Monthly Archives: February 2012

Three hundred dollars of oops (pure awesome!)


Drunk me makes sober me really, really tired. Drunk me is full of ideas, just ideas coming out of every hole in my body full of ideas.

It’s up to sober me to filter them.

Here’s a hint drunk me, most of the ideas suck. Can you do a little better job at the filtering them yourself maybe? Help reduce the amount of ideas that you push through to morning maybe would really help? Perhaps you, drunk me, could apply some common sense sort of rules before you push the thought forward to the morning?

For instance you could ask yourself the following questions before forwarding the idea on to tomorrow.

1: Will the idea get me fired from work?

I'm not kidding. We really do have one of these at work. And I can verify, the temptation is overwhelming.

See this one is easy. At work we have a large, old fashioned, metal triangle fire alarm. Even sober I want to hit it with the handily provided medal bar while yelling nonsensical emergency things. “Salmon Attack” dong, dong, dong. “My balls itch”, dong, dong, dong. “Bring out your dead,” dong, dong, dong. “Antiquated fire systems test!” dong, dong, dong.

See it IS funny and I’ve often been TEMPTED at work to do just that. Thoughts about rigging cameras around the whole place to capture the reaction don’t help, so stop suggesting it. It would be funny, but only for about 10 minutes.

2. Does it involve me naked?

You’ve violated the wait till morning rule here a few times with mixed results. I admit the close up photo of testicles texted to, well more people than was sane or necessary, worked as a funny joke. But sober I never would have approved this idea. It was funny yes because the photo didn’t look like anything (other than a really close up picture of testicles) so the joke worked. I maintain you got lucky, most that received the text laughed and the ones that didn’t still talk to me so …

Don’t do that again, no more naked jokes unless I’ve (while sober) sanctioned it!

3. What does it cost?

I’m pretty sure I don’t need to remind drunk me of the strip club after the long business trip or the bill that followed.

like this only I don't remember and it was on a credit card.

After a grueling two-week trip in Italy I, the night before I left for home, made the decision, at the prompting of others and while blasted out of my mind, to visit a strip club. Sober, I in all honesty would never, ever, not in a million years, be up for this. Drunk though I think my brain did the math, boobies AND beer equaled me fully in. But here’s the thing just because I had a tough two weeks (you’re thinking tough, two weeks and Italy don’t go together in a thought, screw you it was tough) that was NO reason to go back into the private VIP area of the club and run up a visa bill that was both obscene and awesome at the same time. The memories from that night SHOULD HAVE BEEN epic yet all I can remember is at one point there were two girls with me, one said something to the effect of, “you can touch them” followed by me batting at large swinging breasts like a kitten plays with a ball of yarn. My wingman, sensing economic disaster, finally pulled me out of the back room and in the morning, when I asked him why he let me stay back there so long just said, “You looked like you were having fun.” He should have bought me a ball of yarn.

This reminds me, I should buy Dagmar something expensive. When I got home this was how the confession about the strip club went …

Me: Hey I should tell you something. I spent like 2k in a strip club.

Dagmar: Did you get laid?

Me: No.

Dagmar: You’re an idiot.

I’m thinking a necklace or ear rings but I’m taking suggestions.

Which leads us to …

About five days ago the $300 remote-control helicopter (Ar Drone for those that are curious) that I ordered while Maggie and Alex were visiting arrived. Even the next morning, sober, I considered canceling the order but besides that quote from Hemingway it passed the filter.

If nothing else I thought the damned thing would be good for a laugh and it LOOKED easy to fly. It synchs with your smart phone or iPad and you tilt the pad to the right and it goes right … how hard could this be?

The answer is hard. As Adrian pointed out in this video, the damned thing just sort of crashes a lot. The only bonus I can think of is that it scares the hell out of the cat and annoys the wife. Win some, lose some.

I say go left and it flies, with reckless abandon, right. Right into the wall getting one of its propellers locked in between two pieces of wood on the wall.

Forward, forward, forward … HOLY too much forward … BACKWARDS full … backwards into the clothes and into a full crash. The propellers are caught now in my shirts, the ones I have to wear to work. No wonder pilots are cocky … this shit is hard.

The battery lasts as long as your high-school boyfriend did, provided you’re a chick. If you’re a man the battery did an awesome job, high-five!

Here it is ... about to fly right into my face ...

