Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Context is Important

Seriously.  When you have a mind that dwells in the gutter like mine does, you need to know what the hell someone is really talking about. 

Monday, February 27, 2012

Kelly F'n Kapowski

You see this woman?  We like her.  Tiffani Thiessen (a.k.a. Kelly Kapowski) rules.


Monday Morning Stories with Mookie - Episode 5

As this is the last Monday in the Black History Month of February, I thought it would be appropriate to share this gem.  Enjoy.


The Time Mookie Had To Tell A Group Of Black People That They Couldn't Have Any Fried Chicken

Wayyyy back in the day, I used to jockey the front counter and drive-thru at the local Hardee's Restaurant (Carl's Jr for you West Coast people).  It goes without saying that I have served some of the best AND worst individuals that society has to offer.  Most times this all happened during the same day.

During my time at Hardee's, I can honestly say that I was surrounded by some of the most fun people I've ever had the pleasure of working with.  We all hated what we did, and found anything we could to make the job bearable.  Between the asshole customers, the constant smell of grease on your clothes, and the asshole customers (yeah I said "customers" twice - people can be real dicks), you have to find the humor in the little things.

Hardee's Fried Chicken. An endless source of double entendres
from us less-than-mature, and sexually starved employees.
Yes, I would like 2 big breasts, and 2 thighs. 
At one point during my "tenure" there, the Corporate douches decided the company needed to compete with Kentucky Fried Chicken. All of the Hardee's restaurants were outfitted with hardware to make fried chicken, and an effort was made to train certain individuals how to make the chicken.  I don't recall the reasoning of why, but the restaurant where I worked couldn't get their shit together in time to launch the product when every other Hardee's did.  This led to us having to tell everyone that came through the store that we didn't have fried chicken, even though every Hardee's TV commercial said we did. It should go without saying it got really old telling people "Sorry we don't have chicken yet" all day long.

Fast forward to two-weeks later.  I'm working the Sunday 7AM to 3PM shift, and for the most part Sundays were fairly low-keyed.  Lots of coffee drinkers, and lots of Biscuits and Gravy.  It was a pretty easy shift really, which was good because most of us were still feeling the effects of a lively Saturday night.  The lunch rush wasn't too bad either because most people didn't go to Hardee's for "Sunday Dinner," and the drive-thru was often filled by people also recovering from their lively Saturday night. By now, it was pretty much common knowledge in my lazy town that we still weren't selling fried chicken yet.  So the "sorry we don't have chicken yet" announcements had tapered off quite a bit for the most part.

Then it happened.

During a lull in the morning business, I'm gandering out the drive thru windows, and I watch as this big van pulls in the parking lot.  Normally, it is not an uncommon sight really.  Down the side of the van is a big logo that reads "Mt. Calvary Baptist Church."  I immedately think to myself "No, no noooo."  Fate says: "Oh yes, Mookie.  Oh yes."

Out of this van rolls 8 to 10 black peopleI stand there for a bit thinking to myself, "Oh God, they are going to want fried chicken.  They are going to be pissed."  I look over towards the front counter area back to the immediate kitchen area......there are no other Hardee's personnel to be found.  Before I could make a run for the cooler in the back, the throng of Baptist parishioners had entered the building and were heading for the counter.

I stepped up to the counter behind my little register, smiled, and said "Can I help you?"  One lady that appears to be the "spokesperson" for the group steps forward and goes:

"Yah, yous gots that friiiied chickennn ready??"

In my head, my brain is just exploding at this stereotype that has come to life.  However I remain calm and polite and say: "I'm sorry, we aren't serving fried chicken yet."

To which she naturally responds with a surpised tone:  "You mean you out?"

I say, "No, we haven't received all of the supplies to start making fried chicken at this restaurant yet."

Another lady speaks up and says with an attitude that only an angry Claire Huxtable could present: "You ain't got NO fried chicken?"

And I say: "No, I'm sorry."

The group says nary another word.  They all look at each other, and then turned and headed for the door.  I watched out the window as they got back into their van and hauled ass out of the lot.

I took a deep breath, laughed to myself at the humorous situation that just played out right in front of me, and turned around to face the kitchen.  There was still no one there.  HOW DID SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPEN AND NOT ONE PERSON WORKING AT HARDEE'S SAW IT????

Trust me.  It happened.  It did.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

DANGER

This sign is currently on the front door of the Breathtaking and Inappropriate offices.  It usually deters the door-to-door peddlers, except the Jehovah's Witnesses.  Nothing stops them.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Ah The Good Old Days

Since I provided the Clinton/Kennedy picture in the last week, I found this gem and it made me laugh.

