Tuesday, March 29, 2011

In this Corner...!

Not that I believe in reincarnation but... in my next life I'd like to be a prize fighter.  "Your new flyweight champion of the world...!" (I don't like to brag but back in high school I was quite the tough guy... "Stop beating on 10-year-olds!") Of course, my trainer would have to be open to certain conditions.  Like NOT getting up at the crack of dawn for morning workouts.  See, I don't go anywhere without first enjoying a hearty breakfast... "Two eggs-- make that, chorizo con huevo.  Orange juice-- no pulp." After that, I'd need two or three hours to digest my food... "I can't believe I ate the whole thing..."  For my morning run, I wouldn't wear a hood.  Those things make me look like, quite frankly, a hoodlum.  And forget about those long boxer shorts.  For some weird reason, they make me look ... short (nothing farther from the truth).  As far as getting punched in the face, I'd have to think about that, too (leather gloves to the mug tend to hurt).  "What's my plastic surgeon gonna say?!" Becoming a boxer would mean I'd have to get some tattoos, too.  Something to distract my opponents before stepping into the ring with me.  Perhaps "Mom." Or maybe Snookie's philosophy on life etched across my back...  So many things to consider... "Don't  forget your appointment at the tanning booth."  Yes, a fighter always wants to look his best for his fans... "Uh, you may want to wax next time, too..."  Oh, come on, now... "You are wearing something underneath that boxer's robe, right?..."  Oops...

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Good Deals Aplenty!

As I take a breather from writing, I have a chance to think about garage sales.  Much to my chagrin, they're never for sale.  Talk about false advertisement... "But I want this 3-car garage... I want it! I want it! I want it!"  Still, you do find great deals at these venues (I'm just about done with this year's Christmas shopping.). You never know what you might find at bargain prices.  That includes valuable jewelry, artifacts, and half-eaten snacks once bitten by famous actors and celebrities. "This granola bar was chewed on by all of the Kardashian sisters."  I really recommend garage sales.  It's a great way to make new friends and get decorating tips as you sneak inside to use their bathrooms.  "Don't sell that plunger!"  If you time it right, the homeowner will be distracted to the point of selling you items at a great discount, too.  "I'll give you 20 bucks for that." (How do you think my daughter's getting her first car?) Personally, I don't know why people sell their personal belongings (You never know when 8-track tape players will reappear).  Unless they're shoes.  You should see my wife's closet (she's claimed sole ownership).  Call it the Great Wall of High Heels.  In that case, I'm totally in favor of selling such items.  "What about your baseball cards?"  Except my baseball cards.  "Stay away from my Sammy Sosa rookie cards!"  They're the best investment I ever made... right next to the deal with that Madoff guy...

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Up, Up, and Away!

I don't want to sound ungrateful but... I'll take my chances.  If the situation ever presents itself, please don't get me a balloon bouquet. Chances are, I'd be given the wrong one: 'It's a girl!"-- No, I'm a boy, okay?!  I've always been a boy, from all indications...  Here's another thing, I don't weigh all that much and... I'm afraid I'd float away holding onto a bunch of balloons.  "Somebody get me down from here!"  Nice, a human piñata.  With my luck, someone would find a creative way of ending my predicament. "Jethro, is that there one of them vultures in the sky?"  Great... "No, Pa, we're being invaded by Martians-- and I'm gonna shoot 'em down for ya!"  Imagine what would happen if I went into a no-fly zone: "Uh... why's that fighter jet headed right towards me?"  Not only do I NOT want to be  someone's target practice, nor dodge F-15's, I don't like heights, either (that's why I don't walk on my tippy toes.) And I respect people's privacy, too. I'd be weirded out about peeking down into backyards: "Hey, use some discretion down there!"  If I wanted to hang out in the sky, I would've majored in Blimps."  "You sure are a skinny blimp, mister."  No doubt about it, I'm going to make sure to keep my feet firmly on the ground.  That's where Man was born to be... "Uh... guys, I think I stepped on something..."  Then again...

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Got Gas?

