Tag: satire

Consequences you can expect from horrible pick-up lines I overheard

image I’ve been ridiculously happily married for almost 10 years now, so the singles bar scene is a long-forgotten memory. Or maybe just a deeply repressed one.

At least until yesterday.

That’s when a friend came to town and invited me out for a quick beer. As we began catching up over Dos Equis, we couldn’t help but overhear a series of pick-up lines being exchanged by a group of 20-somethings who — at least in their minds, and thanks to several happy-hour pilsners each — had assembled a list of clever lines “no woman could resist.”

Their words, not mine.

In a moment, you’ll understand why.

As a service to single men everywhere, and in particular to that group of 20-somethings once they’ve sobered up, I felt obligated to jot down some of those “fail proof” pick-up lines and explain — through a “trial” and “error” format — what they can expect should those lines leave their mouths in the general direction of an actual living female, intoxicated or otherwise. Continue reading Consequences you can expect from horrible pick-up lines I overheard

My commencement address (assuming I ever give one)

imageTo the Class of 2016, faculty members, parents, dignitaries, mis-informed wedding crashers, and Visa/MasterCard representatives who have gathered here today:

I am honored to have the opportunity to address this group of graduating seniors and impart the wisdom I have gained since my own graduation from high school nearly 150 years ago.

Standing before you today, I see the anticipation on your faces as each of you comes to realize what sharing my wisdom with you means: Possibly the shortest commencement speech in school history.

Before long, you will step forward and receive the culmination of 12 — possibly 14 — years of education. You will shake hands with some of those who have helped guide you to this milestone. And unless your last name begins with a “Z,” you will return to your seat as the rest your classmates step forward to receive their diplomas. That’s when you will silently think to yourself, “I really shouldn’t have had that second bottle of Mountain Dew.”  Continue reading My commencement address (assuming I ever give one)

A quick update on my sexiness

 

SURGEON GENERAL'S WARNING: Thinking Ned is sexy may be bad for your health.
SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Thinking Ned is sexy may be bad for your health.

This status update on my sexiness will be quick because, let’s be honest, it’s me we’re talking about. Those of you who have been following my inclusion in the “Who is the Sexiest Number” competition at The Public Blogger will be happy to know I’ve made the final three.

Ok, maybe “shocked” is a better word.

Either way, as we head into next week’s final round (June 5 & 6), it’s down to Thomas Lemke of Oklahoma, Keyur Panchal of India, and me: a slightly older humorist (give or take 20 years). I’m currently ranked No. 1, mostly due to my seductive bacon poetry, which was dripping with… uh… sexiness?

For the final round, we are required to make a short video explaining what quality we’d like others to perceive as “sexy” about us.

So as you can see, I have my work cut out for me.  Continue reading A quick update on my sexiness

Latest trend in grad gifts has parents going for bust

image After reading about how the parents of LuLu Diaz gave their daughter $6,000 breast implants for her high school graduation gift, I couldn’t help but be shocked by the idea of a father agreeing to anything that would make his teenaged daughter more enticing to teenaged boys.

As luck would have it, I actually spent several years in my teens. Because of this I can tell you there are many teenaged boys who still haven’t made it past the “breast” portion of this column. Sadly, some may never finish reading it because, in order to break them out of their current hypnotic spell, it will become necessary for a close friend or family member to light them on fire.

Let’s face it: This is the nature of most men until the aging process inspires a level of physical maturity that dethrones sex as the main motivator. While there is no set timeline for this transformation, most experts agree it begins anywhere between six and eight months after death.

Until then, at least from a father’s perspective, men can’t be trusted.

Continue reading Latest trend in grad gifts has parents going for bust

This time, it’s going to take more than bacon for me to be sexy

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As I mentioned last week, due to what I’m assuming was either an egregious counting error or possibly something alcohol related, I somehow ended up in the final six “Sexiest Men” in the Public Blogger’s online Neighborhood. In the last round, we were required to write a piece of sexy poetry, which I did by drawing from my deep passion and desire for soft, glistening curves of my mistress…

Bacon.

Clearly, I’m not the only one who feels this way because I’m coming into this round in first place.

After tonight, only four of us will remain when voting ends tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. PST  (and by that, I don’t necessarily mean I’ll be eliminated by a heart attack.) This round’s theme is “Smile,” with each of us submitting something — art, photography, music or humor *cough cough* — to vote on as each of us tries in our own way to “bring sexy back.” As you can imagine, I’m already behind because I actually have to FIND my sexy first. In the meantime, if you’d like to cast a vote — for me or any of these terrific men — you can follow the link, which I have cleverly labeled as “Vote Here.”

No matter who you vote for, or whether you vote at all, I already feel like a winner just knowing that I have bacon at home.

 

Sometimes being an astute observer has its drawbacks

imageAs I’ve mentioned, during our town’s annual spring festival, the carnival sets up across the street from our home.

Literally.

