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18
Jun

My new cause in life

By Functionally ReTodded 0 Comments
Categories: Blog, Food, Functionally ReTodded, Pop Culture, Rant and Uncategorized

Unless you live under a rock or under Avitable, you know who Jessica Simpson is. She is the big-tittied daughter of a minister turned overbearing pimp of his children who was married to Nick Lachey and on that MTV show "Newlyweds" that showed us all how dumb naive she was about money and cars and life and sex and laundry and cooking and everything else.

She has also dated/not dated/dated/not dated Dallas Cowboy QB Tony Romo since the tragic end of her marriage to Mr. Lachey.

She’s a talented singer. You only have to watch this clip to know how talented she truly is.

Now, sarcasm aside, I actually like her and think a lot of her dizziness is an act. But she has taken five years of shit and smiled through it all. She’s spent her life lorded over by her pedophile of a dad who can apparently only talk about two things in interviews:

Jessica’s boobs are real and made her uncomfortable.

Jessica’s commitment to her virginity until marriage (this was obviously before the newlyweds show).

We agree on both counts, just so you know. Her boobs make me very uncomfortable, specifically when I hurt my penis while masturbating to them using cheap conditioner, shaving cream or just a handful of Newman’s Own dressing.

I was also committed to her virginity despite the fact that I knew Mr. Lachey planned to do permanent harm to her mysterious lady parts.

Enough about me. Today I’m stumbling thru my usual news reads: Wall Street Journal, Barron’s, The New York Times, AVN weekly, and WWTDD, and I found this horrid story on Fox News.

Here’s a photo because no Jessica Simpson story is complete without one:

meaty goodness

Now PETA has their collective gay pot smoking hippie hemp panties in a knot and made Jessica public enemy number one, along with adding a list of the top five reasons why only stupid girls would brag about eating meat. Here’s PETA’s list (followed by my witty rebuttals):

1. Meat increases the risk of breast cancer. A 2007 study of 35,000 women published in the British Journal of Cancer found that women who ate meat were far more likely to develop breast cancer than women who consumed none. Will Jessica’s next t-shirt will say, "Real Girls Smoke 3 Packs a Day"?

I hope she does because T-shirts are funny, don’t hurt anyone, and who in their right mind is sitting around waiting to make dietary decisions based on what this girl has scrawled across her fun bags?

2. Real girls don’t support animal abuse. Compassion is super sexy , if the huge number of hot celebs ditching meat is any indication. Young women turn vegetarian in droves when they learn that the meat industry cuts the sensitive beaks off newborn chicks and cuts off the tails of baby piglets.

Hey you dumbass PETAs (who I am about to start calling PITA). You’re rotting from the inside out because you eat no protein. Unless you’re a vegan. But if you’re vegetarian, then you don’t mind fucking over fish and plants. You don’t think tomatoes have feelings? Or Chilean Sea Bass? And for every devout PETA person who lives like this, there are five carrying signs while wearing a leather belt or some $600 shoes made out of kitten scrotums.

3. The meat industry is destroying the Earth. The only thing that’s hot about the meat industry is that it’s toasting the planet . According to the United Nations, raising animals for food causes more greenhouse-gas emissions than all the cars, trucks, SUVs, planes, and ships in the world combined.

Absolutely and completely bullshit. There is no way on God’s not as green as it used to be earth that that’s true. If it is, I would contend that human farting is a thousand times bigger problem than animal farting. Why, my father alone is probably making Al Gore cry himself to sleep daily. Oh, and the next thing the UN says that’s true will be the first thing. Stupid dictators.

4. Meat will make you fat. All the saturated fat and cholesterol in chicken wings, pork chops, and steak eventually leads to flabby thighs and love handles . I hope the upcoming "Jessica Simpson’s Intimates" line comes in plus sizes! Going vegetarian is the best way to get slim and stay that way.

Fuck you again. If you ate 5,000 calories a day of asparagus and didn’t exercise, you’d get fat. That’s the trouble with trendy bandwagon clubs like PETA. They don’t like to let facts or, God forbid, MATH, get in the way of a good quote.

