My mother is no stranger to the Internet so I suppose this was bound to happen sooner or later. I just happened to be at her house when it did. I was sitting in her living room watching television, when, from the office, I heard her scream out, “OMG, Eric, you have a Myspace?!?!” followed by, “Who are these people on your friends list? Do I know them? Hey look it’s your sister! She has a Myspace too!!! I want a Myspace!!! How do you make a background on your profile? Will you make a profile for me??? Who is this Tom guy?”

Granted, I don’t have anything to hide; I don’t secretly stalk teenage girls, and I don’t post naked pictures of myself hittin’ the bong, but honestly, I don’t know if I can continue to maintain my Myspace identity with the level of scrutiny with which my mom will surely monitor my profile. So, I am unofficially announcing my Myspace retirement. Unofficial because I will still log on and read various people’s posts and such, but more than likely, my blogging days have come to an end. Ok, maybe not an end, but much less frequent than before which was virtually never. Well, fine… nothing really is going to change, but I’m going to call all of YOUR parents and show them YOUR profiles just to make me feel better!

Anyway, I went to the dentist today for the first time in uhhhhhh 13 years. Lucky for me, I have a good set of choppers and it doesn’t appear as if the Cavity Creeps invaded my mouth. The bad news is I have 13 years of plaque build-up that needs to be removed with a jackhammer. The other bad news is I need to have all 4 of my wisdom teeth pulled. I shall be completely void of wisdom soon.

I have to say that a lot has changed since my last visit to the dentist. They remove plaque with sound now! Did you know that? You did? Well that’s probably because you all had parents who loved you and cared about your oral hygiene. Anyway it’s very cool, but the coolness factor is completely offset by the fact that it hurts like hell. I just had a surface cleaning today, but I have to go back in a few weeks for part one of the DEEP cleaning.

So here’s a little funny story: I used to work at a car dealership for about 7 years in the Internet sales department. It was a pretty fun job. I worked with a bunch of young guys who liked to party and make a fast dollar. It was sorta like working in a fraternity. Most of the time, the environment was raucous and juvenile, characterized by our non-stop cursing, fighting, and ball busting. To express our affinity for each other, we’d call each other endearing names like “dick face”, “ballsackomajorawitz”, and my personal favorite “dirty cock”. We actually used “dirty cock” for almost every occasion; similar to the word “dude”.

So, yesterday I stopped by the dealership to say hi to the old gang. As soon as I walked in the door, I was greeted with an enthusiastic, “HEEEEYYYY!!! DIRTY COCK!!!” Ahhhhh the sounds of home!

I made my rounds, saying hi to everyone I knew; stopping once in a while to have a quick conversation. When I walked past the finance office, I heard my name being called by my friend Ken. He asked me to come talk to him because he had a big surprise for me. I walked into his office and, from underneath a stack of papers, Ken pulled this thing out:

Needless to say, I was like “DIRTY COCK!!!! How the F did you get the State to make that? Don’t you have to explain to them what it means?”

You’re not going to believe this, but he told the Motor Vehicle Department that he’s a doctor, he has a side business selling neckties, and he also loves to kayak. So he took Doctor Tie and Kayak and combined them to make DRTYKAK.

It turns out, his wife wouldn’t let him put the license plate on his truck, so he gave it to me! I can throw it on my car for a $25 transfer fee, but I have no idea how I’m going to explain why I have DIRTY COCK on my license plate. I don’t think Ill be able to get away with the whole Doctor Tie Kayak thing. How many doctors do you know drive a 1990 Ford Probe?

The World Famous Dr. Tykak

Don’t you guys ever get sick of posting those questionnaires, and doing those tests, and finding out what kind of porn star, breakfast cereal, or animal you are? Can you imagine how many little quizzes n’ stuff are actually floating around Myspace right now? There must be thousands. I wonder what happens with all that data. I wonder if there’s some marketing company out there secretly compiling what our favorite colors are or how many blow jobs we’ve given (so far I’m at zero).

So, in the name of science, developed my own survey and asked the thought provoking questions people really want to know.

Please take a few moments to answer th following questions. Once I have accumulated sufficient data, I will post the results, and maybe analyze what it all means. Answer honestly and it won’t hurt as much. Oh and don’t stress about providing your email address, I’m not going to send you anything or put you on any lists.

Does anyone else see anything not quite right here? I’d be interested in finding out if anyone thinks this is no big deal.

I look at it this way: I don’t think I would post a picture of my ding dong next to a picture of my child. I don’t have children yet so I am just speculating, but I’m pretty sure I still wouldn’t do that. It just seems wrong somehow.Would it be ok if I posted a picture of my ding dong next to a picture of someone else’s child? For some reason that seems even worse.