If it were any closer, I could high-five everyone on the tilt-a-whirl without leaving the couch. So each night after work, I walk two blocks home and pass through the carnival, enjoying the fact that the sound of screaming teenagers — for once — isn’t coming from any of mine. I take time to watch the interactions of people, the motion of the rides, the flashing lights, and take in the carnival-specific aroma of frying corn dogs and sweet cotton candy mixed with freshly spewed vomit from the squirrel cages.

Being a writer, this is a target-rich environment of atmosphere, character and dialogue that I store in my memory to either draw from later or, as in the case of what I’m about to share with you, eventually discuss with my psychiatrist or lawyer.

For example…  Continue reading Sometimes being an astute observer has its drawbacks

Speaking of ergonomic chairs, does anyone know a good chiropractor?

imageBeing a journalist, I am trained to notice the most subtle signs of something amiss.

A hesitant glance.

A bead of sweat.

A chair that appears to be built backwards.

So, as I walked through our composition department this morning on my way to the news room, I immediately noticed that Peggy’s standard-issue office chair had been replaced with a broken piece of furniture. Who would do this to poor Peggy with the lower back problems? Why not replace her desk with a TV tray while you’re at it? Maybe we could move the copy machine on top of a book shelf so she has to use a ladder!

Poor, poor Peggy.

Then I remembered her mentioning she was getting a new “ergonomic” chair. Using the deductive skills I’ve developed over 16 years as a journalist,  I came to the following conclusion:

This must be her new chair.

I stared at it for a moment, trying to picture how one would ergonomically sit in it. I decided there was only one way to find out — a process that was captured by one of our office’s surveillence cameras…  Continue reading Speaking of ergonomic chairs, does anyone know a good chiropractor?

Poetic justice could mean a jail sentence for my poetry

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Me.

Sexy.

Poetry.

Those are three words I never expected to be associated with. Especially that second one, which I’m still scratching my head about. But tonight, I’ll be joining seven other men for Round 2 of the “Who Is the Sexiest Number?” at The Public Blogger.

The objective is to write your sexiest poetry.

That’s right: Me, a humor columnist, bringing on “the sexy” against young rappers and artists. Let’s be honest, bringing “the sexy” is hard enough by myself. Believe me, I know.

Wait… not that I know what it’s like being sexy by myself. I just meant when I’m by myself it’s already hard… I mean tough! It’s tough writing poetry!

*sigh*

This could be really ugly.
Continue reading Poetic justice could mean a jail sentence for my poetry

I’m shucking excited over my new book cover

image As I admitted a few weeks ago, I spent the morning with an oyster. Nothing kinky. Just a photo shoot for the cover of my new book coming out in September. Given that the title is a play on words related to pearls and shucking, the idea of incorporating an actual oyster into the cover seemed the responsible thing to do. For about two hours, a photographer friend, Joshua Greene, did his best to capture something cover-worthy.

And let me tell you, holding an oyster as it slow-cooks under the lights is its own special kind of hell. By the time it was over, I was essentially holding nature’s seafood petri dish of shellfish poisoning.

When it was over, I thanked Joshua profusely. He shook my hand and smiled. “Let’s not ever do this again.”

I posted the top five picks here a few days later and a lot of you offered your feedback, which I really appreciate. The final image (above) was among the top two, which I then sent to another friend, Eric Wilder, who I met several years ago in the WordPress blogosphere at The Grimm Report (a hilarious but, sadly, now defunct blog offering news reports from the land of fairytales.) In addition to being an author, Eric also has a highly successful graphic design business, Wilder Design and Advertising, a beautiful wife and children, is stylish, uber talented, and even knows what to do with all that extra silverware at fancy restaurants.

Yet some how, in spite of all that, he’s simply too nice to dislike — and I consider myself extremely fortunate to call him a friend.  Continue reading I’m shucking excited over my new book cover

It takes manliness to crawl under the house, even if you’re screaming

imageThere comes a time in every man’s life when he must set an example for his son by crawling under the house to fix something. This must be done with apparent fearlessness even though he knows whatever needs fixing is going to be located in the darkest corner of the home’s underbelly, probably behind a spider web the size of a commercial fishing net.

Several years ago, I used plywood to seal up the underside of our home and stop what I suspected were nightly “rave” parties hosted by our cat. These parties generally started around 11:30 p.m. and were held directly beneath our bedroom floor, where it sounded like 20 cats playing Twister. Naturally, I had no choice but to break up these parties by getting out of bed and shoving our 60-lb. Labrador headfirst through the crawl space in our closet floor.

My point is this: Sealing things up stopped the cat parties. Unfortunately, it also turned the crawl space under our home into a frightening black void where, thanks to evolution, a species of hairy, sightless, spider-like rodents with large fangs and the ability to mobilize telepathically has nested, colonizing into the hundreds.

Possibly even thousands.

I know this because I’ve shined a flashlight down there and — this is not an exaggeration — I’m pretty sure I saw something move.  Continue reading It takes manliness to crawl under the house, even if you’re screaming