Humor heals all - how about some Tiger jokes?

Before the jokes, this story broke overnight. This is NOT one of the jokes, it actually happened.

Tiger's request to a former "friend" to remove her name from her cell phone, cuz his "wife may have found" her number, raised some eyebrows. You can hear Tiger's voicemail here.

Tiger finally speaks, it is here.

And, now for the jokes:

Apparently the police asked Tiger’s wife how many times she hit him. She said “I don’t know exactly, but put me down for a 5.”

Tiger Woods is so rich that he owns lots of expensive cars. Now he has a hole-in-one.

What’s the difference between a car and a golf ball? Tiger can drive a ball 400 yards.

What was Elin doing out at 2.30 in the morning? Clubbing

Why did Tiger crashed into a fire hydrant AND a tree? He couldn’t decide between a wood and an iron.

Why did Phil Mickelson call Elin yesterday? To pick up some tips on how to beat Tiger.

What is the penalty for getting it in the wrong hole? Ask Tiger, he knows.

Tiger drives very well on the fairway but doesn’t fare very well on the driveway. Rock me.

Whats the difference between a golf ball and a caddy? Tiger can drive a golf ball.

Sheriff's Department Cannot Operate a Fax Machine

Seal of Brazoria County, "Where Texas Began"

This is a true story. None of the facts have been changed, because of the stupity of the situation.

Recently while on vacation, I was ticketed for no insurance. It was in a car I rarely drive, and the ticket was promptly placed into the glove box and forgotten. Until this weekend.

I received a call from the Brazoria County Sherrif's office informing me of a warrant for my arrest for non-payment of the ticket. As it turns out, I just needed to show them my insurance card, which was not in the car, because I only drive that 4-wheel drive to the coast. Which also explains why I never saw it again. It hasn't moved since we returned from the coast.

So this morning, I attempted to fax my insurance card to the Sherriff's Department to resolve the issue. I faxed it and called. Not there. An hour later, i faxed it again. Not there.

At the risk of sounding like an ass, I requested that the clerk verify the fax machine had paper in it. It did. However, the toner cartridge is out. She didn't know how to change it, and even she did, she didn't know where they were kept. No shitting.

Our resolution, tomorrow, the "city lady" will be in (she only works a half day, no shitting) and she know how to change the toner cartridge. She will then print the fax, adjust the ticket, and see if I owe anything at that point. In the meantime, I should "try to not get stopped" or I might go to jail.

No shitting.

Two of Brazoria County's Finest, not the one who gave me the ticket

Funny Blog

This guy really hits the nail on the head. And since I am beyond buried in tax season, and have had all my creativeness sucked right out of my brain, a little tidbit for you.

This will be really funny to some of you, and for those who it is not funny to, please go to church sometime. Then this stuff will also make you laugh.

Funny Site Link Here.

Please notice I made no mention of my incorrect prediction of the Kansas NCAA win. Let's face it pics of squids are funnier.

Roll the Dice!!

Happy Tuesday!

Smart Ass 8th Grader

Hero of Child Molestors Everywhere

For a 13 year old, this is major genius. He put up a myspace page about his principal, with some, lets say unflattering rhetoric. So the school suspends the kid, and now his parents are sueing.



According to the Myspace page (now deleted), the principal enjoys "giving students anal... and jacking off in my office..." In addition, the principal's heroes are Michael Jackson, Hitler and Sadaam Hussein and his "purple penetrator." And, he loves "gay movies." His other interest include, uh, copulating with the assistant principal.

Jackson with his next victim

Turdpolishers.Com Coo Performed

Really horrible pic of my screenshot, sorry I will try for a better one.

One of my bad habits is to frequent Turdpolishers.com, aka, BaylorFans.com.

Its an eclectic group of neer-do-wells and kool-aid drinking fans of the B. They get in pissing matches frequently, and generally seek to become the most self-important, intolerant person on the board. While there are exceptions, such as Pale Rider, Simp13, Wooldog and a few others, this is the general rule.

Well, on a particular Saturday afternoon recently, while a B basketball game was in full swing, I logged onto the board. While my intentions were to just check it out and weigh in with my opinions, it turned ugly. Not ugly in a "I'm an internet tough-guy" kind of way. But ugly in a "there's no one else on this frickin board" kind of way.

After about 45 minutes of posting, I noticed that I had the last post on about half of every thread listed. So it began. In approximately and hour and 25 minutes I was the latest poster on EVERY thread on the board. Legends are born of this sort of thing interpeeps.

Now one might ask, how does one do this? Post at 4 am? Perhaps. Do you jam the board with mind control and overtake every possible poster? Perhaps. But in my case, I just started shooting off my mouth, which I must admit, I tend to do alot of. But as you will notice in the screen shot above, (ok, you really can't see it,) it occured in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.

