Here Are Some Random Notes From A Chorus Concert Last Night. Middle School.

Here are various notes from the 8th grade chorus concert I had to attend last night. My daughter is in the chorus:

- I sat in the back so I was able to spend my time watching people. Like a bird. On it’s perch. Watching. I’ve discovered if I’m bored to tears but able to watch people I can make things bearable.

- When all the kids walked to the stage I saw my daughter’s friend. She’s pretty funny. I gave her the nonverbal look like a was surprised. Like, “What? What are you doing here? This is preposterous!” She tilted her head sideways, nodded and winked and gave me the “gun shoot” pointed finger. Cracked me up.

- The kid I saw last year with the magnificent jew-fro was singing again. He’s so big. He looks like he could play college football and then he tops off his huge frame with this big ass fro. And to make it better, there was a teensy tiny kid standing in front of him with what looked liked a glued on fake hairpiece. The juxtaposition was glorious. (Look at me using big words).

- The chorus director dude was totally overdoing it with his hand conducting moves. Couldn’t tell if he really thought what he was doing was helping the kids to sing or if he was showboating.

- Some Indian lady sat next to me and reeked of perfume. Is that really necessary? I swear I could taste it.

- I cracked myself up by imagining that right as they were finishing singing the Beatles song, “Here Comes The Sun” if I had a speaker rigged up then from off stage in a super baritone voice I sung, “HERE COMES THE SUN….YEAHHH!” And everyone would be looking around like, “What the hell?” Some parents would have shocked looks on their faces and shaking their heads and saying, “Who would DO that? They ruined it! The whole thing is ruined now! We even brought Nana here. And she's SICK!”

Then the rest of the concert I was thinking of things that I could at the end of every song to ruin it. Like I'd come swinging in from the side and sing the last line. Or pull off a fake rubber mask like I was one of the kids after a song ended. Then run away.

Janitors would be instructed to catch me. They'd fail.

Would be a big ole' scandal. Probably one of those stories that gets passed down to new kids every year. Oh and the cover up? Don't even start.

Man. I should have done it.

Listen To What This One Idiot Said About His Wedding. Tux Shoes.

So here’s the conversation I heard the other day between two guys. It looks like both were contractors. The younger one was about 25 and the older one was about 40.

Older Guy: So how’s the wedding stuff going?

Young Guy: Well we got into dis big ass fight. I told her: "I AM NOT WEARING DRESS SHOES TO DA WEDDING!"

Older Guy: Really?

Young Guy: No. I told her, “I hate dress shoes. I hate da way dey look. I hate da way dey feel and I’m not wearing em'. I’m wearing sneakers.” Dat's my ONE thing.

Older Guy: What did she say?

Young Guy: She didn’t believe me. Den dis morning she says, “Don’t forget that we see da video guy tonight.” I was like, “I’m on strike. Until you know dat I’m not wearing dress shoes I’m on strike.” (All proud and shit): I. AM. ON. STRIKE!

Oh come on now! What idiot wears sneakers with a tux? Can you imagine what type of fool this guy is going to look like?

Thoughts?

This Cee Lo Green Song Is So Catchy. And GREAT video!

Man is this song F U by Cee Lo Green catchy. And it's a great video too. Does anyone else love it?

Go ahead. Watch it and let me know what you think.

Jimi Hendrix. Exton Sam Goody. Putting On The Gorilla Suit

My Dad is the type of guy that doesn’t take shit from anyone. Like if you’re standing in a long line at a store and there’s only one register open, and everyone is looking at each other like, “this is ridiculous”… he’s the type that walks to the front of the line and says, “Excuse me. But I’ve standing in line for five minutes. I’m going to need you to stop what you’re doing, call your manager and get another person on a register.”

And everyone is all, "I wish I had the balls to do that." Or if someone butts in line? Yeah right buddy. My Dad is the one that will tell you to get to the back.

So flashback to when my brother was in 5th grade. My brother buys a Jimi Hendrix book. So my Dad is flipping through the book and sees a plaster cast of Jimi Hendrix’s junk in it. He’s like, “What the hell is this? You’re not going to have this book!” To my brother. “You’re going to bring it back.”

“But I don’t have a receipt.”

“Then I’LL bring it back!

“Dad, they won’t take it back without a receipt.”

“Oh they’ll take it back alright.”. My Dad takes the book and drives to the record store. Sam Goody I believe it was. Exton Mall.