You can kinda get it, hovering and adjusting the altitude easy enough. Spinning in a circle left or right — also easy. Movement from a stationary position is the trick. When attempting to command the helicopter to perform movements more complex than hovering a foot off the floor it all comes down to knowing what direction the helicopter is facing in relation to the iPhone… Work it out in your brain, calculate the direction it’s facing and the direction you wish it would go, add 2, subtract 67, multiply by 9, consider how old your grandmother was when she was happiest and it’ll fly into your wall with simplistic finality. Then subtract two.

Naked in mixed company, return of the German sauna


This is what my life-sized cutout looked like, only less breasty.

DC Dana (who has her own very cool blog located here) was correct. What I thought doing a blog was going to be, other than a great big giant I love myself and I kiss my reflection exercise, I don’t know. When I told Lynn Davis I was going to do a blog she called it the worst idea since I had that life-sized cardboard cutout of myself made and kissed it, a lot, in the French tradition of course. And I admit that was a really, really, bad idea (it got all wet cause I was too cheap to pay for the laminate).

What I do know is that when I push something here (don’t click that link — see I told you not to) and link it to face book my next step is hitting the refresh button on the status page that comes with wordpress (The status page shows how many views by day, week and month, how many are currently reading, how they arrived at the blog, that kind of stuff) over and over and over again hoping someone reads this crap.

I had this huge, long paragraph that explained in detail why naked in a mixed gender sauna was the most popular post I’d made thus far. Then super-secret mystery guest writer that really, really hated Valentine’s Day blew that out of the water. For the first time in my admittedly short time doing this, more readers came in from Google than Face Book. That impressed me, and the fact that her update was very, very funny.

Basically her post, and the readers that read, it screwed up my reasoning for doing this update. Prior to that update, the most popular reason that a non Face Book reader would come here was to read about being naked at the German sauna (go ahead and read that but COME RIGHT BACK HERE!) which, even in the dust that I hate Valentine’s day left it in, still gets hits. I’m hoping that my thinking is correct in that once Valentine’s Day sucks has passed from recent memory the most popular search term that bring someone here will return to, “first time naked in a German Sauna.” Most popular as in one or two a day not the 40 goddamn million of you that visited cause; well Valentine’s Day does suck.

So that’s what this update is about, sort of (about German mixed gender sauna’s not Valentine’s Day I mean).

Just to reiterate to the Google god this will be about the first time you are naked in a German sauna and what to

I have no idea what the fine print on this demotivational poster says, it was just he least "WE LOVE GOD" image I could find when I googled, Google God. Also what are the rules about using capital letters with Google. When It's Google sure cap that G baby but when you are googling ... nevermind.

expect. Yeah I just want to milk out the hits that aren’t from Face Book … so let’s start with, What to expect during your first naked German sauna experience shall we? I don’t want anyone to miss out on, what will happen when they go to a naked German Sauna for the first time. Otherwise people that have the question, “what is a mixed gender German Sauna like?” will be without an answer. So let’s answer some questions about what your experience at a nude German Sauna will be like.

When I Googled “first time in a naked in a German Sauna” (to write this, not for the first time I went) I found a few really good articles about it, a few retarded Americans (let’s be honest they were all by Americans) who couldn’t get over their Americaness and one idiot, in the comment section on Yahoo answers (Mr. Maul) that said, there have to be separate gender areas otherwise there would be a lot of rape. There are gender separate saunas available in some German Saunas Mr. Maul and I was only raped once in the mixed gender sauna, sir. Only once!

Maybe it’s common knowledge maybe it’s not. The Europeans think that shooting a dude’s face off is disgusting and that a naked human body isn’t.

Backwards I know.

Obviously a naked human is MUCH more dangerous to a society than shooting a person’s face off. We understand this.

‘Merica, human body bad — unless filled with bullets — then human body good. We also like meat a lot which I think means something.

I digress.

I think that basically there are three types of people that Google “first time naked in a German sauna.”

1.  People that are about to go to a nude German sauna and are panicked like a high-school senior a month after prom night

2.  People that are about to go to a nude German sauna and are legitimately wondering what to expect

3.  Men who are about to masturbate, looking for a video that starts with a blonde girl in a towel walking into a sauna where a man wearing a towel says, “you know in Deutschland das towel is verboten” <cue porn music>

Let’s break them down.

In a perfect world this would a photo of a man with an erection, with lots of women laughing at him. This isn't a perfect world.

