The Campaign Begins

First of all I want to thank you for taking time out of your busy day to come visit the new online campaign headquarters for the Craig for President movement.  As you know, I just announced my candidacy yesterday so as of right now campaign donations are pretty light and as of right now I have raised exactly .42 cents that I found in the dryer last night doing laundry.  So, until things really get moving I will continue to use this free platform to keep you abreast of the campaign.  You can be sure there is no greater Washington outsider than this guy and Lord knows by looking at my 401k balance that Wall Street doesn’t even know I exist so this campaign will be completely transparent in our financial dealings.  Alright, enough of that, let’s get down to some issues.

National Defense — This is a big one and everyone has a right to be concerned.  Here are my thoughts, if we learned nothing else in the Super Bowl other than Peyton Manning sucks we learned a great defense can be enough to lead you to a championship.  As it just so happens Super Bowl MVP and superstar linebacker Von Miller is a free agent this year and my idea is to hire him as Secretary of Defense.  Now I know he doesn’t come from a traditional military background but frankly, who gives a shit.  We just explain the world to him like this.  All those ISIS bastards and crazy ass Iranians and North Koreans are basically like quarterbacks looking to scramble for a 1st down.  Once they step outside the safety of their pocket protection he basically has free reign to go after them in a seek and destroy mission much like he did to Cam Newton and Tom Brady in the playoffs.  He is going to be pricier than you average military man since he is looking at probably making 10 million or so a year in the NFL so we will just have to build like one less fighter jet each year to afford him.  I think it’s worth it.

The Budget–  I am no accountant, I barely passed that class at any level in which I took it and Mr Dave Young, former teacher and A.D. at Davison High can attest to that but I do know a few things about balancing a budget.  At the core it’s quite simple, don’t buy a bunch of shit you can’t afford.  Simple, right?  For the last 4 or 5 years I have tormented the lovely and talented Rachel with all of my grand plans for wanting things like a beach house in Key West, a Ferrari and most of all a helicopter.  After she gets done rolling her eyes she often gets quite animated in explaining that all of those things sound wonderful however our lucrative two income budget involves the salary of a government worker and a kindergarten teacher.  My parents always referred to this as having champagne taste on a PBR budget well folks the harsh reality is our government agencies better get good and damn ready to start enjoying the taste of PBR under my presidency.  If you are some ding dong governor in Alaska looking for federal cash to build a bridge to nowhere you better look somewhere else that bottle Dom Perignon is not coming out of the fridge.

Homeland Security — Again, I am no expert in the field of terrorist tracking or anything of the like.  However, what I am is a dad and future husband and owner of a little piece of property here on lovely Valley Vista.  I think everything I need to know about protecting ourselves can be learned by watching my idiot dog.  We have no fancy security system around here because we have the Princess Puppy.  Why is she so successful at protecting us?  Because she barks at every fucking thing that moves.  Mailman, UPS guy, stray leaf it doesn’t fucking matter.  So that’s how we will protect our country.  We will “bark” at everything, it will be a little annoying for those of just going about our business like my poor neighborhood mailman but you know what we have a better chance of finding the assholes out there that want to do us harm if we are constantly looking out the front window barking at everything.




Housework Done Half Assed

Friday night the lovely and talented Rachel and I were discussing the fact that due to the holidays and her recent surgery the condition of our house had reached the level we lovingly refer to as, “filthy trash pit.”  Don’t get me wrong, we are not living in 3rd world squalor and we have a lovely home but let’s just say some of the corner dust bunnies appeared to be reproducing faster than regular rabbits.  We went to bed Friday evening determined to attack the problem Saturday morning before we had to make a road trip to watch our son Tyler play in a basketball tournament that afternoon.

