I took the kids to the midnight screening of “The Avengers” tonight.

As we sat in a crowded theatre full of nerds, my oldest son asked, “Dad. Why are these people dressed up like The Avengers? I don’t understand.”

“They’re so excited about seeing the movie that they decided to show everyone how excited they are by dressing up like the characters.”

“Dad. You’re excited to see this movie. You’ve been talking about it all week. How come YOU didn’t dress up?”

“Because, I have had sex before and I have every intention of having sex again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re going to have to trust your old man on this one, boy. Do me a favor. By all means, go to the midnight screenings of all the new super hero movies. They’re super fun. But, PLEASE promise me that you won’t go so far as to dress up like the characters in the film. That shit is just lame.”

My son thought about it for a second.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it also lame to dress up like the characters in the film if you go to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

“BITE YOUR FILTHY TOUNGE!”

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  1 note

As we sat in the emergency ward’s waiting room, waiting for the doctor, I kept looking around at the other people as I played my favorite game of “Who would I fuck?”

I noticed that the old woman sitting next to me had a blood spot near her crotch. Gross.

“Dad. I want to go home. This is boring.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you stuck a G.I. Joe doll up your brother’s ass.”

“How the hell was I to know that The Rock would win?”

“First of all, never bet with money that you don’t have. Second of all, who the hell bets on wrestling? That’s like betting on the ending to a movie. You just watch it and enjoy it. And lastly, no matter how angry you get, you DON’T SHOVE G.I. JOE DOLLS UP YOUR BROTHER’S ASS!”

At that point every one in the waiting room looked at us. Even Old Lady Bloody Crotch. 

“Don’t you judge us.”

The doctor showed up. He explained that they got the doll removed and my middle son is going to be just fine. He even gave us back the doll. Although, I’m not sure this doll will be played with anymore considering where it’s been. Oh, the trauma.

My violated son entered the room.

“Can we go home now?”

“No. First I have to pay the doctor some money, since you two can’t watch Wrestlemania without getting into some asshole bullshit.”

The doctor looked over at us and said, “This is all because of Wresltemania?”

“Yes. Are you a fan?”

“Yes. I have it waiting for me on my DVR at home. I’m going to watch it later.”

“Is this going to be expensive, doc?”

“You have medical, don’t you?”

“Um. Not really.”

“Then yes. It will be.”

“Sheamus won. Taker won. Punk won. Rock won. See ya’ later, doc.”

As we walked off to pay the nurse, I could hear the doctor mutter, “Asshole.”

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  2 notes

   Edgar and I were in the living room, watching television and drinking beer. Every few seconds or so, another one of my sons would race by carrying stuff. Clothes, video cameras, a baby doll, fake weapons, etc. It wasn’t until the oldest boy went by with a dildo in his hand, that I got curious. For the most part, as you know, I try my best to not give a shit as much as possible when it comes to my sons’ tomfoolery. 

   “Is that a dildo?”

   “What’s a dildo?”

   “A fake dick.”

   “Oh. Then yes. It’s a dildo.”

   “What in the blue Hell are you three little weirdos doing with all this stuff that you keep taking by us? Where are you going with it and what are your plans?”

   “Well, remember that movie RUSHMORE?”

   “Of course I do.”

   “Okay, well remember how that one kid would make plays out of movies?”

   “Yes.”

   “That’s what we’re doing. These are props. We’re going to put on a play of a movie in the back yard for our friends.”

   “Where did you get the dildo?”

   “Grandma.”

   “That figures. Does she know that you have it?”

   “Yes.”

   “Okay, she and I have to talk.”

   “Sounds good. Gotta go. The play is about to start.”

   He was off like a thief in the night. 

   I hollered at the boy, “What movie are you guys doing a play of?”

   He yelled back, “A Serbian Film”.

   Edgar then asked, “I haven’t seen that. Should we go out and watch?”

I thought about it. 

   “Um. No.”

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  1 note

   “We don’t get why watching a movie in a car is cool. It sounds like a terrible way to watch a movie.”

   “It kinda is, but that’s part of the whole experience.”

   At this point, Edgar Spanks walks in the front door and asked, “Hey guys. What’s new?”

   “Dad is trying to explain this whole Drive-In thing to us. Sounds like a shitty way to watch a film. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t missed out on anything.”

   “First off,” I said. “Watch your mouth. Secondly, if it wasn’t for the Drive-In, you probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

   “How’s that?”

   “The Drive-In wasn’t just about the movie. It was also about the experience surrounding the movie. For starters, you could bring booze in with you to see the movie.”

   “Can’t you sneak booze into a theatre as well? I’ve seen you do it a bunch of times.”

