Central Snark

SOMETIMES ya just gotta say… What the fuck???

THAT’S right, we just turned a swell line from Risky Business into a rather foul sounding question. Why? “Why”, indeed. Is it because we’re wondering why our “rankings” on Humor-blogs.com are so suck? No. Although, now that we mention it, we are a bit flummoxed. After all, we link and we link ’til we’re red in the finger and/or blue in the face…to no avail. Poor unfunny us. Apparently we need to feature pictures of sperm swimming into an SUV and then post 4 or 5 stories a day about kid vomit and/or deleted posts in order to climb back up to the top 10. Right. In the words of George Herbert Hedgehog Walker Smythe Washington Bush, “Na ganna doit“. Besides, we figure the “fuck” with our abysmal HB standing is, in fact, your fault, in that none of you kids bother to click the link as often as we think you should. Still, today’s WTF isn’t about our insecurities OR your inabililty to follow the rules, it’s about… Thomas Cruise Mapother IV. Because, quite honestly, we’re more than a little confused by his recent behavior, and, as such, we really want to know: what the Wide Wide World of Fuck is going on.

WERE we to spy the diminutive actor on the street, we’d march straight up to his scrawny ass, stoop down a little in order to look him in the squinty eye, grab on to his tiny lapels, and say something like:

“Yo, Tom. Tommeee. Tommy-Tom-Tom. Tomma Little Teapot. Tomma Lamma Ding-Dong. The Tominator. Fried Green Tom-atoes. Tom to Listen up, Mr. Thumb-ass (we do like the puns), we “get” that you’re “enthusiastic” about your Life and/or “religion”, Tommy Boy, but seriously… now that we’ve watched your rantings (and/or ravings?) about your “religion”, Inquiring Former Fans want to know: What. The. Fuck?” (naturally, our mascaraed eyes would be wide with disbelief, and we’d blink rapidly a few times, for effect.)

UNFORTUNATELY, that’s na ganna happen.

AS you have, by now, surmised, we’re not aching to query the lad for the same reasons we wanted to confront him a few months ago (Katie? Oprah?? Matt Lauer’s Interview? Vanilla Sky? Yeesh, we could go on and on, but we won’t). Nope. We have a Shiny New Reason for wanting to speak with Mr. Cruise. A reason, we hasten to add, that was NOT plucked outta thin air (where Tom’s “religion” seems to have been born). No-siree. As we mentioned in our imaginary conversation with the toothy star, we found the need to ask our Very Important Question after viewing the following video featuring Scientology’s greatest asset. Such a disturbing sight, this video. So disturbing, in fact, it’s caused us to hastily cancel our membership to the Tom Cruise Fan Club, melt down our RayBans, and toss our unopened DVD of Mission Impossible into the trash can. Because… damn.

DO we think you should waste your time watching the entire 9 minutes of the above Manic Man Musings? No. Do we think you should waste a few minutes watching the version actor Jerry O’Connell did a few days ago? Hell yeah… Sadly, we were unable to post the video directly to the page — just click on the picture below and enjoy. We know we did.

PS to you “purists” out there, who hate our snarky video-driven posts: When we see an especially funny video stopped by the side of the internet… we have to post it. We have to. Because, if we don’t, no one else will. That’s why we’re here. To make a difference. And post funny videos. And, once in a while, to mock big actors who are, in reality, only 4 feet tall*. The minute you figure that out, you’ll be, like, WNIGI — Wow, Now I Get It. Then it’ll be, like… pooooooooh.

~snuppy

Everyone’s a little “crazy” at HUMOR-BLOGS.COM. But that’s… OK.

*We once stood next to Tom at the bakery counter in our local grocery store. We offered him a cookie, because we thought he was a kid. He was not amused. On the other hand, we were.

 Lego is celebrating it’s 50th anniversary this month. *looks feverishly for Winnie Pooh party hat and stumbles over her 1983 stamp collection of Monrovia * Let’s be geeky for a moment, ‘cause well…all of us, at some point, have come in contact with those tiny building blocks.

