Wedding Bells

I get married exactly one month from today.

Which is really putting a time-crunch on my life's goal of sleeping with Isla Fisher.

But at least I still have all those dates to look forward to in November.

Wait - I can't do that either?

Man, marriage is going to RUIN my dating life.

What A Catch

This is one of the harder posts I'll ever write.

I realize I rarely get serious here at the 'Neck, but as I've included much of my personal life in this blog, I feel it is only right to continue that relationship for the bad news.

This post is not for sympathy, or therapy - it is merely informational. I know a lot of my friends read this blog and sometimes a blog post can save 100 phone calls and even more awkward conversations.

And I want you all to know that no matter what happens from here on forward there are no hard feelings from either side. We've all been through rough patches, we've all had to give up things we love and we all know the fall-out that ensues.

But it is time to move on.

Deadliest Catch is over.

I know! I know. I am ok - a littl shaken, a little hurt, but I have to be strong.

I will always cherish my time spent with captains Sig, Phil and the Hillstrands. Captain Keith kinda sucked and that new guy? "Wild Bill"? He kinda sucked, too.

But the rest of them I'll miss.

Technically I guess I should be already missing Phil since he got deaded this year, but I haven't really watched since that episode because I kinda maybe had a tiny tear and I didn't want the Lady Friend to see it because then I can't make fun of her when she cries during Glee.

So I guess really I haven't watched Deadliest Catch that much this year. But I used to watch it! A lot. So now I can be sad, right?

I mean, I guess it doesn't really effect me that much. I won't have Tivo Regret when I look at my recorded shows and see I have 4 episodes unwatched. That will be nice.

But on the other hand, I need a new super manly show to offset my Glee obsession. What can I counter with now when people point out that I've blogged about both Glee AND What Not To Wear? Did you not notice that? Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

And no that is not a tear! I just...got something in my eye.

You're A (Four)Square

So for those of you non-social media nerds, there is a new app for your phone called FourSquare. It uses GPS and allows you to "check in" to various locations (bars, stores, rehab). If you check in to a location more than anyone else, you become the "Mayor". All of your friends in the app can see where you have visited and stalk accordingly.

Now, a lot of people check in EVERYWHERE. Like gas stations. It is cool to see what bars or concerts my friends are at - but I never need to know when / where you got gas. I'm not going to look at the Lady Friend and be like, "Oh my gosh! Billy is at the Marathon 20 minutes away! We should totally go visit."

But I have the opposite problem - instead of OVER sharing, I UNDER share.

Mostly because I don't want to ruin my cred.

I mean, sure I go to the same McDonald's three times a week - but I don't need people thinking I'm a Fatty McFatinstein Jr. That's why I wear a fake mustache when I go on Wednesdays.

And what if I go to some crappy concert that I don't want my friends to know about. I mean, Lou Bega only comes around so often!

So I only update my FourSquare like once every two weeks.

But that makes me look even more lame. Like I only leave the house twice a month.

And if I'm only leaving the house once every two weeks, why am I checking into all these gas stations?

Cut To The Chase

One of the great things about getting married is the ridiculous conversations the Lady Friend and I have been having. Last night she declared that if we were ever to have a boy flavored baby, she did not want him to be circumcised.

Yes, we sit around and talk about our non-existent children's privates, don't judge.

I was having none of this. I immediately blasted her with the voice of reason - there are health concerns, hygiene concerns and most importantly - getting made fun of in the gym class shower concerns. Ain't that right, Turtleneck?

After my tirade I asked her what possible reason she had for NOT wanting to have the kid circumcised.

Her response?

Not getting circumcised is in style right now.

Like little boy private parts are all the rage in this year's fall fashion line.

I can just see the Lady Friend walking down the street -

"Hey Sue! Nice shoes, but check out my baby boy's penis."

Well, she does love accessories.

Swimmingly

There are a lot of things I miss about being a kid: being able to play with action figures without looking like a creeper, movies with talking animals and, of course, all the BK Knights light up shoes.

But I don't miss swimming.

I probably haven't gone swimming in 4 years. What did I see in this as a kid? I treat my swimsuit the same way I treat my Sugar Ray CDs - I hide them way in the back of the attic in a box with "OLD FILES" written on it.

Think about swimming. First you decide, "Hey, I'm going to go swimming!" Innocent enough. But then comes the swimsuit - do you wear underwear underneath it? I don't know. It is kind of weird. It gets all wet and clingy and then you have to pack an EXTRA pair of underwear. If there are girls there and your bag of clothes opens up they see your underwear. That is kind of weird. But if you don't wear underwear and your swimsuit gets all clingy it is even more embarrassing. What if your Mom is there? No one needs that. And don't get me started on that netting they put in swimsuits. That netting couldn't be more uncomfortable if it was a black guy at a Taylor Hicks concert.

