Big Weekend

Big weekend, anticipating "Hatfields & McCoys."

Spent hours in the chair having my hillbilly beard fleaed.

No No Pants Day!

Happiness Is a Warm Puppy, No Pants Day 2010

People, who know me and fine legs, know that I absolutely adore the first Friday in May, the annual Springy occasion of dignity, and haunch breeze: No Pants Day!

Well, this year, I forgot and wore pants, as usual, causing assorted prickly heats, plus sog problems in the shower, as usual.

I guess I simply lost my place in the grand procession of No Thongs Day, No Spanx Day, No PajamaJeans Day, No Hoodie-Footies Day, No Alpha Bunny Ears and Slimming Cottontail Day, and so forth.

Oh, hey, sorry. Allow me to make it up to you....

PANTS!

"Beach Dog" via YouTube



"Panting Cat" via YouTube



"Panting Baby" via YouTube

Previously: No Pants Day 2010 | No Pants Day 2008 | No Pants Day 2004 via About.com

Gifts Senior Moment Santa Forgot to Bring Me: Emergency Underpants Dispenser

Let's roll! Party in my pants! 

Not going to happen, thanks to the gross neglect of Mr. Claus. Here's your tighty whitey, Tubby.

These underpants are "Safe, Secure."

Yay to that. I wouldn't want anyone cracking my assword. My exit strategy is between me and the veggies.

I also prefer my shorts to be "Sanitary." You know, in case I'm in a wreck or have to moon the Sanitation Dept. I wish I had a nickel....

Actually, I mostly wish the underpants had the current and future centuries embroidered on them.

People ask me, "Mike, instead of the Emergency Underpants Dispenser, wouldn't you like the Underpants in a Can?"

"No. That would be redundant."

And then people go on to ask, "Mike, how about you fashion accessorizing with an Emergency Underpants Guy hat?"

"Not if it means I must complement the look with a red bow tie weave in my luxurious chest pelt."

And then people continue their interviews, "Mike, you take issue with the Emergency Underpants Dispenser slogan, 'Just Grab & Go!'"

"Yes. Obviously, the actions are reversed -- unless these underpants are marketed for dyslexics. Write this down:

1. Go.
2. Grab.

Dyslexic or otherwise, one size supposedly fits all, which might include me (I shall check the carry-on regulations), but beware of the misleading instruction. Be springtime fresh, people, and, of course, summertime, falltime, and wintertime will follow in the U.S. and its territories. Not applicable in Butte, MT.

Bottom Line

What I'd really cherish about the Emergency Underpants are the form-fitting cartoon shimmers embracing and enhancing my butt, outcroppings, and tributary.

Gifts Senior Moment Santa Forgot to Bring Me: Big Time Pimp Clock

And another thing Santa Clueless bungled and did not deliver, the Big Time Pimp Clock.

Oh, I got one of them, but not the other. Where's my Big Time Pimp Daylight Saving Clock?

This Instant Big Daddy and formerly Punctual Pimp is upset -- and will be down wit' my bad self in an hour.

Gifts Senior Moment Santa Forgot to Bring Me: Hippie Generation Kit

And another thing Short Attention Spanta did not present me: the Hippie Generation Kit.

I begged him. Hippie me! I am desperate to make amends for lost time. I was lousy at turning on and tuning out in the '60s. I failed at flower child. I could never quite grasp the movement. I'm still trying to charbroil pot and I've practically given up memorizing the lyrics to "Bridget Over Troubled Walter."

Big Weekend

Big weekend, successfully completing the first 30 years of our marriage.

As of this moment, Donna and I have been wife and indentured huggy hunk / designated dimples / assorted cheeses tray carrier / hot towel-ensconced manservant / anvil caddy for 1560 consecutive big weekends.

Today, Valentine's Day, is our wedding anniversary. To commemorate the occasion, I searched far and wide for the perfect gift. The Walmart is quite a spread, but an o-no!-asis worthy to cross for m'lady.

The lass loves jewelry, so I could never go wrong there. I picked out the large hoop earrings that are all the rage.

She's to have the yellow -- and I'll be getting some lip, if ... you know ... what ... I mean. ♥

Big Weekend

Big weekend, shopping for sweaters. 

I was hoping for something more periwinkle or argyle.

Acorn Hat Update!

The Pope is wearing an acorn hat today. 

Meanwhile, Miss Donna Butterworth is 54 and hasn't worked in the business of show since 1967.

Authentic, revered, and noted film historian Frank Thompson adds some perspective.

"Have you ever considered that Miss Donna Butterworth is actually the Pope? Hmm? Ever seen them in the same room? Ever seen Miss Donna Butterworth s**t in the woods? Well then, it's something to ponder, isn't it?"

