10 Things I'd Rather Do With My Dog Than My Wife

I love my wife. I love my dog. Now I would say these loves are different. One is someone that I can kiss and tell my deepest secrets to, the other one is my wife. But they both serve their roles. Still, there are things that I can't get from my dog that I can get from my wife, like going to places that don't allow pets, but there are also things that, although I could do with my wife, I'd rather do with my dog. Here are ten things that I would rather do with Casey The Dog than the old lady.

10. Play With Her Ears
My dog has big, soft, floppy ears that I can just run through my fingers, and snuggle my face up against. My wife has human ears. They are these weird cartilage things, and sometimes she puts stabby things (earrings) in them which makes them uncomfortable and dangerous. I'm not saying I want my wife to have an ear transplant, but I'm not saying I'd be disappointed if she woke up with Weimy ears one day.

9. Throw The Ball
Sometimes, my wife and I will play catch. It's fine, but the highlight is the involvement of my dog who is just waiting for one of us to miss it, so she can swoop in and get the ball. Meanwhile, throwing the ball with Casey is great. She sprints after it, brings it back, and we go through this until she decides that she's had enough. Also, it's a nice boost for my self-esteem as she has some toys that are easy to throw to the point that somebody once said I should play quarterback in the NFL. I mean, they were a Browns fan, so that's barely the NFL, but it still counts.

8. Go For A Walk
I'm not a big fan of walks. They're a little too slow-paced for me. But still, the enjoyment that my dog gets out of the walk spreads over to me. If my wife panted and smiled like that, it might close the distance, but she just talks. The one edge my wife has in this category is that I don't have to pick up her poop, because if my wife decides to take a dump in a neighbor's yard, she can at least pick it up herself.

7. Wrestle
Casey isn't a great wrestler, especially as she's gotten older, but she's up for a battle when it comes down to it. It almost always ends with Casey clawing my face or headbutting me, but there is a lot of excitement leading up to that moment. My wife gives up pretty quickly, as she can't overcome my size and strength advantage. I always win the latter, but I get more satisfaction out of the former.

6. Play Basketball
My dog loves playing defense which adds to the difficulty. She's also not a glory pup who needs shots, so I can put up as many as I want. Plus, she never talks shit to me about how my shot looks. I think I appreciate that last part the most.

5. Watch TV
Casey The Dog never minds when I watch wrestling. It doesn't matter if it's Raw, Smackdown, NXT, the Cruiserweight Classic, Lucha Underground, or classic episodes of Monday Nitro. She just chills and enjoys the show. The old lady could definitely learn about television appreciation from our dog.

4. Go To The Beach
My wife could spend an entire day at the beach. Just hanging out, reading, and maybe occasionally getting in the water to cool off. My dog and I are way more on the same page. We attack the beach, play as hard as we can, frolic in the water, and then we're tired, bored, and ready to go home. She's puked in my car the last two times, but she still gets the edge, as although my wife looks great in a two-piece, my dog is even skimpier when she's down to only a collar.

3. Cuddle
Cuddling is kind of boring, so I usually don't do it for very long. My dog is softer than my wife, and she doesn't mind if I stop cuddling after just a couple minutes. And I also don't get offended if she gets up when I'm snuggling up next to her. We have a mutual understanding that either of us can end it at any time with no guilt, and I appreciate that.

2. Pick Up Her Poop
As I stated earlier, I'm not picking up my wife's poop. I do pick up my dog's poop. I mean, it's not an enjoyable experience, but it'd be far more traumatizing if the old lady was dropping trou in the front yard and becoming the first human female to poop (you know, because ladies don't poop).

1. Road Trip
This is the most important one. My dog is the ultimate road trip partner. All I want on a road trip is silence and just a bit of companionship. I can listen to my tunes and podcasts, and if I want to reach over and pet the dog, she's there when I need her. Occasionally, she'll rest her head on my shoulder, and she's just really pleasant to be around. My wife only wants me to occasionally act like a social human being, but my pup dog has zero wants, and that is what makes her so special.

Don't get me wrong; my wife is great. But there are some areas where she's not as great as my dog. No shame in that.

A Cardinals Fan, a Cubs Fan, a Red Sox Fan, and a Tigers Fan Walk Into a Bar

...they all walk in at different times, and take seats at the bar.

