Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Monday, March 30, 2009

Lollygagging and Adjusting

(I am recovering from a 3-day bender and subsequent 10-hour drive from Nashville so Lacochran was nice enough to come over and entertain everyone today. If you have never been over to her place go check it out - she was one of the first blogs I ever read and has always been one of my favorites. Right behind that White-Collar Redneck guy - he is hilarious AND dreamy. Total package - that's what the girls say.)

L.A. guest posting here while Narm is off lollygagging—and let’s face it, if you’re going to enjoy your lolly, you best learn to relax and take it slow. Work that jaw, man.

So, fine. In an effort to try to hold up my end (that’s what she said) here in this testosterone filled place, I’m upping the crude factor. For me, that is. Still way below the usual Narm standard. But I’m giving it a go.

Scratch. Stare at your chest. Hork and spit. Belch. Yeah, you might want to take a step back… that would be the onions on the pizza at lunch. Huh, tasty both ways!

How’m I doing?

In truth, I’m not that well versed in the ways of strange men. And they’re all sort of strange, no? It’s kind of odd stepping into a guy’s place—you know, once you step over the empty Molson bottles—but sort of interesting, sociologically speaking.

It’s not that I haven’t been interested in what’s important to guys before but what with all the mandatory pillow fights in lacy underwear and high heels, and, of course, the hours of giggling I’ve got to log, we gals just don’t have a lot of extra time.

In fact, guys, you know how we’ll be casually chatting and you’ll be going on and on about something (who knows what) and I’ll be looking at you like you’re fascinating? I’m actually thinking about sparkly jewelry. Or monkeys. Or monkeys bringing me sparkly jewelry. Ladies, you’re thinking about a monkey bringing you sparkly jewelry right now, right? Who can blame you? Nobody. A monkey with a diamond tennis bracelet in his paw: that’s the American Dream. Ahhhh.

But since I’ve got the floor here, and I’m supposed to act like I care about manly stuff even more than usual, let me ask you a delicate question that is specific to men (I mean men exhibit the behavior—I’ll happily take answers from men and women): What’s with a guy who does a lot of adjusting? Yeah, adjusting. I used to work with a man who did a lot of adjusting. Is this a more publicly acceptable way to choke the chicken? Is this supposed to be a compliment? Is this an indication of disease? How much adjusting should one man need? No, really. Can you break it down for me? In the words of Elaine Benes, “I don’t know how you guys walk around with those things.”

Thursday, March 26, 2009

WyW on Thursday - Nashville Edition

Well, y'all - I'm down in Nashville for the rest of the week, drinking and...ok really just drinking. Does forgetting the words to country songs but still moving my mouth like I'm singing so no one notices count as an activity? Yes? Then I am going to be BUSY.

Since I'll be in the country music capital of the world - I thought it was only fitting that I ask you, The People, who you would do-see-do all night long.

That's right - it's time for -


Where you don't have to be into emo to wear tight jeans.

Let's see if you would let your privates do the line dance with these two contestants.

The first is new-age country superstar Kenny Chesney. For some reason all the girls LOVE this guy. Being that he is 5'2" and looks like he should be in junior high - I think this proves that girls are just as big of pedophiles as guys. The reason girls never get busted for it is what 13 yr old boy would complain if he got to touch a boobie? Seriously, I wonder what they feel like. In my head they feel like a cloud wrapped in a big happy balloon. Someday, Boobies - someday we'll meet.

Our second contestant has plenty of cloud balloons to go around. She was Pam Anderson before Pam Anderson was cool - that's right - Dolly Parton! I would do her just to hear the random stuff that came out of her mouth. I bet during sex it is just one long stream of awkward country saying culminating in something about buttering her biscuits. Mmmm biscuits. The best part about country people is that no matter what happens we can compare it to food. Like calling her cloud balloons "biscuits". She's so crazy!

Anyways you know the rules - I put up two pictures and you tell me if you would get down on their range.

