Poop Face

Ever read the children's book Everyone Poops? Not me. I'm not really sure why I haven't read it. I have four children that I had to potty train. One would think that I would have referenced this famous tome through this process, but I didn't. I'm sure it's a wonderful book, but I just never really felt the urge to read such a thing.

What I am building up to here is this. I have this mirror in the bathroom, that quite frankly isn't the most flattering thing to have in the particular position in which it is located. It's a full length mirror that is located on the wall adjacent to the toilet. Thus, when one sits down on the commode, were you to glance to your left, the scenery, in my case anyway, isn't a pretty one. No one really wants this visual of me, but I promise the following anecdote is a pretty funny one if you can get past the horror of my bare ass sitting on the throne, reflecting in the mirror.

So I'm sitting there minding my own business, perusing through The Secret, (did I just say that out loud?) since there is nothing else to read. So I'm thinking to myself good thoughts, as per the advice the book is giving me, that this is going to end well without blowing a gasket or worse a coronary event. Because, as you all well know, this requires some physical exertion if you will, to complete ones duties (pun intended).

So I'm workin' it out, then due to a momentary lapse of reason, I looked to my left and I noticed the face I was pulling. It then occurs to me that I have seen this expression before many times. Perhaps I blacked out momentarily, but I flashed back to all those years of raising my children and the chuckles I used to get out of watching them pull that same face. It was the poop face. I have seen it literally thousands of times but never on my own face.

There's no mistaking it. If you have children you know when they are stinkin' it up just by the look that comes across their precious little face, and it's funny. If you have access to a human baby, I highly suggest you watch them when they're dookin' it up. Then take it a step further. Put a mirror in proximity of your toilet and pay attention to your face while you get after it. That's some pretty funny shit!

Much Ado About Nothing

Maybe if I just start typing something will happen. Maybe the words will all come together in some masterful grouping that will be the next great piece of literature. Then again maybe I will just ramble on for three or four paragraphs about nothing in particular, cracking a few mediocre observational jokes that are just incidental to nothing in particular.
Writer's block? I wouldn't really label it as writer's block. Then again, maybe it is, but I manage to write something so I don't think it's really a block.

Some people choose to blog about the mundane, day to day crap that happens in their lives, and I suppose that is sufficient for them, but for me I feel like I need to do more. I don't particularly care to read about how you had a really great day at church or that someone you know got married. No offense I just don't find that entertaining. I want to be entertained when I read, but then what I find entertaining may not necessarily be entertaining to you. I aspire to write something that people will read, and say to themselves that was worth the time.


Some people just post pictures with captions explaining that they are standing in front of the Matterhorn at Disneyland. Yeah, we've all seen the Matterhorn, it's not real you know! Pictures are nice, but then I always feel like I am back in the 70's at a relatives home sitting on their gold and white flower patterned sofa, in my corduroy jeans and hair parted down the middle with feathered bangs, bored out of my mind, watching a slide show of their latest expedition to God knows where. Two full carousels of 100 slides each, remember that technology?
"And this is a picture of Tom standing in front of the worlds tallest thermometer in the middle of the Mojave Desert." That's two hours of my life that I will never get back. At least at the end of it all there was a wonderful peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream.
So there you have it. I got nuttin'. No great masterpiece, no gut busting anecdote, nuttin'. I have two pictures that I didn't even take and a bunch of commentary that amounts to bupkiss. Hope it was worth your time. Enjoy!

Thus Sayeth Boyd

Apparently I have been ordered to have a blog posted by 6 pm today or I will end up in a state of murderedness. As I have no real affinity towards such a state of being, I am compelled to oblige. For any fans that I have out there, and I know you exist even if you don't leave comments, you can thank my muse/editor in chief B-Dog.

Unfortunately this mandate has left me scratching my head as to a subject matter that would create an adequately entertaining musing for your reading pleasure. Come to think of it, this is a special mandate from an apparent sociopathic entity, (and you should see his driver's license, the photograph would support such a label) perhaps it need be nothing more than an homage to the innate, albeit non-traditional, use of murder as a means of motivation employed by he that is called Boyd.

Actually murder would seem to be an excellent motivator. It spawns the idea in my melon as to why we don't utilize it more. Granted it is illegal, and there's that whole, "thou shalt not kill" thing that God carved into stone. Such an act most likely symbolized the permanency that was meant, as well as a serious desire that His children had really better play nice or He would put them into eternal time out. After all it can't be all that easy to carve words into stone, let alone making it legible. I wonder if God has bad hand writing and that's why he chose to carve it in stone rather than just jot it down on some parchment or animal skins and hand it to Moses. It certainly wouldn't make as dramatic of an impression on the children of Israel had he done that, thus negating the spectacle of the movie and Charlton Heston's epic performance.

But yeah, murder seems to be a perfectly good motivator other wise. Hell it got me to post today. Good job Boyd, my wife and children will thank you for sparing me an early demise, and the world thanks you as well. And as an added bonus you spare yourself the indignity of your Heavenly Father banishing you to Satan's lair for eternity just because you needed your daily fix of Wealthymusings.

Celebrity

I have postulated that I must be somewhat of a celebrity. The notion of this came to my attention today. A buddy of mine who works in another office, who hasn't seen me for a week, mentioned that he had heard I cut my beautiful flowing locks of hair off. Those of you who know me, are aware that I have had longish hair for a dude for a few years now. I got a wild hair on my day off Friday, (pun intended, bad I know!) and decided to get it chopped. What this wild hair consists of is irrelevant, believe me people it's not a mid-life crisis, (one would grow one's hair out if that were the case) I'm not looking for another job ( Though I wouldn't turn down a high paying job if you know of one). I just felt like wearing it short again because lets face it, it's really a lot of work being pretty. Am I right ladies?
Anyway, I ask my chum, "who told you?" He says that he heard it from a dude that works in yet a different office than he or myself. "Are you kidding me?" A bloke that hasn't even seen me in probably a good month or so is telling my pal that I radically altered my appearance. Long story short, one of the workers on my team here in my office told the second fellow who then told the first.

