ALS Ice Bucket Challenge

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My lovely and talent sister, Nicole, challenged me to the ALS Ice Bucket Dunk.

I gladly accept and donate to a great cause. I hope all of this raises the necessary awareness.

Here’s my video, speaking of raising awareness and exposing yourself.

I have to say, in watching JT, Fallon,Winfrey and Speilberg, the reactions are the best part of the videos.

Of course, this vid, and all of the others I have seen, pale in comparison to the zaniness and craziness of Mr. P.K. Subban. What the puck dude.

Check Engine Light Blues

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I have this old car. Hell, all I have is old cars. Well, that is not true, I have a ’13 Prius.

I also have a ’98 Ford Ranger (an upgrade from a ’93 F-150), a ’02 Land Rover SE7 and a ’91 Nissan Sentra. Yep, my drive way may be in Illinois yet it channels Arkansas.

God has not head my prayers that I be allowed to drive something made in this century. Something about building character and driving perseverance. Whatever.

I typically drive the Ranger. And with the loss of cab space from my F-150 I drive in less than perfect comfort. My fat ass barely fits. I look like 10 pounds of flour in a 5 pound bag. That cloth interior soaks in my sweat and adds a unique aroma to the cab after a long day in summer sun. Yummy!

My daughter, who is a princess and takes advantage of a father who can not say “NO!”, operates and navigates the Land Rover around town. Lots of room for her. Leather. Dual sub roof, A/C, CD/AM/FM. I have a cassette. Great if this were 1995.

The Nissan is a second stringer waiting to be put into the game. Get that helmet on Sentra.

My lovely and sexy wife has the Prius. Happy wife. Happy life.

20140824_170133For several weeks now I have prayed, paid, coaxed, lied, and stole my way to a successful emission test for the Rover. I have paid big bucks, big for me that is: over $700 to secure and install 4 new O2 sensors and a new crank sensor. A new cat to the tune of $2100 was installed 24 months ago. I even put in premium gas. Thank God that Shell had an AED mounted inside the gross and sad little convenience store. I wouldn’t by 2 am coffee and condoms in that store; yet if I needed the monkey to zap be as I fell helpless watching the pump costs rise, I was in.

Nothing works. Reset the codes and computer and within miles, the light is back on.

I unplugged the battery, hoping a cold reboot would solve all of the Rover’s issues.

I now know why terrorists, gun runners and drug smugglers drive Rovers. They are the only people with enough money to fix the buggers.

Nothing works. I have the Check Engine Light blues.

Originally, when the light illuminated, I pulled over, popped the hood and checked under the hood. Yep, the engine is still there,

My mechanic informed me that the illuminated warning was not about the physical presence of the engine and the State of Illinois also gave me until the end of August to get the Rover fixed.

Unlikely.

So, for this week, I drive my Rover into the sunset that is the end of my drive awaiting an as is buyer.

Sad. End of an era.

Jesus Took the Wheel & We Hit a Tree

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I was on the road. Listening to some country radio station in the middle of the great midwest or ‘Merica. As if I needed to identify the station as a country format when I am in Nebraska.

It is night.

I am stressed, tired, cranky.

They serve shit coffee in Nebraska at 2 am. Don’t know why. Just my experience

Moments after my brain freeze triggered by bitter redneck coffee the sexiest hockey wife, Mrs. Mike Fischer, was pumping through my radio speakers.

Carrie suggested to my sleepy an d thus near psychosis brain that Jesus should take the wheel.

Great idea. Like in college. Road trips. Spring beak. Eveyone has a shift.

Jesus is now my wheel man on a long and tortoterous I-80 midnight run.

Awesome.

Shut eye on the way. Where is that fucking travel pillow? I just had it.

So, I let Jesus drive.

We hit a fucking tree. A tree. I guess we couls have hit a corn stalk being it was Nebraska and all. Probably woukd have done less damage.

And Jesus didn’t even do that miracle stuff and fix my car. Come on dude. Do me a solid. At least do that water into wine thing. I need to relax. My car is history.

Jesus said with the police probably coming out to investigate the accident being intoxocated may not be  the best idea. Good point God.

State trooper said that the song was some kind of metaphore or something like that. He even drew a diagram for me on a napkin he found in his squd. Yep. Doughnut Hut.

He said that Carrie’s song is about tuenong over your troubles to God. Not that God was going to take a shift in a Denver to Chicago red eye road run.

Oh, ok.

Posted by a Frequent Flyer to Hell and Back using his Phone. Cool!

Naked Woman Rubs Me While Wife Next Door

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So, I was naked, under a sheet, and a women I barely knew was rubbing my ass, shoulders, legs…oooo the thighs baby rub those thighs.

For a hour she pampered me.

Catered to my needs, wounds, stressor. Hell, a guy has needs.

Oh, God it was glorious.

Wonderous.

Truth be told, I think I dozed off too.

And my wife was just in the other room.

She didn’t mind. Didn’t care.

She suggested it. Marriage is awesome.

She even paid.

Who does not love a good massage?

Posted by a Frequent Flyer to Hell and Back using his Phone. Cool!

Livin’ Out an Eagle’s Song

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Life. Wow!

Crazed. Wacky and Wild.

At times, my life resonates in the echos of Eagle’s Take It Easy.

Well I’m a runnin’ down the road
Tryin’ to loosen my load
I’ve got seven women on my mind
Four that wanna own me
Two that wanna stone me
One says she’s a friend of mine

I am always on the go. Manic. Energetic. Impulsive. My media manic craze and constant search for fun and the freedom to have as much fun as possible is exactly how I loosen my load. There is a masturbation joke in there somewhere. That will come. With time. With a little massaging of the material. Stop.

There are some key women in my personal and professional life. I love ‘em. Need ‘em. I am powerless over ‘em. I spoil ‘em, I, for some psychedelic reason, believe that I am always the one who “is to blame” – guess I am now channeling Jimmy Buffett. If I am to be blamed then I must be stoned. Ouch. And probably why, back in the very fuzzy 80s, I got stoned. To avoid the pain of being stoned.

Take it easy, take it easy
Don’t let the sound of your own wheels
Drive you crazy
Lighten up while you still can
Don’t even try to understand
Just find a place to make your stand
And take it easy

Taking it easy is easier said that done for me. Relaxation takes planning and effort. And yes, the sound of my thinking, pot stirring, manipulating others for my own grotesque entertainment pleasures and imagination make a lot of noise.

I quit trying to figure out my life, the path my life is wandering and the people on that path on which my life wanders. People and life are complicated. Valuable time is waster trying to understand people and their motivates for do and thinking what they do and think. As are my motives. Imagine a world without motives. Boring. Dull.

I take a stand in my comedy, on my blog and podcast. Then again, it is my sole and soul voice so it is not to difficult to take a stand.

At the end of the day and the song, I try to take it easy while running on empty. I connect with the key people in my life, namely my wife, who’s sweet love saves me.