The Susquehanna Hat Company was unavailable for comment.

Big Weekend

Big weekend, shepherding an intervention with Justin Bieber on pitfalls of the comb-over. 

Sock It to Tee

Continued From: Meet the Neighbors?

At 1 a.m., the next night, I looked out the same window to see this thug stealing my sweat socks! Four of them!

Marauder!

I have been battling the weeds in our yard. They ate our deck, the tool shed, Donna's self-esteem, and, we think, a mail lady.

I fold my work clothes after each perspiration-drenched skirmish and place them on the porch chair for another round.

Apparently, the nocturnal visitor was snooping and became highly stimulated by my manly scent (who doesn't?), because, after his curious rendezvous with my cotton footwear, he returned to the chair seat and rolled, burrowed, and slobbered into my navy blue tee-shirt and old sneakers, biting feverishly at the materials. He was as aroused as kitties in catnip.

I began to feel the humidity waft off his slobber when an unrelated rain shower pelted the house. The varmint skittered across the porch and down the steps, disappearing into the woodsy darkness.

After an additional observation period and the recitation of several Psalms and a brief prayer to that gardener on HGTV, I opened the kitchen door to the porch. The large wok strainer and spritz bottle of Extra Strength Febreze gave me defensive courage as I clutched them hard, shuffling gingerly into the outside.

I did not see the intruder, but I did find the missing clothing in a disheveled pile beneath the rocking chair. The white crews were sopping with trespasser saliva. There were big drool splotches on my shirt. I'll get a tetanus injection and baby aspirin before I search my shoes.

And then it hit me.

What if my neighbor isn't a he? What if she was looking for a cozy spot to birth babies?

Nuh uh. We'll have none of that. The love nest had to go.

Seconds later, I salad-tonged my various spittle apparel into a plastic bag.

I heard Willie Nelson croon, "Michael, don't let your sweat socks gross up to be daddies...."

Big Weekend

Big weekend, manscaping.

I put a hotel on my navel.

Double Header

Continued From: Big Weekend > Fab Grabs > More Fab Grabs > Big Romance

After all these years, I was somewhat emotional while projecting "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" (1986) and "The Breakfast Club" (1985), reuniting with my old haircuts.


Especially, the Ally Sheedy.

Big Weekend

Big weekend, not drawing attention to the pinkie ring.

Continued From: "Big Weekend" and "Big Weekend"

It's No Pants Day!

Mike, Previously: It's No Pants Day 2008 | No Pants Day 2004 via About.com
Funny Site of the Day: No Pants Day

Big Weekend

Big weekend, JAZZ HANDS!!

Continued From: "Big Weekend"

Big Weekend

Big weekend, going public with my new pinkie ring.

I ventured out, slowly, to acclimate in the forested gloom. A chipmunk mocked me. I know it, that sashaying rodent.

After 29 years, and with great difficulty, I am close to not being able to remove my wedding band from its proper finger, too chubby, too swollen.

Thus, the dreaded relocation to Pinkiesville.

I feel like a gangster in a Damon Runyon story. I find myself belting out show tunes from "Guys and Dolls." Street corner newspaper urchins tip their caps and say, "Howdy, Mr. Detroit! Jeepers, you're hotsy-totsy!"

Wearing a pinkie ring is kinda embarrassing, but will it escalate and lead me to no good?

*gasp!*

Am I on the path to -- *gulp!* -- Jazz Hands?

Big Weekend

Big weekend, sprouting a Wilford Brimley to man up at the Grand Canyon.

I might have to grow another one for Donna to wear.

Gifts Senior Moment Santa Forgot to Bring Me: Santa Pimp Hat

I didn't even get a Bad Mutha Elf Fur Bucket Chapeau.

And where are my Blitzen Platform Hooves?

Walk Like a Man, Talk Like a Man

Since 1933, a cornerstone of the Radio City holiday performances has been the "Parade of the Wooden Soldiers," shown in this promotional photograph. The Rockettes march about in tiny steps and precise formations to create the illusion of gigantic toys executing their military drills. For many viewers, it is the favorite sequence of "Christmas Spectacular," met with hearty applause of recognition as Santa winds them up to tippy toe onward.

The musical number is so iconic and beloved, I was highly tickled to round a corner after the cast had departed and behold the sharp uniforms congregating near the Fox Theatre stage door, apparently in anticipation of laundry day. I stopped and smiled.



I felt surprisingly paternal to the young ladies during our association, so it is with fondness and a gentleman's innocence when I claim I got into the Rockettes' pants.

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