Dad gets into the store and says to cashier, “I’d like to return this book but I don’t have a receipt.”

“Sorry sir, I can’t exchange it if you don’t have a receipt.” The lady says.

“Do you have kids?”

“Uh..yes?”

“Well let me ask you this: turn to page 112. Would you want your 5th grader looking at that?

The woman looks at the picture, turns beat red and opens the register.

Mission accomplished.

*Author's note: This is what my Dad called, "Putting on the gorilla suit ."

Kickass Art. Rhino Gets What's Coming To Him. Finally

Of all the art that shows a rhino getting kicked in the nuts by a dude on guitar with a big ass explosion in the back.... this one has to be my favorite.

Behold it's glory!



Thanks to my Twitter friend @Amk195 for bringing it to my attention. Life now has meaning.

Various Nicknames I've Given. Llammas

I’m a giver of nicknames. And nicknames that have stuck. Even if the person doesn’t know they’ve got a nickname. Here are a few nicknames and their meaning:

Flare – for my friend that would get pissed off all the time and his nostrils would Flare.

Glamour Boy – For my friend. At senior week he was trying to impress a girl so he got up earlier to go jogging with her. He was wearing a red shirt and red shorts and he had chapstick on his lips that made them look shiny. I’m like, “Look at you. You’re like a Glamour Boy.”

Compressor Head – this chick in college that looked like her face was smooshed in a vice-like compressor machine.

Steam Box – This dude in college that was so skinny and scrawny that he looked like a guy in the cartoons that used to be really fat but then goes into one of those steam boxes that they had at gyms in the 30’s. He stays in too long and becomes super skinny.

Llamma – a friend of mine that I thought looked like a llama because he had a long neck. And whenever I would say llama I would follow it by saying, “The priiiiiide of Peru.”

Grandpa – My friend Steve (comments on this blog under CrotchPains) because I think he used to dress like a Grandpa.

I swear there are a hundred more. If I were near my yearbooks I could rattle some more off but I’m not.

But on another nickname related note there was a kid in Junior High that gave himself the nickname ‘Wizard”. Pretty lame when you do that. We knew that because he had a jean jacket and drawn in pen on the back was the picture of a wizard hat and it said, “Wizard.” Or maybe it was the whole body of a wizard. I forget.

He thought he was badass but he wasn’t.

My friend Flare taunted him all the way through high school when his wizard stage was supposed to be long gone. He’d see him in the hall and say, “Hey everyone. It’s Wizard! Are you gonna cast any spells wizard.”

Wizard would just look at Flare and flip him the bird.

Moral: Never nickname yourself Wizard.

The Ritual I Have When It Comes To Baths.

If you follow me on Twitter you know that I enjoy the manly habit of taking baths. Here’s my ritual:

Boil two large pots of water. This way, the bath starts out super hot and you don’t run out of hot water as you drain the warm and add more hot water during the bathing event.

Put a beer in the freezer for about 20 minutes. This will ensure that it stays cold as it sits on the side of the tub. Make a bourbon or scotch using as much cracked ice as will fit in a glass.

Prepare some snacks. Sometimes I’ll make a small plate of cheese, almonds and hot pepper slices. I bring a toothpick in so I can stab the cheese and pepper slices. But make sure to eat the cheese first because it will start to melt from the steam in your bathroom.

Get reading material. I like to get a book and a few magazines. It’s nice to have choices.

Pen and paper. In case I “think of anything I need to write down.” Like a tweet or a blog post idea. Or an invention.

Droid. IMPORTANT: Do NOT hold over the tub. I dropped mine in the first week I had it and ruined it. You will need the droid so you don’t miss any important mentions of you on Twitter.

As I stated at the beginning, as the water goes from hot to warm, drain a bit of the water out and add more hot water. Swirl it around.

Things that are NOT part of my bath ritual: Lighting candles. Wrapping my hair up in a towel. Using bath beads. Although I did receive “lavender bath salts” for Xmas as a gift but I’m not sure I’ll use them because my Twitter friend @MrsMushiMushi told me a guy friend of hers used them and they somehow “burned his nuts.” Although she did go on to say that he only had one nut so maybe he already had some issues. In the nut area.

How I Used To Annoy My Siblings. Dancing.

I’m always amazed at how little my two kids argue because when I was growing up I used to torture my siblings.

