Monday, December 26, 2011

A Blog Break in Paradise for Dr. Ken

This is a picture of me and one of my closest friends, Sexpot, jumping off swings when we were kids. There are numerous things that are noteworthy here:

1. Sexpot's butt appears to be on backwards.

2. Dr. Ken's shorts are horrible. So are his socks.

3. The shadows look like they're having a killer karate match.

4. Our buddy, Nerf, who took the picture, got it at the very top of our jump! If we did this jump now, all our old-balls bones would pulverize into fine Peruvian powder.

5. Sexpot is getting married in a few days in Costa Rica, and I'm headed there tomorrow to celebrate with him. I found this old picture, blew it up, printed it, wrapped it up for him, and I just know he's going to love it, as this is a legendary picture that we always talk about.

I probably won't be around for a week or so, but I'm sure I'll have some fun stories when I get back. See you around, 7 Readers . . .


Saturday, December 24, 2011

Top 10 Worst Things for a Dude To Ask the Help at Victoria's Secret

10) Can you help me into one of these lacey numbers? And if so, can I wear it out?

9) These all look like panties. Where are all the undies?

8) My wife is wicked fat. You think I could squeeze her gut into one of them corsets?

7) Has anyone tried these on before? I only want to buy them if someones tried them on before.

6) Do you have anything hornier and trashier?

5) I've knocked down a few of these, and I don't feel too good. You sure they're edible?

4) I'm looking for something to turn on my mom's new asshole boyfriend.

3) I can't concentrate anymore. Can I use one of those fitting rooms to "take care" of this boner and get back to shopping?

2) Do you think my 7-year-old would like these?

1) I'm positive these right here won't fully contain my nuts.


*I let Dr. Ken's sister rank these, needing a woman's touch to decide which questions are creepier than others.
When we were at the bar tonight, someone was raving about something called the dolphin hummer, or something, and it tickles the spot on a man during sex somewhere around where the balls meet the peen? We were wondering what the name of this spot is, and some were saying that there is a clear distinction between the two areas, while others were saying they sort of fuse into one another.

So, the consensus is that they are kind of like a joint or a socket. We're going with the Peen Socket.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

A while back, I interviewed former UFC fighter and Chicago MMA legend, Shonie "Mr. International" Carter. You can listen to that here. It's pretty damn funny.

These days, he has lost 8 out of his last 10, he still often dons a top hat, and he trains people at my gym. Today, as I walked by, he was working on the mat with a woman lying down, and he was rubbing a big foam roller across her back. Then he mounted her, sitting on her butt to get a better position. When I came back over there to use the bathroom, I saw that he had abandoned the roller, and he was rubbing her shoulders, still sitting on her butt. When I came out of the bathroom, he was rubbing her butt, kneading those cheeks like dough.

Now, I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt here, but as many personal trainers as I've seen over the years, I've never seen one implement the butt rub.

What do you think, Seven Readers? Would you be okay with a butt rub on a gym mat in front of everyone at your athletic club? Would if it was a person of the same sex?

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Sit Down "Indian Style" on the Carpet, Seven Readers . . .

. . . because it's story time, but we don't say "Indian Style" anymore; we say "Criss-Cross Applesauce."

I have been getting rejected for publications that don't even pay me, which is a new experience that I find to be irritating and disheartening. However, whether my "prose," whatever that is, is up to snuff or not, I know that one thing I can do is tell a funny story about shit that goes down when I go out "drankin'," so that's what I'm going to do for your today, oh Seven Readers . . .

As some of you know from my "Tales from the Hood" segments, I work in the hood with Black folks every Tuesday, and Friday night that office had their Christmas party downtown with the other branches all in attendance too, who are also 95% Black. As I was coming in, I saw two African American ladies who were wondering whether to go upstairs or downstairs, and one actually said, "Well, I hear Black people downstairs." I asked what they were looking for, they said they wanted to find the office party, so I told them, "You're right, there are Black people downstairs, but the party you want is upstairs," and led them to it.

One fun thing about this group of people is that when someone new shows up, they make a loud crazy entrance, kind of like when a character pops his head in for the first time in a sitcom. As they got more "pops" in them, things got louder and buck wild. One chick was pressing her hands against the wall, sticking her butt out, and doing an up and down thing with alternating cheeks maneuver that I really can't describe - you just had to be there. The whole room was transfixed by her, including one dude who's funnier than hell who was making eyes at her, but he didn't have his contacts in. I helped him out by telling him that she was more of a 2AM girl and it was only around 10 at this point.

I ducked out of the party when everyone started dancing because I can't dance for shit. Plus the guy was mixing in the 90's songs I like, but by the time I'd get to the dance floor, he'd start playing some new shit I didn't know. I hate that. So, I met up with Oats at our karaoke spot. There was some .com party in there that packed the damn place. The DJ always sings songs with me, and one he and I like to do is "At This Moment" by Billy Vera and the Beaters. I had a bad, bad feeling about doing this song because usually it's for like 20 people who are barely paying attention, but this was a night where everyone knew each other and no one knew who in the hell I was or what in the hell that stupid song was all about. They must not get those fond memories I get of Alex P. Keaton and Ellen's love affair when they hear that number. So, I was greeted with a chorus of boo's. What's worse is that the DJ started out trading versus with me, but then he started talking to some chick, leaving me all alone with an unruly audience who wanted blood! In true Dr. Ken fashion, I told them all, "I know you guys are hating on this, and here comes the big finish! If I could just hoooooooold you . . . . It gets worse! If Iiiiiiiiiiii could just hooooooooooooold yoooouuuuuuuuuu . . . Again! Thank you! You'll never get those 4 minutes back,!!!!!!"