Well, hey… whatever.

In related news, I read that a 40 yr old woman was arrested for hosting high school sex parties for her daughter and her friends. She provided the booze, the drugs and even participated in the action. She told police she just wanted to be a “cool Mom.” I have to say, if it weren’t so creepy, disgusting, and wrong, she could possibly be the coolest mom in the world!

The mom got caught because some kid that she serviced went and told his parents. He actually told police he thought she was a cool mom until he found out she was a pedophile! I wonder if he found out she was a pedophile before or after she banged him? Either way, I’m sure that kid is getting beat up for ruining it for the rest of kids.

Believe it or not, I actually participated in sex parties when I was in High School. Unfortunately, these parties were held in my bathroom, and I was only guest that would show up. I went to a lot of parties.

ANYWAY… I’m hitting the garage sale circuit this weekend. Gonna go look at a few couches. The Fabulous Amy D. told me about craigslist.org to find pretty much ANYTHING you can imagine for sale. I’m sure you all knew about it already, so no need to be as excited as I am. Thanks Amy! By the way… if you happen to be a gay dude, that craigslist is a pretty good way to hook up for some hot stranger ding dong in various restrooms around the Valley.

I think that’s all I have for tonight. Until the mind starts spinning again… have a good one!

Complaint of the Day:  Glamour Shots

“Ok now tilt your head… a little more… more… great, that looks uncomfortable enough.  Now smile like you’re eating poop.  Great! Now move the feather boa away from your cheek just a little bit… PERFECT!”

*click*

Would someone please explain to me why anyone would ever want a glamour shot?!?!  I’ve always considered the glamour to be the NASCAR of photography; only appreciated by Jesus loving Mullet Amurricans who live in homes with wheels.  Those of you who have mullets or wheelie homes, please save your whining… this is my blog, so deal with it.  And before you start busting my hump, the picture on my website is NOT a glamour shot, it’s a head shot (not to be confused with a facial).  Bottom line… glamour shots are bad mmmkay.

OK, moving on…  Now I need a little advice.  If you ask a woman if she’s married and she says “sorta”, does that make her available?  I’m sure anyone in their right mind would probably see trouble written all over this situation and advise me to keep my 10 foot pole far far away, but I really don’t want to hear from those people.  I want to hear from the people who think it’s perfectly acceptable to get involved with a married woman.  Besides, don’t all long-lasting relationships always start out by breaking up a marriage?  Feel free to comment with your advice.

Last order of business… I’m getting fat.  Ok, that’s not true.  I’m already fat.  My clothes are tighter, my face is rounder, and my man boobs are fuller.  Wait, maybe I’m pregnant!  Right now I’m just under the weight limit for the semi affordable treadmills I’m considering buying.  Once I hit 250lbs, I think the conveyor belt won’t even spin when I stand on it.

I don’t know when it happened but at some point in my life, the term “going out to play” turned into the word “exercise”.  It’s been a battle of the belly ever since.  All I know is I need to get busy soon if I expect to score with this married chick.

I’m thinking of starting some sort of fitnessy, journaly, updatey, thingy with my bloggy thingy.  I’m not really sure how publicizing my progress is supposed to motivate me.  Maybe I can do it to motivate others.  I bet there are a few chunky butts who read this blog who could be inspired by my hard work and dedication.

The first thing I should do is give you all a pre-blog update. Uh… I was born in Brooklyn, NY in 1974, I did some stuff, went to some places, met some people, logged on to myspace.com, and created this blog. That brings us up to now.

It’s about 10 to 3 in the AM, but the time stamp already let you know that. Tonight, I came home from work, got into my workout clothes, and then took a nap. I don’t know how many calories that burned, but I’m sure it was a lot fewer than I had intended. So, at 11PM I awoke bright eyed and bushy assed; continuing the vicious cycle of being tired all day and up all night. When will I learn? Oh well, it was nothing a few hours of Food Network, TLC, and HGTV couldn’t cure. I can’t seem to get enough Iron Chef, although tonight it was the Battle of the Yams, which turned out to be extremely boring.

After TV time, I did a portion of a jigsaw puzzle. It’s a completely tacky picture of the Coliseum in Rome, and it’s one of a collection of 10 puzzles that came in the box. Each puzzle ranges from 500-1000 pieces, and every one of them is some sort of gaudy Italian landmark… except for one puzzle of two female lions (or lionesses I guesses). I don’t know where they fit into the whole Italian theme. If you’re a bad speller, maybe you can spell “Italion” with the word “lion” in it, but that’s as close as I can come to a connection.

Well there you have it… my first blog entry. Not bad… informative and slightly witty without being over the top. I’m pretty proud of it. Until the next time… goodnight…