SMOKE 'EM IF YOU GOT 'EM

You wanna know what advertisement on TV that is reeeeeally starting to get under my skin?

These "truth.com" ads.

I'm a non-smoker. God bless me...I tried smoking. Dammit...I wanted to smoke. I would pick up cigarettes and smoke smoke smoke 'em down, but I never got that nicotine thrill.

All my friends in high school were smoking fiends.

"Here, Bobbo...you've gotta try these. They're new...they're called cigarettes."

"New? Well hey man, fire 'em up!"

(smoke, smoke, smoke)

"Aren't they great, Bobbo?"

(cough)"I don't get it. My mouth feels like it's on fire and my clothes stink. Where's the fun in it?"

"Aw man...just keep smoking them."

So I did. I smoked morning, noon and night for a week. I would buy a carton of smokes in the morning on my way to school and have them finished by 5 p.m.

Nothing.

I even inhaled a few times rather than sucking and blowing the smoke back out.

Inhaling REALLY sucked.

No pun intended.

Maybe I was smoking those fancy nicotine-less cigarettes. Whatever the case, I could not get addicted to them. After that week of smoking, I quit. Cold turkey. Sure, I pretended that it was a tough thing to do. My smoking buddies respected me for it though.

It made me a stronger teenage idiot in their eyes.

So now, we've got these commercials where these non-smokers have gone off the deep end.

We've all seen them by now.

The ones where some people throw body bags full of people in front of a busy work building. The one where they say that dog shit has the same ingredients as cigarettes (I find that one hard to believe myself, but if it's true, you're going to find a bunch of people switching over to dog shit which is infinitely cheaper than cigarettes). And during the Super Bowl, they showed commercials with planes flying over a beach with banners dragging behind them saying what all was in cigarette smoke.

I get it.

You guys don't want people smoking...right?

Hey, that's great. Works for me.

But uhhhhhh...can we maybe give it a rest for a few minutes? Because every time I turn on the television, you're shoving this shit down my throat. And personally, I'd rather be gasping through nicotine-coated lungs than have to watch these f'n commercials one more time.

If the people at PETA had half a brain, they'd see these obnoxious funkin' commercials and a little light bulb would go off over their heads and they'd start investing their energies into commercial airtime.

...At which point I would have to sell my television. Because I refuse to take a chance on accidently seeing a PETA commercial where they're throwing red paint on people wearing fur coats and screaming "MURDERER!!" over and over again.

Christ.

I'd watch "Ellen" before I watched that crap.

Speaking of selling televisions, I have the strongest urge to go to Circuit Shitty, the absolute worst chain of electronics stores in the world, and stand in front of a television of theirs for 20 seconds.

When the salesmen come running over and ask if they can help me, I've got the strongest urge to say "Oh hell no. There's no way in HELL I'd buy a television from you guys. I'm just checking out your prices so I can take them to Sears and have them match your best prices and buy my television from them because they're not the complete and utter assholes that you guys are."

Keep in mind, I'm fighting this urge. But it gets stronger each day.

Hey...if you've got a second and an old tube top just laying around the house, check out Cosmic Crayola.

The girl's going through some tough times right now and needs your help. All she's asking for is a tube top. The gaudier the better.

It's actually a neat little plan she's schemed up and definitely worth a check-out once you get done reading this fantastic, hysterical update of mine.

Oh yeah.

This is fantastic and hysterical alright.

Andrew update...Andrew update...Andrew update...

This kid is practically running already. He started walking 2-3 weeks ago...very unsure of himself at first. He was definitely toddling.

I leave for a week, come home and he's freakin' Speedy Gonzales, running around the house and trying to find objects to fill up the toilet with.

He doesn't flush the toilet. He just puts them in there and watches them sink to the bottom of the bowl.

So far, he's tossed one of his books in the toilet, which was okay because it was a bathtime book anyway. I just fished it out and let it dry and it's as good as new. He also threw a little plastic farmer toy in there.

Susie bought a toilet lock last night, so the kid's days of experimenting in the toilet are over.

Anyway, I was out here in my computer room and went to the den to get something last night.

Out of the blue, a little naked boy came running past me, laughing hysterically.

Luckily, it was my son, or I'd have a whole heap of explaining to do to the local authorities.

I tried to warn him of the evils of running naked but he doesn't really listen to anything other than "No no!" right now.

Sure enough, he tripped over his feet and landed.

Right on his naked penis.

I was expecting tears. But he just sat up and checked out his pee-pee to make sure it was okay.

And checked it out.

And checked it out.

And tugged it to make sure it was still somewhat flexible.

And checked it out some more.

And twisted it.

And pulled it.

And shook it.

And slapped it.

Finally, I picked him up and took him back to Mama who was drawing his bath water.

I decided not to mention his penile abuse to her.

It's our secret right now.

I just hope he never pulls this crap in church.