There were five of us. I have 2 older sisters and a younger sister and brother. One of my standard tortures was to dance in front of the TV. But I'd actually wait until a pivotal moment in the show. Then I would walk toward the TV slowly and pounce in front.

Let the dancing begin.

“Move!!” They’d yell.

“Yeah right. I haven’t performed this yet..” Then I’d break into my dancing. I usually found that I could annoy them the most if I had a shit ass grin on my face and zombie eyes. The dance would always start out as tap dancing, then I’d throw in a bit of ballet to mix things up. Once the “Get out of the way!” screams got louder and I knew that I had limited time I’d do my finale which was that tap dancing move where you do the thing where you look like your running (while leaning forward) while alternating your straight arms forward then back. (What’s that move called?)

The other finale move was the one where you swing your arms in wide circles while doing crazy tap dancing with your feet. I really should know the names of these moves since I've been performing them all these years.

Oh and I don’t want to forget my other famous dance. The Tissue Dance. This is another dance - all self taught mind you - that I created that uses tissues as props. It’s a ballet/interpretive dance where my body actually becomes one with the tissues.

It’s really hard to explain in words. I’ll just have to show you when I see you.

McDonalds Story That You Won't Believe. West Chester.

I don’t think I’ve ever been in a McDonald’s that has as a staff that even remotely resembles the McDonald’s you see on the commercials. I mean, at least the commercials these days have a diversified staff but they're still smiling. And look clean.

But the staffing has reached an all time low. At least at the West Chester (High Street) McDonald’s. I didn’t witness this first hand but my son told me and I can’t stop laughing about it. Get ready for this...

He said there’s an employee – an order taker – that’s about 17 or 18. He wears the standard McD’s uniform but his hat is turned sideways and his pants hang really low. You know, rapper style.

So my son approaches the counter and waits. The dude looks at him then ignores him. He looks back at my son and looks away again. He finally slowly struts over to my son - all pissed off - and softly and really annoyed mutters, “So what the fuck do you want?’

HAHAHA!! I swear I made my son imitate it like five times. "So what the fuck do you want?" I was going to go there to experience it myself but my son thinks he quit. Or was fired.

(And look at that scary Ronald in the picture).

Getting Busted Having Sex. Ostriches. Crazy Ass Husband.

I wonder if some dude was ever having sex with a woman. And the husband came home.

And he's totally nude. Like TOTALLY. And he doesn't want the husband to see his junk so he covers it with his two hands. But the husbands comes at him to attack him and the guy has to fend him off so he just starts kicking him. (Remember, his hands are covering his junk).

And he's not karate style kicking him because the guy has no karate training. Sure, he's seen some Jackie Chan movies but it's not going to help in this situation. So he just kicks him the way an ostrich would kick. Like jumping up in the air and doing single kicks. A very goofy showing.

"Waaaa! Waaaa!" Screaming - almost birdlike as he kicks.

The husband isn't a great fighter so he's really just slap fighting the guy. Kinda sad if you think about it.

Then the guy - with one of his goofy ostrich-like kicks - steps into the bedroom trashcan. Yeah. I know. He runs down the hall squawking in his birdish screams and limping with the trashcan caught on his foot.

The husbands pursues him with a golf club.

...AND....CUT!

A List of Various Food Stuff You Should Know. Oysters.

“What are Dr Zibb’s thoughts on food?” is a constant question I get when I open letters from the TBY mailbag. Well I’ve made a list for you below.

Print out the list and tape it to your fridge. Memorize it over the next few weeks in case I decide to pop in for a meal.

I’ll probably appear at your kitchen window when you’re doing the dishes. But not in a friendly way like on a sitcom. I’ll make a more memorable showing by waiting until it’s dark, and you’ll look out thinking, “Is…is there something out there?” It’ll be hard to see because of the way the lights in your kitchen make it hard to see outside. When you cautiously put your face on the window I’ll suddenly push my face and the knife I’m wielding to the window while banging on it and scream, “I’M GOING TO KILL YOUUUU!!”

Once you change your underwear, let me into your home and prepare me some of my favorite foods. Here’s the list:

Unusual food I’ve eaten: foie gras, alligator and boar.

Foods I hate: beets, brussel sprouts. But I wish I liked brussel sprouts.

Favorite Sandwiches: Roast Pork from Dinics (Philly) and Luigi and Giovanni’s (Newtown Square, PA), hot roast beef sandwich from Nick’s original roast beef (Philly and Springfield, PA), Corn Beef or Pastrami sandwich from 2nd Avenue Deli (NYC)

Some more foods I love: Gumbo, mac and cheese with lobster, Eggs Benedict, gulf shrimp but it has to be super fresh. Why is it so hard to find great shrimp anymore?

