The Task of A Thousand Steps Begins Just After This Coffee Break

This post is the first of 30, wherein I will be dropping 30 posts in the month of November as part of NaBloPoMo, or “National Blog Post(ing) Month,” or Nablo Pomo, former left-handed reliever for the class-AA Donxberg Burros. Long strider, wicked curve ball, but like a lot of young men in his era, he got caught up with the Wicked White Witch and never came off the ride. Talkin’ about sugar, friends. The diabetes got ‘im.

OK, OK… I’m slagging off some things in life because they don’t seem to capture my attention. I realized in the past 48hours I had started a few small things, made calls I needed to, and got things in order for the changes in my life from Affordable Care Act-fallout. But then, for some of these things and calls, I didn’t get a response right away. So now they slip off the radar. The ADD brain doesn’t appreciate that. In fact, one returned call was a voicemail that made almost no correlation to what I had originally called in about, further confusing the scenario, and causing another step for me. Again, added clutter to the brain space of an ADD mind. Not good, bro.

And I realize that procrastinating isn’t unique the ADD’ers, it’s just more prevalent. I have a “do now” gear and a “do another time” backlog. It’s not prioritized, although I have a long list of things I need to get done in the next few weeks to makes we’re all on the same page with life and society. If you looked at it, or a police officer was searching my car and found the list, well I’d have to probably walk through it to show you I mean no harm and YES, I’m fine, so let’s all just chill out for a bit. The BrainBath list is so good for me to do. It’s a constant reference point of things that seemed important at one point, and keeps my brain free of debris and detritus. The trick is going back to it.

I can imagine how frustrating I must be to live with. I have always been a guy who, when given a task and tools and time, will get to work and get something done if left alone to do it. But that work style and parenting don’t exist in the same housing development, let alone cul de sac. I often tell my wife “It takes a long time to be me.” What I mean is that, in order to get in order and stay in order, I need time TONIGHT to prep for TOMORROW, or tomorrow will just be a bust and nothing’s going to get done. Clothes packed for work after the gym, laptop bag packed for work, lunch ready to go, coffee set to auto-brew come the morn, etc. And it’s usually only stuff I can do for me, which makes my time “in my space” seem like avoidance of the family, and it’s not at all.

This is all retro-perspective now of my ADD brain as an adolescent; when given a task I wanted to do, I’d nail it. But add layers of unnecessary complexity to my Summer job of mowing neighborhood lawns (other people, bad tools, sunbathing step-daughters asking if I like Mötley Crüe) and my ability to get the work done slips. Now we have unfocused people with no ability to steer an edger, and they’re too hot to work and now I hate my friend. Then I would have to be more of a leader and say “Guys, we gotta get this done so we can get to the next lawn and get paid and see if Brendan’s brother can score us some wine coolers.” And then somebody would bitch about me being a dickhead and I’d give ’em $10 and send ’em along.

So I am learning that the best way for me to avoid procrastination is do one thing NOW. It’s proven that multitasking is bunk, your brain can only focus on “a” task at a time. You don’t want a surgeon taking calls when they’re 2 knuckles deep in any part of your body. So if you have an ADD’er in your life, and you notice half-done work, odds are they were on their way to Finishberg and got pulled away, not “sidetracked.” If you have the money to shop for your groceries, but no time… or the time, but no money, what good is any of it? Give me enough time, and space, and things get done. Give me however much time you THINK it should take and stand around asking rhetorical questions about toilet replacement codes in remodeled bathrooms, while not handing me a pitch-dark porter, and you may as well be winging full diapers at my head asking me to sing “Girls, Girls, Girls” without warming up. I’m gonna be hoarse and there’s gonna be a lot of crap laying around.

November 1, 2013 2

CrowdFund Your Motivation

I’m still not sure if I like crowdfunding, the ability to ask friends or strangers for, and sometimes receive, financial backing for your pet projects. It’s not exactly on-line panhandling, but it’s not really fundraising. It IS, I mean, yeah, you’re raising funds for whatever it is you haven’t saved for, but do you really appreciate it and let it be YOUR baby? In this case, we’re talking fundage, financially, money. Mmkay?

