again, I’m a vegetarian…at ……Mc….Donald’s.

After arguing with the zit-faced douche on how simple it is to just NOT put the chicken on my salad and how yes, “picking it off” is not OK with me, I finally got a bowl of lettuce, two carrot skins, what looked to be the boil off a tomatoe’s ass, and dressing for the low-low price of $8.

To top the entire weekend off, I decided on the 4.5 hour drive back to Raleigh starting at 6 p.m., I’d count the number of redneck-ass cars I’d pass that have Truck Nutz. Eight…yes…eight idiots felt they needed to overcompensate for their douchebagness by purchasing a pair of rubber nuts they could hang from their rear trailer-hitch to make sure everyone driving within a 40 foot radius knew their wheels were in fact a dude.

So to recap… I love the south…I’m from the south…..southern women are incredibly hot…my wifey is a southern woman….truck nutz…..McDonald’s…..I fucking hate Snuggies…..vegetarians should never try to live in the south…..Deliverance……inbreeding……..I have an alarm on my house so don’t try to break in and kill me, I love the south, I voted for Obama!!