Tipper looks gleefully hammered. 
Al is talking trash. 
Hillary is excited she is going to be living in the White House.
Bill is looking at Tipper and wondering if the carpet matches the drapes. 

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Inappropriate Barbie

I am not sure of the context of this toy, but I certainly have an idea of what it is...

Monday, February 20, 2012

Monday Morning Stories with Mookie - Episode 4

The Time Mookie Put Weed Killer All Over His Neighbor's Yard

This one is easily one of my all-time favorite and delightfully evil stories.  I'm still proud of this one.

Many years ago while attending community college, my roommate "Russ" (*) and I lived in an apartment complex called the "Funke Apartments."  The name was pronounced like the word "funky"....no joke.  I still remember the lady that was the manager of the place rolling her eyes and going "yeeeeahh its pronounced like "funky."  It was the landlord's real last name I guess.  This was probably the #1 reason we lived there. #2 was that it was pretty cheap.  Anyway...

My year of residence there was eventful, and full of entertainment.  The parties we had were not "blow-outs" or anything like that, but we still had fun.  Sadly, our building had a neighboring house where the resident there was not a friendly gentleman.  Our building had acceptable off-street parking in a lot behind us, or if there was room you could park on the street out front.  It was a two-lane one-way street.  Given the fact we were on the go half the time, we would park in the street sometimes just to save time going places.  Well apparently, "Mr. Jerk-Wad" (*) that lived in the house next to us valued the street space in front of his house.

My roommate and I had similar automobiles at the time.  He had an early 80's 2-door Oldsmobile Cutlass Brougham that was brownish in color.  I had a 1982 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale that was tan/cream in color (Gawd I miss that car.  But that is another story for another episode.).  One day Russ parked his car on the street, and apparently it straddled the lot line of the property more than our jerk-wad neighbor cared for.  The next day Russ went out to his car and found a note under the wiper blade on his front window.  It read verbatim:

"Park in front of your own place you son of bitch."

We were both very surprised at the maliciousness of the note, considering the fact we hadn't done anything wrong really.  A month or so goes by, and I find myself parking in a similar fashion in front of my building/his house one night.  I came out the next morning to head to class, and find this note under my wiper blade (This is the real original note, I don't know why I still have it):

Note, this is the 1st time I've parked here, and he has obviously mistaken my car for my roommate's car.

Well, that does it.  Mr. Jerk-Wad-Note-Maker apparently does not know with whom he is dealing with.  By presenting me with such a hostile sounding note, it goes without saying that I'm going to park RIGHT in front of his G.D. house every chance I get. Its like he's begging me to.  At least to me it did.

So I do.

However, my parking positions do not go unnoticed, and Mr. Jerk-Wad often enacts his own forms of retribution.  I come out various times to find that my car had been spit on (dried loogies on the driver side window), and times when Mr. Jerk-Wad parks his car way close to mine.  One time in particular, he parallel parked in front of me.  But when I came out to get in my car the next morning, I noticed his car's (a piece of shit station wagon with no back window) back bumper was essentially right up against mine.  We are on a downhill incline, so he HAD to have rammed his car into mine backing up and then put it in park.  Because a car is going to roll forward a bit after its in park.  That does it.  Shit just got real.

The next time I try to park in front of my building (and his house) the street is full unfortunately -   except on the other side of the street.  So I park on the opposite side of the street, but still in front of the guy's house.  His bomber of a car is proud and present in front of his shit house.  My then-girlfriend-now wife was with me, and we are both laughing at the situation. I go into "dick" mode and yell out:

"WOW! Look who decided to park in front of their OWN house tonight!"

Here we go.  This fat ass comes busting out of the house as we are walking up to my front steps.  He's yelling something about "manners" and he should "bend me over to teach me some" or something like that.  I yell back "advising" him that I don't appreciate the shit he's been doing to my car, and that apparently he "doesn't know who he's f--king with!" He continues his tirade of swears and whatnot as we head inside.  My then-girlfriend-now wife "Megan (*)" tells me I should call the cops and let them know whats going on in case he does something to my car.  So I do.  I get on the phone and end up talking to this nice lady in the detective's office where she takes my report.  I tell her about the notes, the spitting, and the probable car ramming.  Then I tell her about the confrontation that just happened out front.  I tell her that he threatened to "bend me over."  She asked what that meant.  I said I don't know if he's gay, or if he's planning on spanking me.  Either way I'm not cool with that."  She laughed harder than a cop probably should laugh.  It was funny. But she took down my info in case something else arose.

