“Blogging, What to Expect”

Writer’s block…one of the side effects of being a blogger;

There are times we will brainstorm until smoke comes out of our ears…but unfortunately the skies are bright and sunny…there aren’t even any clouds in the forecast.

Sometimes the thoughts run free and wild like a streaker at a sporting event…then other times we have to play hostage negotiator with our thoughts...our fingers have to talk our brains into releasing them. It’s not always easy…and sometimes the end result is a bloody massacre but we as bloggers must fight through it.

We eventually get something down…is it our best work, probably not…but at least it’s something…right?

Wrong…we are perfectionist and strive to do our best…so subpar just won’t do…not at all. So now we’re stuck dwelling on it, trying to polish a turd if you will…which in some cases works out for the best and then other times ends up still being a stinky turd…only now nice and polished.

Self-doubt…it’s all part of the game…unfortunately;

When it comes to having confidence in ourselves and the things we do we’re our own worst enemy, we will make ourselves believe we suck…and suck really bad…like getting a BJ from a vampire.

Unfortunately it’s just human nature…it is par for the course…and all that other cliché stuff.

Being a blogger is no different, as we are writing our so-called “masterpieces” we are on cloud nine, we think our poop doesn’t stink and that we can conquer the world. Then once we hit the “submit” button our confidence quickly fades, we become the worst thing since liver and onions…at least in our own eyes.

It’s the before and after affect…like what you see in all those diet ads…in the “before” picture the person is all round and out of shape, then in the “after” picture they are all skinny and all buff looking.

Well for us bloggers our “before” picture is us writing the next Harry Potter, securing our spot atop of the New York times bestseller list…and our “after” picture, well that is not too pretty…we start second guessing ourselves, start thinking we made the biggest mistake of our lives by hitting that submit button.

We are on pins and needles until we receive the first comment to our blog. We anxiously wait…like as if we are up for an Academy award and the presenter is about to announce the winner. When we see the first comment come through it is like the envelope is being opened…our fingers are crossed as we wait to hear who the winner is…us or our self-doubt.

We are a material girl/boy…living in a material world;

Everything and anything we come across becomes potential material…not necessarily good material…but material nevertheless. Instead of just relaxing and having a good time we find ourselves dissecting every situation we’re in…wondering if what we’re experiencing would make for a good story or not.

We have become investigative reporters…but not for something classy and tasteful like Time or People…we work for something like the National Enquirer. We find ourselves talking about Bigfoot, space aliens and possibly even Elvis sightings.

Money for nothing…and the stress for free;

We find ourselves busting our tails…doing all the work of the pros but not getting any of the money. We all have hopes of one day being discovered, being the next big thing…but unfortunately that never happens. The only people who know of us are the other bloggers who are in the same situation.

After a while it becomes more of a club than anything else…we do eventually make it big, but not in the way we wanted to…we end up gaining so much weight because all we do is sit at the computer, come up with crazy stories and eat food that is bad for us.  

Okay blogging isn’t all doom and gloom…it’s actually a lot of fun…but just make sure to keep your feet firmly planted on the ground and your head out of the clouds and everything will be alright.

MJM

“Peace…Love…and Porn”

Porn…why do so many people fear it…and look down on it? If you ask me I think it’s a great thing…and no I’m not just saying that because I’m a dude…I really do believe it’s a good thing.

Think about it…if we as a society were a little less tight-butted about the whole thing, maybe sexually based crimes would decrease. I mean if one of those nut jobs could stop in a porn shop and get their rocks off just as easily as it was to go to the grocery store and pick up some beer and cigs then maybe they would be less inclined to attack someone…just a thought.

I know what you’re all thinking…having porn shops on every corner would trash up the place…and unleash the dregs of society on the masses. Well, I got news for you…the scenery is not all it is chalked up to be (at least not where man has been involved) and the masses are already partaking in porn, they’re just ashamed to admit it because of all you self-righteous closeted porn junkies out there who would shun them like as if they were lepers.

If consenting adults…of age of course…want to get it on and bang a gong for your viewing “pleasure” then what’s wrong with that. If these people want to allow us to watch them participate in the naked Olympics…of course the event depends on the viewer’s personal preference…then who are we to stop them.

