Game of Throbbing Nipple Thrones

The Throne at Hamish Hall

The Throne at Famous Hamish Hall

For you Game of Thrones addicts, season three has begun and we find out who back stabs who, all for a chair of scrap swords.

First episode we saw a guy try out the newest body mutation craze, male nipple removal.  Now, I’m pretty tough.  I’m 6’1″, 230 pounds, a former weight lifter and three sport athlete.  But you come near my nipples and I’ll scream like a 3′ 1″, 60 pound geek. Owie.  This is why Famous Hamish (one of my many multiple personality disorders) can’t understand the world of body piercing.  Seems fitting in these days where everyone is trying to discard, stretch, staple, pierce, impale, pedazzles, vadazzles, and stuff their body parts.

I kid with a a blogger who stated she no longer answers the door for all the church people, roofing contractors, and even her small children.  I kidded her that soon those children will grow up and pierce, discard, stretch, staple, stuff, impale, and dazzle their bodies.  They will become so popular that the members of the band “Twisted Pierced Nipple Sisters”, will want to hang out at her house.  They won’t knock, they’ll just bang their heads against the door until it cracks.  They will overrun you and lay siege to your doomsday prepper stock of extra cheesy crunchy bacon jalapeno cheese Cheetos.

I’m already eager for episode two.  I’m sure some renegade punk rockers will be captured and tortured, only for the Lannister’s to discover  – they actually love it!  With thrilling dialogue like this,

“Come on Kingslayer, bedazzle me!  I dare you!  Denipple me you coward! Ooh baby ooh.”

If you love my script writing, just send me a message, I’m eagerly waiting writing stardom by my phone throne.

Advertisements

A Conversation About Death

Reaper

As a man the age of 53, I still hope to have another 25-30 years of life ahead of me.  Much of what determines my age of death is in my genetics.  My grandparents averaged around the age of 84.  That gives me about 31 more years.  However, anything can happen in between and I mean anything.  If I was told my life would end tomorrow what would I do?  I’d have a steak, sauteed mushrooms, mashed potatoes, white gravy with a dozen fresh baked rolls. Oh, and a slab of bacon. Afterwards I’d enjoy a few rounds of beer and a cigarette.  Yes that’s right, a cigarette.  29 years ago I gave up, cold-turkey, a 2-1/2 pack a day habit as a promise to my pregnant wife that I would set an example for our son who was on the way.   Did I quit just for my wife?  Not really, I knew the outcome if I continued to smoke.  I wanted to live much longer.

This last week my son, who never took up smoking, sent me an email wanting to know what I would have to say if I called my grandson to my death bed with my dying breath.  Here’s what I’d say, “I love you Brogan.  Give life your absolute best. Have dreams, for dreams are the directions  for the actions to be taken.  If you respect me, then respect your parents. Don’t take things too seriously, especially high school and girls. Remember the fun things we did together.  Oh, one last thing – pull my finger!

I want laughter to be mixed with the tears.  If he ever talks about me it will be something like this, “You know what that old-fart did to me?”  Since I know my family line and his mother’s line, there is a good chance of frequent flatulation and I will always be on his mind.  See, you have to think ahead.

This morning my wife and I, as we do very often, discussed friends and family and how life had not gone as we had planned and hoped, but that we would stand side-by-side no matter what, a commitment to an ageless and sacred vow I still recall and will honor as a man. We talked about people who seem to be waiting for something, instead of making something happen.  I told my wife should I die early, our vow would end and to grieve no more than a month for me, then get busy living.  There is to be no funeral, but a party to celebrate my life. I will be cremated and cast to the seas.  I also made it clear I do not want to prolong my life with machines or man-made chemicals.  Let me fart one last time and then let me go.  As Aragorn said in The Lord of the Rings, “I do not fear death.”  I have faith there is an afterlife.

As a CPA, I have had to deal with death in the form of financial advice and estate issues.  I’ve seen the very best and the very worst of human nature in dealing with death and money. In the coming years, I will have to deal with the death of my parents.  In my mind I believe I am prepared, but tell that to my heart.  Watching a parent age, suffer illness and begin the process of losing memory is difficult, but a stage of life not few of us escape by a sudden death.  In those waning days of the winter of life, we will find what we are truly made of. We will also begin to address our own mortality and decide what to do with the remaining time given.

