“F.A.G.S.”

I don’t believe the word “fags” is a derogatory term, I truly believe it is an acronym for “Fabulous And Gorgeous Superstars”. Think about it, the majority of gays you come across are just that, they are fabulous and gorgeous superstars, they shine bright and are ever so proud of who they are.

It is very rare that you see a gay man looking like he just came from Walmart and is now heading home to the trailer park where him and his “roommate” are feeding their ten bastard children on hotdogs the government paid for which are being cooked on a car engine that is laying on the front lawn…not hating, just saying.

I know some of you would say they are not proud of who they are, that if they were they wouldn’t be hiding out in their “closets” pretending to be something they’re not. My answer to that would be, the only reason they hide out in those so-called “closets” is because there’s way too many crazy hateful fuckshits out there that would beat them up just for being who they are.

Needless to say them hiding their true selves is not because they are ashamed of who they are, but rather because they don’t want to end up as a redneck piñata just because they are different…and not into their sisters.

Once the people find a new group of people to hate on, for no apparent reason, then there will be no reason for gays to be concerned about coming out…they will be out like Anthony Weiner’s wiener. Until that day however, they have to keep their identities hidden like Superman, well more like Wonder Woman, but without the female body parts…but of course with all her sexual urges, oh no I di'int.

There are a few other things that I find funny when it comes to hating on gays, things that don’t really make any sense to me, but oh well, who am I.

First, I find it odd when people say, “I don’t mind gays, as long as they don’t shove it in my face”, and this just amuses me beyond belief. Mainly because I know most gays wouldn’t shove “it” in your face if you were the last man on Earth (oh snap).

I think most of the people who say things like that have tendencies, and not necessarily of the gay kind either, they have whack job, serial killer and asshat tendencies just to name a few. So the next time you hear someone say something like that you better run for cover, because you just never know. 

  

I also find it funny when some people say it gross that they give it to each other up/down (I say up/down because it all depends on who’s doing the ramming and if they are on top or on the bottom) the kiester, that’s just grodie they say, but the first thing they do when they’re alone with their significant other behind closed doors is ask for anal…jealous perhaps.

Of course they get denied, like an applicant seeking a loan with poor credit, so they get angry and in some cases even embarrassed, so who better to take that frustration out on than the professionals. They’re mad that gay guys don’t mind pooper poking, and they feel if they can’t have it than no one should. 

Lastly, I can’t stand people who use religion as a weapon, who try to use it to back up their hating hearts and make themselves feel justified for their evil ways. Like for example, when they say, “God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve”.

That just sounds so stupid and ignorant, and my response back has to be just as childish and immature, so I say, “God also made fruits and vegetables, not burgers and fries, so get your fat ass out of here before I beat you down with a wiffleball bat”…too much?  

This piece was written to show all you homophobes out there how stupid you sound and how ridiculous you look when you hate on gays and this is coming from a straight man, believe it or not.

They don’t tell you how to use the hammer in your toolshed, so don’t tell them how to organize the clothes in their closet. Live and let live people, stop hating on what, and who, you don’t understand and start treating each other like you would want to be treated.

MJM

“Lice Lice Baby”

Unfortunately I had those little buggers before; when I was younger of course, now I keep my hair shorter than a butch lesbian and keep all the Walmart shoppers away with a stick…of deodorant that is.Needless to say it was very uncomfortable and not really all that enjoyable, I walked around with my hands up in my head as if I was constantly lathering with some kind of invisible shampoo.

They used my head as party central, and they tore it up like some drunken teens on Spring break. They were zooming around my head like as if they were Jeff Gordon and my head was the Daytona 500. I felt like a mobile high-rise apartment building, with my head being the penthouse, and there were more residences up there than rednecks at an NRA convention.

It was very embarrassing to say the least, especially when I was called into the school nurse’s office to have my head checked.She was sifting through my hair like as if she was a hunter, in rubber gloves and armed with a comb, searching for her prey, the infamous lice bug.

She found what she was looking for and called my parents to come pick me up so they could take me home to try to exterminate the bugs. When my parents finally got there, I was escorted out the back door like I was some kind of celebrity, trying to beat the crowd out of the gates.