1. People that are about to go to a nude German sauna and are panicked like a high-school senior a month after prom night. (I figure one person in a hundred has this reason when Googling)

Look here’s the deal, if you’re freaked out about going to a German sauna where you will likely be naked in front of members of the opposite sex, don’t go. If you’re scared you’ll have an erection* or that men will be lusting after your exposed lady bits (you won’t and they aren’t) don’t go. The German sauna’s not for you. It’s about relaxing and taking care of you. If your cultural/family/societal norms are that mixed couples cannot be together in the nude for any nonsexual purpose then don’t go.

If you just read that and still think you might be interested I have golden advice for you. Safe advice, advice that won’t leave you with a publically exposed erection (take THAT Google) or lusted after by lusty men.

Every German sauna I’ve been too has an area where you can undress in private and put on a robe or towel. Wearing said robe or towel walk around the sauna, get a feel for it. You’ll see pretty quickly it’s not the kind of place you fear. Or you’ll run in fear (please report back to me which it is). My point is that you can explore a German (European) mixed gender sauna, without exposing yourself and make the decision based on what you actually see, vice what you think you’re in for.

2. Americans that are about to go to a nude German sauna and are legitimately wondering what to expect (I think likely that two in a hundred people Googling have this reason)

I had this long ass thing in my head that I was going to tell you but I can basically sum it up in a paragraph I think.

Truth is it’s a great day. You’re going to sweat it out, lounge in a pool and basically chill out. It’s Germany, they have an official way to do everything, and this includes relaxing. Insert your own, why did they follow Hitler joke here. But in this, and a lot of other respects, they are right. Germans have it down, give it up, yo.

They’ll have a little schedule, if you will, posted on the wall that says what you should do first, second, third and it ends with a drink. A boozy drink, wine or beer generally.

3. Men who are about to masturbate looking for a video that starts with a blonde girl in a towel walking into a sauna where a man wearing a towel says, “you know in Deutschland das towel is verboten” <cue porn music> (this the basically the only reason anyone is Googling naked in a mixed gender sauna, let’s be honest)

Please send me links to the best videos you find. Thanks.

* I have seen three erections at a German mixed nude sauna. So it does happen. It was all within the same group of men (I use the term loosely) and it was very much intentional (the erections I mean). It was also one of the funniest things I have ever seen. I promise with my next sauna update to explain it.

In fact with the next naked sauna update I will explain the following and likely not in this order:

The Pee-Pee Patrol

Three erections (see above)

What happens exactly when the whole place goes nude.

Sailor man’s penis

Exhibitionist girl

Yes, Dagmar, okay I was looking at those girls cause they were hot (cause Bron Barry was right),

Gay man hits on me in the sauna and the same gay man hits on me later story follow up.

Finally here’s a poll. It’s anonyomous (I think) …

NJ Governor Christ Christie honors Whitney Houston by pissing off a lot of people, also has an extra large pizza


The woman that keeps my house clean and has fixes delicious food and I just had an argument about current events.

I couldn’t be happier.

I was going to use one of the images that clearly shows Whitney thought that drugs, other than crack, weren't whack, but really that doesn't matter ... yo

After nearly 20 years of marriage I’ve got to admit it was unexpected. It was like having a repressed sexual fantasy finally play out. She and I can predict each other’s positions on anything with laser like accuracy, most of the time. Sometimes it really, really, really pisses me off even. I’m in full pumped out chest with righteous rage about an issue only to find she completely agrees. My point is we can disagree but it’s only a matter of how far we agree with a position. It’s like arguing who is more right. Which is like arguing which cookie tastes better, when they both taste good.

Dagmar and I, and the comment’s section of 90 percent of the internet’s news sites, disagree about New Jersey’s Governor Christie’s decision to lower the American flag to half mast in honor of Whitney Houston. We see this very differently.

Fortunately unlike the internet Dagmar hasn’t called me a racist, a Nazi or an asshole (well not in reference to this particular issue anyway).

But there should no argument. Christie has every right to lower the state’s flag even if it doesn’t make this decision a good one. Christie also has every right to make an (even bigger) ass of himself.

Here’s the awesome part of the story. New Jersey has lowered the flag for each of the 31 service members from that state who gave their lives in the war on terror. I have no idea how many other states do that but they all should.

They do it when Presidents and other high-ranking elected officials pass away. This is also good. They do it when a law-enforcement officer or firefighter dies. Also good.

