You Too Part Two

If you were anywhere near
the Muscleheaded Blog yesterday,
you saw that we used the
old motion picture device
of the ‘hanging end serial’ –

They used it to build suspense,
and insure return attendance
to their theatres..

We used it cause
we’re too lazy to write
that much at one time.

So, there you have it.

And now,
back to our exciting story —
How To Meet And Impress Girls (Part Deux).

Chapter TWO:
“OK, now what?”

Meeting women is easy and fun;
…….but knowing how and
where to meet them
is very important.

aYou can meet them anywhere,
in a house,
or at the fair —

You can meet
them in a store,
at the pool,
or at the shore —

Meet them,
Meet them
you will do —-

Sam You AM will meet them too ….

(No- wait a minute..
…. that’s the wrong book….)

Anyway, as I was saying;

You can meet women
just about anywhere….

Think of all the women you can
meet hanging around the pharmacy
while commenting on their prescriptions–

You can stop them in their tracks with lines like:

“Yeah, I hear that stuff will really beat the yeast!”


“Hey, Look, Jelly Beans!”


meeting girls is all about
being comfortable in your own skin.

So, that might not work for you, either.ascissors


Have you tried jingling all that change you carry around in your pocket?


In your case, I might recommend the ‘shotgun approach’.

smile at every girl who even gets near you —
— and if one smiles back,
just start talking.


Chapter Three: “What Next ?”

What to do next?

melsWell, you must have a PLAN.

For instance, you can offer to take her for a ride in your fancy sports car.

Chicks dig hot wheels, man.

Yes, your car can speak volumes
about who and what you really are,
……… and what you want outta life.



twiggyShow her yer vintage set of “Slowly-Starving-to-Death-Supermodel” trading cards.

Women love for men to make comparisons between their bodies and the bodies of the women who make a living wearing clothes
that are way too small for 98.4 percent of the population.

Showing such careful consideration
for their feelings like that will
show your compassionate, sensitive side.

But I bet you already knew that.



tattTell her you’re the
“Leader of the Pack”.


You’ve gotta have your stuff together , though.

But it ain’t hard.

I see guys do this kinda
thing every day.

Just put your best biker-wanna-bee gear on,

shave your head,

roll up your sleeves to
show off those 14 inch biceps,
and those bad to the bone tats….

………… and then get your motor runnin’.

All kinds of women will be throwing
themselves adoringly in front
of your chopped chort.
( or moped , whatever )



henryDemonstrate yer lovemaking skills on a turkey leg…..

This really gives you a chance to show people how versatile and aggressive you are.

Be sure to stare straight at any on-looking hotties while you’re munching.

But, a warning–

Public slurping on a turkey leg
at events such as Renaissance Fairs
is one of those things that only
advanced students of the
Muscleheaded Course should
ever attempt, however.

The resulting bountiful bevy
of boosted bazongas might
be too much for you, otherwise.



cowboyTell her you’re a COWBOY…….

Yes, if there’s something that every hottie loves, it’s a cowboy.

Dust off your chaps, buy yourself one of them
17 gallon hats, and
you’re stylin.

You might have to
learn to walk differently…

…..with that wide, saddle worn stance
that says your package is almost
too heavy to carry around with ya without help.

or that your hemorrhoids are flaring up again.



aaTell her you’re HULK HOGAN………..

I’m sure it worked for this guy.

You might even show her all the action figures you’ve been storing in that huge warehouse out in Huntington Beach.

I bet there’s plenty of chicks out there fantasizing about a quick fling with the Hulkster, right?

Oh, and don’t pay attention to that guy behind the curtain.

And no, that’s not a video camera.


Well, congratulations, candidate,
you have successfully completed
the Muscleheaded Course
for Meeting and Impressing Girls.

as desperate
( errr… I mean, ANXIOUS)

…. as you might be to proceed
to actually dating somebody,
and become a fully qualified fox hunter —

( gggggrowwwwwll ) ……………


I’m afraid you’re going to have
to wait with bated breath
until the next course….

And heaven knows when that will be .


Until then,

I’ll bid you and yours
(hands, feet, all that stuff)
a fond aaaacccchhhhoooooo.

Damn dusty in here.






You Too Can Meet And Impress Girls

lonelyHi Ya.

Are you a lonely muscle-head whose only chance at sexual
variety is to switch hands?

Are you so lonely that
when you went to give
your last lover a hickey
you ended up with a
mouthful of fur ?

Are you so socially abhorrent
that they let you park in
handicapped spaces ?

Well, yer ole Uncle Nuts
has the prescription for you!

uhYes, you too can be
the love-stud of yer local community!

No more getting
new sex partners
by painting little faces
on the tops of your fist..

No more creative cantaloupe carving…..

No more suppressing moans
while discretely humping the
water jet at the public pool…..

No more waiting in long lines
for change at the ‘mini-movies’ place…..

No more sticking Lil Elvis
into splinter hazards just
for the use of person
or persons unknown –pocket

Yes, now in one
convenient post,
it’s time for the :

Muscleheaded Guide
for Meeting and
Impressing Girls.

