Yeah, I promised you big news last week. But I can't resist the build-up. And besides, I forgot that I promised big news (luckily for you Larry the Upstairs Neighbor reminded me). But without any further delay...
Let me digress for a moment. I have always been fascinated by American History. I love reading books about it (ask Wifey). It is not a passion for me like sports or comedy, but it is one of my favorite diversions (and yes I could spend an entire weekend watching the History Channel and its brethren). Politics are not nearly as fascinating to me, excepting for where it intertwines with history (but the thing is that they intertwine a lot, so I have a somewhat keen interest in the topic).
To digress from the digression, last night Wifey not only threatened to kill me (I know she has been plotting this for some time. It is the main reason I don't insure myself more heavily. As long as she can't afford to live without me she has to keep me around. But if either of us hit the Lotto, I'm a grease stain on the pavement. Avenge Me!!!!!!!!!!). I often get silly tired at night around bedtime. Most of you have been so tired that you start laughing for no reason, or had some other kind of similar reaction. Well, I get like that 4-5 nights a week for stretches at a time. It is just one of those things, and I know it can be frustrating for Wifey. However, there was no call for her to suddenly proclaim that I am possessed, flick me right on the forehead, and start to tell me she is going to behead me and then burn me and cover me with salt (I think that was the order she mentioned them in. At that point I was too busy saying "son of a bitch that hurt!" regarding the flick on the forehead, right in the temple). This brings me to my point from a couple of weeks ago regarding Wifey's possibly unhealthy obsession with the show Supernatural and the like. However, for whatever reason the sword stayed on the wall and my head stayed on my neck, and I am able to make my big announcement to you.
For years I have said that if I didn't like the way the country was going I would do something about it. I would run for President. I meet all the requirements as outlined in the Constitution. I am (or will be by the time of the actual election next November) 35, I am a natural born American citizen, an I have never been convicted of a felony. And in case you were wondering, those are the only requirements.
So just in case you haven't figured it out, I am officially announcing my candidacy for President of the United States of America. I am running on an independent platform, I have no plans to affiliate myself with any political party. If any of the parties want to contact me in regards to running on their ticket, they may feel free to do so. In fact, I have created a email address specifically for comments and questions about my politics. I swear right now to answer every question I receive openly and honestly. You want to know where I stand on something? Ask me. I will answer. And what is this email address? Why it is bigshirtlesspresident@gmail.com .
I await your questions, and together we will march all the way to the White House!
Actually, I will probably drive. It would be a long walk and I don't want to be all out of breath and sweaty when I am sworn in.
BSPR
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 19, 2007
I am the very model of a modern major bootie hound
This is the kind of thing that pisses me off because I didn't think of it first.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
The eye of the storm
I have to be careful, and quiet. Wifey is asleep right now. But she is the focus of this little post, and I dare not wake her up.
I am beginning to think that she has an obsession bordering on the unhealthy. That obsession is "Supernatural". I know she loves the show, and that is fine with me. It is a decent enough show, the episodes I have watched with her I have enjoyed, even though the show isn't really my cup of tea. But I am beginning to worry about her, and am now exploring 12 step programs (a program for addiction to a program? It's like a Dr. Seuss rehab!). I came home tonight to her just beginning to watch the episode from last night (that she watched last night while it was broadcasting but still felt the need to record). She says that it was only her second viewing, but as I listened to her quote lines from it with amazing accuracy (when she wasn't gut laughing and tee-heeing and basically laughing like ZZTop...a-haur-haur-haur-haur...ever heard La Grange?), I got the distinct feeling that she might have been telling a fib. I have no way of proving this theory, but sometimes your gut instinct is right on the money.
Now here is the thing. I know there are a few shows that I watch fervently, making sure I record them if I won't be able to watch them when they are broadcast (unless they are a show I can catch OnDemand with le digital cable). However, I don't both watch AND record, unless I am recording it for someone else to watch. And if I do record it for whatever reason, I don't watch it again (at least once, if not 3 or 4 times), constantly rewinding so I can re-re-live the best parts. Of course, this IS the show that Wifey describes as being "made of awesome". What does that mean you ask? Hell if I know I respond. You know her? You ask her to explain. And watch as she bounces around the room like Tigger while making squealing noises and panting (and possibly ruining underwear) while thinking of the two leads on the show.
