Daddy Issues

21 Nov

I’m a giver. I choose to help wherever I can. That’s just the kind of person I am. That’s why jumped into action when I heard how dire the situation is for the endangered species of the world. Did you know there are just a few thousand Hairy-Nose Wombats left in the wild? And don’t get me started on the Mediterranean Monk Seal! These poor defenseless animals are just doing their thing, fertilizing the Earth with poo, and stupid humans are killing them for their sexual/magical/safari-décor powers. I refuse to allow this rape of Mother Earth to continue. That’s why I decided to take charge and get involved in conservation. – So, I knocked-up my wife.

What? I can’t make a new Hairy-Nose Wombat, at least I can make a human. C’mon, my heart was in the right place. Maybe I can teach this kid some awesome anti-poacher skills and it will be win-win.

Yep, it’s official, I’m going to be a daddy. It’s my first child and I’m more excited than a pyromaniac at a Kindling Convention. — But, conversely, I’m also more terrified than a pair of stark white undies at an Irritable Bowel Syndrome Convention. (Woo, analogies!)

If Full House, Family Matters and Growing Pains are to be believed, then raising a kid is no walk in the park. Except for that part in the Full House opening credits where they walk in the park. That seemed pretty easy, even Uncle Jesse had a smile on his face.

Hey! Remember that episode when Michelle was a baby and instead of saying “ice cream” she kept saying “house cream”?! That was pretty funny. I hope my kid can’t say “ice”…

But I digress.

People say being a parent is the greatest job you’ll ever have. I’m thrilled about it, but I’m also a little concerned. I have enough trouble remembering to put the butter back in the fridge, how am I going to raise an upstanding human being who respects people in every walk of life, gives back to the community, puts the butter back in the fridge… and also appreciates the satirical brilliance of Weird Al Yankovic?

Also, what’s the etiquette on hilarious interactions with the baby? For instance, is it bad taste to manipulate a day-old infant’s mouth so it looks like they’re rapping Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-A-Lot? Can you dress a helpless child in an outfit that makes them look like a miniature Colonel Sanders, just because it’s funny? What about blaming farts on a baby, is that so wrong?

I guess I’ve got a lot of thinking to do between now and five and a half months from now when the fruit of my loins bursts from my wife’s nether regions. Probably first on my list of thoughts should be coming up with a better way to describe the impending birth. My guess is, my wife won’t appreciate the word “burst” being used in any form whatsoever.

Cripes, this baby-thing is a lot of work.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Jason and Friends: Season Deux (with all new poop references!)

21 Oct

They call it the sophomore slump. It’s when an awesome rookie season is followed up by a second year that’s about as good as a frozen pie shell filled with dung beetles. Beetles that are currently in possession of a crap ton of dung.

Yep, the sophomore slump can hit anyone, from star baseball players to hit television shows to, yes, even great web-based comedy-tainment like The Jason and Friends Talk Show. So, the world was understandably shaken to its core when it was announced that Jason and Friends would return for season two.

Top Four Concerns of Jason and Friends’ Fans

1. Could Jason and his Friends keep their fans chortling with witty banter?

2. Will Jason and Friends explain to us what the hell chortling is?

3. Will the show’s famously hilarious Web Clip of the Week stave off the urge to turn to hardcore pornography?

4. Can Jason crack McDonald’s secret recipe code and ultimately market his own brand of McRib called the McJason-Delicious-Meat-Based-Cutlet-wich?

It turns out the world can breathe a collective sigh of relief, because the first show of season two is in the books and they landed, quite possibly, the best guest since a loaf of sliced bread appeared on The Tonight Show back in 1977.

The first guest was GeneralTomfoolery.com! Well, not the actual http address, he doesn’t talk much. It was me!

In the first episode of season two we tackle such weighty issues as poop, smelly vintage chairs, picking up infants by their heads, and the only way to truly appreciate the experience of watching Ghostbusters on the big screen… with obscenity-laced cheers.

Enjoy!

Tags: , , , , , ,

Reason #53 Why Old Coots Shouldn’t Call the Newsroom

11 Oct

Me: “Hello, newsroom…”
Old Coot: “Where’s Gordy?”
Me: “He left the station about a year ago.”
Old Coot: ”What about the Oh-Bam-Ah jobs thing? How does that work?”
Me: “Um…”
Old Coot: “I mean we got, uh, that drought in Texas and then, of course, we’ve got California and Ohio and Oklahoma and we got Puerto Rico too.”
Me: (Is he just naming U.S. States and territories now?)
Old Coot: “People are talking and those jobs aren’t talking back. It’s like a tornado, you know what I mean?”
Me: “I… um… yes?”
Old Coot: “You bet your ass, yes!”
Me: “Okay, well, thanks for calling.”
Old Coot: “You ever been to that ice cream shop in Goshen? I think they might be hiring.”
Me: “Okay, I’ll look into that.”
Old Coot: “Great. Hey, look I need to go.”
Me: “Oh… um… sorry to keep you?”
*Old Coot hangs up*

Cuss Words: The Great American Art Form

7 Sep

I wouldn’t say I’m a big advocate of cursing. Sure, I enjoy a well-placed “asshead” or “Damn kids and their buttface rap music” now and then, but as a rule I’m not one to drop multiple F-bombs just to watch the shockwaves bowl over every Quaker in the vicinity. Yet, when it comes to cursing, I do have a rule…  shit or get off the pot.