Favorite cut of meat: Rib Eye.

Foods I like but then as I’m eating it sometimes I think, “Do I really like this?”: Oysters and asparagus.

Favorite dessert: Anything with chocolate and peanut butter. Like a choc and PB pie.

Best Meal I’ve ever had: (Believe it or not it was local) Blackened Tuna with crawfish au gratin on top at the High Street Café. It was a special but I used to call after that and get it as takeout.

Foods that I wish I could find in Chester County but can’t: Great Pizza, Great Bagels.

Snacky foods I love: Cashews and feta stuffed olives. And baked brie.

Food I want to learn more about. And by learn I mean eat: Cheeses and cured meats.

A Special Announcement Concerning A New Blog. Trina.

Let's face it. Blogging isn't what it used to be. What I mean is that the interaction with people is not what it used to me. Twitter is really where it's at for that.

And back in the day I used to promote blogs if I really liked them. Long time readers know this.

Well guess what? My favorite person on Twitter that cracks me up daily just started a blog. I kind of encouraged her to do it. I've done that to a few people that I think are really funny or interesting.

Her name is Trina. You may know her from this blog post the other week. Or this blog post about the Phantom of the Opera mask.

Well, the bottom line is that she cracks me up everyday. So follow her blog and tell her Zibbs sent you. Her blog is: trinalikeswine.blogspot.com . Go ahead. Give it a click!

Dirty Deeds. And Backdoor Man Question. ACDC.

During a long walk this morning I listened to the ACDC albums Back In Black and Dirty Deeds.

Well the one lyric in Dirty Deeds always bothered me. Here it is:

You got a lady and you want her gone
But you ain't got the guts
She keeps naggin' at you night 'n' day
Enough to drive you nuts
Pick up the phone, leave her alone
It's time you made a stand
For a fee, I'm happy to be
Your back door man

So is he saying that he's going to come and have anal sex with her or is a backdoor man also a hitman? I looked online for three minutes and found no reference to a backdoor man being a hitman. And why doesn't he just dump her? I don't get it.

Here's a live version of the song:

Lets Dance To Earth Wind And Fire! Let's Groove. Grinding.

OK. This video is so bad but I would so grind to you on this Earth, Wind and Fire classic.

Come on. Get up and pretend we're dancing...that's it. Shake it! There you go.

You're doing it! ...OK. Good. Get up against the couch in a submissive position...Mmm Hmm. That's it.. Here I come. *I come grooving in from the side*

- end scene -

Roller Derby Coming To Chester County! Caln Roller Rink.

Breaking News! Roller Derby is coming to the Chester County at the Caln Roller Rink.

Tis true. Take a look at the link here.

Scholars of this blog know that as a young skater I've been to the Caln Roller Rink but I was a Spinning Wheels Roller Rink man myself. Click here to see a post I wrote about it. See?.. I ain't lyin'.

And I'm extra excited because I know a few local gals that are actually trying out for the team. I'm going to see if I can get some exclusive inside info on the progress and some pictures.

Maybe I can convince WCLinda to try out. Hmmmmm.

There's also a Facebook page but I'm not going to link to it because I'm afraid the link will lead to my Facebook page. So find it yourself.

Stupid Invention My College Roommate Came Up With. Toothpicks.

One of my roommates in college was an idiot. I come into the room one day and he’s like, “Can I show you something?”

I’m like, “Yeah OK.” I could tell he was excited.

He walks over to his desk and comes back with a folder. “I’ve got an idea for an invention.”

I’m kind of thinking, “Oh no. This is gonna suck.”

The pitch begins. “So do you know how toothpicks are just plain. Like just wooden? They’re just small, boring sticks really. But what if you had this?” He pulls out a piece paper with a colorful toothpick drawn. Kind of like a candy cane. But tooth picky. “Flavored toothpicks!”

“Oh really?”

He proceeds to show me his various designs. He even had measurements drawn out. As if people don’t know how big a toothpick is. He’s all excited. And I’m thinking, “This is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.” He then goes onto show me a list of manufacturers that he’s planning on contacting. *thought bubble over my head: please record the calls. Please record the calls.*

I’m like, “Not to put you down Dave but I’ve worked at restaurants and they buy toothpicks and matches….all that stuff in bulk. I bet a restaurant orders toothpicks once every five years. And they probably order them from a place that supplies them with tons of other crap, like matches, straws..you know.”