Just how popular is Lego? They- you know them!- say that about seven Lego sets are sold every second and 2008 is marked to see the construction of the biggest Lego tower ever. Which should be quite a substantial waste of time for a lot of people. The geometrically shaped plastic even has its own theme park.

Few people, however, know that Lego was founded in Denmark. In 1948, a carpenter by the name of Ole Kirk Christiansen patented the idea of plastic toy bricks.
The name is said to come from putting together the first two letters of the words Leg and Godt, which mean “play well”.

And although Iceland had gained its independence from Denmark by then, business was still rather inter-connected and Iceland’s company SIBS received orders to make those plastic cubes for quite a few years. We called them, appropriately, SIBS KUBBAR. This is not important to know, but anything to put us on the map is worth mentioning, I think. *skips lecture about volcanoes, geysers and rotten shark meat*

Lego is sold in more than 130 countries and on average, every person in the world owns 62 Lego bricks…although apparently unevenly distributed. We have two in our home. We use it around Christmas to keep the tree straight. I give my remaining 60 to contribute to … world peace, of course!

Apart from all the jokes I like to cut about these bricks, I love the idea that you can buy a brick today (Buy a brick today!- I think I just came up with a new slogan)and attach it to one from 1950 and it will fit. Plus, anything that keeps your child off your back for a minute or two is worth celebrating. Although, if your kid is 50 and still lives at home in your basement…remember plastic can melt!

~Penguin out!

Now follow this paved road to a compilation of quite a few bricks, also known as humor-blocks.

Oh, hello Susan. Fancy meeting you here. I had no idea that you were such a huge fan of the American sporting scene. Yes, I also thought that I would be working late this evening and unable to make it home until much later. Lucky me, to be able to spend this time among friends at such a quality establishment. Yes, my wife is fine, thanks for asking.

Speaking of my wife: I have $12.48 in my pocket that says you never saw me at this sports bar.

Before you decline my offer of $12.48 in exchange for your silence on the matter of my presence in this sports bar when conversing with my wife, allow me to delineate some of the ways that you might find this $12.48 useful in your everyday life:

1. This $12.48 could purchase you eleven double cheeseburgers from the value menu at your local fast food institution, plus leave plenty of money left over to pay the sales tax and possibly leave a tip. It’s a little known fact that most fast food workers appreciate tips as much as their counterparts in the sit-down dining world. Susan, wouldn’t you like to make a fast food workers day? This seemingly insignificant sum of $12.48 would allow you to do that very thing.

2. If you were able to find a similar sum of $12.48 and pair it with the $12.48 that I am currently offering you, you would be but four small pennies away from purchasing a $25.00 gift card to the retailer or restaurant of your choice. Did you know, Susan, gift cards do not have to be given as gifts? It is a perfectly legal recourse to purchase a gift card and use it on oneself! Imagine the entire universe of possibilities that would open up to you, if only you had this seedling of $12.48 that I am currently scrounging through my pockets in order to piece together!

3. A Pez lunchbox. I am, regrettably, unable to provide you with enough of a nest egg to compensate for shipping charges on said lunch box. You could, however, utilize the “search” function on any popular auction website and possibly find a less expensive lunchbox, one where this $12.48 will provide both for the lunchbox and for your shipping charges.

4. This $12.48 could be used approximately five-and-a-half times on the toll road in Oklahoma named the “Cherokee turnpike”, assuming of course that you were to enter said turnpike at Flint Creek and exit once it met with Interstate 69. Susan, if you are planning a trip to Oklahoma, you should be aware that some of their highways are toll roads. There is nothing worse than requiring change to continue one’s journey and finding oneself without said change. The toll road collectors are quite strict about collecting their tolls. It’s their very job description! This $12.48, which I have nearly completed assembling, would be an excellent insurance against having to end a trip to Oklahoma prematurely.

5. Buskers, Susan. How many times have you walked down the sidewalk and been graced with a rousing rendition of “Oh Susanna” or “Jimmy Crack Corn” and it has made your day a brighter day? Did you realize that these people do not get paid for their street-side performances? Not one dime! These people are relying on the good graces of ordinary citizens like you and I to make their music-making worthwhile. Susan, how would you like to live in a world without buskers? I thought not. With this $12.48, which I am in the process of finding out is made up of considerably more coins than it is bills, you could be sure to have enough spare change to do your part to ensure that we never have a busker shortage in our fair city. Will you do your part, Susan? Will you take this $12.48?