My parents tried many ways to get rid of the little bastards. One way was drenching my head in pure kerosene, and since they were smokers they did it with a lit cigarette dangling from their lips. So there I sat in the tub, buck-naked with a head full of kerosene and one ash away from being Michael Jackson in a Pepsi commercial, needless to say it wasn't fun.

The whole time I had that stuff on my head I was fearful it would drip into my eyes forever blinding me, turning me into a highly combustible Helen Keller.

Thankfully that didn't happen; everything went off without a hitch, or so we thought. We later found out that kerosene only killed the adult bugs, and didn't do jack squat to the eggs.

Like in the Alien movies, if the space marines only killed the adults and let the eggs live, they would find themselves wearing a facehugger and giving birth to a bastard alien baby in no time flat, making all their cleanup efforts for naught. The same is true for lice, well except for the bastard alien baby thingy, as far as I know that won’t happen. 

If not treated correctly these creepy critters won’t go away, like Bebe’s kids, they don’t die, they multiply. So a few weeks later we found ourselves right back in the same situation, but this time my parents tried some over-the-counter lice treatment and spoke to the professionals before proceeding…which in this case was other parents who experienced the same thing.

We did the shampoo, washed every possible thing in the house we could, and dug in each other’s heads with a comb looking for eggs like a pack of gorillas cleaning each other. This time it seemed to work better, they seemed to be gone and killed dead, we were as happy as African Americans the day they heard O.J. was not guilty.

It was a rough time for sure, and I’m glad it’s over with, but I can tell you for sure if I ever get lice again I’m going completely bald like Moby.

MJM

“If You Write It, They Will Come”

Okay it’s hump day and since I’m not humping, I figured I would write a blog, not really an equal trade-off but oh well, you have to take the good with the bad.

Now I didn't really have anything in mind, nothing too clever and/or enlightening happening in this dome of mine, so I went looking for inspiration. I decided to take a look at the keywords that brought people to my blog; I wanted to know what it was they were looking for that made them find me.

I was thinking I would find words/phrases that were sophisticated, that sounded like something you would hear at a Mensa meeting, things that would make me smile and say yuppers I’m one smart cookie for writing that.

Although to my surprise that wasn't the case, people were seeking all sorts of crazy nonsense; things like “fat men with boobs” and “monkeys dirty asshole” just to name a few. After seeing that my ego quickly went flat like a tire with a nail in it, and I realized I was more of the class clown rather than the teacher’s pet.

I even saw things like “hot naked women in dresses” and thought to myself, if these hot women were in dresses than they’re not really naked…right? I’m was lost, is my audience as dumb as a box of rocks, or just so horny that they can’t think straight.

People also searched “white girls with big round asses”, "wedgie" and “hot cosplay chicks”, now searches like this I can understand, and as a matter of fact it may have even been me who searched it. What can I say, sometimes a man has to take matters into his own hands **huh huh**.

I didn't need a pair of glasses; because I could clearly see that not many mature individuals were reading what I was laying down. I can say for sure that you wouldn't find any parents reading my blogs to their children as bedtime stories.

I should probably have it where my readers could print out a dunce cap, all they would have to do is cut along the dotted lines and slap some glue on that mutha to assemble, of course they would have to use safety scissors and “crazy” glue because I wouldn't want anyone to stab themselves in the forehead.

This information made me question what I was doing, was I keeping myself from becoming a success and hindering my intellectual growth? Forget the “man”, was I keeping myself down, keeping myself from being all I could be like the army.

Should I change who I am, should I conform to the so-called norm and climb into that proverbial box that so many people seem to reside in? Would I gain more readers and/or would I be more respected if I did, could I even be passed off as mainstream if I took the safe politically correct route?

I quickly came to my sense and smacked myself in the back of the head for thinking that crap. I don’t want to be like everybody else, I’m not trying to be your clone, I’m trying to be your superior. I enjoy writing things that don’t make sense; things that make people laugh and forget about their everyday stresses, things that aren’t all that involved and all smarty tarty.

So to anyone who found my blog by searching some random nonsense, you’re the bomb diggity, and don’t let any tight-ass mofo tell you any differently. Be proud to be off your rocker, embrace the laughter and keep humor alive.