Kenny Chesney -

Dolly Parton -

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Gone Country

Lady Friend, helping me pack for a weekend trip to Nashville - "What shoes do you need to pack?"

Me - "I'll just wear my cowboy boots down there."

Lady Friend - "That's it? For the whole trip? What shirts do you need to take?"

Me - "I laid out that t-shirt over there."

Lady Friend - "You'll be gone for three days and you laid out one t-shirt."

Me - "Good point" (Throws another t-shirt on the bed.)

Lady Friend - "I'm not even going to ask if you packed boxers..."

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

On A Roll

Life isn't like they show it in the movies or on television (except for me making out with hot chicks all the time - that part is true) - but that doesn't mean we don't all have a little Jack Bauer or MacGyver in us. The problem is that for REAL people - our instincts don't kick in when a nuclear warhead is about to go off or when we are trapped in a room with an explosive and nothing at our disposal but a toothpick and a baseball card.

Well - I am sure our killer instincts WOULD kick in - but instead of killing 48 bad guys and disarming the bomb we would cry and sit in the fetal position repeating, "I don't want to die...I don't want to die." At least that's what I did when I got my flu shot. That needle was big!

No - our killer instinct kicks in when we are faced with everyday problems.

Like this -

An empty paper towel roll is the equivalent to sitting next to a ticking time bomb with a gun to your head AND your girlfriend's Dad asking you what your intentions are with his daughter.

When you realize the roll is empty your instincts immediately kick in - nothing is safe: magazine, fake plant, your roommate's toothbrush - ANYTHING goes.

Suddenly you are a pantsless Einstein reviewing the chemical makeup of every item in the bathroom and analyzing it's texture in the removal process vs flushability.

And if there is no back-up plan? You have to do the awkward waddle around your home and see if there is anything else to use - while also hoping you don't see anyone or anyone else walk into the bathroom in your absence.

And then you realize how easy MacGyver had it - I mean at least HE had a baseball card.

What is the craziest toilet paper substitute you've been forced to use?

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Narm Nose Ladies

If you've ever met me, you know that my face is approximately 93% nose. When I am fully bearded, as I am now, there is really very little face skin showing that isn't nose. When I lay flat on my back I look like a porcupine with a shark fin. A sexy shark fin.

I guess that is kind of redundant.

My nose is so big if I turn my head too quickly it is like a scene from the Three Stooges - everyone gets hit in the back of the head and I start making noises like "WUB WUB WUB WUB WUB".

One time I met Pinocchio and dude was like, "GODDAMN! Your pants must be on FIRE."

Side Note: Are there laws against fondling puppets? Pinocchio might be the Holy Grail for pedophiles.

Anyways, having a giant nose has it's benefits. I can ALWAYS smell what the Rock is cooking and there is no better pick-up line than, "You know what they say about guys with big noses!"

Correct answer: They wear big shoes.

But on to the point - I have a friend who is also named Jeff. Who also has a big nose. And also has dark hair.

We look nothing alike other than those very superficial features, but that didn't stop our diabolical plan.

In college, he and I would go to bars and tell girls that we were brothers from the same Dad and different Moms. We would then convince them that our Dad gave us both the name Jeff because he knew we would take our Moms' last names and he wanted us to still feel like brothers.

And they bought it.

Every time.

Which just brings me back to why I am glad I have this giant shnoz -

I can smell bullshit like that coming a mile away.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

March Madness

I did the research. I know this tournament like the back of my sexy hand.

I read about their strengths and their weaknesses.

I looked at what they had to overcome to get where they are.

I spent hours pouring over my decisions. Changing every detail, questioning every choice.

My bracket is the most perfect specimen this side of Megan Fox.

And now - before we even get to the nitty-gritty - it's all over.



We have an American Idol pool at work - and though I know that American Idol is the Devil I am a guy and I can't turn down a chance to gamble.

It's true. Men will gamble on anything. How do women not take advantage of this?