I need to make it clear that I am okay with her having crushes on these two. I like to tease Wifey about her obsessions with Sean Bean and the guy who played the blond vampire on Buffy. I tell her that the vampire is as gay as the day is long and would therefore have no interest in her. She defends his heterosexual libido until she runs out of breath. Lather, rinse, repeat. It's not like I go all Tim Hardaway on the guy. It's just that he is so British and sunken cheeked that I am convinced that he must love roosters. And yes, I am calling pretty much all British actors gay. Prove me wrong. And send your hate mail to me care of Ronnie Patriot. Besides, I get Maxim and Stuff (and until its recent untimely demise, FHM. By the way, how do I get a refund on the balance of my subscription to that?) every month, and they are about a half of a Mother-May-I baby step away from being porn. If you ever read any of those, play my favorite magazine based game since the "you have to find the rabbit on the cover before you can read the issue of Playboy" game we played in college, where a subscription to Playboy is almost one of the pre-reqs to getting your degree. But I digress...
Grab an issue of one of those men's magazines and flip through it until you get to one of the photo layouts. And then find all the pictures where they had to airbrush out at least some nipple. It averages 4.something last time I checked.
So it's not like either one of us is being a prude here. But her need to watch this show (and the fact that just watching an episode that you just watched about 24 hours ago wore her out so much that she needed to pass out on the couch almost immediately) tell me that I might have to seek professional help for her. Is there a Rorshack test for the CW?
Okay, gonna run now so I can get to bed. BSR is tired, and he has to go into the day job tomorrow (Saturday) in order to get caught up on a few things. But I will leave you with this...in the next week I am going to have a MAJOR announcement. One that will affect EVERY ONE of you. What is this big announcement? Check in next week and you will find out.
BSR (the cliffhanger King)
I am beginning to think that she has an obsession bordering on the unhealthy. That obsession is "Supernatural". I know she loves the show, and that is fine with me. It is a decent enough show, the episodes I have watched with her I have enjoyed, even though the show isn't really my cup of tea. But I am beginning to worry about her, and am now exploring 12 step programs (a program for addiction to a program? It's like a Dr. Seuss rehab!). I came home tonight to her just beginning to watch the episode from last night (that she watched last night while it was broadcasting but still felt the need to record). She says that it was only her second viewing, but as I listened to her quote lines from it with amazing accuracy (when she wasn't gut laughing and tee-heeing and basically laughing like ZZTop...a-haur-haur-haur-haur...ever heard La Grange?), I got the distinct feeling that she might have been telling a fib. I have no way of proving this theory, but sometimes your gut instinct is right on the money.
Now here is the thing. I know there are a few shows that I watch fervently, making sure I record them if I won't be able to watch them when they are broadcast (unless they are a show I can catch OnDemand with le digital cable). However, I don't both watch AND record, unless I am recording it for someone else to watch. And if I do record it for whatever reason, I don't watch it again (at least once, if not 3 or 4 times), constantly rewinding so I can re-re-live the best parts. Of course, this IS the show that Wifey describes as being "made of awesome". What does that mean you ask? Hell if I know I respond. You know her? You ask her to explain. And watch as she bounces around the room like Tigger while making squealing noises and panting (and possibly ruining underwear) while thinking of the two leads on the show.
I need to make it clear that I am okay with her having crushes on these two. I like to tease Wifey about her obsessions with Sean Bean and the guy who played the blond vampire on Buffy. I tell her that the vampire is as gay as the day is long and would therefore have no interest in her. She defends his heterosexual libido until she runs out of breath. Lather, rinse, repeat. It's not like I go all Tim Hardaway on the guy. It's just that he is so British and sunken cheeked that I am convinced that he must love roosters. And yes, I am calling pretty much all British actors gay. Prove me wrong. And send your hate mail to me care of Ronnie Patriot. Besides, I get Maxim and Stuff (and until its recent untimely demise, FHM. By the way, how do I get a refund on the balance of my subscription to that?) every month, and they are about a half of a Mother-May-I baby step away from being porn. If you ever read any of those, play my favorite magazine based game since the "you have to find the rabbit on the cover before you can read the issue of Playboy" game we played in college, where a subscription to Playboy is almost one of the pre-reqs to getting your degree. But I digress...
Grab an issue of one of those men's magazines and flip through it until you get to one of the photo layouts. And then find all the pictures where they had to airbrush out at least some nipple. It averages 4.something last time I checked.
So it's not like either one of us is being a prude here. But her need to watch this show (and the fact that just watching an episode that you just watched about 24 hours ago wore her out so much that she needed to pass out on the couch almost immediately) tell me that I might have to seek professional help for her. Is there a Rorshack test for the CW?
Okay, gonna run now so I can get to bed. BSR is tired, and he has to go into the day job tomorrow (Saturday) in order to get caught up on a few things. But I will leave you with this...in the next week I am going to have a MAJOR announcement. One that will affect EVERY ONE of you. What is this big announcement? Check in next week and you will find out.
