Only 26 Shopping Days Left

Although the holiday season is supposed to be a time for relaxation and benevolence towards our fellow man, it often turns out to be a relatively stressful time of the year for many people. As Christmas looms closer, many are overcome by a sense of urgency that becomes overwhelming. Thus, as a service to you, I have simplified one of your more significant holiday tasks: Deciding what to buy tfg for Christmas. Consequently, I have compiled a wishlist for your convenience.

The first item is a Manitowoc TMS700E crane, which combines 60 tons of lifting power with a top speed of 65 mph. The TMS700E would make my daily commute far more enjoyable, since I could merely relocate any offending assclowns that precede me. Also, this crane would accelerate drive-through restaurant orders and provides a novel means of administering wedgies to my friends and family.



Another "must have" on my wishlist is Boudreaux's Butt Paste. As it turns out, I am plagued with a birth defect that affects the aesthetics of my posterior. This defect is so predominant that it has actually caused my rear end to crack in half. Hopefully, this product possesses the necessary adhesive characteristics to mend the crack, allowing me to follow my dream of being an assless chaps model in the upscale leather boutique industry.



Have you ever gotten a bad haircut? If so, then you understand the predicament that I'm currently experiencing. I've looked into toupees, wigs, and have finally settled on hair extensions. With the appropriately matched extensions, I will be able to disguise the problem with a combover until my hair grows out. You are probably thinking "Don't do it, tfg. Combovers look idiotic." Although I understand this, I don't think I can tolerate the stares that I get from strangers when I'm out in public.

Surgically speaking, the doctor who fixed my hernia did an excellent job. However, you'd think that in all his years of medical schooling, they would have covered Crotch Shaving 101.


A gift like the EZE Band Castrator Kit Model T-1 would keep me busy for months. Initially, I'd start with Hanson, White Snake, Switchfoot, the Backstreet Boys, and any still living member of Lawrence Welk's orchestra. Obviously, I should add Paul Shaffer and his group to this list, but I'm certain that I've already been beaten to the snip.


When compared to those of other bloggers, I think my wishlist is relatively modest. So, don't wait until the last minute--order^* these items today to ensure that we both have a safe and happy holiday.


* I'm speaking figuratively, of course. If any of this wacky shit shows up at my house/workplace, I will come visit you personally with the EZE Castrator Kit. Merry Christmas.

Everybody Now.....

And here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
(Wo wo wo)
God bless you, please Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
(Hey hey hey – hey hey hey)

We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files
We’d like to help you learn to help yourself
Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here’ to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
(Wo wo wo)
God bless you, please Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
(Hey hey hey – hey hey hey)

Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
It’s a little secret, just the Robinson’s affair
Most of all you’ve got to hide it from the kids

Coo coo ca choo, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
(Wo wo wo)
God bless you, please Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
(Hey hey hey – hey hey hey)

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidates’ debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you’ve got to choose
Ev’ry way you look at it you lose

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
A nation turns its lonely eyes to you
(Woo woo woo)
What’s that you say, Mrs. Robinson
‘Joltin Joe’ has left and gone away?
(Hey hey hey – hey hey hey)

Who's with me on this one?

My Crotch-The Epic Narrative, Part 57

Last Friday, I had surgery to correct a hernia and, as a result, blog topics have been few and far between. Fortunately, I'm certain that we are united in our fascination with my crotch, so one more post on the subject seems to be in order.

The surgery, itself, was fairly straightforward--at least the little that I remember. The anesthetic that they used knocked me unconscious with blissful efficiency. About all I remember is telling the male nurse, "If there is a Code Purple down there, you are NOT to administer mouth-to-groin resuscitation." The next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room with some lady who kept trying to give me graham crackers. After she asked for the third time, I told her I'd eat the crackers in exchange for a shot of Dilaudid. I was half-joking, but she held up her end of the bargain, so I enjoyed several graham crackers in the syrupy euphoria that only the onset of potent, intravenously administered opiates can provide.

The operation left me with a 4" incision across the right side of my groin. Once the hair grows back, I doubt that the scar will be visible. What I'm thinking is that I probably need to go to Jo Ann's Fabrics before the incision heals. That way, I can remove the surgical sutures and replace them with a large zipper. This will create a convenient pocket that I can use as a change purse, cell phone holder, or to transport small heroin-laden balloons through international airports, which constitutes a distinct improvement over the previous method that I used to perform the latter task.

I was given a script for Percocet, which is a mild, opiated analgesic that is commonly prescribed to manage the pain that results from having to watch daytime television. An unpleasant side effect of Percocet is that it causes constipation, which is problematic when combined with the fact that the muscles that "make the magic happen" have been operated on. If you read Anonymous Coworker's blog, you know that at this time of the year he obsessively reviews all known variations and associated derivations of eggnog. I am now qualified to conduct the same kind of extensive analysis, only with laxatives. I will spare you the details, but a major shortcoming in the philosophy of the laxative industry can be summarized by the following statement found on the side of an Ex-Lax® box: When taken at bedtime, Ex-Lax® is guaranteed to work gently and effectively by 8AM or your money back. Seriously, when you take Ibuprofen, do you want your headache to go away by next Thursday? Of course not, you want results and you want them instantly. I think something like this is far more appropriate:


Since I had the surgery on 11-10, I was not anticipating that the operation would interfere with my Thanksgiving plans. Yet, my discharge papers clearly state: NO SEXUAL ACTIVITY FOR 4 WEEKS. It is hard to convey how disappointing this is because it will end a long-standing Thanksgiving tradition in the tfg household. I guess I'm just going to have to figure out how to use this stuff, instead:

We Got Down To Nut Cutting Time

I'm thinking posts will be sporadic and influenced by potent opiated analgesics for awhile.

Fellow Republicans Unite!

Remember to vote for Bob Ehrlich on Thursday, November 9th. A stronger Maryland depends on it.