Look at it this way, porn is like the adult version of Mister Rogers Neighborhood…with an off the chain sexually charged Land of Make Believe…and the Mister Rogers here is hung like a horse and banged more women than Wilt Chamberlain.

I mean c’mon you didn’t really think that so-called “amateur” who’s handling her business like a bull rider and pulling off moves like a professional wrestler was brand new to the game…or that the eighteen year old babysitter with the giant floatation devices on her chest was really eighteen and/or a babysitter and/or born with huge funbags that were so perky she could rest her chin on them…did you?

In this version of the “Land of Make Believe” there is no King Friday or Trolley…just dudes named Dick Hardwood or Buck Naked and toys that shake and bake baby. Also, there is no changing sweaters and shoes…only bed sheets and under garments.  So won't you be my neighbor…just please keep it down and don’t disturb me when I’m “reading” my Playboy **wink wink**.

So take the stick out of your booty…shake off all the haters like a bad case of fleas…and start enjoying some good porn. Trust me…not only will people be less inclined to sneak around and do something naughty…they would also be a lot less stressed and uptight.

Now I know this movement…the free porn movement (by free porn I don’t mean without cost, I mean just let the porn flow like the love did back in the 60s)…could possibly leave us in a “sticky” situation…but I have faith it would work out for the best. Oh yeah…before you let anything flow…please make sure to use protection…like Hefty bags and duct tape kind of protection…wouldn’t want everyone catching STDs.  

For gosh darn sakes…playing with your fun parts while relaxing with some porn isn’t going to send you to H E double hockey sticks…I mean God gave us those parts and told us to ” love thy neighbor as thyself”…so get to loving people.

MJM

“I Need a New Drug…of the Pharmaceutical Kind”

We live in a crazy world…as if you didn’t already know that. I can’t believe what things have come to…this place is a can of mixed nuts…and not a classy can either; you know the kind with almonds, cashews and macadamia nuts…this can is full of just plain old peanuts.

I went to my local drugstore the other day…just to buy a drink…and I noticed a lot of things behind the counter that seemed out of place. Things like Sudafed, Krazy Glue and the most surprising Chore Boy. So of course me being the busybody that I am, I figured I would inquire within to see what was going on.

I was told these products…plus some others…where being used for drugs…and to purchase any of them you needed to show identification. They also told me that a record of your purchases were kept on file and depending on how much you purchased of one product or the other a red flag would come up and the proper authorities would be notified.

I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing…and honestly after speaking with the sales representative I started feeling all creepy and paranoid…thinking that they thought I was a drug user and/or dealer because I was asking these questions. I quickly dropped the subject…paid for my drink…and left with a quickness.

Stupid druggies…because of them we normal people can’t even buy things without feeling as if we’re doing something wrong and/or without having all our purchases scrutinized.  We should start a revolution…we need to take back what is ours and stop feeling like a prisoner…especially when we did nothing wrong.

This is what I propose (and no I’m not talking about your typical pot smoker here…but all those other crazy druggies out there, including alcoholics)…we need to lock them up (possibly somewhere in Washington D.C. so they can be around all their other criminal buddies aka politicians) and beat them all silly with Nerf baseball bats and other assorted accessories.

We need to show all these criminals…politicians and druggies alike…that we are not going to take it anymore. We are not just going to roll over and play dead…we are not going to just do as they tell us…we are going to do something about it for gosh darn sakes!

Well okay…we are going to take it…because of course there’s really nothing we can do about it…but it sound good didn’t it. We don’t have to be happy about it though…and to show my disgust I may just go loiter outside of their establishment…that’ll show them.

All in all I think it’s kind of funny…you can’t but Sudafed, Krazy Glue or Chore Boys from a pharmacy without being carded and recorded…but on the same token these are the people who are shoveling out “prescription” pills like as if they were candy. I guess they are just trying to eliminate their competition.

So what did we learn…crack, heroine and meth are bad…but Xanax, Percocet and Oxycontin are all okay…that is of course if you have a prescription.

MJM

“When Animals Attack”

Most people are stupid by nature…we all know this…and for those of us who can actually put together an intelligent thought without the aid of a shepherd…watching these stupid people in action is a great way to entertain ourselves.

One of the funniest things these people do is mess with wild animals and/or attempt to keep them as pets…it’s like watching Wile E Coyote set a trap for the Roadrunner…you know it’s going to blow up in his face (sometimes quite literally) so you just sit back and wait for the fun to happen.