In conclusion, Susan, I am offering you the potentially life changing sum of $12.48 in exchange for your silence, when in conversation with my wife, and the matter of my being at this sports bar on this particular evening comes into play. Allow me to count it out for you.

…Twelve forty three. Twelve forty four. Twelve forty five. Twelve forty six. Twelve forty seven.

Twelve forty seven. That appears to be all that I have.

Susan, I have $12.47 on this bar table that says you never saw me at this sports bar. Allow me, if you will, to delineate the benefits of having this $12.47…

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This post brought to you by CrummyJoel and the folks at humor-blogs.com

If you’re the random guy whose picture we stole via a Google image search, please let us know and we’ll replace the picture with some other random guy from a Google image search.

I knew I was going to be a singer from the time I was about 4 years old.

My sister, who is 10 years older than me, used to play her Beatles and Herman’s Hermits records on her phonograph in her bedroom, and I’d sit on the floor outside her door and sing along at the top of my lungs… that is until she yelled at me to “shut up and go in the other room!”

Then, when the Monkees came on TV it sealed the deal. To me there was nobody cooler than Davy Jones or Micky Dolenz and I was going to be just like them.

Just seeing these guys up in front of the microphones was all I needed. More than anything in the world I wanted to someday be that cool. And this is why:

Now be honest women… how many of you are suddenly crushing on him like you were 12 again? Hey - I don’t blame you. He makes me feel kinda funny too. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!

The Monkees (1966-1967) were one of only two shows that I can think of that featured segments of bands playing their music within the plot of a standard storyline - not counting variety shows.

In those days if you weren’t planted in front of the TV set when it was show time, you flat out missed it. There were no VCRs to capture the moment if you weren’t home - although we were guilty of tape recording the entire show on audio cassette and playing it back 100 times over the following week, so that was better than nothing.

The other show that featured a band playing their song of the week was the 2nd major influence of my musical youth. The Partridge Family (1970-1974) came along right at the start of my teen years when the thought of becoming a rock star sex symbol started to appeal to me for the first time.

And as far as I was concerned, there was no one hipper or sexier than David Cassidy himself. Take a look for yourself:

Hmm, I’m thinking maybe David might have been confusing waking up “in love” with waking up with morning wood, but hey - as long as he was happy about it did it really matter?

And so there they are… the two TV shows that most influenced me to eventually become a musician, travel around the world, meet my wife, have kids, start a blog, and get picked up by Snuppy as a fellow Snarkster to tell my story here.

I must say it’s been quite a ride, but I’d like to thank my good friends Davy and David for showing me the way.

~ Jeff

I’m singing the praises of Humor-Blogs.com!

I’ll be brief because you try searching (with limited time to allot) for information on a band named Stars and scroll through every constellation, country band, any song title with stars in it. I think I even saw the Starland Vocal Band in there. Even narrowing the search, bah — on to the music, I say!

Stars is an indie band which I believe was originally formed in Toronto, moved on over to New York for a bit and settled in Montreal. Or the reverse. Is it really important actually? What is important is the music which I have enjoyed any of their songs that I have heard from their latest release of this year, In Our Bedroom After the War. I believe this is also on my list to download and perhaps will be on yours as well…or not.

Listen to some tunes on their MySpace and then take a look at the video for Take Me To The Riot (which should be played as I awaken each morning to what my young son has in store as we get ready for work/school):

Have a great weekend.

~ DJ LAMPSHA

Psst: There’s a laugh riot going on over at Humor-blogs.com.

THANK goodness we have friends who love us so much they feel compelled to share Helpful Marriage Tips with us at the drop of a soufflé and/or the click of a high heel. After reading through the following bits o’ advice, however, we couldn’t help but wonder: how in the wide wide world of Martha Stewart did we mange to muddle our way through 23 years of marriage without knowing this shit information? Information, we hasten to add, laid out in rich and beautiful detail — which seems as completely relevant now as it was when it first graced the gloriously domestic pages of Good Housekeeping, back in 1955. We used to wonder why our mom drank so much. Now, not only do we understand, we can’t figure out why on Earth she didn’t run away from home when she had the chance.