BSR (the cliffhanger King)
Thursday, February 15, 2007
how long can this go on?
I can't help it, it is too damn funny to me. But if I can't get this image out of my head soon, I am going to have to go low carb.
Monday, February 12, 2007
STOP CALLING ME!
Wifey told me that there is a small clamoring for a new post out there in the Ronnettes realm, and who am I to keep them from entertainment?
Before I get too deep into this I need to say something. Like 99% of the population we have caller ID on the home phone. Well I do not know who "Unknown Caller" is, but I need to tell him (he is too aggressive to be a she) that he needs to go to the courthouse and get his rather unfortunate name changed, because I keep thinking that he is someone I don't know so I refuse to answer the phone. I just know that I am missing some important news, but he never leaves a message. Which is kind of rude if you think about it.
Okay, now I need to call out the "annoying c-words" that are at Wifey's office annoying her (I have been assured by Wifey herself that none of the Ronnettes are responsible for her being all crankified). Listen you schmuck(s), you are making it much more difficult for me to score with Wifey on those rare occassions that we are both home and conscious. I can't talk her out of her lacey underpinnings if she comes home and needs to vent for an hour and a half on how much you are pissing her off. And I got needs, people. So please, for my sake, wait until she is unable to accept tickets for the Ferris wheel before you work her nerves. I have already written off that week, so if you are going to work her into a gigantic ball of anger, THAT is the week to do it. On the plus side for me, if you wait until then to get her dander all a flutter, she will probably kill or at least maim you. That will eliminate a source of tension for her, which will allow me to release more of my own tension, as well as fill special balloons with the equivalent of a mid-major city's worth of potential people.
Now that Wifey is all blushing and cursing the day she ever told her co-workers about this site, I can move on to the business at hand...
I love my mother-in-law. I truly do. But she is going to have to learn that you do not start your car, leave it running, and go back in the house when you live on Belair Road in the city of Baltimore. Aberdeen? Go right ahead. Hell, anywhere in Harford County should be pretty much safe. But not when you live 20 feet from a stop for the 15 bus. It just ain't a sound business decision. And not only did we have to deal with all the stress of this, but since she used her regular set of keys, we had to change the lock on her door. Not to mention that my leather vest was in the car to be taken to the cleaners. Now, I am not going to argue with the $200 that insurance is paying us, but it is not easy to find a leather vest that compliments the portly gentleman without making him look like Dozer in Mask (the one with Eric Stoltz, not the one with Jim Carrey). "this is red..."
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Now, what the hell else is going on? Oh, I know. BM (Best Man) and his wife had their baby, a lovely little girl named Olivia. I say that she is lovely even though I have not actually met the little ball of skin and poopy diapers. I am just going to assume that she is lovely until I find out otherwise.
My other college friend (the one who is not Fineous) had her 2nd child, a cutie named Helena. Helena I have met in person. She is the size of a cup of yogurt. Which should help the family as they try and move furniture around for her to have some personal space. Almost any closet and a space heater will do for now.
Seriously, she is a doll (literally. I couldn't resist that one either). And both Moms and both babies are doing well, so it is good news all around.
There hasn't been any more discussion between Wifey and myself as far as us making life out of random DNA couplings as of yet. Now she is pining for a puppy from a lady she knows. It might slow down her clock, or at least hit the snooze bar for a while. And best of all, puppies are a lot cheaper, and when they shit on the floor you can just rub their nose in it and no one from Child Services comes to your door to bitch you out.
Now, it is only 2 days until Valentine's Day, and I know that a lot of guys out there are panicking about what to do for their lovely ladies (or their lovely bottoms if you are in Mt. Vernon. Hi Fuzz!). Well if you are looking here for advice you are a fool. I got Wifey drunk at a party and got her to say "yes" to marrying me, and she only keeps me around because I dress up for her. And that French Maid outfit chafes. Plus I am pretty sure that after the accident she figured that she had better tie the knot, because next time she might not be so lucky. Sure, you can do flowers and candy and be the most stereotypical asshat out there. Jewelry? I swear to all that I hold holy that if ANYONE pulls one of those "he went to JARED" moves, I will destroy you all. Stuffed animals? PAJAMAGRAM? What the hell do I know? I didn't get married until I was 32. so what is BSR doing for his lovely lady this Wednesday? Making a nice (hopefully romantic) dinner and drinking a gallon of pineapple juice.