Admittedly, I did use “GoFundMe.com” earlier this year to help a single mother get her car repaired. She had no money, was living in a church, and needed a new transmission in order to get her car running to get around for job interviews. The need was there, the means were there, so I cobbled together a few things and posted it and promoted it. We made our goal in a few days, and I can only thank the kind people who gave anywhere from $10 to $50 to $300. It was an inspiring influx of empathy and care, and very much appreciated. There’s always more to the story, of course…

Of course, like anything that goes online, it had its share of trolls asking why a transmission cost of $600-something (labor included) was the target, why she didn’t just get a better car, etc. By ignoring some of them or calling them out for being dipshits we were able to just focus on the goal. Don’t feed the trolls.

I’m not going to say this isn’t some sort of meta-trolling about the intent of using crowdfunding to fill a project’s financial gap. I’m not tearing a rotator cuff to pat myself on the butt for a job well done, either. Just stating what is possible when you present a need to people who want to help. It was really great to see it come together. Hell, what would YOU do with your pet project if you had another $1,043 laying around? Would you use it properly? Could you/I be THAT accountable? That’s why I wonder how much a person can appreciate the gifts they promote themselves to receive. Some people are making movies. Some people are trying to pay off medical bills. Who’s to say who’s right? The people with the money, that’s who’s.

The “more to the story” is that I had two situations where fundraising for a cause took very different turns. In one, I produced a comedy show to raise money for a family friend whose mom had been left with a mountain of medical bills after her husband passed away. I don’t know how much was raised, all I know is the place as packed with concerned friends and a lot of love. We did very well, and my friend’s mom was incredibly appreciative.
The other turn was that a person who I did something financially-beneficial for via fundraising really didn’t take advantage of the upturn. There was an option there to move ahead with what they had been asking for – and given, but they either moved at a glacial pace as to appear immobile, or just bided their time. Then kept hinting how they needed more of this, or didn’t have any of that. In a side-project we also provided a lot of resources to help them get back on their feet, but nothing in the form of straight-up cash. And pretty soon it seemd as if they’re just hoping to get more of something without putting out anything. As much as I want to see everybody doing better for themselves, I want to see people DOING, unless some sort of crippling disease has taken their ability to leave the house and interact with people or bring me homemade cookies and/or dark beers from around the world.

The Need exists for a little something more; schools, food banks, neighbors, drag show open mic nights, etc. People have needs that aren’t met because of – pick a reason. And if you can help meet their needs, do it. The 1% that made 95% of the income won’t. Our taxes aren’t going to make up for it. Gotta act locally.

Reminds me of a story my maternal grandfather told me. There was a bear who grew up near a campsite. Every Monday he would go to the dumpsters and pick through food and he grew strong and clever, but a little fatter than the other bears in the rivers eating salmon. One Monday morning a park ranger saw the bear and thought he may be a hazard, so he tried to scare him off. The bear didn’t understand the tactics; this was garbage, nobody wanted it, why can’t he have it? But the ranger didn’t want the bear coming into the park at other times, and didn’t understand the bear’s intent was simply to eat from a reliable source at a non-threatening time. In the end, the bear starved to death after getting his nose caught in a plastic holder from a 6-er of Miller tallboys.
The Lesson: You can always get garbage, the good stuff takes some effort, and park rangers are usually assholes.

October 30, 2013 0

Cold and F-You Season

Just a friendly reminder from your co-worker…

Just because you’re coughing up “less” blood doesn’t mean you’re “on the mend.” Stay at home.
You missing 2 days of work = 2 days of work missed. You getting 4 people sick = 4-6 days of work missed. Stay at home.
Your kid’s sickness doesn’t mean that kid should be socialized with other kids so that other kids’ immune systems can be exposed to your kid’s sickness and everybody takes a step forward in the “strong immune system” line. You are not allowed to compromise anybody else’s health based on short-sighted, negligent, selfish parenting. We’ll get through the 3 year-old’s party without you, your annoying fashion choices, and your overuse of the word “amazing.” Stay at home.
If I can hear you coughing and blowing your nose from 3 rows away, that’s too close. Stay at home.
Stay at home. Until March, if necessary.
Wash your hands. Wash ’em again. Soap and water’s fine. No more superbugs.
Stay at home.