How To Be A “Good” Wife

1. Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home (because they’ve been drinking all day) and the prospect of a good meal — especially his favorite dish (pizza? canned soup? cereal?) — is part of the warm welcome needed.

2. Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking (brush your teeth. pluck that chin hair). Remember, your husband has just been with a lot of work-weary people! (including Lola, his assistant, who’s measurements are 46-23-35)

3. Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it. (in other words, bend over and take it up the ass?)

4. Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. (at the very least, make sure Ramón, the cabana boy, is no longer hiding in the closet)

5. Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper, etc. and then run a dust cloth over the tables. (or take away your husband’s white gloves and/or hand him the friggin’ mop, because, damn.)

6. Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for (and/or under) him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction (especially if you’re stoned and/or basking in the glow of that sweaty romp you had earlier in the day with Ramón).

7. Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children’s hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet. (if necessary, use drugs and/or a muzzle)

8. Be happy to see him (pretend he’s someone else, like say, Ramón)

9. Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him

10. Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first — remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours. (Calls from the bill collector, Junior’s broken arm and/or a pay raise for the hard working cabana boy are nothing compared to your husband’s hilarious story of how the boss called Marty in Accounting, “Sid”)

11. Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax. (Lipstick on his collar? No worries, a little Tide will take out that stain in no time. For future reference, cold water works best on blood)

12. Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit. (Or, upon finding that stain on his collar and the hotel room key in his pocket, kill him. That way his “spirit” will be “free”)

13. Don’t greet him with complaints and problems (rolling pins are significantly more effective)

14. Don’t complain if he’s late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day (by “through” do they mean Lola?)

15. Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. (or lay him out on the kitchen floor with the aforementioned rolling pin)

16. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him (laced with arsenic)

17. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes (and by “pillow” they mean “penis” and by “take off his shoes” they mean, “knock his socks off”)

18. Speak in a low, soothing, and pleasant voice (that way, the word “divorce” won’t sound so scary)

19. Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgement or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him (you do, however, have the right to 50% of his property and sole custody of the kids)

LAST, but certainly not least…

20. A “good” wife always knows her place.

*** *** *** *** ***

BELIEVE it or not… we DO have a few things to add to this “How To” List, and we plan to do just that as soon as we manage to gather up what’s left of our exploded brain (last seen scattered over the freshly mopped kitchen floor), in order to stuff it back into our fragile-yet-numb little skulls. Needless to say, that might take a while.

~snuppy

A good wife sets her computer’s default page on HUMOR-BLOGS.COM.

Remember the brilliant –hush!- post I did a few weeks back about weird epitaphs? NO? I guess you should check in more frequently, now shouldn’t you?! Some people clearly are very witty with words they leave behind and others have a sh** load of money, so again they rely on words … this time a will.
Some of those wills are rather insane eccentric.

Marie Curie

A pioneer in the early field of radioactivity, she later became the only person to win Nobel Prizes in two different fields of science — physics and chemistry. As if there’s any difference. Element 96, Curium (Cm), was named in honor of Marie and her husband, Pierre. She died in 1934, and her only property of substantial worth was a gram of pure radium which she left to her daughter. You just never really know what to say when people give you chemical elements, do you?!

Houdini

Harry Houdini (born in 1874) a great magician and escape artist died in 1926 from a ruptured appendix. He’d accumulated quite a heap, but most importantly: the rabbits he pulled out of his hat went to the children of friends. His wife, however, received a secret code: ten words chosen at random. These he would use to contact her from the afterlife. His wife held annual séances on Halloween for ten years after his death, but Houdini never showed. People say where there’s a will there’s a way…I guess he’s still looking!

William Randolph Hearst

This multimillionaire newspaper magnate died in 1951. In his will he challenged those who claimed he had children out of wedlock by willing anyone who could prove “that he or she is a child of mine . . . the sum of one dollar. I hereby declare that any such asserted claim . . . would be utterly false.” No one claimed it.