5. Eating meat steals food from starving kids. Jessica’s trip to help kids in Africa got a lot of media buzz, but by gnawing on meat, she’s essentially stealing food from the mouths of starving children since it takes up to 16 pounds of grain to produce just 1 pound of meat. If more people went vegetarian, we’d free up enough grain to feed every person in the world.

I’m pretty sure that the sabre-rattling dictators that run their countries steal way more food from starving kids than Jessica Simpson. Look at her for God’s sake. Do you think she walks into the Golden Corral and says to the guy behind the counter, "Hey Cutie. I’ll take the Old 96er please. And make sure I get plenty of grissle?" Of course not. Like any hot skinny chick with big tits, she probably does some blow before dinner, loses her appetite and then just takes a bite of the lobster before she purges and ends the night by giving the star quarterback a hand shandy under the table.

So my message to you, PETA, is to get off your high horse, stop lying, and do us all a favor and fuck yourselves mute.

15
Jun

Devious Minds

By Functionally ReTodded 3 Comments
Categories: Blog, Functionally ReTodded and Pranks

One of the many things kids miss out on today due to video games, the internet and girls that start putting out at age twelve is practical jokes and pranks.

I mention this because my neighbors went out of town this weekend and we were tasked with keeping an eye on Gilbey, the fun but sometimes annoying schnauzer.

When I was getting ready to go to their house Saturday morning, GBD gave me the garage code:

BAMA

Being an Auburn household, I smiled and said "well, it won’t be that for long," and I headed down the street.

Since the keypad opener thingy is 11 years old, finding programming instructions for it took a while. But I did find them. And I changed the code (it was limited to being four characters) to TGRS.

After I told my BIL and his 12-year-old about it, we started brainstorming some other ideas for pranks we could do to the out of towners, or anyone else we knew for that matter. I thought it might be a fun summer if we pulled a few pranks that didn’t result in permanent damage or human waste (i.e. saran wrap over the toilets, etc).

So when the homeowners returned, I handed them the list of things we came up with that we COULD have done, so they don’t feel nearly as bad about the door code (which I didn’t change. I reluctantly gave it to them and said that I’d tell them how to change it in a week). The funny part was, before I went down to see them, GBD was talking to them and laughing when they asked for the code and she left them by saying "I’ll give you a hint…it’s four letters."

I tell you all of that to tell you this. last night, several of the neighbors were over for some beer, rack of lamb and some fellowship, and we started talking about the pranks again. I was also talking about public pools and my disdain for the urine-water ratio, but further that I always made sure I was holding one of my kids when I was peeing in the pool, just in case they finally have a chemical that will actually turn the water purple if it detects urine.

Editor’s note. This part assumes that you had a friend or neighbor with their own pool growing up, and their moms were constantly telling you not to pee in the pool since there was a chemical in the pool that would turn purple if it touched urine . Now back to the story.

That’s when my neighbor Superios started laughing and said "We should just palm one of those liquid food coloring bottles, walk up behind someone that’s in the water, dump it in, and after the water starts turning, start pointing and loudly yelling "Holy crap!! That guy’s peeing in the pool!!"

And my someone, we mean someone we all know and would make fun of forever and a day.

How freaking great an idea is THAT?

And I think the added benefit would be that it would scare the shit out of all the kids that were peeing in the pool at that time.

Anyway, happy pranking everybody. I welcome comments or prank suggestions that we can try out during the summer.

16
May

Crime and Condiments

By Functionally ReTodded 1 Comment
Categories: Blog

***This story is completely partially somewhat might be a little bit fictional…maybe, but for simplicity, I will write it in the first person***

I was on a business trip. I was very committed to the task at hand as well as being a good steward of the company financially speaking. So much so that instead of leaving on Sunday for a meeting, I got up at the crack of snot on Monday morning (a little before 5am) to make an 8am flight to sunny (insert city name here).

To further show my financial stewardship, I parked in the extended stay parking lot at the local gi-normous airport rather than taking park n’ ride or some such service.