Here’s the non-awesome part of the story. They’re going to do it to honor Whitney Houston. Not so good.

Even if — and think about this for a moment please — Whitney Houston had lived a life that was pure and chaste it wouldn’t change one single thing. Lowering the flag to honor a pop culture icon is wrong, no matter how popular the icon.

It is. I’m sorry it is.

Lowering the flag is a gesture that honors the individual’s service or sacrifice for the good of the nation, state, community, what have you. It will be appropriate when former President George W. Bush dies. Even though I didn’t agree with a lot of the things he did as president, I cannot deny the fact that he served and sacrificed for our nation. Our flag should be and will be flown at half-staff in his honor.

The anniversary of Sept. 11 is an appropriate time to fly the flag at half mast. Or when popular singers die, whichever.

Christie said, according to the Washington Post that he decided to lower the flag to honor her, cultural impact and as “a daughter of New Jersey.”

Only that’s not what I, and a lot of others, thought lowering the flag was for. We kind of thought it was honor, sacrifice and service. While Whitney may indeed have done a lot of “good things in her life,” as the Governor said, it’s my opinion that he’s cheapened the tradition for every other person it’s been lowered for since then or in the future. If you’re willing to lower it for a singer, no matter how good a singer she might have been, who made millions and millions of dollars through her fans, what message are you sending to the family of a police officer that is killed in the line of duty in downtown Newark?

Whitney might have had a heart of gold, she might have adopted every stray puppy she ever saw, she might have loved little babies, been really fun at parties and, for all I know, she might have farted $100 bills.

None of that is service to or sacrifice for the nation. None of it.

We do know she sang very well, she sang so well that millions of teenage girls in the eighties pissed off their boyfriends by playing her songs over and over and over. I’m 41 so I know this first hand, do the math.

But really that’s it. Her music touched so many lives though, I hear. But how exactly it ‘touched so many lives’ remains open for debate. If her songs made you cry, smile, laugh or love that’s great. It has nothing to do with, here’s those words again, service or sacrifice.

Her voice made me cringe because I knew I’d be cursed with whatever song I had just heard. The song would stick in my head for a few hours, but that would be an example of ‘touching my life’ I guess.

The special musical tribute concerts, television shows and what not that are no doubt about to hit the airwaves and the internet, those are appropriate ‘tributes’. Honoring her with that sort of venue is appropriate and I’ve no argument against it.

I really hope they decide not to do this, not because I have anything against Whitney Houston, but because I have something for all legitimate heroes and leaders the flag will be lowered for in the future.

There’s some really easy jokes to make about New Jersey being full of idiots, which isn’t true or even relevant (though looking at what’s come out of there recently, Jersey Shore, it’s a legitimate question). So I’ll avoid that joke. The governor there is, if his weight is any indication, no stranger to vices. His vices just take the form of a Twinkie-eating contest that never ever ends.

Chris Christie hopes that by giving state honors to victims of substance abuse his overeating will get the recognition it deserves, and it better or he’ll sit on you.

It’s not a joke at all though. It cheapens what the honor of lowering the flag for those that really deserve it..

Truth be known after about five minutes of listening to me rant about this Dagmar told me to shut up. After 20 years of marriage, I knew what she meant; she meant I should stop talking. So I started typing.

Still though, it was an awesome argument.

Why Valentine’s Day sucks, Written by a person that hates Valentine’s day.


Note: This update is by a person who REALLY, REALLY hates Valentine’s day. I’m rather blah about Valentine’s Day. On one hand there is yummy candy, on the other hand it’s retarded (not as badly as Xmas but still). She hates it so much that she asked that I not use her real name, for fear of angering the Valentine’s day lobby or something. This is the first of what I hope (cause I don’t have to do very much work) are a few guest writers.

Without further ado here’s Why Valentine’s Day sucks …

She is correct ... Valentine's Day does suck.

Here we go again… You know, one of the many holidays throughout the year created, I’m convinced, to remind me that I’m still single. Well, not single… DIVORCED! Which at 26, is 10 times worse. I will never be single again. I now have a nice little label that follows me around everywhere I go, laughing in my face, occasionally reminding me of my epic failure of a marriage and insisting that I will never, ever, be happy again. So, enter Valentine’s Day, a holiday that even when I was married, I hated…

The Golden Rule

I really like the concept of treating others as you would like to be treated. So much so, that I exercised this rule in my marriage, particularly on Valentine’s Day. My then husband was not much of a romantic, so to show him how I would like to be treated on Valentine’s Day, I sent flowers and balloons to HIM… at work. That may have been my first mistake, as I have been told that I have a tendency to emasculate men, but that’s another story.