“Yeah but they’re not FLAVORED toothpicks.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t think anyone cares. Think about it. It’s kind of dumb.”

“Yeah? You don’t know!” He puts his papers back into his invention folder and storms away. It was never mentioned again.

And NO, he’s not a toothpick tycoon now. I guess I killed the dream.

FIRST TBY GUEST BLOGGER POST EVER. Lottery Practical Joke.

If you follow me on Twitter you probably know one of my best blog friends is @TrinaLikesWine . Se cracks me up everyday and we also DM and email and just laugh. (And she's hot too. Just so you know).

Well if you're a reader of this blog you know that I love practical jokes. Many of the classics I've performed over the years are in here. Well here is a great one that Trina did a few years ago. I give you... the first ever THAT BLUE YAK guest blogger post and a great practical joke:

Ever had a coworker who annoyed you to your core? One who disrupted the unspoken office rule of "Don't talk to me until I've had my first cup of coffee"...The guy or gal who thrived on exerting their non existent knowledge on everything. Gossipers, Corporate conspiracy theorists, Blowhards...you get the picture. I worked with just that type of guy. His name was Derek.

Derek was the expert on everything. He had no kids of his own, but would let my female workers know what he'd do in the arena of discipline. Cooking? He knew of a secret recipe that would blow yours out of the water. He wasn't trained for Information Technology but was convinced he could develop an application for our group to utilize. 40 hours of testing later his program was scrapped…too many so called, “Glitches” for Derek to correct.

One skillset Derek did possess was the art of sucking up to management. Inflate a manager’s ego and you’re set.

My coworkers and I were tired of Derek but could never come up with a good way to get him to shut up and sit down. Among the things I knew about Derek was his passion for the lottery...He was forever trying to get an office lottery pool going, but would often go out on his own and purchase the tickets on his lunch break. He'd then keep the tickets in his desk as though he slept the night before like a kid on Christmas Eve. I could picture him thinking he'd strut into the office, open his desk drawer and exclaim, "OH MY GOD! IT CAN'T BE! I'M RICH!" as though money would make up for all his inadequacies combined.

In his mind, getting rich quick meant all the office females would flock to him in droves. He'd then have the pleasure of puffing his chest and announcing he would be moving on to greener pastures with his posse of beauties..

One morning, as I sipped my first cup of coffee, Derek came over and plopped his sloppily dressed ass into my guest chair. He leaned in, lowered his voice and looked around as though he was about to reveal state secrets. "Do you play the lottery?" he asked. Beyond uninterested and annoyed at his violation of the cardinal "1st Cup of Coffee" rule, I didn't disguise my disinterest..."No.." I replied, "Do you really think anyone wins that stuff? I don't bother." Unfazed by my blatant disdain for his presence he continued, "Well, I don't know if you've heard, but the jack pot is close to 2 million bucks..." As though my nonexistent chances of winning a hot 2 mill would excite me. "Wanna start an office pool?" he asked. "I don't think many would be interested Derek...How about you go for it?”, I muttered sarcastically and turned away towards my computer. As Derek walked away I had an epiphany....

The winning lotto numbers were announced the following evening on TV. I endured the torture of having to watch as the highly excitable host and blonde lotto beauty delicately opened the vacuum tube to allow the lotto balls to load. Pen and paper in hand I took note of the winning numbers. I woke extra early the following morning and bought a lottery ticket emblazoned with the winning numbers. I snuck into the office early and placed the ‘winning ticket’ among his purchased lotto tickets.

About half an hour later, Derek came into the office. We were all in cubes so I could him performing his usual morning tasks before coming to annoy me. He hung his coat, logged into his computer (“So there was a record of getting into the office early”, he once told me), and proceeded to open his desk drawer. Not long after, one of my coworker friends came over.

I could tell by the expression on her face that something was brewing, but kept my composure. “Trina, has Derek come over to you yet?” she asked. “No”, I replied calmly, “Actually it’s been nice having a quiet morning, why?” She proceeded to tell me that Derek had gone over to her desk with the lottery ticket and asked her to double check the numbers as he was in complete disbelief.