The Cubs, Red Sox, and Tigers fan start conversing at the bar. The Cubs/Cardinals game is on, and even though the conversation starts on baseball, the fans of their respective teams also converse on Arkansas, Michigan, and Iowa football. Laughs are shared by all, and they are the life of the party.

The Cardinals fan sits quietly on his laptop and stays away from any and all conversation. To call him a party pooper would be an insult to shit.

The three baseball fans marvel at the skills of Jake Arrieta, because even though he didn't have his best outing, he has been on an incredible run in the second half of the season.

The Cardinals fan gets incredibly bitter at the mere mention of Jake Arrieta, because Cubs fans think he's so great. Uh, yeah dude. The reason Cubs fans are like that is because he is pretty great.

The three baseball fans continue to commiserate over sushi and beers.

The Cardinals fan gets a club sandwich (the #1 sandwich for children) and white wine, because of course the white wine pairs perfectly with the Hellman's Mayo on his sandwich.

The three baseball fans all agree that the Cubs are the team to root for in these playoffs.

And worst of all, the Cardinals fan roots for the Cardinals. He was the worst.

To be fair, this all happened for game three. For the final game of the series, I was at a sports bar and sat next to a totally pleasant, female, Cardinals fan. I don't even think she ate any mayonnaise.

What Is True Love?

What is true love? It is a question that we have all contemplated. We have thought that we were in love and realized that it wasn't love at all. Many times, it is lust, and other times it is just doing whatever we can to not be lonely. But I feel like after today, I know what true love is, and this story has nothing to do with my wife.

I went outside to throw the ball for Casey The Dog (my dog, whose name is Casey). After her first sprint for her orange bowl, she had shaken some things loose in her system. It was time for an exit strategy. So she squatted and produced waste.

Usually, that is where that chapter ends and we get back to throwing the ball. Unfortunately, this was not the end for Casey The Dog. She got some of her poop out, but unfortunately for her, she had gone a little heavy on her grass diet, and there was a long log of a poop/grass mixture hanging from her butthole. A lot of dogs know to just rub their ass on the ground to wipe it away, but Casey The Dog does not do that. She tries to squat and walk at the same time until she gets super frustrated and just lays down on her side.

As she lies her body down on the ground, she has a look of fear in her eyes. She does not know what to do, or if she will be cursed to permanently have poop hanging from her ass. "What type of existence will that be?" she surely wonders.

I see my dog suffering, and I must act quickly. Unfortunately, I do not have a poop bag as we were just hanging in the backyard. But I knew my dog needed me, so I told her to lay still, and I removed the substance from her butthole. It was not a pleasant experience for me, but she was totally ready for the next throw after that. Life was good once again.

What is love? Love is the will to suffer to prevent that loved one from suffering.

What is love? Love is pulling poop out of your dog's asshole with your bare hand. I love my dog, and she sure as hell better love me too.

It's Time, It's Time, It's Vader Workout Time

Let me just start by saying that Vader is one of my favorite wrestlers of all-time. He was so awesome in WCW, and it always blew my mind that the WWE was never able to utilize a big strong dude who could do just about anything athletically. His physique wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be with his wrestling style. The guy was a monster. As I was going through the years on the WWE Network, I came across his introductory vignette, and it's all pretty awesome. Take a look.

Shadow boxing? Check.
Backflips? Check.
Heavy bag work? Check.
Curls? Check.
Pullups? Check.
Military press? Check.
Power cleans? Check.
All of those things are great, but nothing is as great as this.

Yeah, that's Vader, in what appears to be his mask, a tanktop, and diaper, on a bike while he does lat raises like nobody's business. That is some next level shit right there. This dude is working out so hard that he is worried he may shit his pants. You know he didn't learn that lesson the easy way.

Some people try to work so hard they puke. Others try to work out so hard that they pass out. Both of these groups rarely reach those levels. Vader works out until he shits himself, and he reaches that point Every. Single. Time.

It truly gives Vader Bomb a whole new meaning.

Why Do I Always Have To Poop When I Run?

I usually go for runs 2-3 times a week. Usually the runs are anywhere from 3-10 miles, although occasionally I'll black out and go longer. But no matter where I am, what the distance, or how fast I am going, I will inevitably get that rumbling in my guts and have the need to take a poop. Today, I try to discover why.

