Topless ‘HAIResy’

Oh I know in the ‘oh so modern’ super-model icon culture of today, one’s hair, or the way it’s coiffed, is supposed to really MEAN something. However, even when I was a bigfoot in full bloom and blessed with a full matted mane, what the looks of my locks meant to me was YETI one more chore that I DIDN’T love! Even for money, what average 4-H farmer kid honestly wants to regularly rake and take care of his own grass, so why would you think a dedicated 3-H (Hapless, Helpless, Hang-loser) teen meatball like me would either?

Yes, If it weren’t for repulsive hairless cats and society’s accepted norms of fondling follicles for shampoo ads and cutting n’ curling cowlicks for commercials, any sane person would pop their top for a chance to lop off their mops! Just think how easy, breezy and bright life could be if everyone were sporting a silky smooth high-shine chrome-dome. Imagine a utopian globe where fuzzies in food-stuffs, tufts in the tub and even cilium in the sink were the ONLY missing links to our pink little pigtail past.

Shaving our shocks would spur on big biz Velcro entrepreneurs the wig-world over and give our political leaders something truly important to ‘DO’ for a change - or at least stick their noses in when they make a mess. Imagine donning a crazy colored batch of thatch or any hairy n’ CAREy-free style ‘Do’ you desire, without the daily hairspray melee and endless salon fuss n’ muss. Forever forget teasing the tresses, corning rows, or dreading the locks for the prom and beyond, when you could simply stick, strip, n’ rip sideburns to split-ends - all pain-free and to your heart’s content.

Even though I am positive that cocky, balding geezer -eagles like myself would get on board quickly with a comb-free existence, I’m not so sure about their harried lady counterparts? While hot pink may be the fashion color of choice for dolls like Barbie; a frock-free n’ pink ‘neck-nub’ sprouting north of the nape, is not yet most women’s vision of the perfect head and shoulders. Too bad though, because considering how much quality time men spend polishing and servicing their fancy 4-wheeled convertibles, there are probably quite a few enticing advantages for MOST girls to go TOPLESS!

Clean BILL of Health

Ok I doubt that it is a big surprise and maybe even a reason to celebrate for some, but the fact is I’m DYING … but so too are you and everyone else a little bit more each day. See I really was listening in my ‘yellow snow’ journalism class in college, so along with my hair stylist named ‘Buzz Cutt’ I have learned to TEASE with the best of them! So there is no need to actually worry; if NUN of my bad HABITS kills me first, I should be around long enough to happily contribute to the earth’s much ballyhooed demise in 2012.

Apparently though I have unwittingly put a half century of wrinkles & regret on my calloused hide, so of course it was high time to subject myself to being poked and prodded by aliens in white coats with boney cold hands. Since I had not been in for a personal tune-up in a number of years they attacked me with triangular shaped rubber hammers, lights, needles, and narrowed eyes of concern, which is surprisingly similar to how I eat a cheap steak.

Except for overloading a freight elevator and fending off a devilish billing clerk donning a pitchfork pen and fiery torch, for a foot-dragging cadaver, most of my nuts and bolts seemed to have descended properly. Good fortune reigned supreme since I wore socks without holes and underwear so new and fresh that it doubled as my napkin at lunch. Overall my health bank account seems to still be in the black or that might just be my toenails and teeth doing the talking to the blind bookkeeper?

Though the long-term prognosis of my real BILL of health looks fine, the Doctor said, if I continue to deep fry, sugar dip, and consume ALL of the five food groups daily, I will finally make my parents proud by actually testing ‘ABOVE average’ for a change. Despite my mental faculties being young and as sharp as any seven year old, I think it’s clear my chronological age means I soon must consider the frightening prospect of the big ‘C’ too! Yes it’s time to pay the piper , face my fears, and quit turning my back on good health – well maybe I will turn my back on it just one more time … since tomorrow’s my COLONOSCOPY!

Bun Bewilderment

When it comes to food, I’m bred from simple stock so the BREAD I eat should be easy to understand too. I don’t care if a basket of biscuits is good for me as long as these ‘Tom-fooderies’ quit trying to confuse me. Honestly with names like ‘monkey bread’ or ‘Indian Bread’ who REALLY knows what these things are? Maybe the snobby bakeries don’t want you to know that both primates and casino owners have been cavorting with and kneading your dough - which sounds kind of dirty unless you’re the banker of a baker?

Can we also all agree that cake, bread and doorstops are all completely unrelated and should remain that way when classing baked goods. What’s with these restaurants trying to pass off cake as cornbread? I mean just because it’s yellow and has a single kernel of corn in it doesn’t make it REAL cornbread. Also aren’t ‘fruitcake’ and ‘banana breads’ really just panned and browned ingot-freaks of nature? Cakes and bread are supposed to be fluffy, soft, good to eat and FRUIT-FREE! If you want to grind up some dirty ol’ black bananas, a pair of gym socks, and candied backyard fruit then pollute a pie but don’t taint my toast.