John Bowman

This Vermont tanner believed that after his death, he, his dead wife and their two daughters would be reincarnated together. His will (1891) provided a $50,000 trust fund for the maintenance of his 21-room mansion and mausoleum. Servants were required to serve dinner every night just in case the reincarnated Bowmans were hungry when they returned from the dead. This stipulation was actually carried out until 1950, when the trust money ran out. Maybe they came back as dung beetles and couldn’t work the cutlery!

There are many more of course: Janis Joplin set aside $2,500 to pay for a posthumous all-night party for 200 guests at her favorite pub in San Anselmo, California. Eleanor E. Ritchey, heiress to the Quaker State Refining Corporation, passed on her millions to her 150 dogs when she died.

I can’t help but wonder who’ll be at the receiving end of my lava rock collection. Let’s see…who do I hate!?

~Penguin out!

Silly ideas are born over HERE! every single day!

KNOCK, KNOCK.

WHO’S there?

NO ONE.

D’OH! thanks to some unreasonable stupid demanding instructor and/or boss, TEH PENGUIN will not be making her usual Highly Anticipated and/or Appreciated appearance in The Snark this morning. Or this afternoon, for that matter. Aieeee. Needless to say, Minka’s Unfortunate Situation has managed to create an New and Enhanced Unfortunate Situation for us, in that we need to be out the door and on the road to Manhattan in less than an hour, and, call us crazy (so many of you already have), we think it might be nice to take a shower first, mostly because we haven’t bothered to do so in a few days. What can we say… hygiene tends to take a back seat when we’ve other things to do. What those other things are, we can’t recall, but we think they had something to do with Birthdays and/or Poorly Decorated Cakes (future post is pending, and should be ready by this time, next week soon eventually). Naturally, Major Distractions, Body Odor, and/or Crappy Birthday Cakes are beside the point. The point, before we scrub it off with our favorite French-milled soap, is this: Monika’s not here. We are here. We must post. We will post. You will read. Maybe you’ll laugh. Maybe you won’t. It won’t matter. We’ll be away. Oh dear Lord. What’s going on? We can’t stop. Writing like this. Help Mr. Wizard.

UH… guessing you all wonder what the hell that was about. Well kids, in lieu of writing an Actual Post, we believe we’ll tell you. Recently we came across a truly surprising/compelling — not to mention cool — bit of programming, based on a premise created by some Clever Someone working for ABC News. The concept? Tell a “story” using only 3 words. As you’re about to see for your own happy selves, more than a few folks are capable of expressing an enormous amount of emotion in a brief amount of time. Based on what you’ve gleaned about us over the past several months, you know we’d never be able to articulate as much — or as well — as some of the participants did with so little, tho’ we’d like to think we’d come close. Maybe we could. Maybe we’d fail. We’ll never know. We’ll never try. Yes, that’s right. We are suck.

WHATEVER we are, this video is amazing. Watch, listen, learn.

(3 Words is a featured segment of ABC’s i-CAUGHT TV… click on the link (”click, watch, submit”) to see another brilliant montage… actually, we liked it even better than the one we’ve shared above, but were unable to post it directly to this page. Like we said. We are suck.)

OKAY, your turn. Write a comment. In 3 words. If you can’t. Do like us. Break up sentences. Into smaller sections. It should work. It WILL work.

~snuppy

CLICK. READ. LAUGH.

Well, dammit, thanks for telling me now. Don’t you think it’s a little last minute to give me this information now?? Now that my Amazon password has been stolen and $783.57 worth of Broadway soundtracks has been rung up on my American Express?? Don’t you think I could have used this little nugget of information beforehand?!?

I mean, if I saw you pumping gas with your car running AND you were smoking a cigarette, I would certainly say something. I wouldn’t wait until you were incinerated into fiery little pieces along with the gas station and everyone and everything else nearby. I would tell you as soon as I noticed you. As a precautionary measure.