Just Poop More, Dummy
Yeah, this probably would have been my first guess if I weren't me. I poop every morning before I get any sort of workout on. I'm a man who relaxes on the toilet. I play some Trivia Crack, check Twitter, and update my fantasy teams. If there's still some crud in my colon, I might read part of a book, but trust me, I do not rush the process. I take care of business, clean up, and start stretching for my routine. Yet no matter how long I'm there, I will inevitably have to poop when I go on that run.

A Little Extra Boost
Obviously, when you have to poop, you're going to get some farts first. I use these farts to push myself forward on the run, as I can use my sphincter to take some stress off of my legs. It's basically like attaching a steam engine to my backside. It also encourages me to run faster, as I definitely don't want to linger around in that smell.

Evolution
This is the most likely answer. As possibly the most evolved human ever, my body natually makes the optimal decisions for my benefit. You never know what might happen when you go out for a run. I could be chased by bears, lions, elephants, or birds. By getting rid of all of my waste, I become lighter and even faster.

So, there you have it, I'm just so physically evolved that my body is constantly in survival mode. "Fight or flight" works for some, but "Rumble in your pooper means you'll run super" is the way I live my life (Alternative life motto: "Drop some weight, delay Heaven's gate").

My Dog Pooped In My Car

Well, the title really tells the story. My dog pooped in my car. We were driving over to her favorite park, so I could throw the ball for her and wear her out. It was about 8:00 Sunday morning, and I wanted to get her out before the weather got too hot for her, as she is basically a princess who likes to take it easy when it gets too warm.

So, we are going through our normal routine. Me in the driver's seat, her riding shotgun with her head out the window, getting all of that precious fresh air. As we were turning into the park, she started really sticking her head out of the window, as she got further and further outside the car. I had to convince her to calm down and stay in the car, as she looked like she was ready to jump out of the moving car. 

I smelled it before I saw it.

The car stunk, and I thought she just farted, but then I looked down on her seat to see one juicy turd laying on the passenger seat. She was even more adamantly trying to get out of the car, but I calmed her down enough to at least not jump out, as we only had about 30 seconds until we could safely park and she could be let out. I was also impressed that she was being very careful not to step on the turd that she had dropped off in the passenger seat. At this point, I was more miffed than anything as I was still processing everything that was going on while making sure my dog didn't seriously injure herself.

I finally park to let her out, and she of course jumps to my side of the vehicle to get out of the car. In her anxiety to get out of the car, she managed to somehow turn and spin to get every single one of her paws into the turd. She spread it all over the front seat and got a significant portion onto my driver's seat. Also, I noticed that her nub was bleeding, and there was actually shit and blood all over my front seats. Amazing. 

She took a big old dump, and then I gathered up a bunch of toilet paper from the nearby restroom to wipe up as much as I could, but, not surprisingly, my car still reeked of shit. 

At this point, we were already at the park, so I figured we still might as well play a little bit. I threw the ball for her for a few times, but she knew that she messed up by pooping in the car, so she wasn't all that into it. Either way, it gave the car a little time to air out, but it still smelled like poop when we got back inside. 

Anyway, we got home, I cleaned my interior (luckily it's leather, because I'm a BOSS), and went on to have a nice little Sunday. And that concludes the story of when my dog pooped in my car.

How's Your Sleep Going?

People always ask about work, why not sleep? Spend roughly the same amount of time and the stories are usually just as interesting. And since everybody asks about work, it becomes so repetitive. Once I tell a work story once, I am completely over it, because even good stories get old quick. I mean the best story from work I have had recently is going to take a piss, and when I was washing my hands, watching a guy walk into the bathroom with his lunch and just lingering around, clearly waiting for me to leave so he could eat his lunch. I don't know if he was going to go after it at the sink or take it into the stall. I don't want to know, but needless to say, I now walk across the street in order to go to the bathroom in another building. I don't want to relive that every time somebody asks about work

Meanwhile, sleeping has been way more exciting. I've been sleeping real well. I have this plan where I turn on an old episode of Raw, and Marty Jannetty instantly puts me to sleep. It's amazing. Also, last week, my wife was out of town, and my dog insisted on snuggling, but where she usually likes to kick my wife in the middle of the night, she didn't move an inch for me. Unfortunately, my wife came back and was a blanket stealer, so there is some drama in the household. 