And a legend is born...

Sports Briefs

Today's Sports Briefs

This just in: Last night in Highland Park a women's step class turned ugly when the women, who were on a 3 day retreat all had simultaneous gas expulsion. Authorities say the women had all swallowed bubble gum as part of a bonding class in an exercise of overcoming the fear of swallowing. Unfortunately, the lunch that day included generous portions of baked beans and cabbage. The picture below shows what happened.

What can happen when you swallow your gum

In college basketball news:

Bobby Knight resigns at Texas Tech. He told people, "...I'm old, and I'm just tired..." which may be code for another salad bar incident rumored to have taken place at the 50 Yard Line Restuarant. No matter what your feelings are towards Bob, he is a legend in college basketball. He will be missed. Maybe some other A-hole will emerge to provide us with shocking moments.

Thanks to our Friends at LandThieves.Com

One of Life's Most Embarassing Moments (for me)...

The end of the Baylor Master Tax Program was drawing to an end for me. Everyone was interviewing. I myself had several arranged. So my dear mother bought me a new suit to interview in, which was not only greatly appeciated, but desperately needed.


To say my clothes were not interview appropriate is an understatement. Granted, Baylor Homecoming sweatshirts, and Diadeloso t-shirts were great, but not your standard fare for the professional environment. Plus, I had gained around 40 pounds, so none of my old suits fit anymore. So off we went to Goldstein-Miguel's (how many of you remember that place?).


At the time I was working almost full-time and also attending the tax program full-time. Were it not for my wife, it would have been impossible to pull off. She was a tremendous blessing in my life and I love her dearly for all she did for me. One of those things she did for me, was to ready my suit for a big interview.


For you B business alums, you know that prior to the Enron debacle, Arthur Anderson Acccounting firm was "THEE" place to go to work. They took only the brightest and the best, so it was said. And to get a job there validated your existence on earth and confirmed your worthiness to enter heaven. From the moment we walked into the Arthur Anderson Student Center on the Baylor campus, we all knew it was the place to go. And if you were not hired by them, well, you should immediately stop your subscription to breathing air.

The God of Accounting in the 90's

So it was to be one of my busiest days in months. Two exams to take, three bids to submit at work (I was a construction estimator) and my big interview with the Tax Partner with Arthur Anderson. I was elated to get this interview, because I missed the sign-up and all of the interview slots were taken. Due to my excellent schmoozing skills I was able to obtain a 10 minute interview with the guy.


My schedule that day:


8:30am - submit bid #1

10:00am - Tax Practice & Procedures exam

12:30pm - submit bid #2


12:50pm - Interview with Arthur Anderson

1:10pm - Estate and Gift Tax exam

4:15pm - submit bid #3


So after bid #1 I picked up the suit from the tailor, and took it home so Mrs Poop could ready it for me to wear. "Make sure you take all the tags off for me!!" was the last thing I said as I slammed the door on the way to my 10am exam.


This day from the depths of hell allowed me about 20 minutes to go home, throw on the suit and get to the campus in time for the big interview. I made sure he knew how appreciative I was of him cutting his lunch short for a quick interview. My 10 minute interview went for about 4 minutes. I was not only confused, but devastated. No chance in hell I get a job after a 4 minute interview. With no AA job my life was now over, and any other job was an embarassment to the B.


I said all the right things, had an awesome resume, and just like Ryan Leaf, I looked good on paper and had great referrals. Why did he have that smug look on his face? Why did he cut the interview so short? I wondered this all the way to the restroom after the interview. No time now to worry, I had a big exam.


As I walked into class, everyone looked at me and smiled. "They like my new suit!" I thought to myself. "Too bad I'm married girls" I thought proudly. About then, my buddy "Bob" says to me, "Get a new suit?" Grinning from ear to ear, he holds out his arm and waves his hand under his arm like something was dangling there. What the...

As it turns out, the ONLY tag my damned sorry-ass wife removed was the BIG, GIANT, tag on the very front of the suit that said, "10% OFF." Yessir, I had the tag on the sleeve, which could only be seen by me looking in the mirror in the bathroom with my arm up to my face. At that point, I could also see the somewhat large tag hanging from the armpit of the coat. At that point, I prayed for the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

Like this suit, only with big-ass tags

If you look in a thesaurus for the word "humiliated" you will see: shamed, mortified, disgraced, embarrassed, dishonored. I'm not sure all of those words together can convey how I felt at that very moment. It was the single-most embarassing moment in my entire life. Worse than my mom finding my "reading material" and way worse than when I came home drunk and had my car taken away for a month by my dad after I puked on his feet. This day, I would likely never forget. And I was pretty sure my classmates would always remember me as "the guy with all the tags on his suit." I must admit. I sat in a stall and cried a bit. As if I didn't have enough stress in my life with working full-time and going to school full-time, I had this to deal with.



