I have heard it said that there are some lessons in life that you can only learn the hard way. Last night, thanks to the pill-head hillbillies sharing a hospital suite with Rachel, we learned that the curtains that divide a hospital suite for privacy indeed do not stop the noises generated by a hastily performed blowjob. As utterly disturbing as it was, later on in the night I did have to stop and wonder at the marvelous advances in modern medicine. Of course we can’t cure Cancer yet but dammit we can give a woman a full hysterectomy and two hours into recovery she is willing and able to orally service her unemployed, no cash having, meth head of a boyfriend right in a shared hospital room. I don’t know what kind of medicine she was given in her post op recovery but Viva Big Pharma!
I can tell you what else those curtains won’t protect you from when your room neighbors are a couple of cousin humpers from somewhere in Northern Michigan. You find out real quick that when you have a funky little pill problem it’s ok to make out with your boyfriend when no one is looking but when any of the medical staff come in it is best to put on your most pained expression and act as if you are on death’s door so you can get more pills to hoard. Also, when your charming boyfriend had to pay the outrageous sum of $2.25 for a slice of pizza in the cafeteria when it comes time to order your meals make sure you order enough for a small army so that never happens again.
Folks I can’t even make this shit up. We also learned about what foods make the princess “farty” and listened in on a riveting phone conversation regarding the issues with her “pee hole.” Unfortunately, the problems weren’t limited to health concerns however. Apparently all was not well in the old home front either. Apparently Prince Charming had allowed his ex and her new boyfriend to move back in with him but those lousy bastards had done used all of his coffee creamer without paying a dime for it. Forced into action by this travesty my man was forced to steal all of the coffee out of the house to teach those free loaders a lesson. It also appears that the arrival of the ex at his house has caused a bit of consternation for his new love interest as she did tell him during a fit of anger, “ Why don’t you just go back home and have some coffee with that bitch.” Not only is there trouble at home but it appears the happy couple may have transportation issues as well. There seemed to be a little confusion as to whether they had “borrowed” or maybe even stolen the $600 car that got them to the hospital. Ownership rights aside, they also had run up on a little problem of having exactly zero money with them to buy any more gas for the vehicle to get them home. They were really hoping the fumes they rolled in on was going to be enough to get them back up north. Again, this is where things get a little murky. Apparently our hero was given twenty dollars for the gas but he may or may not have spent it in on that slice of pizza, a latte (My man loves his coffee) and chewing tobacco. Obviously not the wisest of decisions but what really chapped her ass was the fact that he didn’t leave her a “dip.” I am not sure I have ever seen such a blatant lack of chivalry. Fast forward to the end of the evening and our happy couple are snuggled in up in her hospital bed, because why wouldn’t you when the evil night shift nurse comes in to inform him he can’t spend the night in the room because it is a female only room. Oh the humanity, what in the hell is our hero supposed to do? Apparently you throw a hissy fit suitable for a 3 year old and explain all of the future back conditions he is sure to endure from sleeping on a couch in the waiting room (hey buddy, possibility of more pills, think it through) or out in his car with no heat. To his credit the nurse refused to budge and our man was forced out into the wilds of the hospital for the evening. Luckily, this did allow Rachel and the other guest in the room the opportunity to relax but it really put a damper on the comedy relief for the evening.
I promise all of my readers that this stuff is actually true. Hell, even my twisted imagination can’t make this stuff up. I hope you enjoy and please read, share and comment and please follow me on twitter @craiger211. Thank you.
The parking lot looks like a small, concrete wasteland. Trash and empty liquor bottles litter the area. In one corner an old pair of jeans and the remnants of someone’s hair weave lay discarded in a heap, apparently abandoned after a parking lot brawl. The prevailing odor is the pungent smell of marijuana wafting through the air and the ground shakes to the pounding bass lines of the unintelligible music being blasted from the cars. A barely clothed woman offers .99 cent cans of malt liquor on a tattered sign hanging in the window. The desperation in the air is oppressive.
