Tyrannical Tuesday 8/9

Tonight we embark on a wonderful journey to the Burg of St. Pete, where I will entice with laughter and rule like a Tyrant. Starting out at Coconuts Comedy Club slinging jokes, then we’ll relocate to Sly Bar to grill up some more bars. If you’re in the area, be sure to come out for a great night of laughs on this dreary Tuesday. I’ll add photos And possible video to capture this epic night of laughs, subscribe to avoid the hype of people saying”I subscribed before it was cool.” Thanks for reading and remember, “Tragedy without Comedy, is a Travesty”.

Fast Food, Fast Life….and Death.

mcdonalds-1340199_960_720Food, it makes the world go round, and sometimes people. Growing up with a love/hate relationship towards delicacies such as, hamburger helper and Stouffer’s lasagna, can drive a man to appreciate the finer things in life. Food has always weighed heavy on me, literally, from the Kings of Burger to the Mac’s of Big, I’ve always had a definitive love for fast food. This kinship of such developed at a young age, as me and my family tended to eat out a lot. We’d go out almost every weekend to restaurants varying from buffets like Golden Corral, to the more decadent and always fancy Outback (they bake their own croutons for crying out loud). In a world that’s constantly evolving and progressing, one thing stays true, that fast food is here to stay also. They contribute to the overwhelming population that craves those salty frozen beef patties and the golden fries tabstract-1238247_960_720hat appear to be covered in crack rocks disguised as salt. I’ve developed sort of an addiction to fast food and that has lead to me being the biggest I’ve ever been and it’s off-putting, but seems to be a quick and convenient fix to satisfy the dopamine levels in my brain. It’s like a constant battle of destroying serotonin in my blood, it’s like I love torturing myself at night with not getting a good nights sleep. These problems seem to arise, but for some reason I seem not to care, because that delicious processed frozen food that I know is literally killing me as I eat it, has taken control over french-fries-616115_960_720 my sense of rationality. With all the advancement in modern science, you’d think people wouldn’t keep subjecting themselves to these atrocities called “Fast Food”, but we seem to throw caution to the McGriddle and keep consuming these disease causing little biscuits of joy. I’m trying to learn to deal with my love for fast food, but It’s an uphill battle, and as history shows us, fat people don’t do hills well. Stay hungry my friends.

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We must stand up to putting the seat down!

man-1372508546k0a Are you constantly seeking the answer to that long, antiquated, yet still formidable question? I know fellas, “It’s hard out here for a Pimp” but amidst all the in’s and out’s of a relationship there still lies that yearning to know.  Why are we as males, required by some 11th Commandment to fulfill the duties of securing the toilet seat in the downward position? I might be tugging at some deep seeded personal issues (thanks Dad), but I feel we need to nip this issue in the bud.  After years and years of just obliging to the notion that it was my “Male duty” (after doing my duty), to put the seat back down and flush, whilst making sure there weren’t any microscopic droplets of excess fluids, it hit me.  Why am I required in a society that has been constantly progressing towards an equal opportunistic world, still bound by an unforeseen premeditated agreement, that after I splash and shake, I must also shimmy the seat back down? The frustration that resonates in my mind with this issue of the smallest significance, boggles my mind even more, thus leading to a never ending spiral of chaos and turmoil that (like this entry) is repetitive and keeps me asking why. I can deal with real problems of the everyday life, but this little task has always rang trivial to me in the bells of relationships.you-know

I can appreciate that it must be difficult to come home after a long day of work and sitting in traffic, only to have it feel like your male companion installed a bidet as you plunge down into the yellowy deep.  The only solace is knowing that you’re at home and not in a public place, treading in foreign waters like it’s the Cold War.  Even though we both know that once you gather yourself out of that porcelain abyss, World War III is about to begin, once you find the infidel who decided to unknowingly attack you from the rear.  As you’re pummeling him with banter and fists, try to keep in mind that him snickering, is just our way of relating to the situation; believe it or not, we’ve all been there doing the “hurry scurry” to the bathroom.  A number of times I’ve believed that I had the upper had on my bladder and we were going to make it home, only to find myself again on the side of the road doing a “tire check” while warming my ankle up on a cold winter’s night.  The frustration is there for both parties when the seat is not where it should be in relation to the sex of the party occupying the bathroom.  I’m not saying that I will stop abiding by this false rule of engagement, but I feel that the duty falls (he said duty again) within both parties of any relationship.  Therefore next time ladies should you find yourself submerged in a murky depth of injustice, please consider the alternative to a fit of rage and ex-lax in his morning protein shake, by taking some long deep breaths, inhaling some wine, and blasting Alanis Morissette whilst taking a much needed bath to clean up.