So, I figure, that if I did this, he would naturally come to the conclusion that he should do something similar for me on special occasions, something very public. I am a huge fan of public displays of affection, and not just the kind that involve boinking in a bar bathroom. I know that some people believe that special moments should be private, and to those people I say, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, did it make a sound? I am incredibly insecure, and I want, on special occasions like Valentine’s Day, for everyone I know to see that there is somebody that thinks I’m awesome and loves me and wants me to have like 20 of his babies… I want to proudly display two dozen roses and a big stupid teddy bear on my desk at work for one fucking day… So sue me.

Anyway, that whole treat him how I would like to be treated really worked out for me… That’s why I’m divorced, not single. However, being divorced on Valentine’s Day isn’t any better…

Red Suede Shoes

Nothing says I love you like shaving a heart into your hairy back!

So, my second Valentine’s Day as a divorcee is the reason why I loathe first dates. In my opinion, asking someone out for a first date and scheduling said date ON Valentine’s Day is pretty fucking ballsy. I tried to remain optimistic, even though the invitation came via Facebook… from a bald lawyer, who happened to be a captain in the Army. I had recently been on several first dates, with several different Captains, and came to the conclusion that in order to reach that rank, you needed to 1) Cry frequently in public, 2) Be balding at the age of 30, and 3) Have a really, really, really small penis. Really. So, I was impressing myself with my optimism. He was using words like “epic” and “unforgettable” when describing our evening. So what does a girl do? Honey, I bought the sexiest little black dress and some new knee high boots. I was determined to make THIS Valentine’s Day my bitch…

And after walking around in the freezing cold, in heels and said little black dress, for 45 minutes because a certain someone failed to make a reservation, my optimism slowly deteriorated. Finally finding a hole in the wall, that I was clearly over dressed for and being asked, by my lawyer date, about how my divorce paperwork was handled over a sub-par dinner, I succumbed to the fact that this was probably NOT my year for a memorable Valentine’s Day.

So, at the end of the evening, when my date said he had almost had enough wine to get up the courage to kiss me… You will completely understand why I told him he should have some water.

So, this year, I officially give up the idea of romance on this Hallmark holiday and instead will from now on give two, very nicely manicured, middle fingers to St. Valentine. (Well, at least until I meet an amazing man that will treat me how I want to be treated… Then I’m totally hopping back on the bandwagon.

Beer on an empty stomach with Maggie and Alex


Spent three days with Maggie and Alex.  Maggie and Alex came to visit, obviously.   Drunken shenanigans followed.

I picked up Maggie at 1040 Thursday night at the airport. We arrive at our house at almost 2230.

No caption other than, hot works here. Thus, just hot. Until ...

2240 9 Feb 2012 until 1330 10 Feb 2012 Maggie and I: discuss fashion, giggle a lot, talk about work, cry and discuss fashion.  Maggie makes me gay.*

(Maggie’s description of what happened after she took her boots off at our house.)

Maggie: Do you mind if I take my boots off?

Todd: No problem, go ahead. Hey, did I say I really like those boots?

Maggie: Yeah, they’re cool but after having them on all day and all night through the airport. My feet hurt. (Boots come off)

Todd: Hey, what the hell is on your feet?

Maggie: Socks.

She is the reason we should be able to keep our shoes on at the airport.

Women. Look at the before photo. That’s a very cute, no a sexy look. Nice looking boots, hot skirt, black tights. You’d think that once the boots came off you’ve find seductive looking foot with red (or whatever) toenails … no this is the abortion she has on under those boots.

Friday

Three hundred dollars of sure to be AWESOME!!!

1331: Alex show’s up. I rediscover I’m a man when he shows me the coolest remote controlled helicopter ever, it only cost’s $300. I order it because I’ve had five beers on an empty stomach and I really like helicopters. I hesitate about getting a robot room sweeper … why I don’t know.

As people like Maggie, Alex, that woman that lives in this house with me and Gina know, when I’m sober I’m highly gullible to suggestions that if I do/get/buy something I’ll be cool. Gina once, in Iraq convinced me to buy a CD from a band that I had never heard of because she said it was cool.   I’m an idiot, I bought it. This is sober. Drunk, any hint at all is enough to send me over the edge. None of that matters though because now, sober I fully realize this thing will rock (video link).

