Are Those Boobs Or Moobs?

There it is again!  Uggggh...  I just want to hire someone to come over to my house and pull my hair out for me.  Who is this 'Jesse' person on this Dominos commercial?!?  For the love of God, can anyone tell me if it is a she or he?  It's like a scene from one of my nightmares, always in continuous rotation.  The Dominos commercial from Hell, out to ruin Alexis' life.  Just the other day I was busy... doing... something productive and just so happened to forget to turn the television off.  I'm alone in the house, I hear this voice and I jump.

(shudder) "Oh.  It's you again.  (angry eye-squint) Jesse..."

An electrifying jolt jogs it's fancy little legs down my spine when I hear this ...thing's voice.  And the most time consuming, brain cell wasting question of all:

                       Is this a boy or girl? 

I told my younger sister that she should give the Dominos tracker a nice little run (since I don't eat pizza during the month of September) for it's money.  What I wish I could say through her, plastered in the middle of Times Square, right on that electric billboard is:

"Jesse, what an amazing pizza.  You really hit the mark when I said extra cheese.  Just a question for you though.  Either you are a pudgy, prepubescent male with the voice of a choir boy or you are one of those androgynous lesbians that scare the shit out of me after I find out their gender when they hit on me at the mall.  I'm gonna put my money on you swinging an underdeveloped nut sack rather than having daymares of you (when I'm not even sleeping) each time your commercial runs across my television screen.  At any rate, keep up the good work."  Thumbs up from Alexis in NY.

Toe Story

Finally my toe is healing.  What am I talking about?  I'm talking about a near death experience that I had with the door to my apartment building.  As I was leaving the building with the new addition in tow, I managed a balancing act that resulted in one of THE WORST end of summer specials.  The door to my building is around 300 pounds, so opening it takes an entire workout.  I literally have to put my back into it.  Needless to say, when I am furious I really don't need to put any energy in it at all.  Had I have known that, my toenail would not have been ripped right off in one swoop.  It happened so fast that I didn't feel a thing... until I looked down. 

(And I don't want to be a narcissistic douche or anything, but the same way a model loves her face is the way I love my feet.  When Prince penned 'Adore', he read my mind.  That song epitomises my thoughts on these paws.) 

This tragedy had to be known by each and every person that crossed my path, starting with my grandparents (since I was already on my way to their house).  By the end of the day I expected cards in the mail, Get Well balloons, pretty much nothing short of a telethon fundraiser in my name.  So as I get ready to really polish this martyr role, I put on my forlorn face, pout my lips, act like my foot is weighed down with concrete and I dragged it across the floor to show my grandfather.  In my most pathetic, 'Oliver' voice I say "look what happened, grandpa"  (Cue the Russian choir) and show him the mangled toe.

That's just skin.

And what happens?  That old man takes his motherfucking shoes off exposing fungus ridden toenails and starts his toe story with: "When I was in Vietnam..." 

Are you fucking kidding me?!?  I could have had my toe blown off that morning with a shotgun and then had the stump dipped in battery acid and STILL it wouldn't have anything on someone who starts their toe experience (EVEN if it was just a splinter) with the fucking word "Vi-et-NAM".  

So for everyone under the age of 93, yes, my poor little toe is healing fine.

It's A Boy

So I had the baby.  My thoughts on the experience?  I'll keep them to myself.  His thoughts on being a part of this world?

...yeah.