Fast forward to the astonishing hotel as I arrived via limousine at about 10:30am Monday morning. I checked in, set up my conference room for the tasks at hand, and got to work.

And I worked and I worked and I worked.

I knocked off at 7pm for a little welcome party with stand up food, free cocktails, and I even got to watch some guy hand-rolling cigars for us. I stayed about an hour and a half, had a few beers, enjoyed rubbing shoulders with the sales force and some folks from the home office.

I headed back to my cave and worked like a dog until about 11pm. During that last stretch, I did have a couple of beers whilst installing software patches and what not.

At 11pm, I headed for the bar. It was time to release some tension, and I did so in the form of drinking (insert number of your own choosing here) beers.

I also realized that I hadn’t eaten since my 11am chicken caesar salad, and that I was damned hungry. I heard several folks talking about how great the burgers were at this particular hotel, so I asked the bartender for a burger. He said "The kitchen’s closed, but you can order one from room service 24 hours a day."

I believe an evil grin crossed my face and I said "That’s it. Two beers and the check please. I’m heading to my room for a burger."

I took the light speed elevator up to my room, picked up the phone, and ordered a burger with bacon and swiss with a side of fries. I kicked back on the bed, found an old Daytona 500 on ESPN classic, and proceeded to count the seconds until my hamburger arrived.

The next thing I know, there’s a burglar in my room.  He was speaking in tongues and waving a weapon with his left hand and holding the fruits of his crime in his right.

"Hey!" I yelled.  "What the fuck are you doing in my room?!?"

And just as I got ready to open up a can o’ whoop ass on this ne’er do well, I came to a startling realization:

I had fallen asleep and the Mexican room service waiter had let himself into my room and was basically shouting me awake and waving the receipt he wanted me to sign in my face.

So I calmly shook myself awake, signed for the $22 bill (and added a generous tip despite the fact that he committed a B/E in an effort to collect my autograph), and he left.

Oh, and I ate the burger and fries at 1am.  They sucked donkey balls.  As a matter of fact, I’d have rather eaten donkey balls than that horse meat they brought me.  But I slept well knowing I scared the shit out of some overnight hotel guy that lost the room service lottery.

19
Apr

What a difference five miles makes

By Functionally ReTodded 0 Comments
Categories: Blog and Functionally ReTodded

(If you are someone who is going to judge me or curl up your nose because I am about to make some social observations, I’ll save you the time.  Do not bother.  This shall not be politically correct at all).

Today I needed to hit the grocery store for some stuff.  Our normal Suwanee Kroger is about six miles away and there is more traffic than the one that is four-ish miles away and up in Buford.

We call the Buford Kroger the nasty Kroger because it’s, well, nasty.  The store is dated and undersized. The people that work there are astonishingly not right.  And most of the patrons (myself excluded of course) are some of the dregs of society.  It’s amazing that a place that attracts dregs also attracts me…out of convenience.

Anyway, I was there to buy the usual:  brie, caviar, Cristal, etc.  And on my way out of the store, I saw a couple of things that gave me pause.

One was just an observation.  There were a couple of women who were dark skinned, dark haired, and spoke a language not of our land.  One of them had a baby that looked about two weeks old, but they both had on skin tight black capris and belly shirts (and bras that didn’t match or fit but were nonetheless there).  Oh, and did I mention that they were four foot eleven and 200 pounds each?  And both had mustaches and back hair?

First, I was passing a slender fellow of color and two proud women of color and size, and within a second of each other and within ten feet of the store, both sistas hocked loogies.

That’s right.  These two "women" made that gutteral, snot-suckin sound and spit balls of phlegm on the ground.

Before I could even process that, I got to my car which was a scant four spots from the store.  That’s where I saw a young man who appeared to have a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth sitting on the tailgate of his truck as he was waiting for a friend.

Of course, we all know this wasn’t a hand-rolled cigarette.  It was a bone.  A doobie.  A blunt.  A jet.  A joint.  You know.  Mary-wanna.

And what does his buddy do?