All a girl has to do is say, "Hey - I'll bet you $10 they only say 'shoes' 48 times in the Sex and the City movie." You kidding me? I'll take the over on that shit and lets double down on how many times Miranda makes some horrible sexual innuendo.

Side note - why is it ok for her to make ridiculous sex jokes that are disgusting and immature but when I do it the entire dinner table looks at me like I'm Gary Busey?

Anyways it's all over for me this year. If only I could find something else going on in the month of March to gamble on...oh well.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

WyW on...Wednesday? Irish Edition

Ever think that St Patty's Day is actually a scheme for the Irish to get everyone hammered and then take over the world on March 18th? If someone invaded my office right now I would surrender faster than you can say "en Francais".

Top 'o the mornin' today - top o' the world tomorrow!

But since we appear to be safe from invasion - I need you to put down the Advil and pick up the cause - it's time for...

Would Ya Wednesday on Wednesday - The Irish Edition!

That's right, we're Dublin your pleasure today here at White-Collar Redneck. Today you don't have to be wasted to say yes, but we hope you don't mind if they are.

Our first contestant is a magician in that he played James Bond and yet still comes off as a complete goober. He and Hugh Jackman should have a goober-off. Add the guy from the Mentalist and you could just have a contest of who is the biggest woman. We are about five years away from those three teaming up for a remake of the "Golden Girls" - although a more appropriate title may be, "King of Queens".

And our second contestant is the indie-rock G.I. Jane, she not only tears apart your heart - but also pictures of the Pope. And if you think I'm not singing along to "Nothing Compares 2 U" then you have overestimated my manliness.

You know the rules, but yesterday was a long day and I'll take some sympathy and recap. I put up two pictures and you tell me if you would get under the clovers and shamrock their world.

Pierce Brosnan

Sinead O'Conner

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

St. Patrick's Day for Big Kids

Everyone is Irish on St Patty's Day - except for us losers with big-kid jobs.

Before I could feel too sorry for myself for being trapped in the office all day, a rep sent me a package with the following included -

No, not the Farmer's Only sticker - the amazing tie.

I don't even need green beer to look ridiculous today.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Holy Macaroni

Scene: My sister-in-law (Macaroni Mom) calling the doctor because my 1 yr-old nephew had stuck a piece of macaroni up his nose.

Macaroni Mom: Hi Doctor, my son has lodged a piece of macaroni up his nose and we can't, for the life of us, get it out.

Doctor: Can he breath?

Macaroni Mom: Well...yes...the macaroni has a hole in the middle.

Doctor: Well that's just hilarious.

Macaroni Mom: *awkward silence*...yeah. So what should we do?

Doctor: If he can breath then just do nothing. It will dissolve on it's own.

So there you have it. One nephew is aging at the speed of light and the other has macaroni on his brain.

Which one do you think takes after me?

Friday, March 13, 2009

Slow Down

Grandma Nomina (my Mom) to my nephew, talking about his 5th birthday - You are growing up so fast! I can't believe you are going to be 5 tomorrow!

Nephew - I know, Grandma! I'll be 5 but I already feel like I'm 6.

My nephew, apparently wise beyond his years.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

WyW on Thursday - Big 80's Edition

(When I'm not talking about ramming someone with my privates, I'm making fun of blind people. Read that over at Alexa's - Cleveland's A Plum)

Cue up the red wine and Valtrex; it's time for everyone's favorite game - Would Ya Wednesday!

The game that is like Where's Waldo? - but with your private parts.

This week's theme? Aging stars from the 80's. But I don't mean in their prime - oh, no - I am talking 2009 version.

Our first contestant is most famous for being nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize - something about "keeping the mullet dream alive". When he wasn't saving Africa he also wrote a few songs. That's right, everyone's favorite super hero - Bono.

More importantly - if you get him in the sack you can answer the age old question of whether he wears his sunglasses in bed. If I were a betting man I would say he is just socks, sunglasses and business in the bedroom.