After that, Oats did "For the Longest Time" by Billy Joel, but he wanted DJ and I to back him up, so DJ did the "oh oh's" and I did some sort of A Capella bass vocal/beat box type thing, like the guy with the cane in Boys To Men. Oats then wanted to meet some gal he's trying to bed at Sidetracks in Boys Town, the gay neighborhood of Chicago. As the two of us were walking down Halsted Street with all the Christmas decorations around the rainbow poles, Oats was practicing his "tenor" vocal on "For the Longest Time" and getting frustrated that he can never get the right pitch on stage because he gets nervous. He told me that he was in show choir as a kid but then quickly changed the subject. He then got a text that his girl left the bar to go home, so we enjoyed a lovely late night stroll through fabulous Boys Town totally in vain, which I thanked him for. Very sarcastically.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

CS'er and MF'er

I had a bad experience being put on hold for too long and jerked around last night trying to get something from an airline, and it occurred to me that I knew the answer: CS'er and MF'er them!

I knew a guy once who said that if you ever want to get people on the phone to see things your way, even when they've been trained to screw you is say those magic two phrases as many times as possible.


Dr. Ken: Hey, I'm getting a little pissed here.

Operator: Sir, try to remain calm.

Dr. Ken: Yeah, I've been calm. Now I'm MF'ing pissed.

Operator: I understand, but I've told you that we can't refund your . . .

Dr. Ken: Oh, you'll refund my MF'ing money, or you'll put me on with your supervisor, and that CS'er will refund my MF'ing money

Operator: Umm . . . okay, I'll connect you . . .


You see? It's just that easy! Now, I'm not saying you should all excessively CS and MF all through out your day. That would just be rude and crazy like a Tourette's guy, but there are those desperate times where those wonderfully offensive phrases will get you what you MF'ing want out of those dirty CS'ers.

Tales From The Hood: Volume 16

Sorry it's been a while, but I think you'll like this hood tale, 7 readers.

So, the dude I'm talking to has like the biggest hands of all time, like a couple of catcher's mitts, and the other gal is a really nice lesbian chick. They were asking if one Caucasian gal who came by who I know from previous gigs was my "shorty," and if I gave her a kiss on the way out. I told Catcher's Mit that it's not like that, but then they got asking if I did have a girlfriend. These two could not fathom that I'm faithfully in a long-distance relationship. I think Nice Lesbian has had some rough times because she urged me to just go ahead and have my fun because she'll probably hurt me. Catcher's Mit thought I should do the same, but for different reasons (he claims to have bedded 4 girls in that office alone).

Being one of the only white guys around, I naturally get compared to the other couple white guys. They asked if my girlfriend is good-looking and wanted to see a picture. Catcher's Mit told me that he saw White Guy #1's GF, and she was "ugly as hell" to the point where White Guy #1 made a face showing Catcher's Mit the picture that was as if to say, "Yeah. She looks like that." I asked what White Guy #2's lady friend looked like, to which Catcher's Mit said, "She's a bad muthafucka!" For those of you who don't know, that's good.

I sincerely did want to show them a picture, but as I cycled through my phone, none of them were appropriate. Either way, I'm sure Catcher's Mit would deem her an equally bad muthafucka. I know to me she's bad as hell.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Have I Offended Someone?

I wrote a piece and submitted it to an online publication (you can read it here) and then I got this comment:

Sorry for being critical, but this piece is NOT good. It's kinda pointless...and if you've allowed THIS, then I sure as hell should be published here. How do I get my prose writing published here?

Then I got this one:

Shallow, seriously offensive and poorly written. I wouldn't post something so negative but this is so offensive.

So, I was pissed and posted a retaliation, but then deleted it because I don't need to defend myself. Screw those people, right? But I was still kind of pissed because I'm sensitive (read "thenthitive").

But then I got this awesome comment by someone named Diane:

Written from the point of view of a 34 yr old guy, noticing the women through the same window every time he wlks past, I find no offense in this at all. I caught the humour. I've had the hardest time reading ANYthing in the past year or so, 'cause nothing holds my interest (used to read 1-2 bks a week- all my life- just for reference), and this kept me reading. So definitely not poorly written. As far as shallow & pointless- do you need to have a "message" knock you upside the head every time you read something..(especially for just a short entertaining piece). The aside about his childhood friend & his little sister was a glimpse into the real life of some kids. WHAT are these people going to say to kids so desperate they're willing to live on the streets? I hardly find that pointless. Subtlety IS an art.

