Light at the End of the Tunnel

We are on a thousand day countdown until Bush leaves office... I'm sure he can still do so much more damage, but isn't it nice to know that we can now actively count the days until he is gone?

Of course, it would be so much nicer if Congress would do their job and indict, impeach & jail that treasonous bastar... (ahem) individual.

History is on Our Side


A real quick post... I have more to say (I always do), but I've got work to do. I just love Rolling Stone--not only for THIS article, but the Nick Lachey article is pretty great as well.

I have some stories from the weekend... hopefully, I'll post tonight. Happy Monday...

59 Things a Man Should Never Do Past 30

Esquire Magazine recently published the 59 things a man should never do past 30. I am past 30 (well past, some might say—to them I say, “fuck you.”). I thought I should check out this list and ensure that I am following the rules set forth by the magazine that reports they represent “man at his best.”

Let me begin by saying that these dudes are insane. No fireworks? No Disney ties? No “Peace out”?! I’m shocked at this list and I’m sure you will be as well.

Below is the list and my comment on their (insane) observations:


1. Coin his own nickname.
I guess you can all stop calling me “Mad Dog” (just as it was catching on…)

2. Use a wallet that is fastened with Velcro.
What if the Velcro has worn out and it no longer makes that ‘craytch’ sound?

3. Rank his friends in order of best, second best, and so on.
What about color rankings?

4. Hacky sack.
I couldn’t hacky-sack when I was young enough, I’m not going to do it now…

5. Name his penis his name plus junior.
But I can still name it… right?

6. Hang art with tape.
And how am I supposed to hang my “Hang in there!” kitty poster?

7. Hang The Scream, unless he stole it from the Munch museum in Oslo.
Shhhh! Tell no one. It looks great in my bathroom.

8. Ask a policeman, "You ever shoot anybody with that thing?"
Well, not when pointing to his gun…

9. Ask a woman, "Hey, you got a license for that ass?"
Guaranteed.

10. Skip.
I beg to differ… gay men can skip into their late 40’s…

11. Take a camera to a nude beach.
And just how am I supposed to take pictures of the nekkid peoples?

12. Let his father do his taxes.
But he enjoys it so…

13. Tap on the glass.
I need to get their attention somehow and tapping really works.

14. Shout out a response to "Are you ready to rock?"
Because, quite frankly, I’m always ready to rock and I think the band should know that. It’s only polite… they are there to put on a rock ‘n roll show, I should certainly be there to rock, correct? Plus, when someone asks you a direct question you should answer. So, when someone asks me if I’m ready to rock, damnit, I’m going to tell them so. As an added bonus, a big “Whooooo!” adds emphasis to my said excitement.)

15. Use the word collated on his resume.
Thankfully, ‘self starter’ is still good…

16. Hold a weekly house meeting with roommates.
But it makes me feel like I’m on Real World (I wanna be Puck!)

17. Name pets after Middle Earth characters.
How many dogs are named Bilbo Baggins?

18. Jokingly flash gang signs while posing for wedding photos.
Like I’m just going to stand there… sha…

19. Give shout-outs.
Oh no you di’in’t!

20. Use numbers in place of words or locations, such as "the 411" for information, or "the 313" for Detroit.
Sorry but I simply can’t go out and not give a shout-out to my peeps in the Four-Oh-Eight! Yo!

21. Hug amusement-park characters.
Mickey’s not going to hug himself…

22. Wear Disney-themed neckties.
Oh, just kick me why don’t you… Do they realize how many of these ties I own? It’s a significant investment. F’ that, I’m wearing them.

23. Wake up to a "morning zoo."
Not a problem…

24. Compare the trajectory of his life with those of the characters in Billy Joel's "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant."
Well, I haven’t gotten a divorce as a matter of course, but my life might just parallel Brenda and Eddie’s…

25. Request extra sprinkles.
Fuck that.

26. Air drum.
You have GOT to be kidding me! How can I not?! I’m also going to air-guitar, so let’s make sure that’s clear right here and know.

27. Choose 69 as his jersey number.
Heh… cool.

28. Eat Oreo cookies in stages.
It’s not a chocolate chip cookie… not a macaroon. It’s an Oreo. There are rules to eating an Oreo, and you don’t just chomp on them. They must be broken apart—OR (and this is a BIG OR)—you dunk them in milk, but they are not to just be chewed like any other cookie. That is just ridiculous. Honestly, who wrote this list, Osama Bin Laden?

29. Volunteer to be a magician's assistant.
And just why not? It could be fun.

30. Sleep on a bare mattress.
Ewww…

31. End a conversation with "later skater."
But goodbye is just so pedestrian…

32. Hold his lighter up at a concert.
If one is expected to hold up a lighter, then one should. Not during every power ballad, but there are times it is necessary.

33. Publicly greet friends by shouting, "What's up, you whore?"
What if my friends are whores? Whores are people, too. That’s bigotry, pure and simple.