Now first the pet thing…I never really understood having a pet that you couldn’t really…well um pet…and also kill you if they so decided to…like spiders, snakes and scorpions (which kind of sounds like the marshmallows in an evil version of Lucky Charms if you ask me).  Also monkeys…what in the poop flinging primate are these people thinking…if you want a small human like companion then adopt a kid…you’ll be doing the world a solid.

Next, incorporating wild animals into your show…not really a smart thing to do…just for your information, that bear you are about to sit down and interview…he wasn’t just stealing picnic baskets with Boo Boo at Jellystone Park.  That tiger you’re trying to get to balance on a ball…well he isn’t the spokesperson for Frosted Flakes…he will eat you if he gets the chance…all the while thinking to himself, “people…they’re gr-r-reat”.

Another stupid thing people do when it comes to wild animals…they invade their personal space then get all perturbed when these animals treat them like a piñata at a fat kids birthday party or as takeout. For example…the ocean…there are sharks out there…big dangerous hungry sharks…and we know this, we all saw Jaws, yet we all still go swimming…then get annoyed with the shark because he sampled the menu. The shark is not the one at fault here…it’s not like he came into your house covered in tartar sauce…you came into his house just asking to be bitten…just like a human vampire groupie.

I know this may sound harsh…but I don’t feel sympathy for anyone who messes with a wild animal and gets the stuffing beat out of them and/or killed dead…if anything I’m in the animal’s corner holding up a sign which reads, “I got jungle fever” and screaming like a little girl when Justin Bieber steps out onto the stage.

I also can’t stand when these “wild” animals go all normal (not crazy because they are just following their instincts) and kill and/or severely injure these fools and they kill the animals…I say screw that…kill the morons who were trying to play with them, who were keeping them as pets and/or invading their personal space…they’re the ones who deserve to be put down.

Where’s that crazy, “leave Britney alone” guy…the one who was crying like a beotch on YouTube…we need him to release a new video…this time telling all the freaks to leave the animals alone.

MJM

“The Truth About Cats and Dogs”

Victor Cruz (the cat) and Mulan (the dog)

I recently got a puppy and a kitten…and I must say I now know why I’m a cat person…this freaking puppy is driving me nuts…all the biting, whining and pooping/peeing all over the place…it’s like having a rabid old timer living with me. The kitten on the other hand…no worries…showed him the litter box and now he’s taking care of business...like well…nobody’s business.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I don’t love them both just the same…but dogs are a H E double hockey stick of a lot of work…way more so than cats are. I find myself yelling at the puppy all the time…just like as if I was Archie and she was Meathead…and just like with Meathead, she does do a lot of things just to aggravate the crap out of me.

I find wires all chewed up…I find her eating the cat food…and of course her nasty little surprises left all over the house. I’m running around chasing her all over the place…like as if we were playing tag and I was “it”. There are times when she is it…and she’s right under my feet…nipping at my toes and ankles just like as if she was Kujo and my feet were covered in barbeque sauce.

I don’t know what to do…when she’s calm and relaxed she’s so adorable and sweet…but when she hopped up on goof balls she’s the devil on four legs. After a day of dealing with that I need a little bit of that “hair of the dog that bit you” if you know what I mean.

Sometimes I just feel like calling it quits…and no I don’t mean by killing myself and/or getting rid of her…what I mean is packing up my hobo bag and hitting the trails. I can’t do that though…because I’m not a quitter…and I know with my luck if I did leave my girlfriend with the puppy and took off I’ll be stuck paying doggie support…which I cannot afford.

Why can’t she just be more like Scrappy Doo and just rock some puppy power…but no…I have a cross between Scooby Dum and Hong Kong Phooey on crack. I’m hoping when all is said and done I’m left with a Lassie who will one day save my life…or even a Brian Griffin (from Family Guy for those not in the know) who goes to college…or maybe even Snoopy aka the Red Baron…but I can tell from my short time with her I’m going to end up with Scooby Doo.

I guess I’m just stuck with her…who knows maybe she’ll grow on me…like a wart or something…but only time will tell. The moral of the story…dogs maybe be cute and all but they’re as dumb as a dog bone and a lot of work…while cats are cool, self-sufficient and very intelligent…so say no to dogs (just like drugs) and yes to cats.