At that moment, everything good I had done vanished, and only my blown interview and ticker-tape suit existed. How I passed that test I will never know. I had lost my ability to concentrate.




Well, we all know now what happened with Arthur Anderson and Enron. So I guess they have more to be embarassed about than me. Payback's a bitch. NA NA NA NAA NA. (yeah, I know they had the conviction overturned)



It all worked out. I went to work for a great small firm in the Dallas area with some amazing clientele. I did tax work for some very high-profile people for years, and was exposed to some the most cutting edge tax planning by the best law firms in the Dallas area. I got to see from the inside-out the big-picture of how it all worked and flowed from one entity to another. It turned out to be one of the best things to ever happen to me.



Now, I have my own CPA firm, and do for my clients and introduce them to what I learned from the big tax attorneys I used to work with. I get to work with professional athletes, meet people I never dreamed I would and be a part of some very cool stuff. It has proved to me that God is bigger than me, and maybe, just maybe, he is gonna take good care of me, in spite of me. Boy, am I glad I didn't cancel my subscription to air. Oh yeah, I also learned to never depend on your wife if its really important.

And that's all I have to say about that.

How I became "Poopsandwich"

"That Poopsandwich name, thats a little much, aint it boy?"


" I cannot beleive you would select such a disgusting name to be called!"


Well, as is the case so many times, that name has its root in my kids.


To say that a road trip with the entire family is chaos, makes chaos look weak. Its a non-stop barrage of "i'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I need to tinkle," and "(you insert your own whiney turd comment here.)"


Somewhere between Waco and Hillsboro, after 30 straight minutes of whining about stopping at "Lone Star Cafe" in Hillsboro, and then the subsequent denial of such, it became too much.


My next to youngest, G for short, has the temperament of a boxer. She is friendly and basically sweet, but if you poke her with a stick, you will regret it very soon after. After the non-stop at Lone Star Cafe, she demanded a sandwich. At which point, I told her, "well how about a poopsandwich?" "Cause you can poop in one hand, and whine about a sandwich in the other, and see which one gets full faster!" (Good Lord people! Its an hour and 45 minutes to Waco! You are not going to starve!)

G if she was a guy

At the moment I issued the "poopsandwich" comment, the entire car erupted in laughter, well the entire care except me. I was still steaming. Oops, bad choice of words.

So to this day, the word poopsandwich is thrown around in various circumstances, usually followed by big belly laughs. The crazy dad makes another memory. So I thought why not...


I just love internet anonymity ;>)

Pregnancy anyone? How about a Vasectomy?

While reading a blog recently I was reminded of the fear I felt after my wife alerted me to our most recent pregnancy.

My wife is a hotty. Plain and simple. At over 40, she looks better than most women half her age. So its no big surprise that I just can't keep my hands off her. Its been that way most of our marriage.

My Hot Wife - OK, she just looks like Gena Lee

Me and the wife shortly before conception of our last child

But I digress. After she announced the pregnancy of our last child, I fell into a horrible depression. Grad school, meager finances, my surviving on 4-5 hours of sleep each night due to working full time and attending school full time. It just hit me. The next day, after I sobered up, I called a urologist and made an appointment.


He insisted on a "consultation" appointment first. So we could weigh the consequences of permanently damaging the pipes. I insisted that 7 kids was plenty, and that I was looking forward to shooting blanks. That in fact we had agreed to take the wheels off the baby carriage.

So it was, I should come in the next day for the procedure.


Having been in on all the births of my kids, and cutting the cord no less than 4 times, I felt it my god given right (and because i just like to mess with people) to guilt my bride into going into "the room" with me to have the procedure done. It was my finest work, and she was mortified. Although I rejoiced in my work, it would come back to haunt me.

When we arrived the next day, it was the Friday before the Cowboys' Super Bowl (not sure which one). I had been a good patient and taken my pills the doctor had given me to relax. I was majorly stoned. There is just no other way to put it. Having avoided pretty much all drugs for a very long time, these worked thier majic. Not being one to waste a good buzz, I located a ZZ Top CD and my personal CD player and rocked out all the way to the doc's office.