Well, the course of events got me into the offensive mood, so when we had a Man Night at my apartment with Southie, Chellie, Haircut and Dr. Ken something inflametory was bound to occur. We grilled up some steaks, drank a mess of beers, and for some reason collaborated on a highly misogynistic list: "Top 5 Fat Celebrity Women You'd Nail," but that wasn't a title polarizing enough for our tastes, so Southie entitled it, "Top 5 Cow's You'd Plow." Yes, it's really crude, but holy shit did we have some laughs looking up Google images to plead our cases.

Now, keep in mind the rationale behind some of these choices. Haircut is an accountant, so he devised a mathematical equation based on who we each picked for our own top 5's, and then we talked it out. Kirstie Allie, I'm told, gives rim jobs, so that was a plus. She also had a childhood crush factor, which really worked in Topenga's favor too. Monica Lewinksi has what I dubbed, a "famous mouth," which prompted Chellie to Tweet that immediately as well. I also said hail damage (cellulite) is a game changer, which also got tweeted shortly thereafter. Sorry, I know this shit is mean as hell, but anything goes on Man Night. Kelly Clarkson was pretty cute a few years back, but have you seen some candid shots? Holy hell did she ever blow up like the world trade! I was the only guy who had Delta Burke on my list. I was really lobbying for her, but after going through some images, she was just really 80's and yuckier than I remember. Other honorable mentions were Adele, Stiffler's Mom, Faith Evans, Pepa from Salt N' Pepa, Queen Latifah, and Ricki Lake. Chellie kept pointing out to me that "Fattie from 'Grey's'" has a name, but it's just way funnier to call her "Fatty from 'Grey's.'" Shit, I just though of Robin Quivers from "The Howard Stern Show." Always wanted to get on her for some reason.

When I was texting about this list with Big Business, he said that "big girls do sex better." That's a fact that a lot of people already know, but only the Incomparable Big Business could word it so perfectly.


Behold, the all mighty list written on the chalkboard in the kitchen in which we were drinking heavily.

Friday, December 09, 2011

Sometimes science fiction writers like Orwell, Bradburry, and Arthur C. Clarke blow me away with the stuff they predict with the worlds they create - advances in technology and trends in modern society that occur thirty years after they write a story.

I'm rereading "A Brave New World" by Aldous Huxley, and aside from the class systems, test tube babies, genetic engineering, pill popping, and other things he was dead on with, here is a passage predicting something I don't think many envisioned:

And around her waist she wore a silver-mounted green morocco-surrogate cartridge belt, bulging (for Lenina was not a freemartin) with the regulation supply of contraceptives.

Yup. He predicted that Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes and the rest of TLC would wear condom accessories as part of their wardrobe. Bravo, Aldous. That is probably something he threw in there to exaggerate for effect, but yup, modern society is that stupid.

Wednesday, December 07, 2011

"I Want a Man With a Slow Hand"

I heard that goofy song in the shower today, and what's even stranger is that I had the option to switch the station before getting in. Washing yourself, especially "down there," is an all together different feeling when the Pointer Sisters are outlining how it is they like their love-making. Creepy. Glad no one saw me.

But it got me thinking what this song would be like in today's day, seeing as things in songs are said more obscenely, explicitly, and with crappier grammar. Given those three elements, and let's say it was sung by Rihanna, and I'd say the title to the song in this era would be . . .

"Don't Want No Finger Blaster."

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

7 Readers, I Ask You . . .

. . . Have you ever seen or heard something so awful? It never occurred to anyone involved with this piece of crap that "ram it" might sound sexual? My favorite guy is the one who steps out of the locker.

Saturday, December 03, 2011

Last Night We Played With the Breathalyzer Machine . . .

. . . on the way out of the bar. Here are the results:

Oats: He had been drinking lots of Sam Addams because he had a good review at work. He was trying to take home a female companion, but all he took home were tacos. His score:

Gelfling: She is a very tiny girl with big fake boobs, so it doesn't take a whole lot to get her lit up like a Christmas tree. Her score:

Gung Ho: He loves a good piano bar and was knocking back mixed drinks of various colors and potency. His score:
.09 (To which he said: "So, I could take a piss and drive right now?)

Monique: She would have destroyed all of us because she was swaying around not unlike a guy in Mortal Kombat about to get a brutal fatality, but she did a disappearing act before we could get a score from her.

Shogun: I honestly don't remember his score, but he would have done pretty well. He's that guy that pops up behind you, dropping off more beers than there are people at your table.

Dr. Kenneth Noisewater
: Like Oats, I also had a good review at work that resulted in tenure that might be dealt away with anyway, but I really don't need an excuse to celebrate via way too many beers. Oats was feeding me lots and lots of Sammies. I recall dropping off 5 bucks to one of the piano guys to play "Go Cubs Go." My score:
A robust .11

Shogun's Wife
: She always gets bombed to the point where she's like a little kid. A harmless lovable drunk. She was the night's winner at the breathalyzer showdown:

I always hear about people being "twice the legal limit," but none of us achieved that this evening. What are people thinking about getting into a car in that condition?

Friday, December 02, 2011

You Know How I Know I'm Old?

I used to rub one out if I needed to take a nap.

Now I read.

Sorry. That's a weak post, but it was too racy for Facebook.