Thankfully, nothing much ever came out of that whole deal after that.  But that did not ease the voice of revenge in my brain.  I knew I would be moving soon, and wanted to leave my mark.  I talked to a "wise person" about my situation, and we came to the conclusion about what should be done.  He fixed me up with a plastic milk jug with an ample amount of concentrated Round-Up weed killer, or as I came to call it: "The Milk Jug O' Death." 

One night at about 1:30AM in mid July, after drinking several beers under some unknown pretense, I decided that it was time for "Operation Milk Jug."  I crept out the front door of my apartment building, and stood near the property line between my apartment and Mr. Jerk-Wad's front yard.  My "reconnasiance" revealed that there were no apparent witnesses -including Mr. Jerk-Wad - in the perimeter.  I crawled into the front yard of Mr. Jerk-Wad, uncapped the "Milk Jug O' Death, and took a deep breath.  Mookie was "go" for Operation Milk Jug.
  • The little pine tree bushes planted nicely out front?  Drenched. 
  • The little flower bed? Toast. 
  • A majority of a 9 x 13 foot section of grass along his sidewalk?  Yup.  I emptied the jug there.
I giggled my scrawny ass off the rest of the night, and could not wait for nature to take its course.  I moved out less than two weeks later.

Prologue
Three or four months later, I am back in town to visit Megan and I decide drive by the Funkes for old time's sake.  Plus I needed to see if my late night handy work back in July was a success.  I got my answer pretty quickly.  There was little to nothing left in that front yard that was green.  The pine bushes were gone, and most of the yard was dirt. 

Game over Jerk-Wad.  I told you not to f--k with Mookie.


(*) Names have been changed to protect the guilty/innocent.


Have you missed a previous episode of "Monday Morning Stories with Mookie," or just want to see one again?

Click HERE to go to the Story Catalog.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Great Moments in Sexual Harassment History

1963 - 17-year old Bill Clinton meets President John F. Kennedy. 
It is like young Anakin Skywalker meeting Jedi Master Yoda for the first time. 

You know.... if Yoda was perverted-sex-crazed-philandering-male-whore.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

It's Time For Yet Another Edition of "Is It Racist??"

Awww Yeeeeahhh!  We gonna get us some Grape Drank!  Biiitch it be on sale!  Bitch!  It be on sale!Ain't nothin' betta than gettin' some Grape Drank all up in here!  Gets two! Gets an Orange Drank too!

Sexist Joke Time!!

Monday, February 13, 2012

Monday Morning Stories with Mookie - Episode 3

The Time When Mookie Watched as a Hot Chick Passed Judgement on a Group of Gay People

During my senior year of college, I was told by various people that I should take a class called “Human Relationships and Sexuality.”  The advice suggested that the class would be "easy," and "entertaining."  To which I said: "So's your mom."

Registration time comes around and I see that the class is only being offered at 8 AM on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  Son of a bitch.....  It had BETTER be entertaining and easy if I have to roll off my couch for an 8 AM class.  So I sign up for the course and get in.  Booyah.

The class commences and it is unintentionally HILARIOUS.  Picture this:  a lecture hall full of 200 college kids being taught by this semi-unmanly professor, talking about anything and everything sexual.  Nothing is off limits as long as it’s a serious discussion.  Do you want to know if giving your boyfriend a BJ is going to get you pregnant?  Go ahead and ask (for the record, someone did)!  It was bizarre on many fronts, but mainly as to how STUPID some people are when it comes to basic sexual matters. 

One day, the topic turned to the matter of "self pleasure."  It obviously engages the audience as most of the present crowd are probably experts at it.  Dr. Pervo begins telling us some story about how one day he walked in on his wife masturbating (he made it sound like a regular thing).  He was very casual and simply asked if she needed any help.  I think he said they got it on after that, but I don’t really remember because I think I passed out.  