34. Wear Converse All Stars with a tuxedo.
That’s not an ‘after 30’ thing, that’s a “you’re an asshole if you ever did that” thing…

35. Propose via stadium Jumbotron.
Hey, man. You can’t beat classy.

36. Decide anything based on the ruminations of Howard Stern.
Based on stuff Robin says is okay though…

37. Call "shotgun" before getting in a car.
How else am I going to claim that seat? Man, I’ve got quite a record in calling/getting shotgun.

38. Dispute someone else's call of "shotgun."
Seriously, stop bitching about it you guys. I got it fair and square. The fact that I tripped you has no bearing on this whatsoever…

39. Whine.
Come on… please… puh-leeeeeeze? It’s not fair!

40. Mist up during Aerosmith's "Dream On."
I guarantee nothing…

41. Purchase fireworks.
Well, that is just flat out wrong… I’m supposed to go through the Fourth of July with no fireworks? Blech…

42. Google the word vagina.
That goes without saying… ‘Penis’ is okay, right?

43. Ride a pony.
What the…? Oh. They meant literally “a pony.” Yeah, that makes sense…

44. Sport an ironic mustache.
Sadly, it’s the only thing I can do.

45. Hit 13 against a 6.
Doubling down on a pair of 2’s is okay…

46. Organize a party bus.
They don’t organize themselves…

47. Say "two points" every time he throws something in the trash.
If I’m far enough back, I claim three…

48. Buy a novelty postcard in another country of topless women on a beach and write, "Wish you were here" on it.
No, but I do like to send postcards of Alcatraz to friends with “Wish you were here” on them. Good times.

49. Keg stands.
I don’t like bending over… (for beer)

50. Purchase home-brewing paraphernalia.
Since I got it as a gift, it doesn’t count.

51. The John Travolta point-to-the-ceiling-point-to-the-floor dance move; also that one from Pulp Fiction.
Fine. Take a way two of my three dance moves… (bastards)

52. Put less than ten dollars' worth of gas in the tank.
That goes without saying since that’s putting in less than a gallon of gas…

53. Keep a minuscule amount of marijuana extremely well hidden.
Large batches should be hidden, small amounts can be someone visible…

54. Read The Fountainhead.
You said it… just rent it on Netflix.

55. Watch the Pink Floyd laser light show at a planetarium.
Like I could stay up that late…

56. Refer to his girlfriend's breasts as "the twins."
Not a problem…

57. Own a vanity plate.
I have to give up “HUNG 9”? Jeez…

58. Whippits.
Sucking helium out of a balloon is cool, right?

59. Say goodbye to anyone by tapping his chest and even so much as whispering, "Peace out."
Word.

The list was obviously written by someone under 30 and who knows nothing of being (slightly) older and how getting older doesn't mean you have to grow up. Later skaters!

And I Bet it Still Tasted Like Shit...


Pity poor Lance Nesta, not only did his aunt give him a fruit cake some 40 years ago, he recently found it in his attic. You just can't get rid of those things, no how hard one tries.

I've never fully understood fruitcake--I don't like the taste, the texture, nor the look of the thing, in fact, I don't know of anyone who does. Yet, people still make them... and force them upon others.

Johnny Carson used to say that there was only one fruitcake and it just got passed around from person to person. I tried to break that cycle by throwing them out, however, like the swallows returning to Capistrano, fruitcake seems to find its way back to my house.

Thankfully, I won’t have to worry about this for another 8 months, but it is something to think about. Of course, I could be like Lance and just stick it in the attic and forget about it…

It was 50 Years Ago Today...

...that my parents walked down the aisle...

...and they are still together! Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad!*

Over the years they have said that it was a lot of work to make a marriage work, but they always made it look easy. I can only hope to have been as good of a son as they have been parents.**




*They don't read this... are you kidding?! I talk about sucking body parts of other guys, I'm not going to share that with my parents--speaking of: I got laid the other night. Freaky stuff. Bizarre, actually. Will have to share some of the funnier aspects later (and they will be shared), but right now, it's all about the 'rents.

**I'm definitely stealing that for my toast tonight... (if any of my siblings are reading this and planning to steal it from me, know this: I have taken a meat butchering course (hasn't everyone?), so you have been warned.

When You Live on the Edge of a Continent

My co-worker (and budding author) Heather lives on the coast and when discusing the occasional perils of living here says, "That's the trade off for living on the edge of a continent." Below is a picture of the road slipping into the sea in front of her home (behind the trees) due to all the rain in the last month.*


However, the same week the road continued its descent into the sea, she took a picture of the sunset.


I have no doubt why she stays...**



*It's been like freakin' Seattle here! I'm pretty sick of all this rain. Sure, I enjoy the occasional rain and it's nice to have the resevoirs filled for a change, but enough is enough. I guess I need to do me some talkin' to the sun and tell him I don't like the way he gets things done.