See? There's a story of triumphant sleep, unconditional love, and drama, all in a week's time. Sleep is way more exciting than work. 

And if you think this is just a long-winded way of saying I still haven't found a full-time job? Well, you'd be right. Thanks for reading.

I'll Poop Anywhere

I poop. I am very open about this, and it sometimes shocks people. If I am at my house with company over, and I am feeling the urge, I will still grab my computer, so everybody KNOWS what I am doing in the bathroom. I simply don't give a shit when it comes to pooping (Hey-o!).

But this extends far beyond the comfort of my own home. When I had a job (unemployed but still getting paid, like a boss), I used to love pooping during work. I was getting paid to sit there and take a dump; it was a wonderful thing, and it's not like my boss could tell me not to poop. Also, if they would have told me to speed it up in there, I would have made sure it was far more awkward for them than it was for me.

What got me thinking about this is that I have done a lot of traveling lately, and I have pooped in places that most people would find disgusting. Since I have been traveling, I have also been drinking, because what's the point of going places if you don't get drunk enough to not remember things? During drinking, I am fine, but that next day can lead to some interesting things going on near my butthole.

In Seattle, I actually drank responsibly but went for a run the next day. Runs get my bowels moving, and although I went for my standard pre-run poop, I still felt some rumbling when I was near home, so I found a park bathroom and took care of business in there. I did feel kind of bad when the guy came in and started cleaning the bathroom while I was stinking up the place, but he's gotta know that people need to get their shit on at 7:30 AM.

The next weekend I was in San Francisco. I drank heavily on Friday night, but I did the responsible thing and went for a run the next morning. I felt a rumbling in my gut again, so I again went to some public bathroom by the Golden Gate Bridge. I was quite alarmed when I went in there as I saw about 50 pubes on the toilet seat. I went to wipe them off, but then just realized that somebody carved their name into the toilet seat, so the pube crisis was avoided. I finished up my business and had a very pleasant run back.

Finally, this weekend, I was driving back from Minneapolis when we stopped at an Arby's to get some lunch. I didn't have to poop bad, but I knew I was going to be dropping some serious farts if I didn't take care of business. I wiped the toilet seat, so I didn't sit in urine and took care of everything.

Some people find these situations to be disgusting, but I am living the dream. I'll poop anywhere, and you should too. Join me in not worrying about where you leave your excrement. Let loose once in a while; you won't regret it, because I don't give a shit, I leave them...all over this great country's toilets.

What Would It Take For You To Eat Poop?

This seems like a simple question. But this morning, I got to thinking about what it would take for me to eat poop.

Everyone's initial reaction is that I would do it for a million dollars, or whatever amount of money you want to throw out in order for you to take a taste of poo. But it would take a crazy person to offer money to watch somebody eat shit. And let's face it, this crazy person could find somebody to do it cheaper than you or I would. That means that you have to go to the trouble of finding something that separates you like wearing a diaper and a bonnet while eating poop. By the point you come up with your gimmick, you probably would be better just getting a normal job.

But then I got to thinking. I have my pre-workout supplements and my post-workout protein. Anytime I try a new product, I hate the taste of whatever I am trying. But, after a while, it grows on me, and by the time I am finished, I look forward to the taste and buy another container. The only thing that gets me to change is the price going up (so please don't raise your prices MusclePharm as I enjoy your wonderful products and would gladly have you sponsor this blog).

So, instead of money, let's say it had health benefits. I'm a healthy dude. I run, lift, and shoot hoops (poorly) every week. I'm also a competitive person. I trained MMA for six months despite never being in a fight in my life, just so I could walk around knowing that I would win most hypothetical fights (I'd still probably lose). Although I have never tried steroids, because they are illegal and expensive, I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought about trying steroids. There are steroids out there that will help you build muscle mass without lifting a weight. That is something I could get on board with, if it were legal and cheap.

So, that brings us full circle to poop. Fresh poop has a really offensive smell, and I am guessing that leads to an offensive taste. But if you let it dry out, it is not nearly as offensive as smell, and theoretically, not nearly as bad of a taste either. If I could take a bite of poop and have the same effects of a perfectly safe steroid, I would at least consider it. I'm sure I could get used to the flavor after a while.