However, my wife and me also decided that a conversation about death is self-defeating, and that we would convert all our energy and thought to living every single moment.  I would rather die in my death bed and say, “Well I wrote 50 books in my lifetime and made 50 bucks” than to say, “I wished I had written that book.”  Failure to live life is the actual loss of life. You are still going to die whether the critics loved your work or not. Take a chance and self publish your story.  Some call it vanity, when in fact they say this as they stand before the mirror of envy. Do not let anyone, fame, or money define your self worth.

Maybe this week you should have a conversation about death.  Hopefully it also creates the discussion for the passion of living.  From there let it flow from discussion to action.  You need not be rich to live a fulfilling life.  In my trilogy, The Chosen One of Allivar, I present a reader with an interesting take on both life and death. The story is an epic adventure story, but a story, that should have you thinking about the fragility of life.  I know this much, you reach a certain age and time rapidly flees from you, like a fart in the wind.

“All men die, not all men really live.” William Wallace

“Get busy living, or get busy dying.” Andy Dufresne

For the Love of my Daughter

Fashion

My daughter believes my blog needs a little less dash of bacon and more dashes of fashion.  She gave me this photo and challenged me to write something humorous about it.  Where can I possibly start?  For once I was almost speechless, well, fingerless since this is a blog.  I think this was PhotoShopped, PhotoHijacked, or something. Well, for the love of my daughter here is my best attempt at fashion humor.

Zis is Eduardo Hancho Pancho Gerard Bove reporting live from zee Milan Fazhion unz Munzter Truckz Zhow.  Today we have zum unique fazhionz to dizplay to zee wurld – Yaz! Oh my wurdz, hold zee phonzee, here’s come zee muzt unzeexpected entry zis yur. (Okay enough of the Mexican Austrian French accent – it isn’t working for me.)

Surely Shirley the Wookie wouldn’t be caught dead on the streets of ole Gay Paris with this outfit.  I mean really, look at those knobby knees, puhleeeze!  And that terribly silly ball bag, look at the color clash with her Romanesque style sandals.  Besides, you lay down the bag and it rolls away. Designers these days!

And that dress! Gag me with a forklift, it looks like a beat down Idaho potato sack bag from Caddy Shack running away on the runway.  Even Cat’s won’t tolerate this on their catwalk.

CatWalk

Caddy Shack Cat Attack on Tacky Catwalk
of
Tacky Model Hack in Caddy Shack Idaho Potato Sack

See, I paid attention to Dr. Seuss’ therapy sessions – “I like green eggs and ham,” said Sam I am.  Yet, I digress as usual.  Dr. Seuss said I had ODD.

Finally look at the horrible necklace, she might as well use it as a noose, or binding for the hay on the farm.  Other than that, that’s my fashionista’s best review. Oh the face, the scalp and the beard – I’m so sorry. I just noticed it was aunt Mabel Sue from Arkansas.  Hi aunt Mabel Sue, hi!  Why is she running back? She didn’t even notice me, that unfriendly hussy.  Besides she has no fashion sense.

Only yours truly, Eduardo Hancho Pancho Gerard Bove has any fashion common sense.  Here’s  a taste of the fashion styles for 2013.

Eduardo Hancho Pancho

Christmas Collection

And for common sense home attire:

At Home Collection

Casual Home Collection

Finally, for the sporty types:

Sports Fashion Collection

Sports Fashion Collection

Is that funny enough my loving daughter?  What? You say you want a name change and to be put up for adoption!  But you are 25 years old my darling sweet pea.

Well that shut her up.

Anz thiz iz Eduardo Hancho Pancho Gerard Bove zaying zo long from zee Milan Fazhion unz Munzter Truckz Zhow – Yaz! Zzzzzzzzzzz

Happy Bacon Day

Happy Bacon Day

Happy Bacon Day

Today is Valentine’s Day.  A day where we men will spend billions on candy, flowers, lingerie and giant teddy bears.  Only the retailers and dentists really get the economic boost for this day, while our 401(k)’s take a nose dive.   What do we men get other than the once a year 5-minute Victoria’s Secret lingerie show? Nada, Nee, Nie, Non, Nai, Ma, Tidak, Nera, Niet, Naaka Vaddu, Yok, Khong, and Zippo (For all my international readers).  It’s time someone created a day of deeply passionate love just for men. Yours truly has found the answer and “Bacon Day” fits the bill.  We men, being simple cell organisms, don’t need any flowers or teddy bears, we need bacon.  Bacon, bacon and more bacon, with a dash of bacon.

Think of all the pig farmers, now living in economic hard times, who would now be our newest billionaires.  Women would salivate for “50 Slabs of Bacon“, the new yummy mummy errorotic (sic) movie starring Kevin Bacon as, well, as Kevin Bacon – the bacon tycoon.  Gives a whole new meaning to “Makin Bacon.” Think of all the heart doctors and cholesterol drug makers who will also be makin bacon from bacon, not that they aren’t already.

