Fake it 'till I Make it...

While enduring another day at the grind, I was asked a very serious and 'career advancing' question.

Do I have any previous experience on the big screen?

I thought back to the US Open....

... and just saved myself from 9 months of acting class.

ASPCA

Thinking it was just another rudimentary day in my cement park, I got about to normal business. 

Frolic amongst the potted plants on steroids,

perfect my 3 point stance,

bask in the sunlight...

and remind the wildlife I'm King of this concrete jungle!

I come at full speed, mane flowing in the wind and roaring at the top of my lungs. 

No better feeling than watching my prey fear, understand ... 

and obey me.

Seconds later, Im surrounded by what I assume to be the ASPCA  ... and they aint havin' it. 

I am not so sure what their banner says, but judging by their tone of voice and timing I'm almost positive it has something to do with animal rights. 

Watching them fist pump without house music playing begins to frighten me.

Fearing for my life and not knowing how to say in their language, "I'm one of you now.... Let me sign right below Michael Vick,"  I think fast on my feet and give them the universal sign for the animal rights conversion.

I walk right up to the nearest tree...

size that sucker up,

and embrace it, planting a kiss to make it authentic.

Still looking the tree straight in the face... I believe I hear the Captain tell the First Officer in Command to withdraw the troops.  

They cease and desist. 

My life has been spared. 

And just like that my pigeon heckling days are over. 

unHappy HallowEat Me

Apologies for the lack of posts last week. You will soon understand. 

First and foremost - lets all give thanks. October is over.

I hate Halloween.

Im well aware what I just said could be considered blasphemy so in defense of Halloween hatred, please bare with me and take a walk down memory lane.

One year ago ...  October 2009.

Clearly the only time of year Ma gets to publicly humiliate me without fear of spotting a social worker.

 

After multiple attempts to finding the perfect costume and indulge in her inner desire to torture me....

she finds The One.

Without even changing me out of my street clothes, she shoves me into a banana suit and hands me a used plastic grocery sack telling me "Snickers only."

Im wearing a banana suit boldly displaying a blue "Certified Organic Banana" sticker, and this crazy woman has me carrying a plastic grocery bag. Im not only a fruit, but also a walking oxymoron. 

Harsh lesson learned: Trick's on me, Treats for Ma. 

Its bad enough chicks tell me I'm completely unappealing ....

but being laughed at by my boys is borderline abominable.

Id rather join my new found peers and face the sudden death of consumption then provide Ma the satisfaction of ruining my image.

I find the hungriest looking thing walking on two legs, punch him in the mouth and tell him to eat me.

Seething due to my brilliance and realizing she was on the brink of being outsmarted, Ma whisks me away from the jaws of the angry dinosaur.

And my punishment? 

Instead of going straight home, we stop at my neighborhood Halloween party.

Between listening to superman complain about his sweaty armpits,

and Mr. Rent-a-Cop wine about the waist band of his pants,

It's obvious these so called men could never survive tough love.

Now lets get current. Goodbye '09.... 

This year Ma teased me by letting me decide the theme for my costume.

Wanting everything I could NOT achieve with the banana suit - my costume request is genius, infallible and well.... obvious.

Halloween 2010... Ladies and Gentlemen: I. AM. A. PRO. ATHLETE.

Annnnnnd.... The enemy strikes again.

 Looking like a tasteless cereal from the front and a fake n baked Sponge Bob from the back...

sympathetic people off the street start handing me money instead of candy,

however no dollar amount could repair this annual humiliation.

Being dragged to yet another halloween party, I nervously anticipate a girlfriends' reaction to my costume.

Expecting to see Michael Jordan, Muhammad Ali, Shoeless Joe Jackson- needless to say she was clearly disappointed and well... disgusted by my inability to outsmart Ma.       

And as soon I turn my back, who is she all over? The next best looking guy at the party. 

Refusing to be manipulated by yet another woman- I gave her an ultimatum. Its either him or me. 

Waiting in misery we both sat internally struggling with the possibility of rejection.

She obviously likes her men not resembling breakfast foods. 

Infuriated by both parents, I shamefully act on impulse.

In attempt to slap some sense into Ma

followed by throwing a left jab and threat to Pa

I gain nothing but a wounded hand. 

Once thinking trumping the misery of my banana suit was impossible, I learned two more important lessons. First- violence is never the answer. 

and second? It can always get worse.

We've now come full circle. 

___________________________________

Oh, and as a side note to the parental units:

You'll pay for this.  

"Strawberry Yogurt" Starring ME: Master P(ee)

The floors were immaculate. So shiny I could see my reflection. I had just got out of the bathtub and I believe for the first time everything in our little world was squeaky clean and sterile. Ma was on a cleaning rampage and altho only a few feet from me I realized this was the perfect opportunity remind her of my purpose on earth. Her life should not look this orderly or faultless. Not with me in it!

Aaaaahhhh yes. She forgot to lock the fridge.

Man Code: Drink Sharing

Sharing a beverage with a Woman:

They casually grab the drink from my hands, without even asking or acknowledging the fact they wish to partake in my beverage.  This sly action gives the impression they are trying, in some way, to do me a favor. Perhaps hold the cup for me as I reposition the straw?

Before I catch on to their bait and switch, consumption is underway...

As I watch in horror, occasionally I'll get the "what 'chu gonna do 'bout it?" stare down and the two finger death grip. 

                            

Detecting my defeat, women continue to pound my beverage quicker than a 19 year old frat boy. Wallowing in torture and thirst, I can do nothing but swallow saliva. 

Holding back a fountain of tears, the drink is returned with nothing but watered down ice cubes.

Relishing in success, trickery and my destruction, the infamous smile spreads over their face as they victimize yet another thirsty man. 

How they expect us to continue on throughout the day as if nothing ever happened is beyond me...

Sharing a drink with a Man:

An extremely thirsty male relative or friend asks for a gulp of my drink.   The liquid divide is discussed and we make an agreement.  Admittingly I still hesitate before giving the go ahead...

I then remember the unspoken agreement between men: the dude bumming the drink isn't allowed to put his lips on the bottle.

I reluctantly shove my drink in his direction giving him the OK.

Witnessing the unspoken rule in action, and drinking just enough to satisfy his needs... I smile in deep appreciation.  Any reluctance vanishes and I enjoy helping a friend in need. 

The interaction is completely seamless. I'm given back my drink in seconds and mentally prepare for another blissful indulgence.

I put the bottle to my lips, close my eyes...

... and embrace complete ecstasy.

Thirst quenched and satisfied I slam down the bottle with deeper love for the man code.