So if eating poop turned me into a ripped machine, I'd definitely consider it. I can't imagine how many chicks that I would be able to get if I was bigger and badder than ever. I could pretty much have any woman I wanted, with the one caveat that I'd have to find girls who don't mind a guy's breath smelling like shit...maybe I should rethink this plan.

Jose Canseco Has His Life Together

I usually like to create a theme, but honestly, the theme is craziness today. Jose's out of damn mind, but I think he's cool with it. Where should we start? Let's start here:

You should hate rapist,child molesters,murderers and gas prices not me
— Jose Canseco (@JoseCanseco) April 21, 2012

Okay, first off, people shouldn't hate Jose Canseco. Now that we have that out of the way, let's go into his examples. One of these examples is not like the other. Rapists, okay, they are definitely bad. Child molesters, they are probably even worse. Murderers, yep, they definitely can hang with the first two. Gas prices, yep...wait, what? If you give me me an option between being raped or paying $5 for a gallon of gas, I think I will just pay the extra for gas. I don't hate gas prices; they're just kind of there and it's a bummer, but not to the point where I would let my unborn child be diddled by a stranger in order for the prices to drop. Maybe that's just me. Let's see what else is on Jose's mind.

I will challenge you to a spelling competition
— Jose Canseco (@JoseCanseco) April 21, 2012

Holy shit, Jose could literally make my dreams come true. I have long dreamed of a mental decathlon against Jose, and this, along with multiplication tables, would definitely be the highlights. But let's see how serious he really is about this competition:

Who can spell the funny poop that comes out of your but
— Jose Canseco (@JoseCanseco) April 21, 2012

The runny wet poop what is it called
— Jose Canseco (@JoseCanseco) April 21, 2012

Starts with a d
— Jose Canseco (@JoseCanseco) April 21, 2012

This is the beauty of Jose. This is not part of his challenge. This is actually him just hoping somebody will give him the correct spelling of diarrhea. Jose knows that complicated words will be involved in future spelling bees, and what is more complicated than diarrhea? I know it always leaves me with a lot of questions.

Looks like Leila left me for a mma fighter .well I guess I am single again
— Jose Canseco (@JoseCanseco) April 22, 2012

I have no witty commentary for this post, but I just feel very happy for Jose. Last time Leila dumped him, it put him in a tailspin where he told everyone that Leila is a dirty whore who loves drugs. This time, he responded in a much more mature way:

Who ever my 500k follower is can have a threesome with lady Gaga and yours truly
— Jose Canseco (@JoseCanseco) April 26, 2012

Okay, that's the least appetizing offer I can think of, but it's a whole lot better than a mental breakdown. Great job, Jose.

Well, that should just about wrap it up. Alright, I guess we have time for one more tweet. What else you got, Jose?

Would you swallow your dogs throw up to save your best friend from dieing
— Jose Canseco (@JoseCanseco) April 26, 2012

 In our academic decathlon, I may just concede brain teasers for fear that Jose might say something that makes my head explode.

In conclusion, slap a hater.

Jenkem: A Shitty High

I am absolutely fascinated at the lengths that people will go to just to get messed up. I really thought that i-Dosing would be the weirdest thing way that people were getting high, but Jenkem takes a shit on that idea. During a fantasy baseball e-mail exchange, a friend notified me of this new huffing phenomenon that was able to get people high. They have moved past huffing glue, paint, or Pam, and have moved onto something much more vile.

Jenkem, or as the kids are calling it, butt hash, is the act of mixing urine and fecal matter into a bottle. You then put a balloon over the top of the bottle and wait. When the gas fills up the balloon, you carefully remove it from the bottle and huff the gas giving you a pooptastic high that is similar to cocaine with hallucinations. Jenkem sounds like the shit.

Fox News, always reliable, reported this story:

I know what you're thinking: Who would huff their own poop? As much as I wish I could tell you differently, the answer is apparently very few people. A New Zealand news report proves it as a myth, although some idiot teenagers did try it after seeing the news report, because teenagers are dumb and easily influenced.

Although the fact that this is a myth is very disappointing, you can still show your friends the Fox News report and try to trick them into trying it. They probably won't get high, but I'm assuming you'll see some hilarious projective vomit.

-Joe

P.S. Although Jenkem is a myth, Derrick Rose's greatness is not. Here is an excellent story about Derrick Rose growing up.