My point is simple, marketers aren’t real bright.  We can spur the economy overnight with Bacon Day.  Think of all the healthy mens teeth if we had bacon flavored floss.  Start off your morning with a bacon coffee latte, or the new muy macho bacon mocha from the new BaconBucks franchises.    How about Bacon Bluebonnet Butter?  You already know the jingle, sing it with me:

Everythings better,

with bacon butter on it!

By the end of the day, the man of the household will be wolfing down bacon flavored Tums antacids.  For serious bacon connoisseur lovers, there’s bacon favored Fleet Colonoscopy Prep. Clear the colon quickly and keep shoveling the bacon down.

Finally, instead of that Victoria’s Secret lingerie show, get your lovely lady to slip on Big Bollocks Bobby’s Bacon Bustier.  Order today and we’ll throw in a second pair free – while quantities last, these perishable bacon beauties perish quickly.  The little lady in your life will be amazed at your rejuvenated and voracious passion. Oh my! Now that’s something we men can really sink our teeth into and then crash to the sweet bye and bye of bacon dreams.

Why do I have to do all the thinking America?  Wake up and smell the bacon! Have a very Happy Bacon Day!

Now it is your turn, how can you top off the bacon day gift ideas? Come on, our nation needs all the economic recovery ideas it can get.

Mon Mothball De Granny

Perfume

Today, as usual I got side tracked on Facebook regarding a discussion on lady’s perfumes.  One of my new friends commented that she was an addict for perfume and she was getting some of the original Bill Blass.  From there it went downhill very quickly due to yours truly.  Soon I will have no friends and my addiction to Facebook will end.  It is my evil plot.  I commented that it is good not to get a Bill Blass clone, they must smell.

Then a gentleman entered the conversation and stated Chanel #5 was his favorite.  Soon a real perfume connoisseur shouted out names I’ve never heard, such as Feraud for Women, but also Bvlgari Rose Essentielle, Burberry Brit for Women, Juicy Couture, and Cabotine de Gres.  I realized at that moment I was dealing with the elite.  So what was my contribution to this elite conversation?

“I bought my wife this one named AMBUSH.”

You see, all those above remind me of an aged blue cheese, not something I’d like to chase after with amorous exuberance.  It’s all in the wording for me.  If they had a perfume with “Bacon” in the wording, I’d come running like a hound dog in heat and on the scent.  I’d be burrowing down into my wife’s neck like a sparkling vampire. Oh, TMI.

Then the male commenter stated one lady should try Fendi.  I was out of my league, I freely admit it.  But the undaunted creative writer in me would not let this pass.  Visions of new creative perfume brands came to my mind, here’s the short list:

  • ActivOn No. 1 (Massage therapist sold separately)
  • IcyHotness No. 2
  • Shades De Grey No. 50 (complete with complimentary whip and chains)
  • Compost Le Couture (An earth wormy bouquet)
  • La Canadian Bacon de Grease (My personal favorite)

Somehow the conservation turned to old granny’s smelling like Vick’s vapor rub, or even worse mothballs.  This is where my opportunity presented itself.  I asked the person if they had ever smelled Mothballs.  Not knowing where I was leading her, she replied her granny’s house was Mothball city.  Being one of the oldest jokes my mother loves to pull on people I asked, “How did you get their little legs apart?”  She did not reply, I think I stunned her.  Amazingly I was not removed from her friends list in a nanosecond.

Another lady joined in and wrote about her grandmothers bedroom smelling so bad of mothballs and that if you slept in her bed you couldn’t move for all the quilts she had stacked up.  Does this sound familiar my loyal followers?  Refer back to my Female Code – October 2012 Edition. I’ll have see if my wife’s Doomsday inventory of quilts are starting to smell like Mothball City, Oklahoma.

As a CPA, financial planner, author, soon to be real estate agent, and all around nutcase, I am always looking to expand upon profit making ideas and products.  I’ve listed 5 products above I may offer in 2013, provided we survive tomorrows Mayan calendar prophecy.  I am considering adding Mon Mothball de Granny to my offerings.  Who will be the first to order?

Do you have a perfume idea that you think would sell?  Tell me what it is and I’ll develop it for you.  After R&D, marketing, and distribution expenses; my royalty and executive compensation package, I can promise you a 1/1,000% royalty, of remaining profits.  Sounds fair doesn’t it?  Submit your ideas today, today, today (echo sound).