October 7, 2013 1

The Political Party Parent

In my 4 years of parenting I’ve noticed quite a few things that are likely my own internal judgments come to light…

I am a somewhat hyper-vigilant observer, which is a great help for cultivating material for the stage and this blog, but a terrible trait for, you know, enjoying life. It often makes me, as my wife calls it, “annoyingly uptight.” My uptightness, however, is also the same trait that causes me to hover around my kids in unfamiliar situations until we all know the lay of the playland, keeps them from thunking their head off the ground because I was socializing or phone-gazing or not being at all involved in their play time. That level of involvement/concern/uptightness doesn’t make me “better” parent, but it sure as hell keeps my kids out of harm’s way, aggressive dog’s way, and “over-tall sharply-elbowed aggressive shit-head kid with phone-gazing parent’s” way.

One parent type I’ve run into is who I call “the Political Partier.” I’m not sure they even realize what they’re doing, but this is the parent who shows up at a kid’s party… WHICH ARE ALWAYS A GREAT WAY TO SPEND A FOOTBALL WEEKEND DAY INSTEAD OF WATCHING FOOTBALL ON ONE OF 35 DAYS OF THE YEAR… and doesn’t really “count.” Example? SURE, here ya go….

Couple with 1 kid. Mom and kid come to the party. Dad comes, too. Didn’t have that counted on their RSVP, but hell, we can swing another few inches of the party-sub and a juicebox, dig in! BUT… he’s almost a ghost. Sits in the corner, looks at his phone the whole time, doesn’t mingle, doesn’t really make it known his kid and wife are there, nor how he’s related to any of this. Here’s the Political Issue…

His mere presence now forces the host of the party’s significant other to assess any of that couples’ future parties as “go-worthy.”

What’s the problem? Well, now I would… just using myself as an example, not saying this has ever happened… I would have to ask “is HE going?” when they are hosting a party that I really don’t NEED to be part of. And if he’s going then I have to go because I can’t look like the guy who’s not involved with his family, right? I mean, how many times does the daughter of a mom in your youngest kid’s toddler socialization group turn 2 and have the party at an indoor petting zoo for blind animals? Once? So yeah, big day all around, better tape up my face and go. Paying for another gift and card and taking day off from football isn’t enough. Gotta BE THERE, Dad.

OR, just not go. Take the older kid off for the day while mom and youngest goes off to do their thing at the party. Identify with your other kid in your own space for a while, and bond there. Get your own slice of cake somewhere. Don’t buckle. Get out. Do what you have to do and enjoy it.

Which is a great thing to do as long as you can let go of the other parents judging you.

October 7, 2013 0

To Have Died Young In One’s Prime

I started down a path that would have likely led to some disgruntled comments from people who would know of whom the original post was about. And therefore I retracted that information. But I will say this:

When people lament the loss of a life, “snuffed out too soon, gone before their time,” you have to really look at the circumstances around the death before we assign an appropriate check-out time. When Brittany Murphy died a few years ago after a drug overdose, there were a LOT of people outside the Murphy camp but emotionally invested (for whatever reason) in her life, saying she had died too young. Yes, she was young. But you’re never too young to die from the illnesses you refuse to treat, such as drug addiction or flammable colon gas. And how many people tried how many times in how many different ways to get Brittany healthy? Ultimately it was a psychological drive to drugs, which then killed her, which had gone unrooted and untreated, and perhaps untreatable. It’s sad. And it’s even more sad when it happens to somebody who isn’t famous, who didn’t have any money to handle expenses, and leaves behind a family to pick up the pieces. And by “family” I mean children, not a co-dependent spouse or lecherous entourage lacking any discernible talent.

And at the same time, I noted the following in a moment on-stage a few years ago, while pondering the deaths of young people.

Young men between the ages of 15 and 27 do dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb and stupid stuff more than anybody else, based solely on testosterone, lack of forethought, and a throbbing life-boner. Driving drunk, driving fast, mohawks, energy drinks, fraternity drinking, borderline date rapes, parking lot fights, etc. Therefore they should all be defaulted into Organ Donor status. Perfectly healthy crop of lungs and hearts and kidneys can be harvested for the poor folks waiting for one of these dipshits to roll his Jeep or mis-judge the cross-wind of a bridge jump. I still can’t believe I’m alive considering the [OMITTED FOR LEGAL CONSIDERATION AND BECAUSE MY KIDS MAY READ THIS ONE DAY] for an entire month.
The loss of realized potential is what is most crushing. The time to share Life with that person ends, BAM, done. Nothing more. Grief sets in and confuses and crushes and drives people to sadness and despair and rear-window “In Memory Of” decals. When that life ends there’s nothing more that can be capitalized upon; no professions, no vacations, no kids or grandkids or victories on competitive cupcake bake-offs.
The person to which I thought of and referred to, originally, died before he hit 30 years old. Model-like good looks, dashed in a tragic accident. He’ll never get older than 28. He’ll never wrinkle, or gray, or sag. He’ll never wake to the cries of a screaming child 3 times a night and suffer a day of fatherhood and work and tiring of the Grind. Because he drove too fast for the conditions, and an accident happened. Really very sad, for the rest of us who are going through all of that. Nobody will ever know what he looked like as a fat, balding, bitter desk jockey. Lucky bastard.