Climbs into the passenger seat, face forward, and rolls a fattie.

Right there in the Kroger parking lot just four spots from the store.

Seriously?  I’m looking at these kids thinking "Dood, unless you are so high that you think you’re invisible, there’s not really an excuse to be doing this here with so many office parks and such so nearby.

Anyway, that was my trip to the white trash Kroger.  What’d y’all do today?

17
Apr

Thursday morning coming down

By Functionally ReTodded 0 Comments
Categories: Blog and Functionally ReTodded

Dateline suburban Atlanta, 7am on 17 Apr 2008

The night was fraught with a screaming kicking sick 2 year ols and a ten month old that was frequently awake / asleep / awake / asleep / awake etc.

After I awoke to the alarm, started the shower and got my clothes out and ready, I remembered that I could sleep in a little since I had to go to the doctor this morning. With that I turned off the shower and the lights and climbed back into bed.

one second later, 2doh started yapping / whining / sobbing about wanting to go downstairs. After a few minutes of this I relented, except she didn’t want ME to carry her. She wanted mommy to do that. You see, we are now in the phase where wanting something isn’t the only producer of 2 year old whine. it’s also HOW whatever she wants is delivered and presented. The same goes for getting her juice, food, her guy, blanket and beebee, and about anything else.

No. It’s not frustrating at all. Thanks for asking.

So we all head downstairs (actually, they went downstairs and I took a shower). While I showered, the wife changed and fed the young uns, which was great.

I got out of the shower and turned Pinky Dinky Doo right the fuck off and flipped over to VH1 classic, which runs blocks of music videos from my youth.

(Just so you know, I have never once slid into the bedroom from the hall wearing black sunglasses, a button down oxford, white sox and a pair of tighty whities. We have carpeting there. I’d fall right the hell down or shock myself to death if I ever tried that).

And just as I flipped channels, a video started with a woman wearing too much yellow and not being hot enough, but for some reason back in my lizard brain I remember thinking this woman and this look were hot once.

Guess who?

And just as it came rushing back that this was the once hot and Don Johnsony Sheena Easton, I listened to the lyrics of the song she was singing:

My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Where I come from there’s a place called heaven

(That’s nice. She’s singing about heaven).

That’s the place where all the good children go.
The houses are of silver
the streets of gold.
But there’s more where you come from - my sugar walls.
My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Blood races to your private spots

(Wait a minute. How did we get from good children to blood racing to my naughty bits? What the fuck is this song about?)

let’s me know there’s a fire.
You can’t fight passion when passion is hot

(Have I ever heard this song before? The raciest thing I remember was Debbie Gibson singing about "shaking her love," and now this chick’s singing about passion and fire and hot and stuff?

Temperatures rise inside my sugar walls.

(All this heat talk might mean she has an infection I think).

Let me take you somewhere you’ve never been

I could show you things you’ve never seen.
I could make you never wanna fall in love again

Come spend the night inside my sugar walls.

(Spend the night inside my sugar walls? Does she live in a ginger bread house? This is possibly the worst metaphor ever, yet I am hipmotized).

Take advantage
it’s alright

(Now we’re encouraging forced sex? What next Sheena? No means yes?!?)

I feel so alive when I’m with you!
Come and feel my presence
it’s reigning tonight.
Heaven on earth inside my sugar walls.
Let me take you somewhere you’ve never been

(It’s raining tonight? Is this about watersports? The British spelling makes it tough to tell).
. . .

I can tell you want me - my sugar walls -
it’s impossible to hide.
Your body’s on fire
admit it! Come inside.
My sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Come inside my sugar walls
my sugar walls
my sugar walls.
Come spend the night inside my sugar walls

(That’s it. I’m turning my parents in to DFCS. We should NOT have been allowed to listen to this in 8th grade. Seriously, now all the subtle innuendo is gone and it’s just "Come all night inside my sugar walls?")

My sugar walls
my sugar walls.

For Christ sake, if Sheena Easton hadn’t been so tragically dated and unattractive in the video, I might have gotten an erection. And that would mean I would have had to take another shower.

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