Read on,
my love-depraved..
…. I mean,
read on.


Chapter ONE: recognizing you may have a problem.


Answer these questions.

1: Is THIS your idea
of a computer date?


Yes, she’s a computerized robot —

… she cost $60,000
for this geek to build her,
and her name is Aiko.

He dresses her everyday,
and spends every
waking minute with her.

Lucky girl, huh?

Of course, one can’t
even get a Mercedes SLS for that price,

….. so building himself a girl friend
was more cost effective
than bribing one, I guess.

As for sex…
well, ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww.


2: Is THIS what you would consider to be a HOT date?

While at first glance,

Billy the Party Goat may seem a convenient option to some lonely dudes,

… those with latex allergies or issues with the whole ‘pretend-it’s-not-bestiality-with-a-blowup-male-goat’ thing may preclude a real meeting of the minds here.

As for sex…..
well, ewe.

Get it? Ewe.

you’re gonna need to develop
a sense of humor if you ever
wanna get a REAL date, ya know.


3: Do you think you will EVER have a ‘special’ use for one of THESE?


Oh sure, I know….

The name holds promise,

And women love men
to keep their places
clean and tidy.

However, a high horsepower vacuum with custom made attachments might send an impression that your tastes and expectations might exceed the average girl’s capacities.

( There was this girl in Austin,
but that’s another …
well, never mind )


4: Do you have a set of bedsheets you like to use on ‘certain’ nights ?


I don’t know which thing will turn off a potential love conquest faster…

— the sheets —

— or the tissues in the corner.

And let’s face it….

What you’d like to create
is the impression that you are a go-getter
………. not a bed-wetter.

Just sayin.


5: Have you ever tried to pick up a girl by telling her she’s hotter than LOIS LANE?

Finding a subject with which a man and a woman can both identify with is often a good way to start a conversation, sure.

But, brother,

…. you ain’t exactly Superman,

and it’d be better for all concerned if you didn’t remind her of that fact, s’all.

So, wearing that costume under your clothes (“just in case”) is not only unnecessary,

— but may be the very reason
you’ve been getting so much chaffing lately.


6: Have you ever tried picking up girls in the supermarket by pointing out the more exotic produce ?parsnip

Do you hang around the supermarket droning on and on about the mating habits of the Cornish Game Hen to any girl who happens to be passing by ?

Do you go over to the bakery section and suggestively measure the size of the holes in doughnuts ??

Do you take up a position near the seafood aisle,

…. and point out how oysters
are said to have an aphrodisiacal
quality, and that you’re looking
for test subjects ??


it’s tempting,
I know.

And it sounds like it
should work,
to you,
doesn’t it ???


Don’t DO THAT.

( Anymore. )


Well, if you answered:
to any of these questions,
you’re in REAL trouble, my friend….

You’re gonna need to advance on to Chapter Two.

Which, of course, is tomorrow’s post.
You’re just gonna have to
hold your water (ahem) until then.

!!!! HOY !!!!!




Down In The Mouth

downBack to the dentist again….
Getting older sucks, man.

Another one of my teeth
have suddenly decided to retire.

And not quietly, either.

So, here, I sit,
my face all swollen,
catching little drops of blood
dribbling slowly down steam
one corner of my mouth in a plastic cup.

I spent most of what
would have been a
pretty, sunny afternoon
having my dentist
poke, prod, and pulverize
the lower half of my jaw
with various weapons of
mass dent-struction.wait

What fun.

And despite having my
Ipod turned up loud enough
to burst the little speakers
in my earphones,

…..I could still distinctly hear
the sounds of teeth cracking,
jaw heaving, and dentist grunting.

Never mind the sensation,
— of which I will have
practically nothing nice to say,

But I will admit to ranking my willingness
to undergo such a thing again only rose
slightly ahead of having Rosie O’Donnell
give me a full body Brazilian wax.

So, you can probably figure
I ain’t gonna do that anytime soon..
…… without being bound head and foot.

They practically had to do that this time.

Actually, the dentist and his staff
were the nicest part
of the whole thing.mouth

I’m not a fan of the dentist–
ANY dentist–
don’t get me wrong.

I got to that point early, let me tell you.

You’ve heard of painless dentists, right?

Well, Navy dentists in particular
are the complete opposite of that concept.

If it doesn’t hurt,
and you ain’t screamin’ your ass off,

—  that just means to him
that he must not be doing it

So my current Dentist is
not on my active hit list.

Give the devil his due, ya know.

I remember a story about a lady
going to a dentist for her first visit,

……and as the dentist stooped over her,
she grabbed his cajones .

Madam, ” the dentist said,
trying to remain calm,

I think you have your hands
on one of my private, sensitive areas ….”

The lady smiles up at him and says:1910

Yes, and now that
we’re so intimately acquainted,

.…. we are both going to be careful
not to hurt each other, aren’t we ?

All I’m saying is
that it’s a tough job.