5:45 am and I hear the sound of her phone announcing that is time to rise and shine and get ready for a new day. However, I don’t have to rise just yet, I have an hour or so before duty calls. Smiling, I roll over in bed, adjust the covers and prepare to dose off until it is my turn to get motivated. But wait, I sense a problem. I hear her fingers manipulating the phone as the light of the screen sends a near blinding light across the bed and directly into my face. The dog dives back under the covers hoping to recover her eyesight and I can hear her wimper softly. What could she possibly be doing with the phone? Texting? Sending a Tweet? A selfie for Instagram? Unfortunately it is worse than that, we are entering the dreaded “Snooze Zone.” I don’t mean snooze as in we are actually going to be able to get more sleep, no I am referring to that lovely little alarm feature that will make sure that no one will get a lick of shuteye for the rest of the morning. Apparently the 5:45 alarm was merely a suggestion. You know, kind of like when the doctor gives you a prescription for a cold and suggests you should probably watch your drinking. In theory a great idea but altogether impractical. I lay there attempting to get comfortable but what is the point? Once you have entered the Snooze Zone you are good and properly screwed. I stare at the ceiling waiting for the next blast of the alarm and ponder the logic of setting an alarm for a time that you have absolutely no intention of getting up for. Frankly, it makes zero sense. If you really don’t have to be up until 6:30 set the mother scratching alarm for 6:30. No one is winning bonus points on the scoreboard of life for setting the alarm for an ungodly hour and then ignoring it and subsequently disturbing everyone else in the process. At my advanced age every precious moment of sleep should be guarded and cherished not used and abused like a $2 whore. Luckily I think I have solved this horrible problem. I just had Rachel take a quick look at this draft and I am pretty sure I am in the clear. I don’t think her alarm should be an issue for me as I sleep on the couch tonight.
Please read and comment and follow me on Twitter @Craiger211
Waiting quietly in the cold night air Michael crouches behind the cover of the hedge row. Ten years ago they came for his family. Hiding in his upstairs bedroom he could hear the gunshots mixed with the sound of bodies hitting the floor. His father had always warned them about the price of resistance and on this night the toll would be collected. Now he waits with a silenced pistol and the cover of darkness as protection. No longer a child he is ready to settle the score. The sound of footsteps moving towards him means the time has come.
The holiday season can frequently lead to pressure and stress and no more so then when it comes to picking out gifts. Not being able to find the perfect gift, the indecision of what to get someone (hello gift card) and fighting the hustle and bustle of the stores all add up to a pretty bad experience. Occasionally we even find ourselves venturing into completely uncomfortable and unfamiliar territory during our holiday shopping.
I found myself in this situation this holiday when I was confronted with the fact that I needed a last minute gift while out shopping by myself and the most likely place to find it was going to be the local Target store. You want to talk about terror? Try being a guy out shopping and realizing that you have to walk into a Target store without a female guide? I would have felt more comfortable trying to illegally cross the Pakistani border then walk into the private female cathedral known as Target. They may as well as just hang a sign out front saying, “If you have a penis enter at your own risk.” Uncomfortable? Yep, in a watching Wolf of Wall Street with your mother in law sort of way. As I pulled into the parking lot I realized that some of my last moments on earth could end up being the sight of some 30 something woman in an over sized SUV running me down in the parking lot while chatting on her phone and drinking a Starbucks latte. I would be nothing more than a speed bump on the road to her salvation at female church of Target.
Once I safely made it through the parking lot and breached the perimeter defenses at the front door one thing dawned on me in Target. Both the store and the female patrons are trying really hard to not be Wal Mart. These ladies were not rocking ill fitting belly shirts and pajama pants that said, “Juicy” on the ass. Oh no, they could have walked out of the store and straight into the nicest restaurant in town without missing a beat. They were like carbon copied minions straight down to the leather boots and always present Starbucks cup. I tried to avoid making any sort of contact and I think they barely noticed me as the combination of too much caffeine and overall Target euphoria had turned them into some sort of Milf Zombie horde. I quietly crept through the store, raced through the express checkout and dove back into the parking lot amid the gleaming sheet metal of $40,000 SUV’s. Like a Navy SEAL I clung to the shadows and worked my way back to my truck. The Red Bullseye from the front of the store glowed menacingly at me as I pulled away and just as I was beginning to leave. I could have swore I heard the sound of security pursuing me out of the parking lot. I will never be able to be sure but I swear I saw 13 women in North Face jackets chasing my car with torches and axes as I peeled off in to the night. I had survived this round with the Bullseye but for how long? What did they know? Would they find me?
Thank you everyone for reading. Please share and comment, I truly appreciate it. You can also follow on Twitter @Craiger211
Given all of the recent drama revolving around the hacking of Sony Studios I feel compelled to offer up a brief suggestion to the hacking community. I am going to provide a small list of future targets in which you hacking them is actually a benefit to humanity. Now listen, I am not talking about destroying a corporation completely or ruining the world economy but just knocking some things off the grid for a while and making our lives better if only for a brief time.