If you know what that means kudos for you. I am hoping Wifey remembers. Because I don't cook while wearing a school girl outfit for just anybody, and I don't do it for free. And damn it woman, I am not some piece of meat, and yes I am ticklish there!
Now while you go bleach your brain of the thought of me in a plaid miniskirt, I will move on to other things.
BSR
Before I get too deep into this I need to say something. Like 99% of the population we have caller ID on the home phone. Well I do not know who "Unknown Caller" is, but I need to tell him (he is too aggressive to be a she) that he needs to go to the courthouse and get his rather unfortunate name changed, because I keep thinking that he is someone I don't know so I refuse to answer the phone. I just know that I am missing some important news, but he never leaves a message. Which is kind of rude if you think about it.
Okay, now I need to call out the "annoying c-words" that are at Wifey's office annoying her (I have been assured by Wifey herself that none of the Ronnettes are responsible for her being all crankified). Listen you schmuck(s), you are making it much more difficult for me to score with Wifey on those rare occassions that we are both home and conscious. I can't talk her out of her lacey underpinnings if she comes home and needs to vent for an hour and a half on how much you are pissing her off. And I got needs, people. So please, for my sake, wait until she is unable to accept tickets for the Ferris wheel before you work her nerves. I have already written off that week, so if you are going to work her into a gigantic ball of anger, THAT is the week to do it. On the plus side for me, if you wait until then to get her dander all a flutter, she will probably kill or at least maim you. That will eliminate a source of tension for her, which will allow me to release more of my own tension, as well as fill special balloons with the equivalent of a mid-major city's worth of potential people.
Now that Wifey is all blushing and cursing the day she ever told her co-workers about this site, I can move on to the business at hand...
I love my mother-in-law. I truly do. But she is going to have to learn that you do not start your car, leave it running, and go back in the house when you live on Belair Road in the city of Baltimore. Aberdeen? Go right ahead. Hell, anywhere in Harford County should be pretty much safe. But not when you live 20 feet from a stop for the 15 bus. It just ain't a sound business decision. And not only did we have to deal with all the stress of this, but since she used her regular set of keys, we had to change the lock on her door. Not to mention that my leather vest was in the car to be taken to the cleaners. Now, I am not going to argue with the $200 that insurance is paying us, but it is not easy to find a leather vest that compliments the portly gentleman without making him look like Dozer in Mask (the one with Eric Stoltz, not the one with Jim Carrey). "this is red..."
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Now, what the hell else is going on? Oh, I know. BM (Best Man) and his wife had their baby, a lovely little girl named Olivia. I say that she is lovely even though I have not actually met the little ball of skin and poopy diapers. I am just going to assume that she is lovely until I find out otherwise.
My other college friend (the one who is not Fineous) had her 2nd child, a cutie named Helena. Helena I have met in person. She is the size of a cup of yogurt. Which should help the family as they try and move furniture around for her to have some personal space. Almost any closet and a space heater will do for now.
Seriously, she is a doll (literally. I couldn't resist that one either). And both Moms and both babies are doing well, so it is good news all around.
There hasn't been any more discussion between Wifey and myself as far as us making life out of random DNA couplings as of yet. Now she is pining for a puppy from a lady she knows. It might slow down her clock, or at least hit the snooze bar for a while. And best of all, puppies are a lot cheaper, and when they shit on the floor you can just rub their nose in it and no one from Child Services comes to your door to bitch you out.
Now, it is only 2 days until Valentine's Day, and I know that a lot of guys out there are panicking about what to do for their lovely ladies (or their lovely bottoms if you are in Mt. Vernon. Hi Fuzz!). Well if you are looking here for advice you are a fool. I got Wifey drunk at a party and got her to say "yes" to marrying me, and she only keeps me around because I dress up for her. And that French Maid outfit chafes. Plus I am pretty sure that after the accident she figured that she had better tie the knot, because next time she might not be so lucky. Sure, you can do flowers and candy and be the most stereotypical asshat out there. Jewelry? I swear to all that I hold holy that if ANYONE pulls one of those "he went to JARED" moves, I will destroy you all. Stuffed animals? PAJAMAGRAM? What the hell do I know? I didn't get married until I was 32. so what is BSR doing for his lovely lady this Wednesday? Making a nice (hopefully romantic) dinner and drinking a gallon of pineapple juice.
If you know what that means kudos for you. I am hoping Wifey remembers. Because I don't cook while wearing a school girl outfit for just anybody, and I don't do it for free. And damn it woman, I am not some piece of meat, and yes I am ticklish there!
Now while you go bleach your brain of the thought of me in a plaid miniskirt, I will move on to other things.
BSR
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