Another bizarre turn was the 3 or 4 classes where they would show “sexuality” videos.  Or as you and I call them: Porn.  This wasn’t your big boobed bimbo chick/pizza guy kind of porn.  It was instructional type stuff, how to consider your partner’s needs and other general “how-to” stuff.  This goes here….that goes there...Ooh that feels nice.  To this viewer, it was not titillating or erotic (although I'm sure several people went back to their dorm and j'd off).  It was F'N HI-LAR-IOUS.  Then, as if this stuff wasn't bizarre enough, Dr. Pervo topped it all off with a video about some woman getting it on with her husband who was paralyzed from the waist down.  You might be asking yourself: "Did they show 'everything' or was it insinuated?  Of course they showed it all:  Banging on a wheel chair in the shower, odd devices, and what I have to describe as a VERY patient and loving wife considering the "effort" involved.  It was surreal stuff, especially at 8am in the morning.

Then one day the professor had members of U.N.I.G.L.O. (University of Northern Iowa Gay and Lesbian Organization) come for a visit, and had them arranged like a panel in front of the class.  For the most part, they just discussed the organization, and essentially anything and everything that is gay.  Literally. 

Most of the stories and information presented during the hour was surprisingly pretty lame.  Then this one older gentleman told his “story” about how he had once been married and had kids, and then one day decided to stop living a lie, and came out as gay.  His story was a good five minutes long, and towards the end of it, the sounds of a girl sobbing are coming from the second row of the audience.  Everyone is looking over at this girl bawling, and MY GAWWWD IS SHE HHHHHOTTTTTTT.  Like wow hot.

The professor obviously is curious at the disturbance this girl is making, and asks what her deal is.  She proceeds to berate this gay gentleman for what he “did” to his family, and asked 2 or 3 times how he could “do something like that” to them.  He was honest and polite about it, because her question had a point to it.  She then unloaded about how this sort of thing happened to her.  A year prior she had been engaged to this “wonderful” man, who showered gifts upon her and they had traveled around the world.  He was the most beautiful and loving man.  Then one day he up and decided he was gay, and couldn’t marry her or be with her anymore.  Oh good lord it just went downhill from there. 

She blabbered on and on about her personal humiliation being ditched by this guy, and her family’s disgust over it all.  Oh, and then throw in the fact she was quite religious and didn’t believe in “that sort of lifestyle decision.”  She basically ripped all the gay people and said they have a choice, and she had no doubt God must hate them.
 
THAT was when the wheels came off and it was a train wreck of epic proportions.  The UNIGLO panel started getting feisty about her biased comments, and the professor had to raise his voice to restore order to the lecture hall. 

The class dismissed that day, and the UNIGLO panel was never brought up again in class.  I of course thought it was hilarious, as I enjoy watching people get personally bent over matters of religion and sexuality.  The rest of the course must not have been memorable because I can’t remember anything else.

But that HAAAWWT Jesus-freak chick bawling was classic due to her over-sharing and apparent need to share her personal anguish.

Plus, based on the details in her story, there is NO WAY anyone could have thought that fiancee was straight.  Her descriptions had "gay" all over it.


(*) Names have been changed to protect the guilty/innocent.



Have you missed a previous episode of "Monday Morning Stories with Mookie," or just want to see one again?


Click HERE to go to the Story Catalog.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

Van F'n Halen

The new Van Halen CD came out today?  Have you heard it? What do you think?  I have not listened to it yet.  I admit I did not like the "Tattoo" song they released first.  I'm hoping the others are good.  I've heard good things.....
I hope it is as good as this picture.  I love this.

Ron Swanson is Thankful

This is a classic "Ron Swanson" line.  This guy is fast becoming my new role model.

Monday, February 06, 2012

Monday Morning Stories with Mookie - Episode 2

The Time Mookie Saw The 1970's British Rock Group "Sweet" In Concert

February 6th, 1994 -  Exactly 18 years ago today - I went and saw the group Sweet in concert.  You might be asking yourself, "Who the f--k is Sweet?"  Well, I'm going to f'n tell you.

Sweet is the group responsible for the songs "Ballroom Blitz," "Fox on the Run," "Action," and of course the college bar favorite: "Little Willy." 

Right now I imagine you are going "Ohhhhhh yeahhhh.  I love those songs."  Of course you do!  How can you not like these songs?  I'm going to go on record right now and say you are a TERRORIST if you don't find yourself singing along to "Fox on the Run" if it came on the radio right now.  Anyway..back to the story.

I get a call from my friend "Rick"(*) in Cedar Falls, and he says "Mookie!  You have to come up to Cedar Falls this SUNDAY!  The group Sweet is playing at Shagnasty's!"  Rick tells me that "Cooper"(*) is going too, and he is getting the tickets for three of us if I can go.  There should have been no question whether or not I was going to go.  I was "in" the second he said "Sweet."