To all the some beaches who don’t comprehend this shiz, well too bad, I’m not changing for anyone and I’m staying insane in the membrane.

(Actual keyword(s)/phrases searched that brought people to my site) 

MJM

“Cigarettes”

I’m not trying to knock anyone who smokes cigarettes, because I know for gosh darn sakes there are things that I do that gross people out and that aren’t really all that good for me, so for me to call someone else out would be very hypocritical and I’m not about that.

This piece is really just to question why, why do you smokers smoke, what’s the appeal? To me when I see someone smoking it looks like a cancer bomb about to go off, with the cigarette being the fuse. I just don’t understand with everything we know about these harmful little bastards why someone would consciously choose to fire one up.

I never smoked; I’m an L 7 (which means square to all you unhip people out there) so I never had the pleasure, or displeasure, of having one of those little smoking sticks hanging out from between my lips like as if I was sucking on a lollipop.

So I wonder, what is the appeal, do they really calm your nerves like some people say, do they taste “smooth” as the advertiser claim and/or does having one of those fiery sticks clutched in your hand make you look cool and all Fonzy like?

What made you decide to smoke, was it all the hype and/or peer pressure, the cartoon characters “pushing” them on you or was it just for something to do because you were bored? Maybe it was even something underhanded, like the big tobacco companies paying people off to smoke their product.

Are they like a pro wrestler who has you in an emotional bear hug? A girlfriend/boyfriend you love that you just couldn’t see your life without them and even if they did leave, you would stalk them like crazy, restraining order or not? Are they that addictive, would you ever suck a cocker spaniel for one if you were broke?

I find it crazy that people are running around blaming “big tobacco” for them smoking, that’s just as nutty as fat people blaming McDonald’s for them being fat. Stop pointing the finger people and put the blame where it belongs, which by the way, is on yourself.

These things seem like they are very powerful, a really hard habit to kick, at least from what I’ve witnessed from the sidelines. I mean there are patches/pills, electronic cigarettes and even support groups to beat this personal demon.

That just blows my mind, because I’m an overeater, and I’m not saying dieting isn’t hard, but I have never thought about wearing a pizza patch and/or eating an electronic cheeseburger.  Now don’t go me wrong, a pizza patch sound de-lic-ious, but only if there’s no anchovies.

Also, those antismoking commercials are gross, disturbing, and should only be shown to smokers and people who are considering it. Nonsmokers, who know better than to smoke, shouldn’t have to endure that sickness.

Cigarettes should come in case where every time the smoker pulls out a cigarette it would play one of those commercials, we know they have the technology to pull it off, so why not.

I don’t want to be in the middle of dinner, watching Miley twerking on stage, and have one of them come on. I would lose my appetite with quickness and probably never be able to eat a triple bacon french fry cheese burger again without those images popping in my head again.

With all the health risks, and not just to you but also to people around you, and the chunk it takes out of your wallet, why keep doing it? What is it about cigarettes that keep you smokers coming back, why can’t you just throw them in the air and say muth humper I’m done and walk away without looking back?
MJM

“You're So Rude; I'll Bet You Think This Blog is About You”

I can’t stand rude people, they drive me nuts, and I have wanted to introduce the bastards to the backside of my hand on more than one occasion. The only reason I haven’t is because I know that more than half of these crazies are packing heat and they’re not afraid to use it, with each slap I would be playing Russian roulette with my life, and I’m not having that.

What happened to this world, why are people so inconsiderate and nasty nowadays? Is it really because we don’t allow parents to beat their kid’s asses anymore; is it true that if you spare the rod you spoil the child? If that is what the problem is, then I say let the parents take the restraints off and start kicking some serious kid ass.

There should be some kind of law on the books where these kumquats would get a fine and/or even an overnight stay in jail, depending on the severity of the infraction, for being disrespectful and/or discourteous in public. If not that, then at least something that will keep them in check, make them think before acting.

