Slap it, bap it and whap it, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

How hot was it?
Man it was hot. I was sweating like Hillary Clinton’s campaign accountant.

Man it was hot. Iron Man had to wear his sheet-metal Bermuda shorts.

It was so hot Iron Man nearly melted his nuts . . . and his bolts.

We kid the Niners fans
The California Supreme Court ruled that gay marriage is legal. In San Francisco, men donned wild dresses, popped champagne corks, danced, kissed strangers. And that was just in the Forty Niner locker room.

California ruled that gay marriage is legal. In San Francisco, men donned wild dresses, popped champagne corks, danced, kissed strangers. When asked how long the gay ruling celebration would last, they asked; “What gay ruling celebration?”

Thong gone wrong
New York Yankee Jason Giambi admitted he wears a gold leopard thong to break a slump. It helps that the thong has a steroid syringe sticking in it.

What could go wrong there?
USC basketball star OJ Mayo is accused of taking illegal payments from agents, but Mayo denies it. And, frankly, when it comes to telling the truth, how can you not believe a USC star named OJ?

Why?
Annika Sorenstam has retired from golf at 37. Why do you retire from golf? That’s like retiring from naps.

Good idea
Muskogee, OK elected a 19-year-old mayor, John Taylor Hammons. Getting elected mayor was all part of Hammons grand scheme to try and lose his virginity.

Gang schmang
A gang of surfers in wealthy La Jolla are on trial for murdering a surfer in a fight; La Jolla is a wealthy town, but this gang was from the tough side of town. That’s the side of La Jolla with only two Starbucks.

A gang of surfers in wealthy La Jolla are on trial for murdering a surfer in a fight; usually a gang from La Jolla consists of a group of debutantes in a Jaguar doing a drive-by snubbing.

Just kidding, Honey
Now that gay people can marry in California, for gay people unfamiliar with marriage, let me give you a few terms to remember: Yes, dear. You’re right, dear, I’m sorry, and Oh swift death where is thine sweet relief?


Since you asked:
Lord knows I loves me some women. Since grade school it has been my observation that women are smarter than us big goofy dumb guys, women are kinder, cleaner and far more attractive in every way. Why women have anything to do with us big stupid dopes, let alone have sex with us, is a mystery to me but one that I am very happy and grateful for.

But we men and women are different, there ain’t no getting’ around that.

Guys, have you ever made the socially fatal error of trying to keep up in a conversation of three or more women? Don’t. We don’t have the workings, we don’t have the wiring.

The other day at a party, I was surrounded by four very nice, very attractive, very smart, very well-educated moms from our daughter’s Girl Scout troop and I tried to participate in their conversation. It was like the proverbial three-legged, one-eyed black lab named Lucky trying to cross a busy eight-lane California freeway.


Picture, if you will, by a nice backyard pool, cocktails in hand, four lovely women in their mid to late thirties, early forties, and one big stupid galoot jamoke knucklehead dorpy guy, me, as the director does a Martin Scorsese-like round-table-circular camera pan.

(My thoughts are in parenthesis)

“Oh, I just love, love, love your shoes. They're fun.”

(How the hell can shoes be fun?)

“Thanks, I got them on sale at “Nordies”

“The one by Farmers Market? Have you tried their herb-and oil marinated chicken?”

(Chickens? Weren’t they just talking about shoes one second ago? And what’s a Nordies?)

“Yes, I love it, but I am starting a new diet”

“Oh, no you don’t have to diet. Which diet?”

“Isagenix”

(Is age nix? Is that one word or three? Is that even in our language?)

“My friend, Karen-Annalyn did that.”

“Oh, is that the woman with the son you talked about?”

“Yes, but he’s doing better, thanks.”

(Who is doing better? What happened to the diet talk? I had a diet comment all ready to go. I cannot get a word in here sideways and I grew up in a family where stopping to inhale was considered an opening in the conversation)

“Have you all had that new spin instructor?”

As if one, the other three earnestly nod and say;

“Yeeeeeeessssssssss.”

(There is no way a human can tell if this is a great yes or a horrible yes, but before I can ask “What’s wrong with the new spin instructor?” another jumps in)

“How did your fourth grade science presentation projects go?”

(OK, I think I can add something to this, my daughter, Ann Caroline, did her project on monkeys and when I asked her why, she just looked at me like I was crazy and said; “Because monkeys like to throw their poo, Daddy.” Which I thought was hilarious, so I will break in with that story)

“Oh, good. Who is your teacher this year?”

(Wait, what happened to the science project? I got something on that)

“Mrs. Henson, you know about what happened to her?”

Just like with the spin instructor, all three, as one, earnestly nod and say;

“Yeeeeesssss.”

(Now I know and like Mrs. Henson and I want to know what that yeeeeesss means, but before I can ask)

“The same thing happened to Mrs. Seymore.”

All three at once share a moderately shocked half-gasp.

(What? I still don’t know what happened to Mrs. Henson. Dammit, I am going to add something to this conversation if it kills me)

“They say it isn’t hereditary but I am not so sure.”

(What? What is hereditary? But suddenly there is a pause and before I know what is happening, I blurt out)

“Did you know that monkeys like to throw poo?”

The silence is deafening as all four of them stare at me with the same look they would give the guy at the gym with the wool hat who picks up the dirty towels. Thankfully, one shows mercy and turns to the other and asks;

“How much were the shoes at Nordies?”