   “True. But at the Drive-In, you don’t have to be so sneaky about it. Plus, if you have a hoey date like your mother, you could get some.”

   “Get some what?”

   “Never mind. Look, we’re going to do this whether you like it or not.”

   Edgar asked, “What are you guys doing?”

   “Well,” I answered. “Since my boys missed out on the Drive-In, I am going to simulate it in the back yard. I’m borrowing Uncle Phil’s projector so I can show them a film projected against the back of the house while we sit in the car. And, if these little sons a bitches are lucky, I just might let them have a sip or two of beer.”

   “Cool. What movie are you gonna watch?”

   “Texas Chain Saw Massacre. If you’re gonna do the Drive-In. You best stick to the gospel.”

   “Awesome,” Edgar said. “Can I join you?”

   “Of course. Get in the car.”

   The boys started to get into the back seat of my car, when I stopped them.

   “Hey. What did I tell you? I used to always sneak into the Drive-In by riding in the trunk. It was exciting. I will not deny you the same experience, now get in the trunk!”

   “How long before someone at CPS reads your blog?”

   “Shut up, boy.”

   The kids got in the trunk. Edgar and I rode around the neighborhood for awhile, when he asked me, “Wow. You really want them to experience it like it was, huh?”

   “Nah. Getting them to ride in the trunk was a last minute idea. It’s kinda funny. Don’t you think? I’m going to go over some speed bumps really fast.”

   “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

   “Oh they’ll be fine. After all, when it’s all done, they get to watch Chain Saw Massacre and drink beer. I should be Dad of the year.”

   “You should be.”

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  3 notes

“The doctor really gave you these pills?,” Bo asked.

“Yes. Why?”

“It’s the kind of pills they would give you if you had sex with a farm animal and got some type of funky animal/human hybrid STD….or so I heard.”

“What’s the big deal about these pills?”

“You can trip really hard with these babies if you know the right combination of other pills to take with them. I happen to know such a mix. They don’t call me MIX TAPE for nothing.”

“Um. Okay. What other pills?”

“Look. I know what type of pharmacy you have. Let’s go into your collection and I will steer you in the right direction.”

“How long before you start to feel it?”

“Oh, you should be feeling it pretty fast. Like I said, they’re pretty rare. What did you stick your dick into in order to get these? A llama?”

“No. Never mind.”

“Does this have anything to do with your date with Donnie’s sister?”

Silence. 

“YOU FUCKED DOG FACE DONNA?!”

“You want to say that louder? I don’t think the dead people down at the cemetery could hear you.”

“Hey. Don’t sweat it. I’ve fucked my share of funky chicks. When I’m too wasted, I’m unpredictable. You must of been pretty wasted, huh?”

Silence. 

“Let’s just do the drugs already. By the way, what does your dick currently look like?”

“Purplish Orange.”

“Wow.”

Bo “Mix Tape” Sully and I did a small cocktail of pills and sat down in the living room to enjoy a night of what Bo promised to be a real “Ball Tripper”. My sons were all asleep and I sat there in front of the tube waiting for reality to change. 

About an hour later: “You know,” I said. “I really like Jericho’s new jacket. I wish I had a jacket like that.”

“I have a jacket like that,” Bo said. “It’s in my treasure chest.”

Just then, I heard a phone ringing.

“Do you hear that?”

“Yes. I do,” Bo answered. “Is it Jesus?”

“No,” I said. “It’s my inner phone.”

“What?”

I reached into my chest and pulled out a telephone attached to a curly wire. 

“Hello?”

I looked to Bo, stunned. “Holy shit,” I said. “It IS Jesus!”

Bo looked nervous. “Hang up!”

I hung up on Jesus. I felt like eating my heart. 

“I wish Dog Face Donna was here. I’d fuck her again.”

“I guess you don’t have a fear of fleas after all.”

“Those fuckers want me as their king.”

My oldest son walked into the room at this point.

“Can you two keep it down? I have school in the morning.”

“Okay, son. We will. Goodnight.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his head was on fire. 

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  5 notes

   I fear that I’m in for a long night of misery.

   The other night I was playing cards with Uncle Phil, Bo “Mix-Tape” Sully and “Dog Face” Donnie. We were gambling what ever worthless shit we had on us. Before the night was over, items that entered the pot to be gambled away included: bottles of hooch; porno magazines; cans of pork n’ beans; coupons to Taco Town and of course, mix-tapes: courtesy of Bo.

   The night had been long. No one in particular had dominated the evenings’ winnings. The real point of the night was to just have fun and get as wasted as possible. After many hours of smoking and drinking, I had personally moved on to cough syrup and was feeling like a real Disney Channel whore.