Alex: There is an iPad app that will let you record the video that the helicopter takes…. Might come in handy….Just saying…

1335: I’m convinced, after the 10th beer on an empty stomach that I should call my office and propose my idea for a toy helicopter American Forces Network commercial shoot that involves our office staff meeting. Maggie talks me down from this, but encourages the purchase of 5 toy remote control helicopters for later use. Thankfully I’ve forgotten my Amazon password (the one that I had used 15 minutes ago) and/or lose interest quickly 

1445: Alex uses the term Mangina, which makes me laugh…

Alex: Reading the above…. I also use the term, “Man-Dang-Go” which I feel is funnier. Also, I like to say, “Laba-Daba-Doo” a lot when referring to female genitalia….

We go buy food. We wanted to get Donar Kebabs but the local restaurant is out of business so we go to a grocery story. We buy a crap ton of food (wine) and return home.

Food is eaten, it’s suggested I put on season one of Chappel show.   Maggie falls asleep and Alex and I laugh about the reparations skit because the phrase “tri-state area” when used in reference to a man’s ass, is funny.

Dagmar calls she’s working late and won’t get off of work until 1900. I wonder what she’ll walk in on (me wearing the Simpsonsunderwear she bought me and nothing else  if there is a god).
No man can fart more than Alex, Dagmar is no man though … she might be a contender.  Seriously though the amount of gas that man produced was at first humorous and then quickly became something I felt the scientific community should study.   I’m convinced he could have powered a small city, if only science could harness his gas.

Alex:  Dude… The gas can be traced back to having about 12 dunkle weisens over the past two days… And I think eating stir-fry cabbage at the DFC yesterday….

1815: everyone, including me, is into their own iIGNOREEVERYTHINGELSE device.

Alex: Todd begins speaking “Toddlese…” We are all perplexed as he’s only had two beers, (that we can verify)…

1955: With no context what so ever Alex yells out Poontang safari gone wrong … (edit my memory, because of the 143 beers I’d drank at this point is a bit off, he says this after leaving the Thai resturant mentioned later in this story, because the owner is German and married a Thai lady … his version is MUCH, MUCH funnier.)

2005:  Dagmar arrives home.   I am fully dressed and my Simpsons boxers are upstairs in the closet still.  There obviously is no god or he/she/it doesn’t find Simpson’s boxers as funny as I do.  Dagmar begins berating me, loudly in front of my friends, for choosing crappy beer, not good dark stuff like her and Alex like.   Then they proceed to kill (over the weekend I mean) the case of crappy beer I bought.

Alex: “Poop Talk with Dagmar” commences…

For reasons that baffle both Maggie and I, when Dagmar and Alex are ‘reunited’ they immediately start to discuss umm, well pooping.  I’m afraid to explore their desire to discuss this topic … afraid for my eternal soul afraid.  He also asks Dagmar to ‘pump his legs’ which somehow encourages more gas.    Open flames are banned from the living room for 24 hours.

Alex: Due to gaseousness… I wear paper underwear… Once time use only….

2030: We are informed by Maggie that we are going to get Thai food. I’m not hungry but realize I can drink beer there so why not.

2130: Maggie has finally herded us into the car, but not before I hand Alex a handful of plastic army men and dinosaurs with the instructions to “put these in your pocket” … he doesn’t argue or even ask why. He knows that I am an idiot. Beer has made me invincible to logic or maturity.

Drunk, I am immune to grown up logic

2140: I pull out my army guys and dinosaurs; no one is impressed but me. I stage fake army guy vs. dinosaur battles while quizzing people that don’t care if I should, ‘blog it?’

Dagmar foolishly thinks plastic army men are toys. They DO have feelings Dagmar. They're clearly fleeing in reaction to your mean gesture.

2145: Dagmar correctly refers to me as an idiot. I eat some chicken fried rice and drink beers.

2155: I go outside to have a cigarette and decide I’m going to steal one of the wooden, 3 feet tall oriental man statutes that decorate the windows of the restaurant.  I’m literally laughing out loud to myself in the frozen tundra that is Germany right now at how funny it will be when I get it home.  I think I have ‘blogish’ plans for it.  I can’t wait to tell Maggie.

2136: I tell Maggie about my plan.