**She also describes the house as "Twenty-dollar house; million dollar view." I disagree that the house isn't worth that much, but she is definitely right about the view.

How Could Anyone Vote for This Guy?



Seriously... how?

Now THIS is Scary


Forget about Osama and Saddam... these guys are truly scary fanatics... and they're coming for us.

My favorite: "By the end, one was left with the distinct impression that the organizers and participants in the conference spend far more time than the average gay person thinking about, talking about, and fantasizing about gayness. "

In discussion of "activist judges"this scary bit came up: Representative Todd Akin (R-Missouri) mused, “we haven’t impeached a judge in a while, it might be fun!” and outlined the strategy whereby conservative activists are beginning to generate lists of potentially impeachable offenses “as a warning” to judges: “Anything is an impeachable offense that Congress says it is, I guess,” he observed.

Scary stuff... very scary stuff.

Closing in on 8000!

I am just 100 visits away from 8000 hits on my site. Thank you so much for visiting! As always, I’m intrigued as to what brought you here—thanks to Site Meter, I know. I’m still a site for perverts and weirdos… God Bless each and every freaky one of you.

Of the 300 people that visited last week, over 2/3 were visiting from Brian Beckett’s Boys For Breakfast.

My beloved EGL managed only to bring in 5 visitors… what happened EGL? Is my love not strong enough? Or is your bad date effecting my readership? Damnit, man! Snap out of it!

Beating out EGL is the incredibly hot Chris Evans whose bulge is popular enough to have some 30 visitors specifically looking for it. It’s quite a bulge… he’s quite a guy.

Giada De Laurentiis still is on the list with a scan 10 visits looking for her boobs.

Oddest and most inappropriate search at Slap & Tickle goes to the strange freak (and I mean that in a nice way) that was looking for “midget boobs.” I’m not sure if that means a woman with small breasts, or if he (she?) is looking for a naked female little person. Who knows…?

Thank you all for stopping by.


Incidentally, this week is my parent’s 50th wedding anniversary. Hopefully, it will be interesting enough to discuss—but I’m not holding my breath.

Personality Test


Draw a pig and see what it says about you…

The test said that I’m a realist, a great listener, and have an “amazing sex life.”

None of this is remotely true—albeit, in my fantasy world I’m a great listener and have an amazing sex life—but this test is just wrong.

However, the ‘welcome pig’ is kinda funny.

I’m still recovering, people, cut me some slack…

Got Cold?


On Wednesday, I woke up with my throat on fire. Whenever I wake up with a nasty sore throat, it usually signals the beginning of a cold. The worse the sore throat, the worse the cold will be… Did I mention my throat was on FIRE?

After resting all day, I thought I might have beaten the cold back a bit, but decided I should take another day just to really kick the damn thing into submission. No one likes a smug cold and I wanted to teach the little bastard a lesson. By Thursday evening, I was feeling a bit better… then I took a nap.

Apparently, this cold likes to sneak up on me when I’m sleeping, because I woke up from the nap in agonizing pain: throat, head, nasal passages… from my shoulders up—nothing but pain.

I slept in on Friday and called my doctor—surely this is the most heinous cold on record, maybe it’s the bird flu! My gosh… I’m Patient Zero! Nurse Ratchet would not let me speak to the doctor but tried to assure me that my symptoms were nothing but a common cold.

Common Cold?! Stuffy head? Feverish (although, there was no actual fever, I did feel feverish)… coughing, aching… and she calls it a cold?!

“I tink it’th more dan a code” I mumbled in my best “Bird Flu Voice.”

“It’s a bad cold,” she assured me, “but it’s a cold just the same.”

“Is dare a pill or shod?”

“Shod?”

“Shod! Shod! Domp’t be mocking my code voith!”

“No, sir, there is no shod…”

“Look here, missy…” I was becoming indignant.

“Sir, you’re becoming indignant. Just drink lots of fluids, take some Nyquil and get some rest.”

“Yed, ma’am.”

So, I spent the day in bed… and not the ‘good kind’ of being in bed: the resting and relaxing and enjoying myself (if you know what I mean).* No, I slept and drank and slept and peed and slept and drank and slept and peed… and then I slept a little more.

I’m feeling a skotch better, but I still have a cough and my nose is stuffy and my head hurts, but I did have a desire to look at porn this evening, which I take as a sign that I’m recovering. I didn’t fully enjoy the online porn (again, if you know what I mean)** but I did look and that’s a good thing.

Whatever you people do, do not get this cold—it’s not what they advertise at all. It’s not fun, there’s no dancing tissues or singing noses.***

Hopefully, I’ll feel better soon and I can write something amusing and wonderful… hey, there’s a first time for everything…







*You do… perv.

**Again, you do… and again, you perv.

***While my nose didn’t sing, it did whistle for a while, but no tune that I know of.