Since she was my friend, I proceeded to tell her of my master plan. I made her swear to not say anything and to tell Derek to bring the ticket to me to double check…You know, as a third set of eyes…She agreed and not long after, Derek appeared in my doorway with a shit eating grin on his face.

His skin under his exposed carpet of chest hair was red and mottled, not unlike a schmeer of raspberry jam. His face was flushed and his hands were fidgety. I disliked this cat so much that I had no trouble keeping my composure. “What’s going on ‘D’?” I asked, as though he was a pal of mine.

He sat in my guest chair, dabbed his exposed forehead with his hanky and said, “I think I hit it…” I put on a look of confusion, “Hit what? Oh god, is your car ok?” He nearly jumped out of my chair, “No! NO! The LOTTO!” I can’t believe what I’m reading! Can you double check these numbers?” He had a print out of the previous night’s numbers and gingerly handed me the ticket as though it was made of glass. I took both, pretended to intently study each number, then looked again, and again…I feigned a huge wide-eyed look…”Jesus, this can’t be right! Have you called the commission?” He got a little more excited after my quality number check. “No, I’ve never won! Is that what I do?” “I don’t know man, but maybe in a bit give them a call. This is unbelievable”.

Then I fed into his euphoria by asking whether he’d continue working or enjoy the spoils of his big win. At this point I was afraid he’d go tell management to go screw themselves so I finally said as I glanced at his one way ticket to faux paradise, “You know? I do see one discrepancy.” He leaned in and read over my shoulder. “No, Trina the numbers match. Exactly, see?” “Yeah,” I replied, “but look, it’s today’s date.

Gotcha!” I didn’t gloat, didn’t laugh, but instead spun in my chair and continued my work. Needless to say, I didn’t see Derek in my visitor chair for a very, very long time. Coffee never tasted so sweet….

How I Used To Torture People With Secret Santa. Brooke Shields.

Does anyone do the Secret Santa at work? We used to do it and I would love to torture people with it.

I would torture people because there were a few women in the department that would practically break into tears when their present would get stolen. As if they couldn't just go out and spend $15 on the bottle of wine that was just taken from them.

So every time a really good gift was revealed and one of the crybabies got it, we would pressure the next person to take it away, "Come on Jill. You HAVE to take that bottle of wine...Come on...do it! Do you know how good that wine is?..The next present could be junk!"

One year my gift was a little thing I liked to call,"Things From My Garage". It was a wrinkled, brown paper bag full of various things like nails, sandpaper, etc. Basically....things from my garage.

Most of the women were like, "Come on! You can’t do that! That's not fair!" But I'd say, "Sure it is, have you priced nails and sandpaper lately? They're very expensive. May I suggest re-gifting it to perhaps a brother or Uncle that is handy?"

At the end of everything I did reveal that there was cash hidden in at the bottom of the box. I forget if it was $40 or $50 but it was way more than the limit that was supposed to be used for gifts. You should have seen the look some of the faces. Oh the regret.

Another year, knowing that one woman in the department had an obsession with Brooke Shields, I put a few random things in the box including a book about Brooke Shields and I forged a signature. I even went online and copied the Brook Shields signature because the woman in the department actually owned things that had Brooke's autograph on it. But the funny thing is that she didn't know I knew about her obsession because she was embarrassed about it so it was supposed to be this big secret. But everyone knew.

So my present gets picked and the person is going through the random things and says, "A Brooke Shield's book? That's weird."

Everyone is kind of rolling their eyes and I say, "Look inside. It's autographed."

Well the Brooke Shields fan's eyes light up and she's like,"Can I see that?" But she's trying to play it cool. She looks at the autograph and it's obvious on her face that
"this thing is real!" Like shes an antiques roadshow expert or something. She looks around to play it cool in the way someone would flip through a book and
find $500 hidden in it. You know what Ann? It’s friggin’ Brooke Shields. Nobody cares.

Well she finally ends up with the Zibbs Potpouri box. All excited and shit. I did feel kind of bad so at the end of the whole thing I told her it was a fake autograph. You know, so she didn't try and get it valued and find out it was worthless. As if the real thing would be worth anything anyway. Right? Right?

Confession. I Bought Something At Chess King in 1981.

Whoa! Look at sweet Michael Jacksonish jacket that was available at the Chess King retailer in 1983!

I was always a jeans and flannel shirt guy until about 11th grade. That's when I decided to look inward and try and figure out what the ladies would like to see me wear. That's when I headed down to the local Chess King and opened my wallet and purchased a "stylish shirt" with my own money.