But nooooooo. NOW is the time you choose to tell me that I shouldn’t use the same password at every single online destination. Now that someone has purchased 13 speedometers to 1975 Ford Thunderbirds using my Ebay and Paypal accounts. Now that someone has posted a banner ad for a toe-sucking fetish website on my blog. Now that someone has withdrawn me from my college and enrolled me in a diesel mechanic’s school in Morocco. I can’t go to Morocco for evening classes! Do you even know how far away Morocco is?!?

How the hell was I supposed to see into the future? How was I supposed to know that if someone accidentally stumbled onto my password ONCE it would mean my entire life would be ruined? How was I supposed to know how many different organizations would require a phone call or a hand-written letter (now that my email has a brand spankin’ NEW password that I don’t have the luxury of knowing)? Do you realize that I can’t buy a car now because my credit is shot? Do you realize that my house is for sale?!? I didn’t put my house up for sale. But there’s a picture of it online…and now there’s a real estate agent pounding a sign into my front yard as I type this.

Well, $#!t.

The best part is that I can’t even recall all the different websites I’ve visited in the last 10 years. I can’t cancel the accounts I don’t even remember! So instead I have had to cancel all of my credit cards. My credit blows so hard they won’t let me have new ones so now I have to pay with everything with cash only, which is mighty damn difficult to obtain when your bank account has been completely drained.

I see that I just picked a fight with a former girlfriend over on Classmates.com. Fan-friggin’-tastic. I see that I’ve posted naked pictures of Charlie Sheen over on my favorite sports team’s message boards. Wonderful. Apparently I’ve also entered into a financial arrangement with a Nigerian barrister and owe him $13,000. Terrific.

As for you? I just hope you’re enjoying the internet, what with your different-damn-password-for-every-page-you’ve-ever-visited. I hope to whatever god you worship that your Rolodex falls out of your briefcase and into the hands of the slickest con artist who can take all of your passwords and turn your life into the living hell that mine has turned into.

What’s that? You’re not supposed to keep your passwords in your Rolodex either?

Ah, crap….

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(This post brought to you by CrummyJoel and humor-blogs.com. If you’re the random dude whose picture we stole from a Google search, please post a comment and we’ll change the picture to some other random dude whose picture we’ll steal from Google.)

Here’s the deal… my 15 year-old son figured this would be a GREAT gift to buy me for Christmas - which of course it was (God I love that kid).

But low and behold there were other opinions in the household.

Apparently my wife didn’t want me wearing this shirt. Something about “embarrassing the hell out of her” or “not respecting her” or some other irrational blather - I really wasn’t listening. Nonetheless, I love my wife (who is a hot mom btw) and so I obliged her and took the shirt off the instant we got home from church that Christmas morning.

This led me back to Target to return my gift, where I had this stimulating conversation with the customer service woman:

“Excuse me, but I need to return this tee shirt.”

“Is there anything wrong with it sir?”

“No. It doesn’t fit… my wife’s idea of what a 46 year old husband should be wearing.”

“She’s right.”

D’oh! The other thrill of returning this was that if you’ve ever received a gift from a teenager, you know that they don’t tend to keep important things. Like receipts for instance. They also don’t have checks or credit cards and therefore always pay for things with cash. And so the opinionated customer service woman was less than interested in taking back my rejected shirt.

But… after begging her to let me do a direct exchange for a different shirt in front of the other 25 people waiting in the post-Christmas return line behind me - she finally had degraded me enough where apparently she felt I was worthy of the exchange.

And so eventually I did end up with another, less controversial tee shirt - but not nearly as cool as the Hot Moms one. This got me thinking about designing some new tee shirts that could possibly fill this void for other husbands out there who end up in this same leaky boat. For example, would this be more appropriate?

I don’t know, I always thought pioneer school teachers were kind of sexy.

Or how about this one?

No, wait - I hate mimes. UNLESS….

Ahh, MUCH better!

Then of course there’s this version for the obsessed blogger…

Eh. But still none of those were floating my wife’s boat. Until I suggested this one…

… and gee, whatta ya know - THIS one got the thumbs up.

But I don’t think I’m going to wear it however…

I’d hate to look like a pansy.

~ Jeff

All the hot moms hang out at Humor-Blogs.com!

(p.s. Just for fun I put the last 3 shirts up for sale at cafepress.com/formatcdrive )