I had been putting off having these
problem teeth looked at for some time,

…. hoping against hope
that they would be satisfied
with simply causing me
a bit of pain, and
not raise much more keepworking
hell than that.

Well, one decided to go
completely ape shit ,
spreading it’s mining activities
to the surrounding nerves and teeth —

…..until, in a surprisingly
short amount of time,
my whole bottom rack o’ teefers was
as sensitive as a cat’s tail after a day
in a roomful of rocking chairs.grape

The last straw was
on a late night flight,
while biting a grape —

— yes, one goofy little grape —

that somehow was able to generate
a level of pain that was last seen
during the Spanish Inquisition.

Are you alright ? “,blimey
— that’s what the lovely
Flight Attendant was saying.

All I heard were the roaring of hooves–

— of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

It’s amazing how much noise such a
little thing like a tooth can make-

— and cause enough pain to make a
275 pound Powerlifter wanna cry
like a baby for his Mama.

And I woulda, too,
if I thought she had
c. 1928a couple of Vicodins on her.

As it was, I decided that
I’d better go see a professional.

The most amusing part
of the day was relatively early on….

He was happily tapping on teeth
on the wrong side of my mouth,
trying to figure out exactly what
and where I was complaining about…

and I was perfectly happy pain
with him doing it, too.

It was only when
he got to the sore side–

He said to me…
“Oh. This might hurt a bit“.

Then he tapped the tooth
at the center of the
whole oral conspiracy.

Now, I’ve never been a crier,
or a shouter, or a howler, two
or any of the rest of that stuff….

At least not when I’m in pain,
either for fun or otherwise.

I like to remain stoic.

Stoicism on this occasion was right out.

I yelped like my ass was on fire.

This prompted the pretty
dental assistant to hold my hand.

It didn’t help…

……… she had to let go
because I almost broke her wrist.extra

I’m not saying it hurt, exactly.



I was determined
to write down my impressions,

so you, dear reader,

can somehow benefit from my experience,home

…….. should you ever be
a silly enough goofball
to expect a sore tooth
to just magically go away
and stop botherin’ ya.

That’s jest crazy, man.

Take it from the guy who
just got out of the asylum.

And, to pass along my favorite dentist joke,

….which notably, my own dentist
didn’t think was at all funny.cavity

A dentist examines a patient
and then says to him:

“That tooth’s gotta come out.
I’m going to have to give you a shot of Novocain.

The guy grabs the dentist’s arm,
No way. I hate needles I’m not having any shot!”

So the dentist says,
Okay, we can go with N.O. gas.”

The man replies,
No, No.. That stuff makes me
very sick for a couple of days.
You can’t use gas on me, either

So the dentist steps out and
comes back with a glass of water and a tablet.vintage
Here ya go…. take this little blue pill.

The man asks “Ummmm…..
What is it?”

The doc replies, “Viagra.”

Surprised, the man asks:
Will that stuff really kill the pain ?”

replies the dentist:
but it will give you something to hang on to
while I pull your tooth!”


I dunno….

Maybe I shoulda told that joke AFTER he worked on me.






Getting Your Weird News Fix

soupsiclesFast food is crap.

I thought everybody knew that,
and had adjusted their expectations accordingly.

But, evidently,
this news flash has not yet arrived in Gastonia, North Carolina.

( Yes, I know–
it’s about 15 miles from me…
……. thanks for mentioning it.)

One Bevalente Hall was apparently disappointed with her recent purchase of a Subway ‘flatizza’ ….

So much so,
that she called 911 to complain.

After all, she said…
They put marinara instead of pizza sauce on it .

911O horror of horrors, where is thy sharpened stake?

It’s terrible, and I got my receipt,” the 37-year-old said to the 911 operator.
“And I told them I can’t eat that kind of sauce.”

I’m not sure what Bevalente wanted to eat instead,
…… but the Gastonia cops promptly arrested her for misuse of the 911 system…

I’m guessing,
just in time for a bologna sandwich at the Gaston County jail .


New York City Emergency Officials are now prepared for anything, or so they say.

Except slime.

Yes, my friends, if you had any doubt whatsoever where you should go in case of a Godzilla attack, New York City has your back.

The New York Daily News quotes Office of Emergency Management Commissioner Joseph Bruno thus:

“Looking at this, we’d be thinking, ‘What would a Godzilla attack do?’ “

What indeed.

facepalmThe stupid bastards in my city only worry about simple stuff like decorating city offices, taking bribes and figuring out sneaky ways of raising taxes,

But here’s a guy with vision–

— who looks at the BIG picture.

However, there still is room for concern —
—–  the slime Godzilla uses.

What slime?

Godzilla don’t use slime, man.

Hey, Bruno,
do your research.

a1The only slime New York should worry about is in the East River.

The thing is,
the US Air Force seems to have been thinking about the threat of an incoming Godzilla too ….