So now I have decided that I'm a celebrity. I think maybe there are levels of celebrity. Obviously I'm not famous in the realm of Hollywood or to the world. I don't know that I want that level of infamy. Look at Michael Jackson, that dude is a train wreck for all the world to see and grew up as a celebrity. That just doesn't appeal to me.
We have local celebrities here in Utah, but I don't even rise to that level. I do however have my own world, the one where I must be a celebrity, because people apparently just talk about me. All I did was get a haircut and it made the evening news as it were.
I read one of the "blogs of note" that I actually have found to be funny and interesting. This poor woman posted, and had 88, count 'em 88 comments on here latest posting. These were obviously, by their comments, not people that already know her. They were the gravy trainers, the people that jump on other people's celebrity and try to create their own.
"But Rich," you say, in your last posting you were pleading to be noticed. "Why don't you jump on?" I don't think that is what I want. These people were blatantly ingratiating themselves to be noticed. I don't think I want to be noticed that badly. Ok, I'm lying. I totally want to be noticed. But I'm putting all y'all on notice. If my celebrity grows beyond my own narcissistic little world that I live in, don't come jumpin' on my gravy train. Sure my friends can come along for the ride, I gotta take care of my own. But you other sucka's find your own celebrity, this is mine.

Are you there God? It's Me Rich

Why am I not a blog of note yet? Is it because I'm not good enough? Maybe you think I couldn't handle the pressure, but I can, I just know it. I've read some of those blogs of note, I don't get it. Look at the one they put up today, it's about some woman planning her wedding. Sure, I'm more than a little biased about my stuff, but geez, I think that belly button lint is far more interesting than a potential guest list for a wedding that I am not even invited to. (By the way, if that person reads this by some miracle, I am a decent videographer at a reasonable price if you need one!)

Maybe that is a stretch, not every one finds belly button lint as exciting as Boyd and I do, but I have other wares to peddle. For example, there's a pretty cool picture of a fat cat that looks stoned, just down there.

Go ahead have a look, I'll wait. See, that is pretty remarkable don't you think. Do you know how hard it is to write 1000 words?

"But Rich", you say. People don't care about a talking stoned cat. Ok well what about my creative piece that I wrote called "Hot August Death"? I defy you to read that and not feel something, anything. Go ahead, I'm not going anywhere, I've got 10 hours to kill here at work. Well, I take that back. I have to leave for a meeting at 9 am but other than that I'm good. Ok I lied, I also have a meeting again at 1:30. But other than those two things I got all day.

Pretty good, no? So you see, I think I have what it takes to be a blog of note. Trust me you won't regret it. Please notice me, I'm ever so talented.

So I beckon, nay, challenge you, make me a blog of note. This is a call to all who read this (apart from Boyd, because he always has something to say) Feel free to comment, do it, I can take it. Like it? Don't like it? Tell me, let me know you're out there.

If you make me a blog of note I can't promise you a chicken in every pot or a car in every garage, but I can promise you won't regret it.

Spamalot

Dear spammers,

I am quite happy with the size of my penis. I don't have a problem in the bed room, my wife is quite satisfied with my performance. You can keep your Cialis and Viagra prescriptions and your claims that I will be able to go all night.

I don't need breast enhancement, my man boobs are quite ample as they are, thank you very much. I don't want to buy your fake Rolex watches or get paid to stay in luxury hotels, but thanks anyway.

Yours truly,
Hotsauce65@yahoo.com

Do people really respond to this crap? Everyday I open up my email,(hotsauce65@yahoo.com is not my real email address) and in my spam box are several of these ridiculous spam letters. People must respond, because I have to think that if they didn't these advertisers wouldn't continue to send them out.

Why is it called spam anyway? I have eaten spam, in fact recently I had me a hankerin' for some spam after watching the movie 50 first dates. I actually picked up a Costco size pack of spam, but then thought better of it.

What is this stuff? I had to go look it up and you just have to go see the website yourself, it's truly amazing. Check it out here.

Basically it's a combination of ham and pork. They even give an explanation of the differences between the two. A person might think that they are one in the same, but apparently that is not true.

The bottom line is that it appears to be a "junk meat" (the hilarity of the redundancy of "junk meat" is not lost on me, hope it isn't lost on you!) so I have decided to make the connection that spam=junk.

You're welcome.

Hibernation

I think I was meant to be a bear. I say this because the summer has now begun to wind down and I am feeling blase' about everything. I have decided to identify this as an intense need to hibernate. I came to this conclusion today as I realized how much I am really dreading the winter months. The bears have it right. Gorge yourself on salmon and then sleep it off until it warms up. I do enjoy a nice piece of fish and equally as much I adore a good nap. I think there is not a whole lot that beats having a full belly and then sleeping.

Yeah that sounds pretty much like what I need to be doing. I don't like being cold, I hate that it is getting darker earlier and it's dark in the morning when I wake up. I just need to sleep it off like a bad night of partying. It all makes sense to me now. God must have intended for me to be a bear.
The only problem I see with this whole thing is my constant need to urinate. Thanks to my overactive bladder this creates some logistical problems with my design. That, plus the fact that when I wake up I am always hungry. I think I have the grumpy thing down pretty good though. Nobody wants to mess with a bear when he is hibernating and they pretty much don't want to mess with me neither. I am a grumpy bear when I am tired.

So if you don't see me or hear from me for a few months you can pretty much guess that I will be hibernating for the winter. See you when it gets warm!