15 Steps To Running Like A Pimp

So I try to convince most people that I run in the winter because I need to keep my top notch cardio.  That's only partially true.  Although staying in shape is part of the reason, it's definitely only a secondary reason at best.  My primary rule to running like a pimp is to satisfy my own vanity, because I love me some me.  Although Jay-Z may think that pimpin' ain't easy, a true pimp like myself never sweats it.  Let me take you through all of the steps I go through in order to maximize my swagger while running.

1.  Take a Dump - It doesn't matter if I feel absolutely nothing deep in my bowels, I sit on the can until I can squeeze something out.  This is a necessity, because if I don't do this, I will have to poop within five minutes of my run beginning, and that is the worst.  How does this relate to my vanity?  Not only do I feel sexier after I get that out of my system, but I also get rid of any bloatedness, making me look extra fit.  I know most of the ladies out there are thinking that I always look perfect, but this just helps me reach a higher level of perfection.

Poo

2.  Get Naked - A lot of people may strip down to their underwear before they put on their running clothes, but since I rarely wear underwear, I strip completely nude.  This is the first, but certainly not the last, that I check myself out in the mirror.  And trust me ladies, it's miraculous.

3.  Boxer Briefs  (Old School) - I first put on an old (and very tight) pair of white boxer briefs.  I want to use an old pair, because there's no need to dirty up a good pair of underwear for a run.  Sure some of them have holes in them, but the tightness keeps me snug and stops me from bouncing around.  This is very crucial for a run.  It's also a great time to check myself out in the mirror, as the white boxer briefs accentuate my gorgeous...skin.

4.  Spandex Pants - Now it's time for my black Under Armour spandex pants.  I usually give a good flex here, as the pants help accentuate my v-shape upper body.  Plus, the spandex makes my naturally great looking legs really pop in the mirror.  It's a sight to behold.

5.  Starter Dry-Fit - It's just like Under Armour only extremely thin.  It's not the best for keeping a person warm, but it is great for making my muscles pop.  At this point, I embody the athletic ideal.  I have the legs of a black man, and the heart of a scrappy white guy.  This is when the sight of my jacked bod gets me pumped for the upcoming run.

6.  Outer Underwear - I put on an extra pair of outer underwear, because, quite honestly, sometimes my junk gets cold, and this prevents that.  Cold junk is the worst.  I'll admit to having cold junk on a secluded bike trail and finding the only cure sticking my hand down my own pants as I run.  I'm not proud of this, but I'm also not ashamed.  It's never for pleasure, just for dong survival. A true pimp always takes care of his number one guy.

Now with this outer underwear, I've tried bright pairs so I could look like a superhero, but this plan was a total failure.  It turns out I just look mentally challenged.  This is the one step where I do not look at myself in the mirror.

7.  Shorts - I can basically use any pair that isn't black, because I like to contrast my pants and shirt so I really pop when I'm out on the streets.  It's also a tad depressing, because my vanity really starts going downhill after the Starter dry-fit. 

8.  Under Armour - Some would say I use it because I need the warmth, but moreso, I wear it, because I can't fight the urge to protect this house.  Click clack bitches.

9.  Bright T-shirt - Because I pop, and I don't stop.

10.  Socks - I hate wearing socks, but they are a necessity in this weather, so I figure I might as well go all out.  I wear an obnoxious pair of bright green rugby socks.  And for the record, I did not buy a pair of green rugby socks, I earned them by playing on a rugby team back in the day.  This is my final look in the mirror.

11.  Heavy Stretching - My stretching puts a heavy emphasis on my groin and hips.  My groin can get tight on me, so I do that for my pleasure.  I stretch my hips, because ladies love a man with loose hips.  And trust me, when I'm done, I'm like Shakira; my hips don't lie.

12.  Shoes - This is where I could say something clever like:  I like my shoes how I like my women - tied up with little circulation.  But it seems like a lot of work to tie up women, and it's not like any girl would be crazy enough to pass up an opportunity at this so it's not a necessity.  Anyway, what was I talking about again?  Oh yeah, shoes.  Yeah, I got a pair of running shoes, and they treat me well.  I prefer a double knot to keep it tight.

13.  Headband and Gloves - Yes, I love headbands.  They are awesome.  And I am cool enough to pull the look off.  And the gloves, well, they keep my hands warm.  There's really no other explanation needed on those.