2150: Maggie stops telling me I’m an idiot and that I am certainly NOT stealing a 3 feet tall oriental man statute, even though I thought for sure I was going to.

2151: We leave.  I don’t have a 3 feet tall oriental man statute.

Saturday morning I’m forced, with an epic hangover mind you, to venture out into the very cold outside for a death march through the vineyards.   When I’m elected king of everything any walking outside that doesn’t involve beer in 70 degree or higher temperatures will be banned.

* Truth of the matter is Maggie and Alex have been friends of ours since 2002, she and I just stayed up, catching up.

Baby? No Baby? It’s a choice right?


Here's a link that I think goes to the history of birth control pills. I say I think because it's late and I didn't really read it very well

While it might be fun (for me anyway) to launch into a tirade against the Catholic church’s recent opposition to the Government’s requirement that they include birth control in the health care they offer their employees at Catholic universities and hospitals I’ll try not to.

But mostly I will.

A quick Google search of the church’s reasoning behind this opposition to contraception seems to be that every time a man and a woman engage in the “marital embrace” it’s to make a baby. That’s right the only reason, which I guess in a very strict sense is true, to have sex is to reproduce.

This website even lists several biblical examples of God striking down couples that “hid the miracle of the marital embrace” and were struck down by God’s wrath. God, according to Catholic leadership, really, really likes babies.

One problem I have with this is that according to a study in April of 2011 an astounding 98% of Catholic women support the use of birth control. So even after (presumably) telling Catholic women they shouldn’t use contraceptives 98 out of a hundred either did so or supported the decision too. If you argument is so poorly thought out, so poorly put forward that even your own faithful audience ignores the message, it’s like the message is not a very good (useful) one.

But really that’s between the Catholic church and their followers. Really it is. The problem I have is when the Catholic Church tries to dictate to non-Catholics what contraceptives their health care plans cover (hint it’s none!).

If the U.S. Government was making the Catholic Church use their money to directly spend it on contraceptives, despite their moral opposition, I would be truly offended. But what the church is doing in essence is telling non Catholic employees what they can and cannot do with their own money. If I’m hired tomorrow by a Catholic organization and the job has a health care plan that comes along with it, its part of the salary effectively. The plan is available because I have toiled through time effort and job skills for their organization. In other words I’ve earned it.

Why every woman (hell every man as well but that’s another update) isn’t outraged by this is beyond me but I suspect it has something to do with the Kardashians, desperate housewives and the Jersey Shore.

Is it just a well-timed, “look at what evil President Obama is attempting to make us do” attention grabbing political election year stunt? I don’t know but I’ve already heard every GOP hopeful chime in about it. If the Catholic Church had been this energized about Clergy molesting children there might have been a few less clergy molesting children.

I know, I know, it’s not the same thing. But it does point to an organization that is out of touch with reality in my opinion.

Even the websites listed above point out that contraception isn’t a new phenomenon (though I’d argue safe and effective contraception is). They point

Hopefully this couple had lots of kids, before this happened obviously.

out that there are references to the use of contraception in the bible (referenced as bad of course but still references none the less). I can understand why the church might take this stance if the year was 1012. With high infant mortality rates, plague, starvation and the like would suggest that yes, please do keep the babies coming if for no other reason than to keep the church pews (and pocketbooks) full.

However it’s 2012 and kids today generally have a very, very good chance of, well living. Some of them in our American health care system I understand might even be healthy (and chubby if the most recent statistics are to be trusted). That fact that today’s women have a safe, reliable method of birth control is, arguably, one of the greatest medical advances of all time.

I really don’t care which parts of the bible the Catholic Church chooses to support and which they ignore as long as they do that, inside the church. My opinion though changes radically when they start to enforce that standard on their employees, inflicting their belief on those who are opposed to it. Yeah, yeah, they don’t have to work there but that’s not the point. The employee has earned the right to health care and it’s not the church’s say as to whether that health care covers contraceptives. This is exactly (well one of many) reason we needed government health care reform.

Finally I do understand that many health care companies routinely disallow certain services. Mental health and dental care are primary examples; need I bring up pre-existing conditions? Access to contraception isn’t one that insurance companies, outside of their dealing s with the church were not one of them. It’s far, far cheaper to pay (from the insurance company and the from the insured’s perspective) for contraception than it is to pay for a baby carried to term or an abortion.

