The Cheese stands alone.

Significant Others, Part III

“My partner thinks he/she is inferior to my last significant other. How do I convince him/her there is nothing to worry about?”
Remind your partner he/she is a huge improvement over your last significant other who kidnapped your nephew Billy last Thanksgiving, fled to Chiapas, and tried to ransom him for smack money. If that doesn’t work, remind your partner that few people CAN fill David Hasselhoff’s shoes, and he/she will just have to accept being second best.

Significant Others, Part II

“I think my partner may be cheating on me. What do I do?”
Use a strong dowel with a rope tied around it to prop up a giant box (a refrigerator-sized one will do).

Poke a hole in the top of the box.

Start a trail of Cheez-Its or Reese’s Pieces leading from the doorstep to a cache underneath said box.

Lie in wait.

When your partner follows the trail and greedily dives under the box to devour the pile of goodies, yank the string so the box falls down over your partner.

There may be some struggling, so hold a rag soaked with ammonia over the hole until the scuffling stops.

Manhattan (not Brooklyn)

Jason went to Manhattan (not Brooklyn) to murder, and it’s easy to sympathize with a homicidal maniac raised from the dead who wants to cull the tourist population in Times Square. In Brooklyn, there are no shiny lights here to which annyoing high school kids from the tri-state area are attracted, and people in East New York would likely shoot him or jump him before he had the chance to swing his machete.

Godzilla (or, more aptly, Godzillady) stomped bitches in Manhattan (not Brooklyn). She laid eggs inside Madison Square Garden (because the Knicks sure as hell weren’t making good use of it), took out the frat boy hangouts in Murray Hill, and ruined Jersey clubbing night in the Meatpacking District. While these are all noble pursuits, Godzillady’s only real mission was to punish the bastard responsible for this hot mess, and he doesn’t live in my fair borough.

Manhattan (not Brooklyn) was converted into a max-security prison in Futuristic 1997, where Kurt Russell (aka the Computer Who Wore Tennis Shoes) was allowed to walk around with an eye patch and high-waisted camouflage pants. Brooklyn remained unscathed, because letting prisoners live in pre-war brownstones would’ve driven down the property value.

Someone decided to make Maid in Manhattan (not Brooklyn).

Love Songs To Which I Say, "No"

“Close To You” by The Carpenters
“Why do birds suddenly appear/every time you are near?” Hell to the no, Karen. I saw what happened to Melanie Daniels when the seagull attacked her on the dock. Let’s just stick to stars in the sky and angels sprinkling sunlight and other cliches that won’t get my eyes pecked out.

“Turn Off The Lights” by Teddy Pendergrass
There’s a part in the song where Teddy asks me to “rub [him] down in some burnin’ hot oils,” then promises to return the favor. AND he wants me to “turn off the lights” and “light a candle.” In that order.
If there’s a ICU nurse, firefighter, and/or Lifetime movie reenactment fetish at play here, there’s an easier way to go about this then giving each other third degree burns and setting the house on fire. We’ll go to Ricky’s for costumes and DVR some Meredith Baxter Birney flicks. It’ll be great.

“I Don’t Want To Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith
Things Steven Tyler might actually want to miss: my morning bowel movements (thanks to Activia), the nasty case of strep I gave to everyone within a five-mile radius just by looking at them, the silent treatment he actually gets for closing his eyes and falling asleep during my friend’s nephew’s reading of the Torah at his bar mitzvah, even though he promised he wouldn’t.

“Alone” by Heart
I love Nancy and Ann, I really do. But if someone is lying in a pitch dark room, listening to the ticking of the clock, thinking of methodical ways to get me alone, the logical explanation is that he is Jeffrey Dahmer, and I’m a seventeen-year-old boy.

Significant Others, Part I

“Whenever I ask, ‘What are you thinking?’ My partner says ‘Nothing.’ How do I get him/her to communicate?”
You don’t. People who are transitioning into zombies and eventually want to eat your brains may actually say “nothing” to trick you into getting upset and falling asleep with your back facing them so they can feast on your limbic system with little struggle. If your partner says this more than three times in the span of a week, you’ll want to put him/her down soon if you value your life.

Barney Goes Gangsta

I’m back on Tumblr after hiatus.

I got bored—really bored—and decided to write a rap inspired by Barney going apeshit on the White House correspondent today.

Just chillin’, thinkin’ bout war goin’ down in Afghanistan and table scraps n’ shit.

Is my mic turned up?
This is for all the bitches in lockup in the kennels in Crawford Tee Ex—special big ups to my main bitch Miss Beazley, yo…
Check it

I be chillin’ with my Kong toy and my Hill’s Science Diet
Tryna step in on my midday walk? Bitch, don’t try it
When you roll up in my crib, check your shit at the door
or I’ll leave a steamin’ present on the Oval Office floor

I’m the illest White House dog, so don’t let my cuteness fool you
Or I’ll one-up “No Child Left Behind” and motherfuckin’ school you
You think Dick Cheney’s psycho? Fool, his tired game is over
I won’t scatter you with bird shot, but I’ll chew your Prada loafer

I gets mad love from the First Lady Laura
She laces me with Beggin’ Strips and beds lined with angora
I got gully canine game, and I see you on my jock
Ease up, or I’ll end you (like the war should in Iraq)

Soon I’m peacin’ out to Crawford where my main bitches stay
‘Til then, press correspondents need to get up out my way
‘Cause I’m motherfuckin’ Barney, and I’m still up in this piece…

…is that a fucking squirrel in the Rose Garden? Nevermind, I’m out.

My life homie, Willie the cat, and my ol’ lady, Miss Beazley. We straight up ILL on Halloween, yo.