14.  iPod - There's two different directions you can go with your music.  For the most part, I go with pump up music.  Hatebreed is ideal, and even though it's easy listening in comparison, Metallica has treated me well lately.  Sometimes, you can just go into complete zone out and listen to chill music, but that's much tougher to do in the winter time, and for amateurs, I recommend sticking with the hardcore stuff.

15.  Just Run - A lot of people like to set out distances when they run.  A true pimp doesn't need a distance.  A true pimp doesn't need a path.  A true pimp just runs.  If you don't know where you're going, that's a good way to get some place you've never been.  Sure, sometimes this leads to me accidentally going 20 miles, but usually it just means that I go for a relaxing run where I don't need to think about the running, I can just enjoy the moment.  

You see, a true pimp like myself doesn't always need the company of a woman.  I can just love me some me.  After that, the ladies will follow my lead.

Now that's big pimpin.

-Joe

P.S.  Warning:  Running like a pimp will cause women (and some men) to both hoot and holler at you.  If you're not prepared for this kind of attention, do not follow these instructions.  Many of the ladies will find you irresistible even before you run your pickup gambits on them. 

P.P.S.  To run like a pimp in the summertime, just pop your shirt off and enjoy the attention.

P.P.P.S.  Speaking of pimps, Shonn Greene is another true pimp.  Sure his run to ice the game was great, but he could have easily been called for multiple excessive celebration penalties after the touchdown.  Not only did he take a nap on the ball, but he, and all his teammates flew around like Jets in the endzone.  That's another example of big pimpin.

Never Trust Old People

Never trust an old person.  I know that they say old people have wisdom, and that's all well and good, but if you need actual real world advice, they will completely screw you over.  I found this out the hard way over the weekend.

On Saturday morning, I woke up early, so I could go for a run and make it back home before football started at 11. I got on the road between 8:30-8:45 (I'm never totally sure of the time because I have a routine of pooping and stretching before I get my jog on).  The beauty of a good run is I can totally get in a zone where I pretty much black out and my brain completely shuts down. I was jamming out to some Metallica, and I probably would have worn out Steve Prefontaine at the pace I was going.

I headed down the road, then hit up the bike trail and just kind of kept going because I was in my zone. After a while on the trail, my brain, working at about 5% efficiency thought that the trail curved up to the road; it didn’t, but I didn’t notice until I had already turned so I decided to just go that way.  This would turn out to be a critical mistake.

I thought that this was going to turn out well, because the road actually curved back to my home so I felt that this was actually going to work out. I took a left, figuring that this road would run into at least one of the roads that crosses over near my house. This was mistake number two.

This road is a major road that somehow crosses no other major road, but I keep going, and going...and going down this road. Finally, I see a bike trail. Even though it makes no sense that it was the bike trail I was on, I decide that this was probably the bike trail that I was on. I do notice that the numbers on this bike trail are in the 400s, and the bike trail I originally was on had numbers in the 300s. Since I am an eternal optimist, this is the first time that I am positive that I am lost.

I see an old lady walking her dog on the sidewalk. and I figure this is a great opportunity to get pointed in the right direction.  I ask her for directions to the Hy-Vee on Mills Civic, since I live right by there. She tells me that there’s Hy-Vee’s closer so I should go to them. I explain to her that I really need to go to the one that I suggested. She tells me I was going the total wrong way and points me towards where I need to go. I thank her and am on my way.

I see streets in the 50s and get excited, because I live on 50th, so that means I must be close, right? I keep trying to take 50th, but it ends every three blocks, so I keep zig-zagging to nearby streets to stay close to 50th. This plan probably could have worked had I been in West Des Moines. I wasn't.  I see the Interstate and get excited, because I know I can’t be too far away. I run across it thinking that it shouldn’t be too long until I’m back home, so I keep running.

I run by a giant cemetery, is this foreshadowing my imminent death? Luckily not. I keep running and I see a street named Franklin which rings a bell with me, so I’m excited. I see a street called Hickman, which I also recognize. This depresses me. I have a buddy who lives one block north of Hickman, and he lives in the heart of Des Moines. Shit.

It turns out that the old lady didn’t give me bad directions; she gave me the worst directions possible. Had I kept just running into the bike trail, I would have run into I-35, all I would have had to do was head north, and I would have been back home in very little time. Instead, she sent me in the total opposite direction.