Our other contestant could beat you up. I don't care who you are. She would use her crazy Kabbalah powers and cast some voodoo spell on you. Her one talent in life is being even crazier than Scientologists. Of course I'm talking about the Material Girl - Madonna.

You know the rules - I put up pictures of each contestant and you tell me if you would act Like A Virgin or if you would let them stick their privates Where The Streets Have No Name.

Bono -

Madonna -

Monday, March 9, 2009


I have a beard.

We all know this - and we all understand how important my beard is to society.

But I really thought my beard was the only thing stopping me from looking like a strapping young college boy - rather than a strapping, sophisticated lumber jack.

I graduated college three years ago.


Know what has happened in the last three years? Britney spears had two babies, shaved her head, got her crotch on video more than her singing voice and is now a role model again.

Also, my 16,000 hours of free AOL expired. DAMNIT.

Know what else happened in the last 3 years? I turned into a 47 year old man.

I had the opportunity to sit in on a senior level course at a local university last night. Walking in I thought, "What would I do if there was a zombie attack RIGHT NOW." Once I devised a plan I thought, "I have only been out of school for 3 years - these kids are my peers!"


They were babies.

I looked like the oldest guy in America. Maybe North America.

At the end I was giving them hard candy from my pocket and telling them the same story 4 times.

Then I peed my pants.

But I have to admit - as depressing as it was to realize I have become an old man -

My beard looked GREAT.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Bumper Stickler

Everyone loves bumper stickers.

Admit it - you love it.

Maybe not on your own car - but who doesn't love to judge another person by what they have paid $2.99 to permanently stick to their $30k vehicle? When you see a bumper sticker on someone's car on the highway don't act like you aren't jamming that accelerator and riding their ass to see what they want to tell the world.

"Proud Parent of an Honor Student"

"I Love my Pug"

"Keep Honking I'm Reloading"

We've seen all of these and know what they mean - the driver is crazy - but that's great! At least we know! Obviously one of the above is a little sadistic and scary - but hey - at least they WARNED you. Damn honor student parents.

Sometimes they are even convenient - when I see Calvin peeing on something I know I am in the safe zone. Like it is the official trademark of rednecks and can't be used or copied without written consent from Dale Jr. Or, say, a car has a peace sign - then I know the driver is a hippie and should be beat up immediately.

But nothing prepared me for the bumper sticker I saw this weekend -

"Got Clowns?"

Whoa, Dude, creepy.

Maybe it is genius - because there is no way in hell someone is going to try to steal a car owned by a clown. No one wants to be on a clown's bad side. I would rather punch Mr. T in his privates than have a clown as an enemy. Clowns wouldn't even try to hurt you - they would just stand in the corner of your room when you are sleeping so when you wake up you just see that big red hair and clown nose and your entire life would be ruined.

At first I thought I was being irrational and overreacting about the "Got Clowns?" bumper sticker. Then I saw a guy get into his minivan with a "Proud Parent of an Honor Student" bumper sticker on the back - as he drove past the "Got Clowns?" sticker he slowed down, looked over in disgust and spat, "Freak".

Takes one to know one.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

WyW on Thursday - The Mentalist

Wow do you ladies make a ruckus about my choice of mensies for WyW.

I haven't heard a group of women revolt this hard since I decided to be celibate for that one Sunday. ZING!

So I'm going to crank things up a notch this week - throw up someone that was a threat to national security because when he first appeared on screen a sonic boom occurred from the collective dropping of middle-aged women's panties across the country.

Yes, I am talking about the blonde Hugh Jackman, mister Mentalist himself - Simon Baker.

At first I thought that he should be disqualified, what with his vagina and all, but the ladies love him - so whatever.

Guys, I was going to die a mop blonde and put a picture of it on here but decided I would make yours a little more difficult. This girl's head is so large people sometimes mistake it for my arms. Or my heart. I'm like a gentle giant with fabulous hair.