We’ve all seen those Facebook status updates where someone is really fired up and they rail into whoever or whatever ticked them off. But then, just as they get to the good part, something strange happens. Like a child safety cap for their keyboard’s home row, their fingers seize and suddenly a very familiar dirty word is neutered faster than a klutzy gymnast on a pommel horse.

For instance:

Now, it’s possible he was making a witty observation about this driver and how his actions didn’t make “cents.” Or maybe his grandma hacked his Facebook account with Anti-Potty Mouth Malware. But my guess is, he censored himself with a dollar sign because he doesn’t have the stones.

Am I out of line for chastising these folks? Are they simply trying to keep this world free of filth? Maybe. What if he has children on his Facebook friend list, like a young nephew or his parents had an accidental baby late in life and his sister is only thirteen? Maybe he doesn’t want those children seeing such vulgarities.

(I could argue that most young kids, by the age of eight, already know a litany of hybrid-curse words, you’ve never heard even of, and each one is so horrible it could destroy a warehouse full of rosy-cheeked grandmas with a solitary utterance. But, I won’t argue that.)

My gripe is not with a G-rated lifestyle. More power to you for finding a better outlet for your frustration. (Unless that outlet is strangling hobos. If so, start cussing. It’s less illegal.) If you believe in a family-friendly Facebook page, you should stick to that. My gripe is simply this: Do you really think typing “$hithead” instead of “shithead” is a stealthy enough code to ensure your 18-and-over friends will chuckle knowingly, while the minors will stare blankly at the mysterious dollar sign, crying to their Bieber-faced Gods, “Dollar-sign-hithead? What does it all meeeeeeeean?!”

If you’re going to cuss, then cuss. If not, save yourself the shame of a bastardized obscenity and just showcase your anger through kid-friendly curse words like “stink-butt” or poop-mouth.”

My mother has a similar dilemma. She occasionally needs a sweet, sweet cuss-tastic release, but it’s as if her moral fiber won’t permit it without an unconscious acknowledgement of shame. As a result, she’s become the Queen of Midstream Censorship.

A handful of times a year my dear mother gets really fired up, whether it’s a long stressful day that culminates with a nasty driver cutting her off or simply a bag of microwave popcorn that picked the worst time ever to burn. Her anger begins to overwhelm her faculties, and she’s about to give-in to glorious obscenity… but then Jesus takes the wheel.

She gets loud:

 Mom: “What the… I can’t believe this!

High-pitched growling ensues:

Mom: “Grrrrr-hrrrr-eeeee!”

Then, at the absolute crescendo of the anger — comes the cussing!!! – (screeching brake sound) — in hushed, apologetic tones???:

Mom: “Well… (whispers) shhhh-it.”

For years my sister and I have delighted in her quiet curse words. My mother is also a great sport and she laughs with us when we regale her with stories of her past fits of rage, which ended in muttered four-letter words. Still, I can’t deny, I would love to see her completely lose it someday and explode in a mushroom cloud of atrocities, so blue, that every ordained minister in a five-block radius would have loose poops for a week.

Listen, I’m not advocating a lifestyle of sailor-language. My grandma would totally disown me if I did. I just think a little cussing now-and-then, when it’s really necessary, would do you a lot of good. It’s a great stress reliever, and I’m sure it won’t keep you out of Heaven. I’m willing to bet even Jesus dropped a “Goddamn” now and then when Simon the Zealot or one of the other Apostles was whining about the heat or being allergic to fish or something. I doubt he wussed-out and called them @ssholes.

———————————–

Thanks for hanging out with GeneralTomfoolery.com. Please remember, sharing links to this website and telling your friends about us is the best way to say “thanks.” And, if you haven’t “liked” the GeneralTomfoolery.com Facebook page yet, it would be super awersome if you did.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Top 10 Tuesday: What’s Wrong with this World?

26 Jul

Compromise is hard to come by. Washington can’t agree on spending cuts, I can’t get my wife to watch AMC’s brilliant show Breaking Bad and the world can’t agree whether Justin Bieber is a pop genius or a mop-topped cherub-like Anti-Christ (Here’s proof of his satanic-ness).

It’s a crazy, mixed-up world and if you’re anything like me little things can get you going. And by “going” I mean “homicidal”. For instance, the next driver who doesn’t use his turn signal in my presence will end up with his still-beating heart cut out of his chest and presented to his next of kin on a silver platter.

I’d say that’s a fair compromise.