A spokesman for the Air Force, Master Sgt. Edwards, responded to a news reporter’s question about U.S. capabilities of tactical response in Asia with:

“We are quickly able to respond to any threat in the region…
to include Godzilla, should he come to Japan.
Which, I guess, is a thing,”


I was thinking we’d have to rely on an army of sailor-suited school girls.


Remember that guy who was hired to do ‘sign language’ translation at Nelson Mandela’s funeral a couple years ago? a

Sure, he doesn’t know anything about sign language,
but now, he’s a TV celebrity.

Yes, Thamsanqa Jantjie was released from a mental hospital last May to shoot a TV commercial for the Israeli internet startup company Livelens, which markets an app to allow users to upload video to their social networks.

Livelens CEO Max Bluvband explained:

“We decided that the guy who had the worst live show ever would be the best person…..

Now he can have the closure and earn some money from it. “

I guess we ain’t counting the 68 bucks he earned for the Mandela job.


You know, they don’t call Spanish a ‘romance language’ for nothing.

At an automatic teller kiosk in Oviedo, Spain, a passerby captured this picture on her cell phone…..

Apparently the couple in question had decided to take the whole deposit/withdrawal thing to a whole new level.

withdrawlI never remember a time when going to an ATM made me feel so randy I had to drop troww right there on the spot…..

And even if I had, I never knew a woman who would go along for the ‘ride’.

But these folks were perfectly content to go at it right there in the ATM kiosk, no PIN needed.

They stripped right off for it,” said a police spokesman. “This wasn’t just a quick fumble.”

No, it seems like they were taking their time and enjoying the moment,

….. because the shocked waitress who called the cops said it took them about a half an hour to arrive,

and they were still going at each other like little conejitos.

Ah…. you gotta love Spanish women.

Unfortunately for the amorous couple, the local Policia broke off the pairing before any further credits or debits could be incurred, ( party poopers ) ,

……..but they were released without charges.

Oh, Besame …..

Besame Mucho.



Have Yourself A Weird Christmas, Ya Hear?


You mighta figured out by now that I like weird stuff.

It used to hurt my feelings when people would say that I’m weird, but now, I just take it as a compliment.

After all, Joe Normal hasn’t got all that much to brag about, I figure.

His taste is questionable at best…
…….. if ” Gangnam Style ” is any indication.


Well, anyway…..

It’s almost Christmas ………
And somehow I got to wondering about how Santa got through customs every year…..

Seeing that there is no recognized “Republic of the North Pole” on record anywhere that I know of.

But I shouldn’t have worried…

As usual, the Canadians got our back.

In 2008, Canada’s Ministry of Citizenship, Immigration and Multiculturalism declared Santa a full Canadian citizen with authorized re-entry rights .

The only thing that worries me is that they tend to be kinda territorial.

The Minister who made the announcement insinuated that maybe since Santa’s colors ( red and white ) match the Canadian flag colors—
( umm… red and …. lessee…. )aa
that maybe Santa has secretly been a Canuck all along.


Everybody knows that Santa is a dyed-in-the-wool 100% American.

I’m sure if you checked under his skivies you’d find the missing blue color.

It’s cold up there in the North Pole, ya know.

Here’s a segue for ya.

Would somebody please tell me — 2
who the hell eats fruitcake ?

I think the decidedly unappetizing qualities of the substance might explain this next story…

It seems that a fruitcake made by the Kroger Supermarket chain in 1941 —
( that was the year of Pearl Harbor, mind you .. )
…. was recently sold (last year) to a buyer in Arizona for $525.

Apparently, the fruitcake had been sold to an unknown smart shopper who decided against consuming it — and it was returned to Kroger in 1971 unopened.

The manager of the supermarket decided against reselling it, and took it home, maybe as an unsavory, but still re-giftable Christmas bonus.

But his conscience musta kicked in, ’cause it remained in his pantry, until it turned up in the hands of an auction company.

The guy who sold it online says that the buyer:
” … wanted to remain anonymous, and probably bought the cake as an investment

He further indicated that although he doubted anyone would try to eat it,
………… it was vacuum packed, and had enough rum in it to preserve it.

Now, you see, I don’t doubt it for a minute —

That fruitcake probably tasted just like it did when it emerged from the pre-WWII primordial slime from whence it came.


3I can think of a lotta things I could do with that $525 other than have my stomach pumped,

…….. that’s fer sure.

And I certainly have places to go on the holiday, and the hospital ain’t one of em.

hey, wait — that Emergency Room sign is printed in red and white–

….. I guess it must be Canadian, right, Minister?

Speaking of re-gifting… ( wow, did you forget already ? )

Did you know that 28% of gifts given at Christmas are RE-GIFTED?

That means that one quarter of the crap you get this year,
………….. somebody else got last year, and didn’t want it.

They just figure you’re a little less discerning, I guess.

And once you start thinking about it, it ain’t hard to figure out which ones those regurgitated gifts are…….

That certainly explains that wall-size outdoor-indoor atomic clock I got last year.

If somebody’s gonna give me the gift of time, let it be in the form of a Longines, or at least some Akvavit.