   It was the last round. There was nothing left to bet with. Uncle Phil was throwing a free punch in his face in the pot; Bo “Mix-Tape” was throwing in the promise that if you should ever go to prison with him, he would be your bitch, into the pot; I threw into the pot, an opportunity for me to shit on the front porch of any person’s house of your choosing.

   Finally, “Dog Face” Donnie threw into the pot, a date with his sister, “Dog Face” Donna, which isn’t a prize, but used as an agreement to date her in order to make the final round interesting. No one wanted this date. 

   Uncle Phil and Bo folded. It was down to me and “Dog Face”.  

   I felt like Andre the Giant when I threw down four Jacks. 

   “Dog Face” threw down four Kings. 

   I felt like Poopy McGoo (He’s a wrestler in my sons’ backyard wrestling promotion. He sucks.)

   “Dog Face” called his sister and told her the good news. For the first time in many a year, she had a date. 

   And now, I am ready for my night with “Dog Face” Donna and I fear that I’m in for a long night of misery. 

   As I walked the green mile to the front door, my oldest son asked, “Hey Dad. What’s the problem?”

   “I lost a bet. Now I have to go out on a date with a girl named Dog Face Donna.”

   “Any relation to Dog Face Donnie?”

   “Yes. They’re siblings.”

   “Gross.”

   “Any advice for your old man?”

   “I would concentrate really hard and then shit your pants.”

   “Why?”

   “She would definitely call off the date. Who wants to date a guy with shitty-shit pants?”

   “Thanks for the advice. Truly disgusting.”

   “You’re welcome, Dad.”

   “While I’m out, don’t touch my stash.”

   “Which stash?”

   “ANY of them!”

   “I can’t promise anything. That tranny babysitter is coming over and he’s so much funnier when I’m on something.”

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  3 notes

   Went to the post office today to buy stamps. What can I say? Sometimes a mother fucker needs stamps. 

   I stood in line with all the other ham and eggers, when I noticed someone that I wished I hadn’t. It was a woman named Gina. She was a one night stand that I had a few years ago and if Jebus was feeling generous today, she wouldn’t notice me. I don’t get how the vision of an alcohol impaired brain can still recognize a person through sober-centric eyes. 

   I waited in line for my turn to buy stamps. I was considering the Disney ones. After all, I really dig Wall-E.

   She looked at me. Oh shit. Here it comes. The whole “Why didn’t you call me back? I thought I was special. Don’t you miss me? I can’t believe I let you come on my toes!” speech. 

   I was ready for an Apollo Creed sized knock-out verbal punch. I felt like I was cringing. 

   And then…..

   Nothing.

   She mailed off her package. I had my turn eventually and I bought my Disney stamps. I went to my car in the parking lot and was relieved to not have been noticed. 

   But wait…what if she did notice me and decided to not have said anything. What if she didn’t want me to notice her?

   Could this be true? Could I have lost my touch? I thought I was The Devil’s gift to Hos.

   I couldn’t help myself. I approached her. 

“Gina?”

“Oh…..Hi.”

“Do you remember me?”

“Um…yeah. How ya’ been?”

“Pretty good. How about you?”

“Not bad.”

“Great. Say, what have you been up to? I’m happy that I ran into you. You feel like doing something sometime?”

   A moment of uncomfortable silence. 

“Look. I know that we had that night and it was…okay, but. I have to be honest. I was really drunk that night.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I know. But you see, I don’t usually do stuff like that. It was….a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

“Yes. A mistake. I’m sorry. I hope you’re okay with that. You must be. You never called me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Hey. I hope you’re well. But, I have to go now. It was nice to see you. Keep it real.”

   She quickly got in her car and drove away.

   Keep it real? Really? That’s all I get? Is it possible that I lost what I once had?

   I went home. I didn’t feel so good. I feel a long night of drinking and drugging coming along. Then again, if I felt perfect, a long night of drinking and drugging would have come along anyway. 

   When I got home, my house was a mess.

“Boys?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Why is the house so messy?”

   The oldest son answered.

“We have been having a war with the Ghost of this house and we have been losing.”

“The ghost made this mess?”

“Yes. The ghost.”

   I considered this. 

“Okay. If you say so.”

   At that point the ghost (Ralph) spoke up.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  5 notes

   I woke up from my late afternoon pass out to the sounds of weird barking and meowing. I say weird, because it did not sound like real dogs and cats. It sounded like people pretending to be dogs and cats in a very loud manner.

   I stormed outside kinda pissed. I was dreaming that I was eating out Liza Minelli’s pussy and for some reason that did something hot for me. I think she may have been singing at the time and we were in a booth at McDonald’s surrounded by french fries all over the place. 

