Monday, November 29, 2010


Know why you don't see any homeless women?


Hear me out.

Guys are slime balls. Complete and total disgusting slimeballs. Even if you found the most disgusting woman on earf - I could probably find 5 guys that would offer to buy her a drink and ask me to play wing-man.

Because guys are slimeballs.

Enter eHarmony.

You could put up a picture of the Hamburglar and still get offered dinner. Sure, the guy may not have left his basement in 12 years and there is a 37% chance he is a serial killer - but free blooming onions!

Women are using eHarmony completely wrong. They are trying to find love and nice guys - when really they should be looking at it as a coupon for free dinner.

If women are worried the guy will ask to split the bill? Just say something to make the guy think he has a chance of some post-game celebrations. Like, "I'd love to see your comic book collection" or "Pass the salt, please". Whatever, when I was single a girl could scratch her nose and I would think she was hitting on me. Guys treat flirting like a silent auction - any sudden movement is a bid - a bid, for love.

And if I were a woman I would eat that shit up, literally. Besides, the Hamburglar is kinda cute.

Monday, November 22, 2010

True Love

I was talking to a friend about a few of the guys on People's Sexiest Man list when we had this exchange -

Her: I'd totally go Jon & Kate Plus 8 with him.

Me: You'd be willing to put eight babies in your belly for him? That is true love.

Her: Ew! No! She only had sextuplets.

Me: So you draw the line at six babies. You'd make six of his babies at one time but not eight.

Her: Correct.

For the record, Marissa Miller, if you are reading this - I'd totally pump my belly full of eight babies for you.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Stand In The Place Where You Are

I'm taking a stand.

Against stands.

This is not like the time I took a stand against standing. That was more of a lifestyle preference than a political statement.

I'm sick and tired of people taking stands against everything. It makes it impossible for me to make jokes without offending someone.

I told a knock-knock joke the other day and someone told me they didn't support using assault, both physical and emotional, against defenseless doors as a comedic setting.

And since when did having an extremely strong stance on something mean you DIDN'T have to discuss it? Having strong beliefs is suddenly like conversational leprosy. As long as you pledge your allegiance and call the other person names that may or may not make sense, there is no need to back up your opinion.

Maybe I should take a stand against the weather so I don't have to talk about it with every stranger in the elevator -

"How dare you bring up the sun in front of me. Don't you know my father was killed by a sun? Go get a job you bible-thumping communist."

Or maybe I'll take a stand against feelings so I don't have to listen to people complain anymore.

Stranger: "I'm having a really rough time. I lost my job, my wife left me and I left my lunch on my kitchen counter."

Me: "CAN'T YOU SEE I AM AGAINST FEELINGS? I find it insulting that you would even consider feelings. That is unAmerican. You must be some sort of feelings terrorist. I feel like you just bombed my heart. I was just hit by emotional shrapnel. You know who else had feelings? Hitler. Hey look everyone! It's Hitler!"

So from now on, when someone takes a stand - I'm going to out stand them. I'm going to take their stand, and raise them a conversation.

As long as that conversation starts, "Knock-knock."

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Growing Up in the 'Hood (Adulthood, that is)

Monday morning conversation with a coworker of similar age:

Coworker: What did you do this weekend?

Me: Oh, I painted my front door and hung some curtains. Cleaned out my basement and then gave the whole house a good cleaning. Busy weekend. You?

Coworker: I was wasted and partying the entire weekend.

Why did I walk away feeling that mine was the weekend that was wasted?

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Bear With Me

Let's clear something up.

Because that is what I am trying to do here at The 'Neck. I'm not trying to make you laugh or cry or send me money. I'm trying to change the world.

And, just like pedophilia, it all starts with gummi bears.

Namely, the pineapple gummi bear.

You know which one I mean; not red, orange, green or yellow.

The other color.

Or non-color.

Depending on how you look at it.

You racist.

You see I took a very scientific poll the other day and received an even split of people saying it was the "white" gummi bear or the "clear" gummi bear.

Obviously, I went to the internet for the answer - only to discover that the Haribo website lists it as white, while the Wikipedia page lists it as clear.

I was very firmly on Team Clear to begin the argument - but then as it went on I began thinking - clear isn't really a color. Or a flavor. How could something be flavored as clear? Wouldn't that confuse kids everywhere? Wouldn't they start asking for some "clear" instead of water. Or eating air? I don't want to live in a world where kids everywhere are eating air. They'll ruin their appetite for dinner!

But that doesn't mean that "clear" isn't necessarily correct. The actual, physical bear has no white coloring in it whatsoever. And they are pineapple flavored - and pineapples are not white. The only way you could say a pineapple was white is if it liked to watch "Two and a Half Men" and was a bad dancer. So white is also incorrect.

Then again, pineapples aren't clear either. And if they are, it would explain why I thought all these kids were eating air.

But don't they know they are going to ruin their appetite?

Let's settle this debate once and for all -

Are the pineapple gummi bears white, or clear?

You decide.


Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Surprise Attack

I have stumbled on quite the discovery. A scientific development unlike any seen before! Or maybe just a plot for another romantic comedy. Quick, someone call Katherine Heigl.

Now that I have been married for a week and a half I have it ALLLLLL figured out.

There was a shift in power.

A shift of power in her favor, of course. And not necessarily a concious one on her behalf. It is less about her gaining power, and more about me losing power. And pride, but that is another post.

You see - I've lost the element of surprise.

When you are dating - the girl is constantly looking for that ring. If you are walking in the park and bend down to tie your shoe she gets tears in her eyes. Order champaigne for the two of you on a fancy date and she'll pour the whole glass on the floor looking for a ring like it is a box of Cracker Jacks (which is ridiculous - her ring isn't worth nearly as much as a box of Cracker Jacks).

And when you ARE engaged - you get to play tough guy about the wedding. She wants chair covers and a live band and a pack of unicorns? Too bad, honey - I say two unicorns, MAX!

But after the wedding - she has already gotten everything she wanted. There is no ring, no wedding - just a shell of a man who is folding laundry while watching The Walking Dead. It is like I've become an antique - I swear I saw her trying to sell me on eBay the other day.

So I've got an idea. Not to get all Obama on you, but we gotta spend our way outta this mess. I think men should institute a re-engagement ring.

Think about it - sure it is going to cost a pretty penny - but it leaves her on pins and needles for the entire marriage!!! It is like when you were 9 and suddenly became the most well-behaved kid on earf as soon as November hit because you wanted to fool Santa. And apparently putting roofies in the milk you left out so you could get ALL the toys in his sled is frowned upon (sorry, Mom.)

And if the re-engagement ring doesn't work? We can always fall back on the roofies. Hey, it worked on Santa.