1) Taco Bell — Why Taco Bell? Well, let’s think about this. Imagine the improvement in the overall gastrointestinal health of our planet if Taco Bell was a hacking victim. A drop in obesity as well as improved air quality due to the lessened levels of taco gas. Imagine the increased productivity at businesses everywhere when employees could actually come back to work after lunch and not have to make an immediate 30 minute trip to the restroom because that Burrito Supreme was about to make an unwelcome reappearance. Once again I see this as an overall win for everyone.
2) Who ever The Hell produces all of the ads for Viagra, Cialis, etc. Please hacker community do us a big favor here. We are in the heart of football season right now and you can’t even watch a game without getting visually assaulted by images of horned up seniors popping pills and ending up watching the sunset naked in separate bath tubs. Which leads me to another point, if you have taken your pill, spent an amazing day antiquing with your precious Ethel and now it is ahem, go time, shouldn’t both of you end up naked in the same bath tub if that was what you were going for? I doubt either one of you are as flexible as you used to be and that whole two bathtub thing has an emergency room visit written all over it.
3) Progressive Insurance — This one comes down to one freaking thing. Flo. I don’t want people to lose insurance coverage, not at all. I am just asking hackers out there to take old Flo out behind the cyber woodshed and slow her roll a little bit. No fictional commercial character should be dominating this much air time especially at that level of annoyance. The Budweiser Frogs think perhaps maybe Flo has gotten a little big for her britches and that’s saying something.
4) The New York Yankees — Oh man, nothing would be finer than a nice little cyber attack on Pinstripe Nation. Yankees website goes down, tickets become unavailable, mouth breathers in their mom’s basement can’t YouTube old Derek Jeter highlights. It couldn’t happen to a more deserving organization. No, I don’t want them run out of business and out of baseball but damn it would sure be funny to see ESPN try to do baseball coverage if they didn’t have the Yankees nuts to swing from for awhile.
Well, hopefully all of the gifted hackers out there will take this advice to heart and maybe try to do something positive with their powers. I mean blowing up the premiere of a horrendous Seth Rogen film is a start but all you did is turn into a political thing and piss everyone off. I am sure Miley Cyrus or Kesha are working on a new album, maybe move your focus there? Pretty please?
I was listening to talk radio the other day and the male host of the show was relaying the fact that he would be taking some time off soon for the upcoming Holiday season. He mentioned that he had been pretty excited about the idea of the time away. Unfortunately as he had talked with his wife about the upcoming hiatus he was informed that she was well aware of his vacation and she had begun working on “The List” for him for during his down time. Believe me when I tell you that there are not many things that a guy wants to see less than “The List.” Having to watch the Kardashians or the Bachelorette get honorable mention here but they are generally a temporary walk through hell compared to the death march of dealing with “The List.” Nothing will ruin the prospect of time off of work or a nice long weekend like being confronted with “The List.” Of course the list I am referring to is the always awful honey do list.
I do not know when the list first came into being. I am guessing at some point some ancient cave woman looked around the cave and saw her favorite caveman taking a nice nap on the floor after a long day of hunting and gathering and said to herself, “Awe, Hell no. This cave is a mess, I have a bison hide than needs to be skinned and tanned and the garden is in shambles. I am going to go get my stone tablet and chisel and make this guy a list.” Now here we are thousands of years later and the female species has learned to wield the honey do list like a modern day weapon of relaxation destruction. I am assuming there is a primitive instinct that has been finely honed since prehistoric times that activates in the female brain the moment the idea of relaxation has been mentioned by their mate.
To me the intriguing thing about “The List” is the complete one-sidedness of it. I am guessing at some point in history some guy thought he would be smart and go ahead and create a honey do list for his sweetie when she had a couple of days off. Fair is fair right? I am sure that is exactly what he was thinking right up until he found himself standing outside the cave with nothing but his loincloth and a bruise on his head from getting clobbered with a Brontosaurus bone. At no point since this first attempt has there ever been a documented case of a man getting away with presenting their beloved with “The List” and living to tell about it. During my research I had heard a rumor about a reclusive man living in the woods in Northern Maine who claimed to have successfully passed a list to his wife but alas, much like Sasquatch, I fear it was just a myth.
I guess the bottom line here is this. “The List” is here to stay. It contains some sort of ancient power that has lived through the ages and so far it has not been stopped. As guys I guess we will just have to deal with it and move forward. I fear that resistance will always be futile. Just as I cannot explain why anyone would listen to PitBull or Justin Bieber I have no answers for this problem. I had kicked around the idea of a guy only “List” support group but I felt that the guys would probably be too scared of reprisal back at home. So I guess we will quietly hide our pain and suffering much like our cave dwelling ancestors. The struggle is real folks. The struggle is real.