The GOP and their candidates have already started to use this contraception issue as a talking point for repealing “Obama care” ignoring the fact that this was exactly the kind of thing that regulation of our health care system can do right. In essence it forces an employer to be fair to an employee regardless of that person’s faith.

Army Guys vs. dinosaurs on Rick’s BMW hood requests … old movies, crappy movies, and lasers!


I’ve got to be honest, you people piss me off.

I thought for sure you would all pick historical battles, really cool movie battles or maybe even something with a nautical theme … the background was blue after all.

But no.

You picked foody stuff, a really bad 70s movie and movies that require I learn something about Photoshop. Thus, Mike Lavigne, Anna Whateveryourlastnameis and Bob Close I give you your wishes:

We're fat. Evidence? Sixteen year olds, when I was a sixteen year old I masturbated to food sex. Yeah we're fat. Also there was no internet back then damnit!

Foody stuff:

Anne wanted a steamy scene from the 80’s flick, “Nine and a half weeks”, which I watched on HBO when I was like 16 and TOTALLY and had a reaction you would expect from a 16 year old male, basically that Michelle Pfeiffer was really, really pretty. Had you known me, even at the age of 20, Anne I would have assured you that Michelle Pfeiffer was A: a total babe, B: she was totally hot and that C: I really thought she was good looking.

I’m not kidding, I had some sort of post card that had an image from the flick in my wall locker at the Defense Information School. Michelle Pfeiffer was serious Anne.

Anne I like you, honestly I do. But there is only so much you can do with plastic dinosaurs and Army dudes …. there is even less you can do when the idea is a sex scene. Also its Army guys VERSES Dinosaurs not Army guys love dinosaurs Anne … geeze.

The T-Rex is totally eating Army Guys face off, but in a good way ...

Look I tried. I didn’t try very hard mind you but I tried. Take comfort in the fact that yes there is a real strawberry, leaking acidic juice, on Rick’s BMW hood.

this was totally not a gay thing ... male Army Guy and a chick dinosaur

Bad movies with uncomfortable scenes …
Mike, Mike, Mike. You picked with a rape sex, heavy on the rape in this case.

Its people like you that encourage the Westboro Baptist church and Fred Phelps.

For those not familiar with the 1970’s classic “deliverance” it’s a movie about men in the rugged wilderness down south getting butt raped by homosexual redneck hillbillies. The seventies were weird I tell you, just weird. Also the star of the movie, Burt Reynolds, had a really cool bow and arrow. If you’ve ever heard someone use the phrase, “squeal like a pig” it’s from this movie.

Macho 1970 men, with butt secks

I used an elaborate five camera shooting technique here that I think helps show … screw it I used a point and shoot. I really got lazy here but in my defense, how graphic did you people want an Army Guy having sex with a dinosaur to be?

I know, very, very graphic.

Tough pervs … this is what I came up with. That scene from the 1972 film deliverance.
It’s a very accurate photo of the actual scene in the movie, for very small quantities of very accurate.

Somehow the look on the dinosaur's face is interesting

Lasers!:
Finally the tough one, Bob’s request for the stay puffed marshmallow man from Ghost Busters. Anyway as much as I’d like to get flaming-melted marshmallow all over Rick’s BMW hood, creating an actual Stay Puft man from actual marshmallows is REALLY friggen hard. I spent at least $1.69 and this is the result.

I made this for my art class and got an F ...

The people that made this had a budget for special effects that exceeded $1.69

But, thanks to the magic of Photoshop you can insert what is likely copyrighted material and make ‘friggen laser beams’ and stuff. I spent like five minutes using the magic wand tool (hehehe that always cracks me up) trying to delete the back ground around Mr. Stay Puft before I got bored and started making, “lasers” which was TOTALLY cool.
Thus, “Army Men versus the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man on the hood of Rick’s BMW — with lasers”

Don't cross lines ... which is a quote from Ghostbusters, not gay porn oddly.

Still taking suggestions by the way for more ideas of Army Guys vs. Dinosaurs on Rick’s BMW … so please leave a comment and I’ll work it in …

* To all my gay friends, I’m sorry. I fully understand that the scene in the movie wasn’t “gay sex”, or gay, or even any sort of representation of two same sex couples in a loving relationship. It’s a dumb joke and shouldn’t be taken for anything else. Same sex rape, actually any rape, which occurs in prison (or anywhere), I fully understand, is about power and nothing else. I’m sorry but damnit it made me laugh.