The nurses outfits that dreadful day

To celebrate the Cowboys good fortune, the nurses all wore Cowboys T-shirts and it appeared had gone to someplace that paints blue jeans on you. They were the tightest jeans ever, and left little to the imagination. The prospect of having a hot nurse in skin tight jeans wash Mr Winkie was not an altogether unpleasant thought. I had been married for a very long time, and Mr Winkie had been a one woman Winkie for a very long time. The thought of having another woman touch Mr. Winkie made me dizzy.

Me on the operating table

Well, this is where the tail goes bad, very bad actually.

As it turns out, I was not the only one who had noticed how hot the nurses were in that office. After we had arrived in the operating room, the hottest of the nurses came in to "prep" me for surgery. At this point the wife speaks up and asks the nurse, "you aren't going to wash him? are you?" WHAT?!?!?!? SHUT YOUR BIG MOUTH UP?!?!!?! I thought silently to myself. My Christian sensabilities prevent me from ever cheating on my wife, so my only chance to be touched just vanished before me.


"Well, I was GOING TO" the nurse replied. She left the room and returned with a very annoyed doctor. Apparently, he likes to cut on guys weiners, but prefers not to wash them. He began the wash with a pissed off look at me, right in the eye. He then turned his attention to Mr. Winkie, who had gone from a state just south of excitement, to "cave dweller." He washed my scrotum with such force and verocity (yes, it fits) that I felt compelled to say something, even in my very stoned state.

You know how you tend to talk really loud when you have headphones on?, well I yelled out, "I usually like to wash down there, but I tend to not be that vigorous about it!" I looked up again, to see my wife with her head in her hands, and she appeared to be very white, like she might vomit at any moment. The nurse was bent over the counter laughing uncontrollably. The doctor paused to giggle for a moment, then resumed his torture, but only for a brief moment. At last I was "clean." My nads were already hurting at this point, and nothing had even been cut.





So the surgery begins with a syringe of topical pain killer. He dripped it on my scrotum, and it ran into/onto my rectum. At this point, I felt compelled (I just could not stop talking) to yell, in my best headphones on voice, "AAAUUUGGGGG, my ass is burning!!!" More laughter from the nurse.

Well, the burning didn't last long, and after a few snips, a slight tugging sensation a couple of times, and the smell of burning flesh (since we were sure, we had him coterize the tubes) we were done. The nurse had to help me put my clothes back on because wifey still had her head buried in her hands. She walked me to the front desk, and we were on our way.

My wife taking me home after surgery

I spent the remainder of that day, and half of the next day sitting on bags of ice and popping my pain pills from the good doc. I watched 4 movies, and when I later watched them again, I did not remember seeing them that weekend.

It was a good move and I am glad I did it. It was very liberating.


OK, now you have heard one of my favorite stories.

Beauty and the Geek - my own story

It funny how we can get sucked into a TV show. I spent almost all day Sunday (until 8pm) watching the Beauty and the Geek marathon. The final episode airs Tuesday, and I just may have to watch it. I think its on MTV if you are interested.

Watching the show today made me think of how we process sterotypes. The "beauties" immediately looked down on the "geeks" who they knew nothing about. In return, the geeks felt they were intellectually superior. If you have watched the show you know what happens: geek learns the beauty is pretty on the inside too (most of the time); beauty finds out that the geek really does have alot to offer.

But this is what happens in life. We shut out those who are different than us, mostly to avoid being rejected and then hurt. In reality, we are basically the same. We all want to be loved and accepted. We want to have friends and feel we are important in this life.

I have been on both sides of this dilemma. I have been the skinny kid that got made fun of. And I have been the popular kid that all the girls wanted to go out with. But thats a story for another day.

I remember wanting to be friends with the lovely Cheryl D. in the first grade. I was in love with her, and was fairly sure she was the most beautiful first grader on earth. I never went through that "I hate girls" phase. When she would not return my affections, I tackled her and kissed her right on the mouth, her kicking and screaming all the while. They immediately sent me to the principal's office, where he did his best to refrain from laughing. If that happened today, I would be in alternative school.

Some other time, I will tell you the story of the turkeys and the eagle. But I will tell you the moral of that story: when those who should accept you do not accept you, you will be accepted by whoever will.

Any memories you would like to share?

The Loss of Bearmeat

This last week, my second favorite website appears to have reached its end. For some time now, I have been going to the BearMeat blog to read about goings on with my favorite college, Baylor University.

On November 20, President Red Andrews signed off for what appears to be the last time. Leaving hordes (or at least 17) people wondering how to get thier fix. It is for this that I will long each day.

Then yesterday, the blog title went to "Thee University has quited us" in the title. This sounds bad, very bad.

What will we do now that BearMeat appears to have met its end?

For those unfortunate enough to have never perused BearMeat, here you go:

http://bearmeat.blogspot.com/