Posts Tagged ‘opinion’


  1. I swear to God I will bring up to people I see in the future that have un-friended me on Facebook the fact that they un-friended me on Facebook.  Facebook lets passive aggressive people feel powerful because they never have to talk to someone face to face.  I am going to force people to confront their actions head on and own them.  I am going to do it right off too, and then I promise I will let it go.  I am going to say to them, “Hey, brother, it’s good to see ya, why did you un-friend me?”  To make it more awkward, I won’t tell them I don’t really care that they did it.
  2. I want to pick a random friend I have on Facebook and copy word for word every post they put on their wall.  I want to do this until it makes them awkward and then I want them to un-friend me.  Then, I will confront them about it if and when we run into each other in the real world. 
  3. I swear to God, I will never run a marathon.  I don’t care if running a marathon becomes as popular as Bieber, I will never run one.  Of note, I will run a marathon if the zombie apocalypse happens and it is required of me to survive.  However, I will only run it just faster than one person more than the amount of zombies that are chasing us.  To clarify:  if six zombies are chasing me and a group of nine others, I only need to run finish the marathon in fourth place.  If a group of twenty zombies are chasing a group of ten survivors, I will injure some of my fellow survivors in hopes that more than one zombie will crowd around the fallen survivor and this will allow me a window to escape. 
  4. I swear to God, I will choose the persons that I injure based off of a well defined thought process of how much each survivor offers to the group.  Or, if you didn’t laugh at my jokes, you will be injured. 
  5. I swear to God that I want to get in a fight at a diner to defend my wife’s honor.  I want to be sitting in a circular chair that is attached to the floor that spins.  As the individual attempts to subjugate my wife’s honor, I will spin around and quote a bible verse, but I want the bible verse to be relevant only in a manner that takes a second to comprehend.  Like, I spin around and say, “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.”  This relates.  It is a biblical way of saying, “I am going to tax your ass.”  Or it’s a biblical way of saying, “dude, you should pay your taxes, because you should avoid breaking the law.”  Either way, there is a second where the subjugator of my wife’s honor is going to struggle to find relevance in my ramblings–enter my fists of rage.
  6. I swear to God that interpretive dancing makes little to no sense to me.  If you are doing your own interpretive dance routine and mess up, do you really mess up?  It all looks like you are just doing the next thing that pops into your head anyway.  If the next thing that you think of is to fall down clumsily, then you just did it.  Its dancing. 
  7. I swear to God, I want to join a hip-hop dance troop and design a routine for said troop.  I want to get involved in a horrible romantic relationship with the lead dancer that causes the rest of the group to suffer.  Right before the big day where we reveal our dance, that I created the lead dancer and I have a falling out that jeopardizes the entire show.  Everything is in chaos, will the show happen?  Will my hot female dance lead and I be able to get our stuff together in time and have a dance performance that gets us into dance college?  I don’t know.  Dance is a tough, tough world for lovers. 
  8. I swear to God that I will be better about judging other people before I talk to them.  I have this horrible habit of assuming that all people are not worth my while, initially.  To clarify:  I will not do better about my judgment of the teenagers, because the teenagers are bat-shit crazy.  The worst part about teenagers is that they keep growing more of themselves.
  9. I swear to God that when I get famous, I will take the 50 dedicated readers of this blog with me like MC Hammer did in the early nineties.  I will take care of all of you.  I will buy you houses and let you hang out all the time by my dollar sign shaped pool.  It will be like a mix between Adam Sandler movies and Hannah Montana.  I was thinking about it the other day when driving to work.  When I drive to work, I like to think about things that will never happen.  It starts when I am singing the song that is playing on the radio, and singing it ten times better than the person being paid to sing it (in my head).ed  I have full on fantasies about it like in Saved by the Bell when Zach Morris and his crazy gang of friends form that band, Zach Attack.   I go through the entire rise to fame and subsequent life of drug induced turmoil, and then finally realize that I was happy all along.  However,
  10. I swear to God that when I get rich and famous, I will not regret being rich and famous.  Money absolutely can buy my happiness.  I am a petty, petty man.
  11. I swear to God that I will put more thought into this blog in the future. 

I just wanted you to know, because I have been holding it in for years.