So before we wail and groan when a life goes too soon, please look at the circumstances of it for a Reality Check. At what age is somebody NOT “too young” to die? I am hoping to die much like my great-grandfather, in his sleep at the age of 91, shot by a jealous lover.

September 27, 2013 0

A New Set Of Tireds

Just before she lay down her beautiful head to sleep the other night, my wife took the water glass from next to my laptop (I was working on a presentation for the next day around 9:15 that night), sipped from it, and said…

“I’m f***ing tired. The house is always dirty, I’m being disrespected, I hate this house, if I’m not here cleaning I’m off doing a bunch of other stuff just to keep the boys busy or in school, and I’m sick of it.”

So, what did I do to respond? What COULD I do?
She was done for the day. She had gotten up pretty early to go workout, raced home to get our kids in the car for preschool and general out-of-house tasks (what non-stay-at-home parents call Life or Work), and they were going a bit nuts the rest of the day. I got an earful when I got home from the kids, after a long day and meeting with a local entertainment comedy talent mastermind. Kids will wear you out. They will grind on you and they will break you down and they are unreasonable under the age of 5 or 19 and will just beat on your brain walls and sometimes you want to tell them to shut their damn mouths and go the fuck to sleep because you are a grown up, sex has been had, you’ve thrown an angry punch, and paid taxes but not enough to really help this flailing society you want to build a wall around to protect them, so go to sleep.

But you cannot do that. I cannot. I’m an adult. I’m nearly 40. I have embraced and accepted all facets of Parenting, which is a much more advanced form of caregiving, and shouldn’t ever be equated to having a pet. [ed. note; Equating child-rearing to pet care is on the same shelf as equating an compound femoral fracture to a sprained finger. It’s minimizing to do so, and you should really not do it, or I will punt your dog right down the frozen aisle of this Trader Joe’s it’s not even supposed to be in.] Because I’m an adult.

And no, you cannot flip out on your kids at the ages of 4 and nearly 2. You look like a complete asshole, first, because the kids don’t fully fathom the rage and the cause. You only scare them, you don’t teach them. And it’s much much much more frustrating than you’d think it may be to tell a kid for the 5th time who knows what you’re saying to put.
on.
the.
monkey.
underwear. Then they cry, and it’s like…

“Why are YOU crying? You did this to yourself! 5 times I’ve asked you to put your monkey underbips on and you keep trying to put your bobo on the gorilla pillow! Put your monkey underpants on, don’t put your business on the monkey!”

As adults, we’re supposed to be in control of things. I’m not. I control very little. I control myself, usually (except I’m a bit of a choc-o-holic, GUILTY!), but sometimes I just have to ask somebody at a grocery store “What’s going on here?” I know what’s going on. They are blind to anything else around them, dead-stopped in the aisle, looking at their phone. I promise you, ma’am, you are NOT about to get a prescient message that has the PowerBall numbers. I can’t always control what happens to me, but I can control whether or not I tell somebody their head is in their ass.

So here’s what I did the other night.
I wrote a note to my wife and left it up on the monitor for her to see in the morning.
This is what it read:

I have a great marriage to a man who loves me and works hard to provide for our family. He doesn’t gamble or drink or tattoo or buy cars and shit we don’t need.
I have 2 great sons who are young and sometimes they are just little kids who don’t know any better while trying to be funny.
I get tired and that’s OK
My house is a house, not a hut, not on fire, and not a pit in a shitty jungle.
I woke up today healthy. This is a good start.
My sons woke up today healthy and with food in their house. This is a good start.
My sons have two parents who love them even if my sons don’t know it yet.
We will be in a new, better-sized house soon and we’ll do it the right way so that we don’t destroy our family financially.
I am a great mom and wife who does what she can to make every day matter to my family.
For all of these things, I am grateful.