Honestly I don’t even like to go outside anymore, because it seems where ever I step I run into one of these freaks, and dealing with them makes me want to pop their head like a pimple. If I knew I wouldn’t get into trouble, I would carry a wiffleball bat around with me and whenever someone stepped out of line I would beat them down like as if they were a piñata and we were at a Mexican celebration.

We have a rude epidemic on our hands, and we need to quarantine it before it gets any worse. What we should do is build a giant Walmart in every state, send out invitations to the grand opening to all these rude bitches, and once they’re all inside lock the doors and throw away the key, it would be like a prison for the rude.

You know what else we need, someone like Batman, but instead of him patrolling the streets and fighting crime, he could be patrolling the people and kicking the ass of anyone who is rude and/or obnoxious. Knowing he’s out there would be like a scared straight program for all these jack wagons, they would think twice before walking into someone and not saying excuse me and/or not holding the door for someone who is right behind them.

I tried to live by the motto, “when in Rome, do as the Romans do” but I couldn’t bring myself to be such an anushole, it just didn’t come easy to me, I guess it’s because my mother raised me better than that. I don’t know what to do, I’m at a loss, do I just ignore it and go about my business as usual or do I go all ape crap on these fools and risk landing myself in the joint or possibly even killed dead?

We all know it’s not going to change for the better anytime soon, so I’m just going to have to suck it up and let these fuckshits continue to be who they are, and not let it get the best of me. So I will continue to bite my lip and not say a word, just do my best to avoid these nitwits as much as possible.

MJM

“Farts”

They are funny as hell; they smell like poop and if done correctly they can really clear a room, so what’s not to love about them? Why do these little gassy guys get so much slack, it’s not like we all don’t do them and/or enjoy when they slip out between the cheeks…whether we admit it or not.

Who doesn’t like a good fart, when there is an awkward silence in the room because no one really knows what to say, they are a great way to break the ice and to get people talking again…and laughing if done right. Also, when you’re in the tub, there’s nothing like a stincuzzi…am I right.

I know some of you tight-butt people out there in cyberspace, and no I’m not talking about the people who have done the Buns of Steel videos, but rather the people who are afraid to laugh at what is funny about this world, will claim they don’t find them funny and/or entertaining…but we all know you’re lying.

God made them the way they are because he wanted us to laugh at them, they are here to amuse us, and of course to dispel the gas out of our bodies, but more so to amuse us. So with that said, why not enjoy them for what they are, why act like there is something wrong with them?

Farts are our friends people, and the sooner you realize this and embrace them with open arms, just not open mouths because no one wants to eat a fart, the better off we’ll be. Unclench those glutes and let the boys out to play, fart and fart proudly…and for you ladies out there, don’t try to quiet the queefs either, because they are funny too.

To be fair though I must also talk about the bad side to farts too, now of course the negatives don’t surmount all the positives, but unfortunately they are not perfect and they have their flaws. For the record, the negative side to farts is normally with the one who dealt it, not the fart itself.

Farts aren’t all just shits and giggles; sometimes they can be dangerous too, at least as far as the farter is concerned. For example, one may feel as if they just have to fart so they go through the motions ready to release the beast, only to find out that innocent fart was actually the beginning of a turd (aka shart).  

Now while this is embarrassing to the farter, and guaranteed to leave skid marks in their draws, it quite hilarious to the rest of us. Sure we may have to wait until they stop crying before laughing at them, but the wait is so worth it, and watching them walk away with mud butt trying to keep their booty tightly closed to avoid any additional shit streaking is freaking  hilarious.

Another fart related issue would be the SBDF (silent but deadly fart), only because people will squeeze these smelly bastards out and never warn anyone, and will hit you like a sucker punch. These farts sneak up to any unsuspecting nose and fill it with stink, they are like the ninja of the fart world, and depending on the deliverers diet these farts may just knock you right on your ass.

Finally we have the lighting on one’s fart, turning something so beautiful into a tool of destruction, a raunchy smelling blowtorch. This makes absolutely no sense to me, but to each their own, I would be lying though if I didn’t admit to secretly wishing their ass inhaled instead of exhaled and sucked the fire into the hole, burning their colon and singing their pride. If it did they would think twice about doing it again, ruining a perfectly good fart, you bastards should be ashamed of yourselves.

