Darth Smurf's Sith Hole

I've really debated posting anything here, because it's not really my style, but I'm a little bit stressed today. And the only way I know how to deal with stress, or really any emotion, is either beer or humor. So here's hopefully some of the latter... Last May (2014), I had sinus surgery to remove some polyps. Okay, a LOT of polyps. I have had so many sinus infections over the last few years, my sense of smell was pretty much non-existent (both a blessing and a curse—I'll leave it up to you to picture each scenario) and one nostril was completely obstructed (for years), but I was dealing with it all. Flashback to January of 2014 when I got a sinus infection so bad and my polyps were so numerous that I couldn't get rid of it with antibiotics. Although it did ruin my stomach for a month, so I had that going for me. Basically, the fluid had nowhere to drain. So I scheduled my surgery and "lived" with a sinus infection for nearly 5 months until my appoi...

Author's Note: I wrote this last year and never published it. I guess I didn't find it funny enough for the general public. But with everything I've experienced this "summer" so far, I think it needs to be shared finally (although I did add a few extra words). I was privileged enough to experience a brief glimpse of something we once called "the sun" today. For 7 whole minutes, its warm touch graced my pale cheek through the window near my office desk. Squinting through the bright rays, I could make out smiles on the faces driving past. Could it be? True happiness? An emotion once thought extinct, yet, somehow present on this humid day in Wisconsin. But, the all-too-familiar clouds quickly smothered this giant mass of incandescent gas and with it our collective grinning visages. Hopes of dog walks, bike rides, kite flying, backyard picnics, camp fires, driving with the windows down, skipping merrily towards KFC... um... anything that requires one ...

We. Are. Moving. Seriously. Proof. Oh great. Now I want a Chicken Slider. Fantastic. Thanks, White Castle. After the worst winter in [my] recorded history, thanks to our surly friend Mr. Polar Vortex, word on the street is that his abusive step-father El Niño is on the way. But, until that lovely day we get thunderstorm after thunderstorm after thunderstorm to keep us entertained. For instance, this morning instead of getting ready for work, we were huddled in the basement with air raid sirens accompanying the soothing sounds of torrential downpour, gale force winds and shingles being torn mercilessly from the roof. We had 2/3rds of our animals sheltered (and thoroughly confused) with us, so we at least had that in the "Plus" column. The other was found later hiding under a bed. I nearly joined him. Here's a note for any interested: Sump pumps do not actually pump water when you have no electricity. So all the water shooting into the basement from the ceiling an...

Episode 3: Hand Sculptures Today, I’ll show you kids at home how to make fun, exciting art with your own hand using common, every day items around the house. Here are the materials you’ll need: A hand A glass thermometer A CBS sitcom laugh track (optional) Step 1: At the request of an ailing wife, locate your household thermometer. You may have to rifle through several drawers, so plan ahead. Step 2: Once found, attempt to pry the thermometer from its case. This works best if the last person to use it put it back incorrectly or jammed it with adhesive, like Gorilla Glue or Nutella. Step 3: Bleed profusely into a sink full of dirty dishes. 1 or 2 uncharacteristic cuss words are acceptable in this situation as you pull shards of glass from your fingers frantically. 3 cusses is too many, so use your allotment wisely. Step 4: Calmly and rationally request that your wife join you in the kitchen, so she may aide you in wrapping your gaping wounds with old, but hopeful...

Blame my allergies for this, but I've decided to continue the rant I began earlier this week. I'd give you background information, but I feel this could apply to just about any story you hear/read/fabricate today. Also, I don't feel like typing it up. Or even being awake. So... enjoy. I blame the society that tells both teams that they are winners, there are no losers and everyone gets a trophy. The same society where people audition for talent shows, with barely enough brain power to operate their own lungs, because they were surrounded by diluted, unconditional encouragement in lieu of valuable criticism. The same society where one can type "in lieu of" in a feeble attempt to sound more intelligent then they really are. Yet somehow manage to spit in grammar's stupid face by misusing "then."  I blame the society that verbally accosts the teacher when their child fails. Yeah, I'm sure it had nothing to do with endless texting, Facebooki...

It's official. I have self diagnosed myself. I am allergic to Wisconsin. After having done repeated tests in the previous decade, visiting various states around the country and unfortunately being forced to return, I seem to achieve the same results time and time again. I'm moving this hypothesis out of the theory stage and into the confirmed "FACT" column. The first symptom seems to always be rapid loss of smile. Apparently the barometric pressure here paralyzes the facial muscles making it virtually impossible to lift the corners of my own mouth. Or maybe the gravity here is stronger. That would explain how hard it was to get out of bed this morning. Also, I could barely lift the delicious hot wings to my mouth last night in between sobs. I'm no scientist, but I believe Wisconsin's barometric gravity adversely affects my ability to function normally. That, or the hot wings were extremely dense and they mixed up my buffalo sauce with spicy, molten lead. Ne...

I have debated for awhile whether to publicly voice my opinion on this subject, since I have quite a few friends who use Instagram. But, I can't contain my inner curmudgeon any longer. Just note that, for the most part, I would consider those on my friend's list (Facebook, Google+, etc...) who post Instagram photos to be either artistic or have a background in photography (and have the expensive equipment to prove it) or, at the very least, don't abuse it. And if you think none of the above apply to you… I should expect albums full of tearful self portraits, cried into the "1977" filter, after reading this. Let's just get this out of the way: I DO NOT like Instagram. One bit. Back in the day, like way back in 2009, in order to produce professional-grade photos you had to either A) know what you were doing or B) spend time with a professional (aka: expensive) photo editor in post-production. I fall into the latter category, as I have a hard time not taking bl...