I hope my cousin Sally (twice removed) has a place to keep that monstrosity…

…. at least until next year, when she gives it to someone else.

In The Woods With Muscleheaded

howdyThis is part of the story of a motorcycle road trip I made with some Navy buddies a couple years ago….

Some small pieces of the story have been changed so I don’t get one of my friends’ panties in a big ole bunch.

And just so’s I can preserve what ever small amount of dignity I can muster from even having been there for all that.


A couple of my friends and I found ourselves dragging our buddy ‘Top’ out of the Cherokee Casino,

…. after he had a slight disagreement with them over whose responsibility it was to pay for him holding the losing hand in poker —

From Top’s perspective, it was the casino’s tough luck that he lost.

From the Casino’s, it was more like :
We got your money, now get out.

350He din’t wanna go.

But from OUR perspective,

The idea of us all getting locked up by the Cherokee Police Department for even knowing/hanging around with such a knucklehead was completely harshing our mellow…

So, we semi-forcibly extricated our buddy Top from said premises–
with the last vestiges of his pride and money–

……… and we exited stage left, and stat like.

It seemed logical enough that the local constabulary had already been notified of Top’s little temper tantrum,

– and as soon as they were finished charging up their taser guns,
they would be on their way,
to see just who it was that needed a good lesson in manners.

And heaven knows, we all do.

But, Top’s crazy enough already …
…. Paraquat and Agent Orange can have that effect on people…
and, any high voltage might send his mind completely into lala land..

Delaware Dave had just gotten released from 30 days in the hole for some drunken temper tantrum at a toll booth on the Jersey Turnpike…

And none of the rest of us really looked forward to a tour of the area in the back of a brand new Crown Vic, either.

So we buzzed off.


Our plan now was to head for the large piece of property Brick Face and his ex-wife own near Bryson City,

…. set up camp and kinda figure out what we wanted to do from there….

This property has been owned by Brick Face’s family for generations..

…. and when he and his wife were getting separated

(I don’t think they ever finished all the paperwork on the actual dee-vorce…) ,

… they had an agreement written up that she could keep the beautiful and spacious double wide trailer with the kiddie-pool turned hot-tub and the customized built in gun safe….

Brick Face could continue to use the property, but not the house.

The house was, like, off limits.

That didn’t bother Brick Face, though… indian

He had a coupla bikes,

an old pickup and his tools —

stashed away safely in the barn on “his side” of the property —

(about 1000 wooded, mountainous acres or so);

….. and he was quite content with the arrangement.

Of course, if he ever wanted anything out of that barn,
I have no idea how’d he get at it,
……. since it was so crammed full of stuff,
there wasn’t room for a chipmunk in the rafters.

Ah well…. onward.

So, he called his ex-wife Martha to let her know he was coming……

…………………… or at least, I guess he called her.

Certainly, she was expecting him.

betty‘Cause as we rode up the long gravel road leading to the property,

she was walking down, accompanied by a doofy looking dude,

….. and a considerably shortened —
(and probably illegally shortened, I might add) shotgun.

Its always nice to feel welcome, ya know?

Anyhoo, as I said, she was expecting HIM–

….. but apparently NOT him and 5 of his crazy friends.

I don’t guess she wasn’t all that happy to see ANY of us…..
……………… but, especially not me.

I guess I oughta explain that Martha Mae and I have …. errrr….. let’s say a history.

She doesn’t like me, my face, my mother, my motorcycle, my heritage, my friends–

……. or anything else that has anything with any trace of my DNA in or on it.

a2Now, you, as perfectly rational and reasonable person might be askin’:

How could anybody dislike such a wonderful, kind, sweet, utterly charming individual such as myself???

Well, I got no idea.

But if you ask her, she’ll tell you some cock n bull stories about:

– a harrowing ride on the back of my bike through the Parrot Lounge,

or how I’m a bad influence, and always getting Brick Face in trouble,

or how I hassled her daddy so bad at the airport one time he missed his flight,

or how I called her a “pirates dream” cause of her sunken chest,

or how I carry my smelly old gym bag everywhere I go,

or any one of a number of other stories to which, I, under my rights under the Fifth Amendment,

— have no response other than “having no recollection”.

She also says I pinched her butt in the kitchen one time.

Which I couldn’t have done,
—– cause no one’s seen her butt in 30 some years.

The girl’s got NO butt. True story.

How can anyone live without a butt?

Again, I have no idea.

I digress.

Well, anyway….

She took one hard look at us, as we putted/slid up to her through the ten inch deep gravel, and then glanced over to her goofus-doofus new boyfriend –

….. with a look like she just saw the guy in the White Nightgown.

Why the shotgun?

chocAgain, as I say so many times whenever I’m talking about Martha Mae…

I have no idea.

Amongst the noise of V-twin engines and crunching gravel,

I couldn’t make out the initial explanation, when Brick Face asked the same very obvious question—

… but I later learned that there had been a big bear trying to gain access to the trailer,

and she and ‘Two-Fer’ —-

(that became her boyfriend’s new nickname –
I dunno what his real name was,
but I thought this one I gave him was especially appropriate,
…. cause he’s only got two teeth on the top front.)