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I have written before about being with a pregnant woman (I always write this like I had nothing to do with my current lot in life, but I was actually involved in the conception, at least I was in the same room, and was doing as I was told….), and I have written before about zombies, but never have I combined the two. I have noticed that my wife’s pregnancy seems to be a bit more interesting to you than my post apocalyptic adventures, my take on music, or even The Facts of Life. That being said, I want to give you what you want. And in doing so, I want to stress to you that I am not making anything I write up. My wife, we’ll call her Whitney to protect her identity, is a gold mine of material for anyone. If I had just a bit more talent and ability, I believe I would be famous just for describing her antics. I think the reason she is such a jackpot of hilarity is because she doesn’t even try to be funny; it is just her being her—that and she has turned into a zombie, an unbelievably sexy zombie, but a zombie nonetheless (how hot are pregnant ladies? I never knew, but damn there is something about a pregnant woman. Every time I say this, people say “the glow, it’s the pregnant glow.” I say, whatever it is, it is probably the hottest thing I have ever seen. But this could also be due to the “something I can’t have because everything is tender on her, so I really want it” syndrome. This surfaces in men from time to time, but usually manifests itself in our longing for a bigger television or some other violation of God’s commandment pertaining to coveting your neighbor’s shit).

Longest. Paranthetical. Statement. Ever. And if you are like those horrible people in your English class, you will skip it like it isn’t there. This used to drive me crazy. See, when I get to parenthetical information, I read it fast and in one tone, so that it sounds like an aside, or the end to a political advertisement, you know, “this ad is sponsored by the blah blah blah….yada yada yada”

You’ve read an entire paragraph, and still you don’t even know what I am going to discuss. Well I am going to give you actual utterances that my wife rambled off over the last 19 weeks. Remember, she is a race car in the red one second and a love bomb the next. I will give some context, and your job will be to just chill. You will deduce that my wife is indeed a zombie, not a zombie that literally eats flesh and preys on any living creature, but in a larger metaphorical type zombie. This being, that her behavior, at times, makes me feel like a helpless victim in a movie trapped in a house whilst the undead are tearing at the windows I’ve boarded up to protect everything that is alive inside. The house representing my sanity, soul, and well-being……the zombies are my wife’s off the wall comments and inferences…..have a look for yourself….

I got a call from my wife the other day. Whitney: I sent you a funny email that talks about things women say to men. There is one part that mentions how men never do anything they say they are going to do. This one should resonate with you.

Me: ………….

On a similar vein, Whitney came to me with a proposal for getting a new vehicle. I am all about it; I want her to have nice things. I love her and she deserves this. If you are man, you will see the brilliance in her statement.

Whitney: I would really like to get a new car, maybe it is because the oil hasn’t been changed in over a year or something, but the car isn’t running as well as it used to, but I don’t know I am just guessing…..

She was able to ask for a car, and simultaneously land an insult about men (specifically me, in this case) not doing anything they say they will do….

Last night. Whitney: I read your blog, I would appreciate it if you would stop making me out to be such a good person and start making me an accessory to some of your bad behavior….

Me:…….you’re right, I am sorry for portraying you in a good light.

Whitney has been reading lately, which is never a good thing in our house. Before work, I carried some things to her car to help my little damsel in distress. Instead of a thank you, these words actually came out of her mouth.

Whitney: It’s about time you start acting more like Christian Grey. (Reference to 50 Shades of Grey?)

I am not even sure what it means, but I am certain that this is why women were not allowed to read books for years….(I am not sure whether women were actually precluded from reading, but right now, it seems like I would have been pro—women-no-read amendment).

Recently, I was forced to cancel plans at the last second that we had made with our friends. The plans were to include an entire weekend. I already felt bad, but it had to be done, and there is no good way to do this.

Whitney: I can deal with it, but you know you just ruined their anniversary. This is the one weekend they have away from their kids to celebrate their love for one another……

I was in the depths of despair at this point, and upon seeing our friends later that day I was extremely apologetic. Our friend, we’ll call her Angela to protect her identity, 1) was fine and actually stated it worked out so she could spend time with her daughter, and 2)relayed to me her anniversary was actually nowhere close to occurring.

I looked to my wife who calmly responded, “I knew you had ruined something, but I was just unsure what it was……”

These are the words that echo as the zombie rips the final board from the window. The fog and the night force themselves through the shards of glass and across my broken sill. These thieves, pilfering the light and warmth from my house, leave me there huddling, shaking with terror against the corner of my now over-run home. I resign myself to my fate. I know I am going to turn soon. Soon I will be undead and there is peace in my resignation…….