As I get older, I find I tolerate less. I guess that’s why my 64-year-old dad seems to get louder instead of softer when he’s criticizing an idiot who is two feet away from him in public.

So, what can we do? Well, I find complaining sure helps, so let’s try that!

Top 10 Random Things that are Worth Complaining About

1o. An “L” in “salmon”? Really?

9. Interspecies suckling.

8. So few competitive Cootie leagues around anymore.

7. Gummy adult vitamins. They’re too delicious and as a result my pantothenic acid and zinc are through the roof!

6. One look at futuristic Dyson Hand Dryers and I believe flying cars may be just around the corner, yet one look at the general public’s writing skills on Facebook and I wonder if soon the English language will be comprised of nothing but guttural grunts of double negatives.

5.The Smurfs make their big screen movie debut before Grape Ape?! Tragic.

4. Recurring elephantiasis of my midsection. (Get it?! “Midsection“… “trunk!” Now that’s a high-concept joke! I better get a registered trademark on that baby before the late night talk shows steal it.) ®

3. The meteoric rise and fall of Big Mouth Billy Bass.

2. Training my dog to be an ultimate fighter is not as easy as the manual promised. (Not dog fighting, actual Ultimate Fighting. I want my pup to take on Kimbo Slice!)

1. The severe lack of anatomically-correct muppets. How do you expect kids to learn about the beauty of the muppet/human body?

  

Thanks for hanging out with GeneralTomfoolery.com. Please remember, sharing links to this website and telling your friends about us is the best way to say “thanks.” And, if you haven’t “liked” the GeneralTomfoolery.com Facebook page yet, get on it before you come down with the gout or something.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Pain in the Grass – The Final Column, IN Michiana Magazine

22 Jul

Ladies and gentlemen, behold the final “Off the Cuff” column from IN Michiana Magazine, by yours truly. I sent this column in for the August issue, just a few weeks before I was told IN Michiana would no longer be published. (Was it something I said wrote?)

Had I known it would be my last column after more than three years of experiencing pure joy in writing for you lovely people, I would have said something more substantial than ‘I hate mowning my lawn.’ At the very least I would have planted subliminal messages, commanding my readers to make an hourly pilgrimage to GeneralTomfoolery.com (and bring Fig Newtons while they’re at it!).

Sadly, this is all you get. But don’t let that stop you from sending Fig Newtons my way. Heck, I’ll settle for Crunch ‘n’ Munch.

Pain in the Grass – Off the Cuff, IN Michiana Magazine, August 2011

People love to rank things. Top 100 Movies of All Time, Top 10 Diet Secrets to Get You Rail-Thin in 28 Minutes, Top 25 Baby Names To Ensure Your Kid’s Popularity in High School. So, I decided to make my own list. It’s called the Top 2 Worst Things in the World.

1. Mowing the lawn.

2. The current state of political discourse in the U.S. (What’s this?! Getting political now, Matt? Stick to what you’re good at, like bathroom humor and Pee Wee Herman references.)

I hate mowing the lawn. I hate it more than I hate people who try to make conversation in public restrooms. (No, I don’t want to chat about how hot it’s been. Just stare at the wall, like all the other guys, then pretend to wash your hands and get out.) It’s not that I have a problem working in the yard. Mowing the lawn is just one of those tasks that gets under my skin, yet I can’t escape. You know, like taking out the overflowing bathroom trashcan or telling someone their newborn is adorable when it’s homely, at best.

I know what you’re thinking, “C’mon, it’s a beautiful day. Enjoy being outside.”

Shut up.

My lawn and I have a hate-hate relationship. I hate cutting it and it hates me right back by growing inconsistently. There’s the dust bowl-section where nothing dares to grow except that solitary sixteen-pound, man-eating dandelion, then there’s the Amazonian-section where, minutes after mowing, the grass is above my waist. You could drop Magellan in that 4’ x 6’ section and he’d never get out alive.

Mowing the lawn is one of those chores you can’t hide after you’ve finished. Vacuuming the house can make you sweaty and smelly, but slap on a little deodorant and you’re good to meet friends and no one’s the wiser. When it comes to cutting the grass, everyone knows. Your pants and shoes look like you just trampled Kermit the Frog and if you were able to bottle your aroma, you could sell it under the name “Jolly Green Giant Flop Sweat”.

Maybe I should consider trading chores with my wife. She despises cleaning the shower and I’d be glad to tackle a little soap scum if it gets me out of mowing. Although I have to consider the disapproving glances I’d get from my neighbors when they see my lovely wife fighting with the mower. My manliness quotient would definitely take a hit.

Aw, what do I care, my manliness gauge has been on ‘E’ since 1999. Get to mowing, woman!

—————————————————-

Thanks for hanging out with GeneralTomfoolery.com. Please remember, sharing links to this website and telling your friends about us is the best way to say “thanks.” And, if you haven’t “liked” the GeneralTomfoolery.com Facebook page yet, it would be super awersome if you did.

← Older Entries

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.