How bad did it end for me? Well, I never really set a distance for my runs, I go out, run, and turn around when I start feeling like shit.  On a day where I felt great, like I did on Saturday, I probably would have gone 6-8 miles.  Instead, I went somewhere around 22 miles. The first 12 miles were actually really smooth, but I got tired, then depressed when I learned where I was, and I finally turned off Metallica to listen to more soothing sounds. After that, I’d still run occasionally, but it was a lot of walking, especially once my calves felt like they were going to explode from cramping. I ended up being outside, in the bitter cold, while absolutely starving, for a little over four hours. I got home, ate something, got all bundled up in different clothes, covered up, and shivered in my bed for the next 45 minutes until my body finally warmed up. Never trust old people.

And yes, this could have been titled Joe Is An Idiot, but my inner compass was actually working until I listened to that old lady. I would publicly like to retract my thank you to her for the directions. Take that, senior citizens.

-Joe

P.S.  There's a lot of good advice here, but I especially love "Put the brakes on the mundane, and accelerate into the fast lane."  I'm guessing this is the way that people lived their life a quarter mile at a time before Fast and the Furious came out:

It's The Shit: Three Keys to a Successful Poop

Sorry Michael Jordan and Sam Perkins.  Today, We're Talking About Number Two.

 

Although I am a very spry 26 years young; I am wise beyond my years.  That is why I know the ins and outs of something that people overlook yet do at least once a day (twice a day for me since I have a healthy amount of fiber in my diet).  Yes, pooping.  It has a lot of gross connotations, but it's something natural, and as you'll find out, if done properly, it can be a beautiful experience.  Here are the keys to turning your experience from shitty to asstastic.

1.  Location -  Now most people would have you believe that going home is clearly the best possible location to take care of your business.  These are obviously simpletons who can't see the big picture.  Does your home have some advantages?  Of course it does, familiarity will always have value when you are feeling vulnerable.  But for those who are bold, that live their life a quarter mile at a time, there is a far better location to drop a deuce.  That place is work.  Think about this:  When you poop during work, you are getting paid to poop.  Paid to poop?  God Bless America.  So sit back, relax, and count that scrilla, because it's always best to take care of your business during business hours.

2.  Amenities - This is a huge mistake that most people make when taking a dump.  They go to the bathroom empty handed.  When I took care of my business at work, I made no secret about it.  I would stroll through the office with a book in my hand and my iPod bumping tunes in my ears as I headed to the private toilet of the visiting coaching staff (yes, Ryne Sandberg and I have used the same shitter).  I was not ashamed of what I was doing, and I knew that amenities can help take your poop to the next level.  Why sit there, drop waste, while your life wastes away when you can seize the day?  I seized it real good.  I would jam out to my favorite tunes and knock out a chapter of whatever book I was reading at the time.  A few years ago, I remember returning home for the first time in months and being ecstatic at my Dad's latest construction project.  He had mounted a TV by the toilet so you'd never have to miss a moment of your favorite show or sporting event while you went to the can.  That's great hustle right there.  So, whatever your vice is, whether it's music, books, or TV, bring it with you when you doodoo.  But I must warn everyone, your ass will occasionally go numb if you sit there too long.  It's a small price to pay when you pimp your poop.

3.  Toilet Paper - Somehow a necessity for number two is often overlooked, but do not underestimate its importance.  Good toilet paper is like oral sex.  Sure, at first, any toilet paper will do, you're just happy to have it there.  But then you use Charmin Ultra, and it is a whole new experience.  You honestly sit there and hope that it never ends, maybe even using techniques to prolong the experience.  After that, well, the rough toilet paper just doesn't do it for you anymore.  You go from appreciating it to loathing it.  When I see that economy sized, thin and rough, sorry excuse for toilet paper, I swallow hard, and yes, I use it, but something that should be pleasant can actually be painful.  It's terrible that something that should feel so right can go so wrong.  So remember, soft and gentle is much better than rough and teethy.

So make sure that your pooping experience is the shit; otherwise, you're just a piece of it.

-Joe

P.S.  I'm sure some of you nerds were probably out drinking on Saturday night.  Me?  Hell no, I was watching fights, football, and most importantly, the Bulls/Rockets game.  For those that didn't see it, here is the end of regulation from that game:

And yes, the Bulls won in overtime.  Derrick Rose is really good at basketball.