So it is time for Would Ya Wednesday on Thursday - the Mentalist edition. If you haven't been here before there is a $5 cover charge and I need a permission slip signed by your mother.

Rules are simple - I think up two celebrities and you tell me if you would make a crime scene out of their privates - or if I'm mental.

Simon Baker

Robin Tunney

(Side note - BloggingJason has an update on my "Beaker Face" from the Jason Isbell show on Monday - go check it out)

Tuesday, March 3, 2009


You know who I feel bad for? That guy a few offices over who overslept his alarm and came to work a half hour late!

Can you imagine?

Getting TOO much sleep?

So much sleep that you have to say that you OVERslept!

Oh the horror! Poor guy probably woke up fully rested and without a headache from his alarm clock screaming at him like it's name was Stephen A. Smith.

I'll tell you what is a problem - undersleeping. The fact that I wake up 20 minutes before my alarm goes off every single day.

Know what you can do with those extra 20 minutes?


You can't fall back to sleep because the exact second you finally fall back to sleep your alarm will go off. There is some crazy time / space continuum that forces time to speed up when you wake up before your alarm.

What do you do? You get up. You make yourself some toast and then read a news story about a chipmunk in Montana that has an affinity for wearing sweaters. Maybe after that you fold some laundry that has been sitting on your floor since the 80's - then throw on some clothes and head to work.

But you did a horrible job of wasting time so now you are at work way early and no one is around so you can't get anything done. You try to surf online but you already read the news story about the chipmunk so that sucks. Finally you decide to get started in on your work so maybe you can sneak out a bit early - which never happens. An hour later after everyone has trickled in and you finally forgot about how horrible your morning in the office desert, was your buddy comes running into your office -

"Holy shit, man. I overslept. I know I set my alarm - I must have screwed up the AM/PM or something. This SUCKS dude! What am I going to do? I gotta go, man - I gotta get shit done!"

Poor guy. Maybe I'll send him that article about that chipmunk to brighten his day.

The Boogey Man

Ok so last night was a late one so I'm punting on today's post with another gross question -

You are stuck without a tissue and your nose is running faster than the French at the first sign of confrontation. Do you -

A) Wipe your nose with your sleeve

B) Wipe your nose with your shoulder

C) Wipe your nose with your hand and wipe it somewhere

D) Other (please explain)

Sunday, March 1, 2009

The Blazer

I wore a blazer out the other day.


A blazer.

The week before that?

A skinny tie.

In fact, I own three skinny ties.

So what does this mean, other than the fact that I am devastatingly handsome?

It means I've traded diesel fuel for hair product...Wrangler for Calvin Klein...Billy Ray Cyrus for T-Payne.

Ok, that last one is a wash.

My point is that this blog is supposed to be about a redneck living in the big city - and I don't like false advertising - that's why I stopped stuffing a sock down my pants in '97.

Just to show you that I'm not a complete fruity city-boy - here is the greatest redneck game since wiffle beer.

The Burn Pit.

Sounds like something from an MTV reality show, doesn't it? Like a bunch of roided up pretty boys rub themselves down in hair gel and then wrestle in some pit until one of them pops a chubby or cries about his mom.

But no, this is way more exciting.

Burn Pit is simple - you get yourself a nice little fire going in a fire ring or burn pit or your neighbors kitchen - whatever is convenient.

Then you set a moderately thick log across the top of the barrel with equal portions or excess on either side. Make sure the log is at least a foot or two longer than the pit so there is plenty of excess hanging off the edge.

When you have the log positioned perfectly - everyone sits down with a 12-pack of beer and guesses two things -

How many minutes until the log burns through the middle and breaks


Will the pieces fall inside the ring or outside.

Then - you wait.

And wait.

And really, besides talking about Dale Jr. or taking your cousin to prom, all you do is wait for that log to break in a blaze of glory.

The winner doesn't get a prize - only the honor of being the smartest redneck in the WHOOOOLE trailer park.

And with the new found mastery of all things fire, maybe the nickname The Blazer.