I remember it was blue and white checks and had some weird collar thing going on. But there was loud club music playing so they had to know what they were talking about. Right? (Even though at the time I hated that music.)

So I put it on the first time - unveiling my new look - and my oldest sister says, "Why are you wearing that blouse?"

"A what?"

"That girl's blouse. That's a girl's shirt. You can tell because the buttons are on the opposite side and it's a girl's pattern."

"Shut up!"

"It is!"

I'm not sure if she was just messing with me but I went upstairs and looked in the mirror and came to the conclusion that this was the gayest shirt I ever saw. So I took it off, put my flannel back on - probably over a Doors t-shirt - and returned it to the store.

My new look would have to wait.

Happy African American Friday!

You'll be pushing in crowds
I hope there's not a fight
You should be staying at home
*claps had* with Kid DY-NO-MITE!
*live, studio audience roars into laughter*

Kate Middleton Ring. Something Royally Weird.

As I wrote on Twitter, I think there's something weird about Prince Andrew giving his mom's ring to the hottie Kate Middleton as an engagement ring because when her hand is down there stroking it, isn't it going to remind him of his mom since it's such an identifiable ring?

Or am I the only one that would think that?

And for the record, this Kate Middleton is way hotter than Princess Di. I never thought Princess Di was hot at all. Maybe a little cute but...

And if I ever meet a royal I'm not bowing down or giving them any royal treatment. What the hell did they ever do to deserve to be treated differently? Huh?

Look At This Gorilla.

I've Got A Confession. Twitter And WCLinda.

I, Dr Zibbs ( @DrZibbs on Twitter) and WcLinda (@wclinda on twitter) are the same person. It's true.

I started the WCLinda character a few months and was planning to do one of several things:

- Show up to a tweet up in drag as WCLinda and out myself.
- Have my sister show up at a tweetup as WCLinda to confirm she was actually real.
- Have her stalk DrZibbs. They did actualy imply that they met for drinks the other night. And then I also had her drunk tweeting the other night.

But as time went on, I started to feel guilty that people were going to feel tricked. In a bad way. As opposed to, "Oh my God that was great...hahaha."

I think maybe four people knew. One found out accidentally when I accidentally Dmed from my WCLinda account.

So there it is. Thanks for the memories. So did any of you have your suspicions? I know one person that did but I think she knew 100 percent it was me.

Please share your thoughts in the comments area.

Go Phillies! John Fogerty Agrees. West Chester for Phillies

I'll admit that I'm not a huge sports fan but if my teams are winning I jump the hell on.

So go Phillies!

Is Toby Keith Sexy? I Don't Think So. Catchy Song.

You have to admit that this is a catchy song. But do any of you ladies think Toby Keith is hot? He's totally trying to be all hot in this video.

I don't see it.

My Phobia May Sound Retarded To You. Hugging.

Do you know what my phobia is?

Retarded people.

Not so much anymore, but when I was younger. And no, it wasn't their apelike strength that scared me. You see, as a lad I was very shy and I think my fear was that they would approach me and want to come up and hug me. Making a huge spectacle. And everyone would look at me.

Like I'd be at a mall or something and I'd hear a commotion. Then I'd round the corner and a retarded person (usually a mongoloid) would see me, stop in his tracks, and for some reason want to hug me. He would then start walking through the crowd, pushing people out of the way and clapping and saying something like, "Mikey! Mikey!"...like he confused me for someone named Mikey.

People would be watching him approach. Some pulling their children in closer. I'd be paralyzed with fear and then...the hugging would begin. And he would be petting my hair, "Wemember dat time that we went da fair? Do you wemember dat Mikey? Do you? ..What's wong Mikey?"

And I'd just stand there, pretending it wasn't happening as people watched.

"What's going on over there?"

"I don't know. From the looks of it some retarded character just found his friend Mikey."

Something like that.

Penn State Homecoming Weekend Recap. Yippin and Yappin.

Here are some various things about my weekend at Penn State:

- If my next day counting was correct I had 22 drinks on Friday.

- Thanks to the strangers that invited us to tailgate with them. Best bratwurst ever.

- I convinced a fraternity kid to burn their float but then said, "No I don't think you should really do that."

- One can drink from 11 in the morning until 3 at night as long as you don't stop. And you pace yourself. And graze throughout the day.

