HOLLAH for our Homie

WARNING… This post uses “those” words.. you know the ones you say when you THINK no one old enough to “get it” is listening and then your 3 year old parrots them, with JUST the right timing, in the Sprawl Mart check out line. And now I give you The Nuggets of Wisdom’s very own ED The Destroyer.. {of any hope that a female NOT his mommy or wifey will EVER read HIS blog again!}

It’s about time Lara finally decided to add some NUGGETS to this Chicken.
It’s the GUYS time, DAMNIT!
No more mommy-blog posts.
No more “Try this recipe to add spice to your love life” bullshit.
No more “Does this color nail polish bring out the whore-ish-ness of my past?” posts.
No more “Do these jeans show off the fat where my ass used to be?” diet tips.
Now it’s the MENS turn to shine, and I’m not wearing any nail polish……this time.
When asked to write this post, I had no idea what to write it on, partly due to my supreme laziness mixed with a pinch of apathy.
Should I mix a little humor with tasty insightfulness, and beat in a couple of memoirs?
Or do I just get on here and stir away for awhile and hope the spiciness covers up the bad taste.
But then, I let it simmer on 350 degrees for an hour and decided, “Fuck it! We’re having takeout!” because I just took these cooking metaphors to a whole new level, and it’s Emeril Lagassi Brown.
And so,
After much deliberation and careful thought, I have decided to focus my topic blah,blah,blah,blah, take-this-part-out-in-editing-and-add-something-profound, blah,blah,blah.
So, in conclusion, I would like to leave you with this…..
“Your Mom!”
*raises middle finger for added effect*
So, how did I get so awesomely funny and handsomely witty, you ask. (You said it with your eyes.)
Well, it all started at birth.
I was born at a clown convention in Las Vegas.
Okay, not that far back.
It probably started when I realized that, if I made my mom laugh, she wouldn’t whip me when I was in trouble.
And they say beating a child never amounts to any good.*Psshaaa* Look at me NOW, ma!
I found out that this also worked on bullies and helped with making friends.
Soon, I was constantly trying to make people laugh.
I also loved to laugh.
The really good, belly cramping, knee slapping, teary-eyed, talking like a baby kind of laughing.
I became somewhat obsessed with humorous stuff.
Funny shows, jokes, stand-up routines, comedians, sitcoms, redundant things used to describe other similar things of similarity that are the same, and funny stuff…..
Laughing felt great.
About the only thing better than laughing, was making other people laugh.
I never really found my shtick though.
I’m kind of a shitty joke tellerer.
I’ve always been a better “on-the-spot”, adlib/improv, smartass response, make fun of those I’m with, or their situation(unless they’re dying)(except, if their dying is going to take more than a year, then they are fair game) kind of person.
Witty. Quick witted. Jerk. Asshole. Smartass. Insensitive. Turret’s. ADHD. Asbarger’s.
These are terms I hear a lot.
Used to describe people NOT me.
Sucks to be them.
I actually get it honestly, though.
My mom is pretty witty.
She used to be funny too, until old age and senility made her mean. Guess who’s not getting visited in the old folks home.
I’ve also got some uncles that are pretty funny.
My mom’s brothers, Cliff and W.C., seem to enjoy making people laugh almost as much as making themselves laugh, which they do frequently by asking people to “pull my finger”.
Some of my dad’s brothers are funny as well, but it’s hard to understand what they are saying, cause they speak in Hillbillish.
Regardless, I had many memorably fun experiences making or attempting to make people laugh.
As some not so good.
I remember one such from middle school.
It was lunch time, and a really pretty girl (who, I won’t mention any names, *ahem-Corrie-ahem*) told me basically that I was hot, but that none of the girls wanted to be my girlfriend because I always acted like a retarded assclown.
And here, I thought it was because Dee-Dee told everyone she saw me picking my nose in class in 4th grade (lying bitch).
Thanks, Corrie. I hope your nipples fall off.
Yeah, like she’s reading this. She is probably off somewhere being hot and judgmental.
But from that day on, I became Mr. ToCoolForSchoolGuy.
Okay, that’s not true.
I was still a tard.
But, I did try to cut down on the clownishness.
I always dreamed I would be a stand-up comedian or an actor.
Or a Pediatrician.
Eventually, I realized that I had severe stage fright.
I think that was the year I tried out for the Talent Competition.
There I was…waiting for my turn to go up on stage in front of everyone and do my sweet Break Dancing Routine that I had all planned out, and it hit me…I panicked…..I couldn’t breathe….I couldn’t move….everyone was looking at me…..
I finally managed to make up some lie about having to be home at a certain time that had already past, and then I ran out.
ME + comedy career  / stage fright = dreams FAIL
The Stage Fright also ruined the acting thing, as well.
That, and there were only so many parts for Hunchback of Notre Dame or Gollum.
So, I concentrated on a career in the medical field, and resigned myself to making my friends and family laugh.
Eventually, I was introduced to blogger.
And that, my friends, is the rest of the story.
**Oh, I eventually did get over my stage fright thanks to getting older and not giving a fuck what other people thought. Also, I took a Public Speaking course in college. Probably my favorite class ever.**

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