Here’s what I did NOT do, after she made her statement of frustration and walked away with my glass of water while I worked on my presentation…

“Hey hon? Hon?
Could I get that water back?”

September 18, 2013 0

My Two Cents: A Simple Business Lesson

This is a quick lesson about customer service and making money for people who don’t or haven’t pondered the actual importance of customers and money to their business.

My gym/fitness club has a fitness beverage/smoothie counter in it, operated by a franchise. It’s a little overpriced but super convenient when I’m in a rush and need to pound 70g of protein and a banana and almond milk and don’t have a NutriBullet plugged in the Honda. Which is more frequently than you may imagine.

On the counter is a “$1” basket, where you can buy, for $1, any number of sample-sized items. Amino acid powders to mix in your water, help you move along in the workout. Maybe some Energy Boosters to pop before you change into your sweatpants so that when you’re about ready to do some sit-ups, you’ll feel energized… like enough energy to nakedly grapple a gawddammed rabid bear BECAUSE THOSE PILLS HAVE ONE GEAR AND IT’S GONNA HAPPEN WHETHER OR NOT YOU’RE ON THE ELLIPTICAL AND YOU’RE GONNA FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE A CHAINSAW DICK, CAPTAIN KHAKIPANTS…

i pulled a packet of amino powder out the other day, it was clearly labeled “FOR INTRA-WORKOUT FOCUS AND ENERGY – NOT LABELED FOR RESALE”. But I don’t care, it’s a dollar, and I had a $1 bill on me and I needed workout focus and energy, labeling be damned.

The gal working the counter rings me up… $1.08
Sorry, what? 8 cents over a dollar? Taxed on an item you’re not supposed to be selling? I just look at her and say, “Oh, I don’t have any change, can we just do the dollar?”
She’s like “Umm, sorry, it won’t let me.” SO HERE’S THE LESSON

I said, “Ah, ok. Sorry, I don’t have any change.” No sale. Not then. Not in the future.
You either make a dollar on a free item, or you lose a dollar on a free item due to 8 pennies worth of misprogramming. And hopefully hear the message:
Getting some of something you need is always better than getting all of nothing.

I had this issue with a local vacuum & sewing machine repair shop, too. We were given a very nice, ridiculously powerful vacuum cleaner that takes special bags we usually have to order online. A local business sells them for $22.99 for 6, so you can see how many ways this vacuum sucks. Online we can get them for $17 + $3 shipping. We walked into the local brick & mortar and said “Hey, we have $20 for these bags.”
The lady behind the counter with enough time on her hands to barely look up from her magazine said “Hmm, those are $23, though.”
“Yeah, but we don’t have the $3, I have cash ready to buy one of these 7 packs, can we do $20?”

She looked at us with distrust, like we’re trying to pull a fast one on her. Well, nobody gets one over on this gal. Nope. No dice. Wouldn’t budge. Also, wouldn’t be adding any money from us, then or in the future, into her till.

The customer doesn’t always have to be RIGHT. But you have to have a customer in the store before you can even have a discussion with them, let alone build the relationship, appreciate their business, and try to upsell them on a real nice Dyson you just repaired.

If you run a business and have a set price for something, remember that price is what you HOPE the customer will pay for the item. Why stop there? Why not sell 1 pair of over-embossed sweatpants for $180, instead of 6 pairs at $50? Less work for you, right? I’m not saying you should haggle over every little item you want to buy; it’s not a garage sale, it’s a place of business. But don’t let 8% cost you 100%. Do the right thing.

Oh, and have some food samples out.

August 30, 2013 0

A Theory On Conspiracies

I don’t fully accept that every crowd-involved moment in society is merely an act of nature’s will, moving us in the direction a Critical Mass event dictates. We don’t get swept up in a riot, we get into the crowd we KNOW will riot, and do nothing to get out. Nor do I fully believe that socially-impacting events (like Egypt’s tragic killings, the Boston Marathon bombing, or the Teen Choice Awards) are engineered, or even have their proverbial balls started a-rolling, by some cabal, klatsch, triumvirate, or shadow improv troupe. America’s ability to gather and gung-ho for a cause is incredible, but we’d like to leave the tear gas and face-shooting to the thugs.