….. had been concerned for Brick Face’s safety.

Umm Hmmm.

She went on to say that is wonderful to see us all (oh, and “HI Chris!!!”) , and that she hoped that we’d make ourselves comfy over by the barn.

Two-Fer said nothing, aaa
….. he was too busy trying (unsuccessfully) to look intimidating.

Uh huh.

Oooooo scary.

Like if Brick Face wanted to,

….he couldn’t blow that guy outta there with a sneeze.

As I slid through the gravel past the weasel,

… I noticed he didnt have a butt either.

Probably matched his spine.

We continued to climb the hill and turned toward the barn,
……… and the yellow roof of the outhouse.


Ha !!

I guess you could call it an outhouse, cause it was OUT, and it was once sorta shaped like a house.

But if you were looking for walls, you were gonna be in for a disappointment.

The last hurricane, (which didn’t come nowhere near the place), had supposedly blown the walls down, and no one had had the spare time to repair it.

So, if you wanted privacy or a warm place to read, well, you’d have to ‘head’ for the house-

— but it was out…, I mean… , off-limits.

Under the joist of what remained of the roof was a stack of last year’s newspapers…..

– I’m sure Mister Whipple would have been appalled, but you use what you got.

The area where we were gonna set up tents was nice, flat, and had a nice layer of pine needles all around…

…….. a couple inches of that stuff under your bag and you’ll sleep like a baby.

aThere was also a granite fire ring, which would work for cooking and warmth…

— a good thing, because as the light was fading, the temp had started to drop noticeably.

I had almost forgotten the cold until I saw Martha Mae in that thin t-shirt.

Nippy, ain’t it?
(hey- didn’t I use that joke already?)

Oh well, so much for Martha Mae’s best feature.

(…. and they were kinda friendly looking, I admit … )


We got set up pretty quick.

My cheap-ass 50’s-era pup tent is absolutely nothing fancy, but one thing you say about it-

— it’s easy to put up.

I’ve been using one like it since I was a Boy Scout…

They call it a ‘pup’ tent because there’s just enough room for a puppy.

But I make do, man.

And aside from the obvious limitations when it comes to having company over, it works fine, in dry weather.

I’ve made some modifications to it for wet weather, but it’d be better all around if it just stays dry.

I was busy reminding the Weather Gods of that fact…

– – when someone finally got the idea to check the state of our provisions.

Lessee….. I’m thinking…. a case of beer and some trail mix.

Well, that oughta hold us for the night.

Wait…. whatdayamean…… NO BEER?

That’s right.

There had been a case of beer stashed away in Brick Face’s trike, but some party or parties unknown had been clandestinely dippin’ into the beer stash apparently, during the various stops for gas, oil, more trail mix, Top, and that horrible lunch in Cherokee.

Can’t do without beer.
It’s the Breakfast of Champions.

Me, I couldn’t care less.
I had my secret stash of Gatorade mix.

I don’t drink that yeasty stuff anymore.
Ever since that Motorhead concert in Atlanta…….
— when I got ‘removed’ because I was carryin on back stage without a pass —

What can I say…

I thought I was Lemmy.
I coulda passed for him, too…
I was just as incoherent.

But this state of beerlessness would not be permitted to stand fer long.

A hunting party of volunteers was immediately drafted to arrange for additional
supplies of brewery fresh product from the local convenience store.

They had a long list of what everybody wanted…

– all kinds of beers, some of which I never even heard of.

These were the same choosy palettes that had killed off that case of High Life like it was champagne, and not just the “champagne of beers”.

What these intrepid volunteers didn’t realize-

– and what Brick Face had somehow forgotten to tell ‘em–
was that Swain County was one of those charming anachronisms of the Old South-

—— a dry County.

Not completely dry- you could buy beer in Bryson City—

– at the same convenience store behind which Atlanta Olympics bomber Eric Rudolph was finally caught, scrounging in the dumpster-

—————— but this was SUNDAY night.

no. No. NO.

Well, off they rode into the twilight, in search of the elusive elixir.

Me and BrickFace went looking for firewood.

Mikey and Delaware Dave stayed behind, to work on Mike’s fancy, high dollar, easy-to-assemble tent that ended up taking two hours and some jury-rigged parts to finally come together.

Firewood was easy to find… it was all over the place.

Which is a lucky thing, since the axe was in the barn, and we were too lazy to dig it out.

We had gone about 400 yards up a slope to where some nice hardwoods had fallen, and I had an armload of some really primo firewood- turned – and said something to Brick Face.

No Brick Face.

I looked around… no sign of him.

It was getting darker,
but he was big and ugly enough,
that you would need an awful lotta dark before he’d be hard to see.

And he was nowhere around.

I was about to yell some select obscenity or other,
…. when I smelled something unusual.