So let’s fast forward to Saturday morning shall we.  They day dawned gray and rainy yet your hero (me) woke up determined to start attacking the situation at hand.  A natural problem solver I started the operation with a large pot of coffee and a wasted 45 minutes cruising the Internet.  While not very productive it did help me get focused and after the last of the coffee I found myself getting into the cupboard for the dusting supplies.  My senses were laser focused as I walked into the battlefield (living room and computer room) and assessed the situation.  It was truly worse than I imagined and I briefly considered throwing up the white flag and retreating back to the safety of my pillows and blankets.  However, I recalled the heroic and inspirational line from Animal House when the toga party was being threatened and John Belushi rallied the troops with the famous phrase, ” Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?  NOOO.”  So, with steely resolve and an intimidating glare that would make Clint Eastwood proud I charged onto the field of battle.

I was slowly making my way through the project when I realized something was amiss.  My wing woman, The Hall to my Oates, the Milli to my Vanilli was nowhere to be found.  This can’t be right I thought, we both agreed that this house was mere seconds away from being condemned due to filth (slight author exaggeration) and yet I didn’t see or hear her tackling any projects.  I wandered into the living room expecting to see a flurry of blonde haired ambition turning our home into a Better Homes and Gardens worthy showplace.  Imagine my surprise when I looked into the room and a see a lovely blonde creature curled up on the couch with a blanket, a pillow and the dog and her book.  I stood incredulously, dust towel in hand as I stared at her.  She glanced at me from the couch and said, “Yeah, I’m just not feeling that great this morning.”  I understood as we had both been battling a cold over the week but dammit it was time to power through and save this home from impending doom.  I was walking over to the fireplace to continue dusting when I heard from the couch, “Hey, will you make sure to dust the window sills and stuff also?”  I stopped, counted to three in my head, (they say you should do this before saying something you will regret) and looked at that beautiful face and said in my most blatantly sarcastic voice, “Sure sweetie, whatever you want.”  Seeing that she is not just all beauty and no brains I could see she had caught on to the sarcasm.  She looked at me and said, ” Well you know, you are kind of a half ass duster.”  Boom, there it fucking was, the nuclear bomb had dropped.  I stopped, still reeling from the comment.  I was shocked, primarily because “half ass” or not I am the ONLY damn person in this house who dusts any fucking thing.  Me, just me.  No one else.  The blonde ambition tour hates dusting, refuses to do it and as for the two boys, let’s just say I don’t know if 1/8 ass is a word but it would accurately describe their effort at doing chores.  I had to ask myself, self, would you prefer a half ass dusting job or a no ass dusting job?  It’s like asking if I would rather have half a pitcher of beer or no pitcher of beer.  Pretty easy choice right?

After regaining my senses I decided that this heinous attack from the blonde has actually inspired me towards a new business venture.  I am gonna call it “Half Ass House Cleaning.” That’s right, if you need your laundry washed and only partially dried, I am your man.  Vacuum half the floors?, I got that shit.  Want half of those dirty dishes done?, psssshhh that’s child’s play for me.  Normally I would say that if life gives you lemons do a shot of tequila but in this case I am going to take this harsh and uncalled for attack on my person as a way to a better life.   I have a feeling there is going to be huge demand for my services so make sure to call me at 1-800-half – ass to schedule your service.

Thanks everyone for reading and please share with your friends and family if you like.  You can also follow me on Twitter @Craiger211

Basketball Dreams

From the moment he could walk there was always a ball.  A ball to throw, one to dribble and one to shoot.  There was a hoop in the yard, another in the basement and Nerf hoops hanging from the door frames.  The ball took us to dusty gyms and outdoor courts.  It was the same routine even when the locations changed.  Shoes squeaking on the floor, coaches barking instructions.  Ten years later he walks on the floor he only dreamed about.  Banners hang from above, symbols of past glory.  No matter what happens tonight the journey will be worth it.

Hysterectomy Hijinks

Hysterectomy Hijinks


Craig Gist



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.

Flint unfiltered

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.

Snooze this

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

100 word story — Revenge

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.