Psssst... maybe no one else has noticed but... gas prices have gone up!  It's ridiculous; gas is about as pricey as courtside Lakers seats.   And I'm ready to teach those greedy oil companies a lesson.  That's right, I'm going to ride my bike instead of having to fill up every couple of days. "That'll be $500.00, sir."  I'm really mad and I'm not going to take it anymore.  I'm going to ride  my bike everywhere I go.  To work, to social functions-- everywhere!  "We're so glad you made it to our wedding... even in bicycle shorts."  Yeah, about the only drawback to riding a bike is having to wear that silly looking helmet. "You want me to remove my helmet during the National Anthem?-- but I have helmet hair.  My head's currently shaped like a slice of pizza."  Speaking of bikes, that takes me back to a very traumatic childhood experience (no, I didn't fall off my bike and land on my head, thus explaining my writing).  Two times I had to walk home crying, telling my parents that my bike had been stolen, by a gang of bike robbers.  "There must've been 20 of them!"  But my dad could see right through me.  I knew that he knew that I hadn't locked my bike properly.  "I knew it!"  And that was the end of my bike riding career.   And now that I think about it, my bikes were stolen right about the time that E.T. came to a theater near you.  Yeah, now that I think about it, that bike in the movie looked a lot like mine.  Huh? I'm starting to wonder... "Hey, you bug-eyed alien, that's my bike!  Get down from there!  Give me back my bike!"  Yup, I'll have to call Spielberg: "Yes, Steven, I believe you owe me royalties... Retroactive to my first pimple..."

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Dog Days

No offense to my dog Rocky, but... I'm glad I'm not him, nor any other dog, for that matter.  I mean, I wouldn't want to be kept on a leash: "You're... cho... cho... choking me, lady!"  And I wouldn't want to be forced to exercise, either: "Why do I have to run?-- I'm not the one with a 42-inch waist." Being a dog's gotta be tough, especially a show dog: "I don't want to wear berets!-- and I don't like poofy hair!" Imagine all those people staring at you, just waiting for you to mess up: "If I wanted to do tricks, I'd join the circus!"  Word is the food's not so great, either: "Why can't I have carne asada?" And another thing, how degrading to have to raise a hind leg all the time: "Great, I think I pulled a hamstring."  Being a dog just can't be fun, especially if you have to guard the house against dangerous intruders: "You cheapskate, get an alarm system instead."  And how rude is it to walk around with your tongue hanging all the time: "Aren't there laws against this?"  Yes, being a member of the canine family certainly has its limitations.  Like vocabulary: "Woof!"  Just think of having to go through life with only one-syllable words at your disposal. Two if you're lucky: "Woof! Woof!" And how sad is it to be in the doghouse every day of your life?  "This house isn't big enough for the two of us."  Poor dogs, having to go through life getting sniffed at from all angles: "Watch it, buddy-- haven't you heard of personal space?"

Thursday, March 3, 2011

The Hole Truth

So I'm minding my own business the other day (that's a  rarity), when some lady next to me starts talking away on her whatever-color-it-is "tooth." (or was she just talking to herself?) She wasn't speaking Spanish because I didn't hear: "Tacos al carbón."  And I'm pretty sure her language of choice wasn't English either because I didn't decipher: "Charlie Sheen for Governor."   Whatever she was saying,  that woman was talking about me.  I just know it.  I'll never forget that look on her face.  "Creep."  It's like she knew some deep, dark secret about me... Impossible.  I've led a pure, innocent life.  For the most part... Okay, there was this one time... I uh... cut off the power in church.  During mass.  "Dear Lord, give a guy a break!"  I never did confess that little misdeed... until now.  There, I said it, okay?  I didn't mean to-- I was just a little kid!  (Everyone's entitled to one mistake, no?) You have no idea what it's been like all these years, the guilt, the anguish.  My conscience has not let me rest.  "God will get you for that."  I've been saddled with this angst for so long, no wonder I can't write.  Tossing and turning, night after night, year after year.  "It was an accident!" Forgive me Father for I have sinned... Whew!  I feel better already... It's amazing what confessing will do for a guy's soul... I just wonder if I should mention that fib I said long ago... about that hole in the wall, how it got there. "Oooh!  I'm gonna tell Dad!"  My sister still hasn't forgiven me...