   I had not idea of what type of scene, I would be walking in on. There were all these people wearing the masks of dogs and cats. The dog masks looked like Scooby-Doo. The cat masks looked like Garfield. 

   The Scoobys were all wearing t-shirts with a picture of The Rock on them. The Garfield gang were all wearing t-shirts with a picture of John Cena on them. These people were having a food fight while barking and meowing. I can’t be certain of this, but I think that the food being thrown was dog food and cat food. 

   “What the fuck are you weirdos doing in front of my house?”

   No one answered. They just continued to battle. 

   My right leg went out on me and collapsed to the ground. The second that I hit, I passed out. Boom. I went right back to the Liza Minelli dream. This time, she was sucking my dick while I ate a cheeseburger. I was sloppy. The cheese and ketchup was falling out of my mouth and sandwich and onto her hair as she sucked me.

   I came back to conscienceness again. This time I was in a graveyard and it was night. 

“See, Uncle Phil. I told you not to do it. This happens every time you get horny.”

  We were grave robbing and Uncle Phil had one of his uncontrollable urges to fuck him a corpse. I was only there for jewelry, but Uncle Phil decided that he wanted a little dead-ass pussy. 

   Jimmy Jim Toe Jams and Marty Two Fives did not care. I think that they thought it was funny. I, on the other hand, being the classy mother fucker that I am, found it in poor taste as always and passed out from the grossness of it all. Every time, I pass out, I instantly hit the R.E.M. mode. 

   Just then, I heard someone approaching us. It was either the care taker or the Devil. The last time I was here, we made a deal and there is no way that bitch is going to collect tonight. 

   Fuck. 

   I gotta piss. 

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  1 note

   I just woke up after a good three or four days of drinking and drugging. Perfect timing. I have just enough time to get my kids something for Christmas. Good thing that it’s tomorrow. I almost blew it. 

Just kidding. 

Hope your Christmas was as totally tits as ours.

•

   I was in the living room this afternoon, drinking beer and cough medicine, while watching “Cobra” on DVD when I heard a ruckus. Cheering and laughter came from outside. Better investigate.

   In front of the house, on the sidewalk, a congregation of kids where throwing money on the ground and giving each other high fives over some type of event.

   “What the fuck is the ruckus?”

   “Oh. Hey Dad. We’re having races.”

   “Races?”

   “Yeah. Skateboard Frog Races.”

   Sure enough. The neighborhood kids were gathered around to watch frogs on skateboards race each other. 

   “How does this work?”

   “Well,” my middle son explained. “If your frog jumps from the board before his skateboard gets to the finish line, you automatically lose. If both frogs jump, the one that jumps first is the loser. Otherwise, it’s a regular race. First frog to the finish line, wins.”

   “How often do they stay on the board?”

   “Surprisingly, a lot. They usually jump once the board stops.”

   “And you kids are gambling on this?”

   “Wouldn’t you be?”

   “Good point. How did you get the money to begin with, to gamble?”

   “You don’t want to know.”

   “Now that you put it that way, I REALLY want to know.”

   “I sell naked pictures of my P.E. teacher.”

   “Mr. Schofield?!”

   “No, Dad. Mr. Schofield was my P.E. teacher last year. This year, it’s Miss West. She’s a boner-maker!”

    ”Boner Maker?”

   “Yeah. She makes everyone that sees her get a boner. Guaranteed.”

    ”What does she look like?”

   “I could show you. But it would cost you five bucks.”

   “Or you could show me for free and I will let you continue to sleep in your bed at night and be fed every day.”

   “Deal.” 

   My boy then pulled a picture out of his pocket of a naked woman, taking a shower. 

   “Bullshit. This ain’t your P.E. teacher. You must have got this off the Internet or from a porno magazine.”

   “Dad. That’s Miss West, my P.E. teacher. I could introduce you if you pick me up from school one day.”

   “How did you get this picture?”

   “I’m what one might call: A Peeping Tom. I have other pictures of her naked. If you get me five bucks, I might be able to find them for you.”

   “If you are interested in staying up late every night this week and eating McDonald’s and Pizza Hut for dinner every day, perhaps you could be inspired to take a video camera with you the next time you go peeping?”

   “That could be arranged. I’ll work out the details later with you Dad, the next Skateboard Frog race is about to begin.”

   I gave my son five bucks. 

   “Here. You earned it.”

   “I can tell, Dad. I can see that you have a boner.”

   “Don’t look at my crotch, fag.”

   I gave my son another five bucks.

   “Here’s another five. Put it on the frog on the Batman skateboard to win.”

P.S. I have a gay baby

•  •  7 notes