As I was trying to place that smell,
I saw something move – high up – sorta behind a tree about 100 feet west of me, between me and the setting sun.

Whatever it was, it was moving the tree around.

And then, I knew what it was.

That thing high up on that tree was the back of one big ole brown bear.

He was paying no attention to me, though.

His back was itchy and he couldnt reach it.

Boy, do I know that feeling.

I know he saw me–

he looked right at me,

…. with a look that was sorta like my daughter used to make when you served her a plate of green bean casserole.

But, I figure, to that bear,
I didn’t look like a particularly better back scratcher than that Hickory tree.

Good news fer me.

I smiled a “nice to see ya, buddy” smile, and backed slowly down the hill.

The bear?

Well, the last time I saw him, he was still scratching himself.

Long may he scratch.

I got down the hill about 3/4 of the way, before I almost tripped over Brick Face, who was on the ground moaning like a cow with an udder ache.

He had seen the bear, and – without trying to warn his old buddy, of course-
—- had gone tearing down that hill like his ass was on fire.

He had fallen over a huge stump, which had sprained his ankle, put a huge knot on his head,

– and he had also somehow acquired one of the biggest, ugliest looking splinters in his hand that I have ever had the misfortune to see.

I had to make a choice.

Drop my hard-earned firewood, or leave him to freeze.

Remembering how much warning he’d given me upon sighting the bear did not help make my choice any easier, I can tell ya.

I even toyed with the idea of just coming back for him later, once I had gotten a fire going.

Oh hell, I guess I’m just an old softie.
( and of course, we were on his property…… )

I begrudgingly helped him limp on back to the barn, hoping against hope that I’d be able to find my firewood again in all that high grass……..

( I did… with no trouble. Thanks for asking. )

He wanted to continue on to the house, so off we limped.

I banged on the door of the double wide, and Two-Fer opened the door.

“Yeah?”, he asked in a kinda surly manner that made me wanna pull his kidneys out…

He looked like he was fixin’ to just slam the door on us, when Martha Mae stuck her head out —

“What iz….. ”

Well, she took one look at the condition of Brick Face, and she shoved –
and I do mean, –SHOVED–
‘Two Fer’ out of the door and off the step
…… trying to get to her ex.

Two-Fer wasn’t expecting that,
….. and he hit the ground like a bag of mulch.

I laughed, and then told her what had happened.

I showed her the mutant splinter, and told her about the bump and his ankle.

She blamed me, of course.

We helped Brick Face into the house…

Two-Fer came back in, and was grumblin somethin under his breath…..

Martha Mae barked at him to “go home”.

And just like that, he off and went .

I can’t see that the creep had much choice, though.

Any resistance would have been hazardous to his health.

Martha Mae coulda took him easy.

I didn’t see Brick Face for two days after that.

I guess Martha Mae was nursing him back to health.

She was nice enough to inform me- the next morning- that the operation to remove the splinter had been a complete success.

She also brought out some homemade biscuits and ham.

It sure beats trail mix, anyway.

Still, I’m figurin Brick Face was eatin’ much, much better.

Ahhhhh, life —- funny, ain’t it ?




If, by some crazy mis-direction of the fickle finger of fate,
you’re not tired of reading this very long story yet,
there’s plenty more where that came from —
….. for instance, do you wanna see how this whole thing started?

Well, then, read : “On The Road With Your Ole Uncle Nuts“, here.


Bowling with Muscleheaded


So you say you opened your box of Froot Loops this morning,
and out popped a coupon for a free game at your local AMF Bowling Center?

Hoooo boy. Lucky you.

What are the odds, after all.

Umm….  What’s that you say, chum?

You want to use the coupon, but you’ve never darkened the door of a bowling alley in your life— and you don’t know HOW to bowl?

Is that what’s buggin you?

Hey, no worries.

Your old pal Muscleheaded has the solution to make sure you get your full two dollars worth of free bowling pleasure.

We hereby present to you:

“The Muscleheaded Guide to Bowling” ( with apologies to Don Carter ).

Ahhh…. Bowling – the sport of kings.

You know, bowling isn’t nearly as complicated as it first appears. It’s actually quite simple — we can probably cover it in one paragraph.

You see, there’s these white pieces, and there’s these black pieces…. and a coupla pieces are shaped like a castle, and a few more like a horse,

and there’s some that look like they’re wearing a mitre… and some other ones, too.

They all move in different patterns……. and once you learn the moves each piece is permitted to move, and the various starting and end strategies, you’re ready to develop an attack plan to capture the other guy’s king.

………… simple, right?



Sorry… that’s chess, not bowling.

Bowling is much more complicated.

Proper Attire

The first thing you gotta know about bowling is how important it is for ya to fit in.

You can’t just walk into a bowling alley
( the regulars call it a “Temple of Bowling” ) —
dressed in a suit and tie.

Don’t ya got any pride at all?

There are specially manufactured tunics designed for maximum efficiency and comfort,

… while absorbing the blood, sweat, and tears ( not to mention other bodily fluids) ……

that anyone who takes the sport seriously is sure to shed plenty of.