What I do believe is that much of what human societies react to are Fear, Oppression, Despair, and Threat. When I hear gun-nuts (and I’m not talking gun owners, I’m talking bottom-rung Doomsday Preppers with half-finished escape tunnels in their garage) bemoan gun control, I want to remind them that if a military force DOES decide to come for those guns, they will in fact wrest it from those cold, dead, dirty, masturbating hands. And that those hands will be deadened by either a sniper’s bullet or a drone strike, not by a 19 year-old Pfc knocking at the trailer door. So when a threat is made evident, and fear washes in, and violence results, I believe there are groups who take a very keen interest in seeing the nature of the ripples in the pond. A conspiracy theorist I know, who is also a great guy but totally and understandably anti-social (not asocial, he’s truly anti-American-society after his brother’s war-ravaged mind left him suicidal and addicted to drugs, and a few divorces) once told me why he believes that a cabal’s puppet-strings can be found in the periphery of such moments.

His theory is that the groups are always experimenting not only with what drives humans, and groups of humans, to rebel or react, but HOW they do it, the success rate, and if it’s conceptually transferable to a military act FOR the people. That is, how can a military application come from crowd-sourced videos and tips from the Boston Marathon bombing, wherein cell phones and street cameras and TV footage and facial recognition software helped identify the suspects? That seems to also allow for people to either take the military side to happily send images for review, or a conspiratorial air of wondering who among us is spying within? Big Brother is watching Step Brother watching Little Brother…

A woman recently walked in to a local grocery store and caused a full evacuation and bomb squad involvement. She’s getting a mental evaluation. Her backpack was void of anything harmful. 19 years old… Hmmmm…. Did she think this up herself, to gain attention and power? Did somebody pay her to walk in and do this to see what happens? Where is she now? This is worth following.

Somebody keeps taking nips off my Half-&-Half in the work fridge, so I’ll have to lace it with something to see who passes out or powerdumps at their desk. I want to believe, that people are good, but man, sometimes people just really let ya down. And I wonder what it would take for Americans, tax-hating, vacation-paid, partial-benefits-loving Americans to fill the streets with shouts and raised fists. So far it’s just WTO and pro-sports championships.

August 14, 2013 0

The Hairs Of My Chinny-Chin-Chin and neck and shoulders sometimes

Guys… seriously….

Dollar Shave Club.
I know, I reviewed razors before. I did that before I knew of Dollar Shave Club.

I got signed up this year as part of my Father’s Day Gift Bag, which included some DSC’s “Dr. Carver’s Shave Butter“ (it’s not butter, it’s better, it’s boss), and some “One Wipe Charlies,” the Butt-wipe For Men (it’s a butt-wipe, it’s better than a hand towel). I am set up for the cut-down of my face hair. Hell, I’ll go to the back of my neck and shoulder area, probably even my fundercarriage with this blade sitch.

THESE BLADES DON’T CARE WHERE THE HAIR STARTED, IT’S ABOUT TO BE DEPARTED (just came up with that COPYRIGHT TRADEMARK HASHTAGMAKINGMONEY)

Using “The Executive” blade (6 of ’em!) I’ve found shaving to be a somewhat sublime experience. For $9 a month (compared to the $15 most Luxurious Blades go for at your drug’s store sans coupon) I get 4 blades. Auto-sent and auto-billed, and YES, you can ratchet-back the frequency if you’re like me and don’t shave every day because you’re almost 40 and wanna show the world you’ve got Edge, man, you’ve got moxie!

And it’s smoooth. The blades + butter confluence produces an easy-glide hair removal process so easy I’m almost convinced I’m doing it wrong. But I’m NOT.
So, YES, get your facial hair under a slather of Dr. Carver’s Shave Butter, buy-load-and-go with the blade of your choice, and when you’re done horsing-out a stillborn food-baby, go dry-wipe, ONE WIPE CHARLIE, dry-wipe and get on with your day.

Also, give ’em your business because they have fantastically funny promotional videos.

Shit, Butt-shower, Shave; DOLLAR SHAVE CLUB

(Dollar Shave Club has not and probably will not pay me for this critique, but I’m still using their products any way I see fit on my face, shoulders and fundle)

August 13, 2013 0

When trying to figure out if you have an untreated brain tumor, see if you choose the locker right next to the only other locked locker in a 30-locker bay. If so, YES, your brain is being eaten by a mushroom, you bun hole.