Well that’s about all the negative I can see when it comes to farts, so needless to say they rock and should be enjoyed to the fullest. Even the names that go along with the deed are great, they are called things like butt-burps, cutting the cheese, the mouse on a motorcycle, the shit splits, breaking wind and of course busting ass just to name a few. Seriously, does it get any better?

Keep on laughing…keep on farting…and stop being such a tight-butt.

MJM

“The First Encounter of the Pussycat and Weiner Dog”

They say everyone remembers their first time, and I would have to agree with that, but not because it was magical and/or made the Earth stand still like in the movies, but rather because it was the most awkwardly enjoyable moment of our lives.  

By “first time”, I am mean the first time your woo hoo dilly went into another person’s orifice, or if you’re a chick (or a gay male) the first time your orifice went over and around another person’s woo hoo dilly…the poppage of one’s cherry if you would.

I know some men who are reading this, who suffer from that macho jock locker room crap, won’t admit to being clueless their first time. They will claim they hit it like a caveman while they moved like Jagger, but I can assure you that their partners would recollect things a whole lot differently.

Now me, I’m not ashamed to admit it, I didn’t know what I was doing then and honestly still not really sure what I’m doing now. I would have loved to have a copy of, “Doing it for Dummies” available for my first time, it would have made things so much easier, and a whole lot less embarrassing.

I was as lost as Dan Quayle trying to spell potato, I thought back to all the pornos I watched and tried to emulate the pros, but the woman I was with didn’t really like it when I started barking orders at her and calling her a female dog.

She gave me this look like as if she was Linda Blair in the Exorcist and I was the priest, and as a result of this I quickly backpedaled and started groveling like any man who was in my position would…and for the record, that position was me standing there buck-naked, feeling light headed because every ounce of blood in my body was in my Woody Woodpecker.

I was like a hotrod with no wheels; I was all revved up and had nowhere to go, so I did what had to be done. Thankfully though, the woman I was with knew that I was a noob, and gave me a second chance to make things right.

After feeling like it was safe to go back into the water I moved in for the kill, my harpoon (well actually it is more like a dart, but who’s keeping score) aimed at the target and ready to strike. Unfortunately though I missed my intended target and hit the hole next door.

The woman I was with flew straight up in the air, clutching her cheeks firmly, kind of like a cartoon character who just sat in the fire…needless to say it wasn’t a good way to restart things. When she finally came down she scolded me, told me to watch where I was sticking things and to be more careful…I had flashbacks of when I was a kid getting into trouble.

I was now two strikes down, one more and I would be ending the evening banging my own drum, so this time before moving in I said a quick prayer, ate my vitamins, and moved slowly towards her like as if I was a crook trying to sneak through a house at night.

I was now in position and ready to make my move, I was overly cautious because I didn’t want to mess up again. I went for the bullseye yet again, and thankfully hit dead center, so now I had to figure out what to do next.

I started thrusting back and forth, alternating speeds because I wasn’t really sure which way to go, fast or slow…how is one supposed to know these things. I didn’t know whether to hit it like a jackhammer, or nice and slow like molasses on a cold day, no one ever told me.

I kept looking at her face, trying to decipher if she liked what was happening or if she would have rather been somewhere else altogether, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of things because she had this look at her face like she just smelled a really nasty fart…I had no idea if that was good or bad.

Now after about an hour and a half (really it was three minutes) I was ready to “unpack my bags”, but I wasn’t really sure if I was to leave them at the door and wait for the manager to tell me to bring them in, or if I was just to feel free to go in and “unpack”.

I was so confused and scared that I just grabbed my junk and hopped off the bed and ran out of the room crying, but considering that I forgot to pay her she chased after me and kicked my ass and stole my wallet.   

I spent more time trying to figure out if I was doing it right and if she was being satisfied, more than I enjoyed it myself; it went from being a pleasurable experience to feeling as if I was taking a timed test.

Since that day I swore off sex completely, it was more trouble than it was worth. I am now a born again virgin and permanently riding the celibate bus. I now stick to safe sex, which is giving myself a hand job while watching the top performers in the adult entertainment world go at it like rabbits.

MJM