- If you want to keep ownership of the hotel hot tub you need to have someone "hold down the fort" at all times. Otherwise a bunch of hairy dudes will get in and it's all over. (The idea of brushing feet with a stranger sickens me).

- I was pushed into a bush ("bushed") and didn't break a hip. And I managed to not spill my drink.

A gin bucket is a plastic pale filled with gin and lemons. The gin is then poured into your mouth with a turkey baster. If you refuse to do it you will be taunted.

- Watching a drunk friend fall off of a chair is still funny.

- Dancing: I still got it. Unveiled "The Grindarena." I need to brush up on my Mick Jagger imitation.

- Having a friend yell, "It's 3 in the morning and I'm trying to sleep and all I hear is your yippin' and your yappin'! SHUT THE FUCK UP!! isn't funny to the person saying it but it's hysterical to the people getting yelled at.

And much more.....

Being Black On Halloween If You Were In My 5th Grade Class.

Mrs Mantini was full of shit.

She was my 5th grade teacher. There was one black kid in my class. Richard B.

And so on Halloween he dressed up as a dinner table. You've probably seen the costume. You put like a big old piece of cardboard around your head (with your head being the centerpiece). Then you tape paper plates and silverware around the plate.

That's what Richard B did. And he wore a lone ranger mask. And oh yeah, he was black.

So when it came time for Mrs Mantini to guess who everyone was, he was like the 3rd last to get picked. She was like, "Are you Paul Lambert? No? Hmmm. Lets see...are you Kurt Martila?..No? Oh this is hard."

COME ON!!! It was so obvious. Everyone was looking at each other like, "Yeeeah right. How can she not know it's Richard?"

Then she finally guessed him and she was all, "OH MY GOD! I had no idea. And what a great costume!"

Yeah right.

Wolf Story That Will Win All Kinds Of Awards.

Here's this story I'm writing about wolves. I like to tape record my voice when I write a book then I write it out. In words. It's just easier this way. Free form...you know? Like a jazz player but with fucking words and shit instead of musical notes.

This may have to be a multi-part series. Like Roots. But with wolves. And no Levar Burton or the dad from Good Times.

...There's this fucking wolf but he's like a dire wolf so bigger than a grey wolf. And he's the leader of this tribe of other wolves. So at the beginning of the book his dad died or something and then he's banished from the tribe for some reason.....I don't know...I gotta work that out. But anyway he comes back to the tribe and he's all fucking fucked up and shit. Like scrawny and weak because it's hard to find fucking food when you're a wolf and you're on you own because of the way wolves hunt and shit. (It's true. I did research about wolves).

So he comes back in the tribe and and he fights the one leader wolf even though he's weak as shit. Bites his fucking neck, kills him then stands up on this rock and fucking howls. Big ass moon fucking shining on him and he's all strong now because he got energy from the blood from the wolf he just kicked the ass of.

All the other other wolves bow to him. Undisputed wolf leader. Then they go on all these adventures but he can change himself from a wolf into a human warrior. He looks like the dude on the cover of Flirtin' with Disaster (Molly Hatchet album). And he gets all these smokin' hot chick. Big ass titties and shit.

To be continued.....

Weird Dream I Had. The Chair. Seeing The Future.

I remember my dreams about 5 times a week. And if you follow me on Twitter, I tweet them as soon as I wake up. That's the only way to do it. Otherwise, you'll forget.

A cool dream I had the other week was that I was looking through binoculars at my parent's house and I saw that my dog was still alive. He was in the distance and he was playing with a wolf. It kind of put me at ease.

I've also dreamed that he talks to me. But for some reason he speaks with an English accent. Which he would never do.

Last night I had really weird dream. I had written a book called, "The Chair." It was a story of a chair that would let you see the future if you sat on it. Some people would see their future and change their lives for the better while others freak out and go crazy. When you sat on it, it was like, "WTF!!!!??" It would freak you out. And each person would pass the chair onto a friend but wouldn't tell them of it's powers.

Well I print one copy and on the inside I inscribe this, "I think you'll like this book. Please read it and pass it on to a friend when you're done. Everyone should write their review of it and leave their reviews in the book. Please return to me after everyone reads it."

I give the book to @WellreadHostess, my Twitter friend. Probably because she's into books.
So the book gets passed around and when it comes back to me, everyone says it's great. And that it changed THEIR lives. Kind of like the chair. (See what happens there?) And I publish it and it becomes a best seller.

I'm not sure if it was Oprah endorsed or not.