MJM

"Love and Cookies"

In a cookie jar, far, far away...before they were a computer term and the reason so many people are fat...cookies were a yummy delicious treat that filled many hearts with warmth.

They were left for Santa to express our thanks for a job well done, our favorite muppet on Sesame Street enjoyed them immensely and they brought the family closer together as we baked them, ate them and licked the bowl clean of their batter.

 

Now however, within the society we live in, where people look for reasons to blame all the worlds problems on anything other than themselves, cookies have become the enemy. Santa is no longer greeted by the tasty treat, Cookie Monster is now a vegetarian and has been replaced by the annoying little red devil known as Elmo and the kitchens are now desolate and the members of the family are all off doing their own thing.

 

Cookies are not the problem and they shouldn't be used as the scapegoat for our lack of self-control and laziness...they have done nothing but make us happy and bring us closer together.

Think of how many altercations could have been solved without blood shed and/or hurt feelings if we just brought cookies instead of harmful words and/or weapons. So brush the "chip" off your shoulder and next time you're caught with your hand in the cookie jar take responsibility for your own actions and don't go looking to blame someone else for your mistakes...because that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

Now go and enjoy and nice warm cookie with a stranger...the world would be a better place for it.

So give peace (and cookies) a chance.

MJM

"The Cockroach, Such a Disgusting Little Bugger"

I was born and raised in New Jersey, where we had our fair share of disgusting bugs (and people).  Surprisingly, our cockroaches, as nasty as they were, weren't really all that bad.

They were small in size, hid when the lights came on, and, for the most part, only frequented dirty places.  When stepped on, they blew up like little jelly and cream filled donuts. A nuisance, yes . . . disgusting, yes . . . but nothing that a can of Black Flag or Raid couldn't handle.

Then, in the mid-90s, I moved to Florida. It was the land of palm trees, beautiful beaches, and the industrial size cockroach. Florida doesn’t want to scare people, so they call it a palmetto bug, but trust me. It's a cockroach.

The first time I came across one of these monstrosities, I had to do a double- take because I thought I was seeing things. The thing was the size of a freaking peanut butter jar and looked just as crunchy.

I kept my distance from it while trying to find something to smash it with, believing that I was fine, as long as I kept an eye on it. Boy, was I wrong. As I was scurrying about, trying to figure out what household item I should choose to become the bringer of death, the bastard started to move.

Being startled, I jumped back. Keeping my eye on it, I thought I was safe, as long as I could see where the little bastard was. Then, all of a sudden, the creepy brown bug of doom opened up its wings and took flight.

I stood there in awe, as if I were witnessing the second coming of Christ, while not moving a muscle. The nasty thing flew right at me and landed on my chest. I did what all grown men do in that situation. I ran out of the room screaming.

With that freakish critter clinging to the center of my chest as I ran, I looked like a white-trash version of Superman . . . Cockroach man.

It finally fell off of my chest and landed on the floor. Now, with tears running down my face, trying to catch my breath, I went into the kitchen and grabbed some roach spray. I was done playing around.

I came back to find it still sitting in the same spot on the floor, as if it were taunting me and telling me to make my move. It was like we were in a Wild West standoff. I unloaded, spraying nearly the entire can on it, the whole time laughing maniacally like a mad scientist and feeling vindicated. I got the last laugh!

The can was about empty, the cloud of poison was settling, and I was ready to see the dead body lying there so that I could pick it up, flush it down the toilet, and send it to its watery grave.

When all was said and done, it was still alive and kicking; staggering like it had just come home from the bar and had too much to drink. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was freaking out trying to kill this thing, and it was living it up. Partying like it was 1999.

I now had an intoxicated roach on my hands, who was no doubt getting a good laugh at my antics. I must say, I now know how Wile E. Coyote felt . . . stupid Road Runner.

Finally, having had enough, I decided that I was going to step on it and end it all. I didn't have shoes on, so I thought about dropping a piece of paper on it and then jumping on the paper with it under it, but I had a bad feeling that I would jump on the paper, he would take off, and leave me on a roach-powered skateboard. I wasn't having that.

I figured I would do the next best thing. I called the cops and waited outside until they showed up.  I had the officer go inside and kill it for me. The moral?  My tax dollars are working.

MJM