Then you have to pack the rest of your crap. You know damn well you are going to forget something - towel, sun screen, extra pants, flip flops, extra underwear. Something ain't making that trip. And what do you do with your wet clothes AFTER you swim. A bag of wet clothes is about as much fun as Tyler Perry movie.

Let's jut get this out there - swimming is exercise. You can't put floaties on me and push me towards an eliptical machine, so don't think that pool is any better. Though it is nice that I can pee while I'm in there.

Finally you get done and dry off - but there is ALWAYS that one asshole that wants to get back in. Now your towel is all wet - half your dry clothes are wet and you have to get back in the water. For what? More exercise? Who are you, Jillian Michaels?

So when people ask me to go swimming I just say, go right ahead. I'll stand on the shore in these sweet BK Knights.

Super Heroes Suck

If anyone know what it is like to be a super hero, it is me.

Let's face it, this beard, my punctuality, these tights I wear under my business casual work attire - if anyone on earf is a superhero it is me.

But I want the movies to catch up.

I don't care how cool all these action heroes are - they still stub their toes and get nervous around hot girls. It is science.

Just once I want to see the mysterious outlaw look at the ridiculously hot girl and completely fumble over his words. Or go for the kiss and she slaps him and is all, "MY DAD WAS JUST BLOWN UP BY A KAMAKAZEE MUTANT EXPLODING BEAR AND YOU WANT TO MAKE OUT! IT ISN'T ALL JUST ABOUT SEX, YA KNOW! DO YOU EVEN KNOW MY LAST NAME?"

Or the super hero yells, "NOT SO FAST!" to the villain but instead of a cheesy come-back that plays into his over-the-top villain theme (Joker, Mr. Freeze, etc) the villain just stumbles over a bad joke -

"When you mess with the Sharkman - you sleep with the fishes!"

"Aren't shark fish?"

"Um...yes...but...they eat fish too, so, ya know..."

"So if sharks are fish, and you want me to sleep with fish - are you asking me to sleep with you?"

"DON'T BE AN ASSHOLE, BUSINESS CASUAL MAN!"

That's right, my super hero name is Business Casual Man, able to match Dockers and Polos in a single bound.

Except on Fridays.

Fridays we get to wear jeans.

Inspiration

The hardest thing about blogging is thinking up things to blog about.

If I have a decent topic I can write up a few paragraphs, make a few fart jokes, maybe reference my chisled abs and call it a day.

But sometimes I can't think of a decent topic.

I started leaving notes in my phone to help me remember when I came up with good ideas, but they never seem to have enough detail and end up looking like a 5 yr old and a serial killer filled out a Mad Libs book.

I sat down this morning and checked my phone for some inspiration and it just said -

"Farting nerd turds"

Well, that was helpful.

So here is my blog about farting nerd turds. Whatever those are.

Just be glad this isn't a post about the note I left that says, "booger pics."

Tough As Press-On Nails

I am so embarrassed by my generation's version of the 'tough guy'.

When I see a Harley shirt wearin, handle bar mustachio'd man - I know he is a tough guy. I realize he can beat me up and that I should probably curl up into a little ball and scream things like, "I BRUISE EASILY!"

So what did my generation go and do? We fucked it up.

What is 'tough guy' about a chin-strap beard (I hate to insult the word beard in this sense)? Is "manscaping" sexy? Should I fear you because if I'm not careful you'll take your beard and sideburn trimmer and write something real real mean in my hair?

Or what about these bedazzled shirts with birds and dragons on them? Nothing says "hardass" like sequins. "Hey, yo, Butch - I, uh...I love how yo' shirt sparkles real nice like in the sunlight."

But the worst? Energy drinks.

Why is Monster the new Jack Daniels?

What is tough about energy drinks? Is a guy who has an issue with being drowsy now a turn on?

Is it the "danger" factor? Are you always on the edge of your seat that he'll have one too many energy drinks and then WATCH OUT! He might get the shakes or talk real fast.

I'm fairly sure Kris Kristofferson didn't write "Sunday Morning Coming Down" about that really tired feeling you get after a Red Bull. But then again, today's tough guys couldn't pick Kristofferson out of a lineup.

But it isn' their fault; there isn't much Kris Kristofferson played at the tanning beds.