Maybe it’s just because I’m a little crusty behind the ears, because now I honestly don’t have any idea what the difference is between a Sicilian, Homestyle, and Chicago PAN pizza. I thought all pizzas were baked on PANS so as a marketing strategy who cares where the tin was made as long as my pizza crust doesn’t taste like cake or covers my craw in challah and cornmeal. Also, please STOP trying to search for the PERFECT breakfast bread by making my bagels sweeter and my doughnuts healthier. Let’s face it, like my underwear, if I’m already using ‘em with the holes, then I obviously DON’T CARE about perfection.

Life is too short (and sanitary) to break out in a sweat of confusion over the names and ingredients of baked goods. Up until now, I always thought that the bakery was the one place of floury solace where life’s answers truly were black and mostly white. Must too our rolling pins venture down the same muddied path that oils & proteins have already tread, never knowing what you should eat and what to avoid? I don’t know about you but I just want to butter-up my own buns and pans in peace and wonder no more if my rolls have high moral fiber or how many grains are contained in a perfectly pinched loaf!

The STAG Party

While I know Rudolph is kind of cute with his rosy nose and all, but as horny beasts go I’m not really a big fan of deer or the cloven hoof set like politicians. Yes, only those ‘Pippi Long-noggins’ bloated H2O buffalo and maybe that dude the Devil, can count on BOTH of my toes as hoven beasts that I hold in high-hoof regard. Hey I know as marauding packs of wild politicos on the loose go, Bambi’s family should probably be the least of my beastly burdens huh?

The problem is that the herd mentality of ‘my deer friends’ reminds me a bit too much of the average voter; except here we don’t FAWN over politicians -we spew at them, and then I turn my white tail and run. Given my back yard I think that there is clearly room for a third party in local politics and it is the ‘Stag party’. Oh sure I know they won’t win many votes despite being overqualified in thoughtlessly using other people’s resources, but remember they’re bred to be fat n’ lazy and want lots of ‘DOE’!

I need to be careful however when disparaging deer and equating them to worthless politicians because whenever I leave my house the bucks are now apparently stalking ME and it’s making me paranoid. I mean GEEZ, like Congress wonks, where do these big dumb things hide all day, and then how do they magically show up at night under my mailbox? I’m so sick of coming outside every morning to see my plants stripped naked & then as a bonus several new lawn gnome cannon ball sculptures piled all over the yard? Every day around here feels like April 15th because my life is so TAXING!

Everyone seems curious about the motives of chickens but I want to know why dopey deer can’t show any patience and wait to cross the road, until AFTER I drive by, rather than DART in before? Am I that oblivious or is this the meaningful stuff that we REALLY want solved by our ‘dear’ politicians? After all, we already know they are all experts at laying around chewing over the same old cud forever, but better yet with FOUR equal chambers of governmental digestion, unlike myself, deer have the TRUE STOMACH for politics!

Fasting food

I like a fine meal of quality kibble just like most old dogs, but usually for sustenance, I’m reduced to scraping the mold from bread heels and over-ripe jars of Cheese Whiz. You needn’t worry - I can afford the ‘good’ cat food; it’s just that I tend to be a ‘fast grab n’ go’, garbage grinding, eaten’-freak . Hey at least I’m not finicky and anyway can I help it that I happen to have a seven course appetite with only the attention span of an appetizer ?

Now the real problem is that the foods which are typically easy- prep ‘mono-meals’ for most, prove to be akin to rocket science for me. Though any kid can toast one, my wife refuses to buy ‘frosted’ Pop Tarts now, since the smell of my frequent stinky sugar fires triggers her un-naturally sensitive Pavlovian gag reflex. Curiously that Pavlov dude and I have a lot in common since THAT reaction is almost identical when my wife READS my ‘gags’ too.

Even the ubiquitous blue-collar and blue-box favorite ‘ Mac n’ Cheese’ puzzles me. No matter how hard I try to cook this gunk I always wind up to my elbow macaroni in a pan of slimy flavorless pasta paste. I think if they marketed a ‘head cold’ in a bowl it would certainly look just a delightfully pale yellow and as a bonus, might even a taste a tad more satisfying too!

Hey don’t whine to me about my unhealthy fast-food eating habits, because if I could just grab a ‘salad on a stick’ without all that drippy dressing, I would try to eat that too. At least I’m not sponging off my friends, sucking down protein shakes daily like those pasty-faced, movie teens and their ‘Type O’ positive personalities. Yes only Vamps, plants and Starfish are fans of liquid diets, and anyway is it too much to ask somebody to make some chow to chew that doesn’t take a Masters degree to masticate!