(Note:  For those that don't know what "Shagnasty's" is, it used to be a bar in Cedar Falls, IA that was famous for having fish bowl drink specials, a dance floor with lights underneath it, an over-priced cover charge, and a tremendous amount of hoes on the weekends.  Your usual college meat market.)

Sunday arrives and I am excited.  As I get ready to leave my Cedar Rapids apartment, my roommate "Russ"(*)  asks where I'm off to.  I tell him I'm going to Cedar Falls to see Sweet, and understandably - he is pissed.  I apologize and say that you have to be 19 (he was 18), and that we tried to find a fake ID for him but came up short.  He understood, but I'm sure he hated me.

My then-girlfriend-now-wife says she wants to ride along with me to Cedar Falls and go visit her friend that lives there.  We make our way to Cedar Falls, pick up Cooper and Rick, we drop the lady off at her friend's place, and head to Shags for our evening with Sweet.

We get to Shagnasty's and there are at most 100 people there.  We make our way into the place and head for the front of the stage.  The dance floor is sunken in the middle of the place, and the stage is at an upper edge of the dance floor.  Finally, they announce Sweet and the crowd of 100 goes crazy.  I'm looking around and everyone is essentially sitting up on the sides of the dance floor.  Other than MAYBE 7 other people, Cooper, Rick and myself are the only ones on the dance floor.  Plus we were the only ones right up front.  It was awkward and hilarious, but dammit we are going to get our $8 worth here.

Sweet comes rolling out and these dudes are OLD.  We eventually find out that  the only original member of the band we are seeing here is Andy Scott, the guitarist.  He's dressed in some weird get-up and has leg warmers too.

(Note:  There were four original members of Sweet.  At that time, there was Andy, plus one that was dead, one that was dying, and the other had his own touring version of the band Sweet). 

They kick into their hits and its actually pretty awesome given the fact these are some middle-aged British dudes.  "Wig-Wam-Bam," "Blockbuster," "The Six-Teens,"and "Teenage Rampage" are their heavy hitters.  They pepper in their big hits like "Little Willy" and "Action" as they go.  When they play the ones everyone knows, the dance floor gets crowded and people come out to dance. 

It goes without saying that the three of us (Cooper, Rick, and I) are having fun.  We are rocking out and don't even care.  The whole show, Cooper, Rick and I are slapping high-fives with the lead singer and Andy Scott because we are RIGHT in front of them.  It was hysterical.  I look to the back of the bar, and there is a guy holding up a cardboard sign that says SWEET on it with an old record jacket glued to it.  This guy is shaking it wildly and screaming at everything.  Clearly he is a bigger fan than my compadres here and its a big night for him. 

Finally, the band wraps up their set with "Fox on the Run" and leave the stage.  As lame as these cats are, I just remember thinking the show ruled.  However, everyone knows they have left one song out of their set list for the night.  Being the up front fanatics we are - Cooper, Rick and I started chanting: 

"WE WANT BLITZ!! WE WANT BLITZ!!" 

The entire place starts chanting along with us. 

Finally about 30 seconds later, the band comes tripping back out with these cheesy ass grins like they know they are "the shit."  Andy and Company give the crowd what they came for, and proceed to crank out "Ballroom Blitz."  The dance floor is then packed with virtually everyone in attendance and the whole place is singing the song.  They ended with the dramatic flair that only a British bubblegum rock group can, and the show was over.

The entire way back to Cooper and Rick's place, we were yelling:
"OH!  DID WE JUST SEE SWEET???"
"F--KING SWEET!  WE JUST SAW THEM!!"

"OHH SHIT!!  WE JUST SAW SWEET!"  It was constant exclamations like this for about an hour.

The "We just saw Sweet!" comment went on for weeks, if not months from the three of us.  I'm pretty sure people thought we were stupid.  Which we were. 

But GAWWWWWD DAMMIT!  We saw Sweet.  And you didn't.

And it was epic.


(*)  Names have been changed to protect the guilty/innocent.

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Episode 1

Friday, February 03, 2012

Sounds Like A Solid Day To Me

I'm sure this is probably from the A&E show "Intervention."  I'm curious as to what they are intevening about?  The meth?  The masturbation?  I hope it's the meth because Aaron is obviously passionate about his hobby.

Thursday, February 02, 2012

Sesame Street Must Be Getting Edgy

I knew Elmo was going to lose it some day.  I hope that girl in the wheelchair makes it out alive.

Wednesday, February 01, 2012