These are called “Bowling Shirts”-
and while they are extremely fashionable
and make you look like the athlete you truly are,
they are never to be worn outside the ‘temple’.

( Folks might confuse you with a dork. )


Stretch pants are also quite popular….
lycra or nylon is sure to give you that firm roundness–
that will draw all the hotties away from the nacho bar to watch you shake up that spare.

Of course, you need not spend a fortune on wardrobe when you’re just starting out.

Just ask yourself – “Is this an outfit I’d be proud to wear around the trailer park?”

If so, you’re good to go.

And wear some old shoes that you don’t mind losing in case you decide to steal those
extra fancy rental bowling shoes.

They come in extra handy for sneaking up the stairs at home late at night after a night in the
bowling alley bar.

Or, if you happen to be a hottie, ( what are you doing reading THIS guy’s stuff?)
I recommend you wear the shortest skirt you can find.



Signing In

Once you have made your entry, you must register at the desk in order to get a “Lane”

—-(that’s bowling parlance for a place to throw your balls around)—–

and some special shoes ( to which I have previously alluded ).

If you’re one of those people who doesn’t wear socks, you are indeed in luck.

Those same foot funguses and bacteria with which you have already grown familiar in your daily life will be about the only ones you’ll encounter in your rental shoes…….

you know, tinea unguium, onychomycyosis, tinea pedis, pseudomonas, trichophyton rubrum….

…………… the usual stuff.

Of course, it probably wouldn’t hurt to bring a bottle of Brut after shave –
— just to take the edge off the odor of those shoes ( yours and the rentals ).

Splash it on liberally.

Bowling chicks dig that.


Once you’ve been assigned a lane, the next task will be to go find your balls.

Now, I know you’re probably thinking to yerself —
that you havent seen them since your divorce settlement,
but I mean bowling balls.

The important thing is to pick out the heaviest ball you can find,
whether it fits your fingers or not.

There’s nothing that impresses people more than the loud crashing sound a heavy ball makes when it comes in contact with the floor, gutter, or the people next to you.

Remember, you can pick out as many as you want, but you can only roll up to two at a time.

This is called a “Goofus throw”

— and will garner special attention from onlookers and alley employees alike.

It might be better to stick to one, and save the “Goofus” until you’re a little more advanced, or at the very least, had a couple.

And remember: that thing about “only girls throw underhand ” doesn’t apply to bowling.


Having a Couple

Another important pre-game activity is visiting the lounge.

Here you will find a top quality selection of beverage options,
as well as nutritious energy snacks like french fried okra and foot long bratwursts.

Everyone knows a person bowls better after a coupla drinks.
(……. it’s great for the drive home, too. )

So feel free to imbibe liberally.
And to tip, even more liberally.
Fair warning from somebody who knows—
Nobody has a longer memory than a barmaid in a bowling alley bar.

You chintz her, and the next time-
I can’t promise you – the creamy consistency of that dip on your onion rings –
will be due to any dairy product ingredients.

Besides, a woman having all her front teeth might become less of a priority
as the hours get late, ya know.

Speaking of that, the next step is learning how to score.

In a bowling alley, scoring is usually as easy as buying that girl in the tube-top a Bud and a large order of fries….

But, I’m talking about scoring the game.


Learning How to Score

Scoring used to be very hard.

It used to involve math.

If you knocked down all the pins with one ball,
that meant you got ten points, plus whatever you hit with the next two balls.
That’s called a strike.

If you knocked down all the pins with two balls,
that meant you got ten points, plus whatever you hit with the next ball.

If you didnt knock down all the pins with your first two balls,
that meant you got points for the pins you did knock down.


Sure. Clear as mud.

But now, they got automatic scoring — no math skills required.

What’s required now is a Masters Degree in Computer Programming.

‘Cause those automatic scoring thingees make scoring by hand seem like a breeze.

It takes ya twenty minutes to enter your information to play a ten minute game.

And that’s on the ones that don’t take a blood sample.

Aw well…. you’ll figure it out.

Just ask Clem there in the next lane.
He’s gotten so good with his, he can get the porn channel.



As with other sports like golf, there is a set of rules or etiquette that applies when bowling.

Like golf, it’s always polite to wait until the other person bowls before you step up to take your turn.

Like golf, it’s always polite to stay quiet while someone is about to make a shot.

Unlike golf, it is not necessary or recommended to yell “FORE” before every turn.
The proper thing to yell is ” Hey Y’all- Watch ‘Dis “.

If you throw your ball and it lands three lanes over, any pins you knock down may not count toward your score. Those automatic scorers have trouble with that.

While most adults only use one hand to throw the ball, you should not try to drink and bowl simultaneously. It’s bad for the digestion.

If that big guy in the next lane over should throw his ball into the gutter, you can feel free to
make him feel better about it by saying “Nice Gutter Ball, Pinhead.”

Nacho cheese is not to be used as a hole lubricant.

Throwing the ball when the ‘gate’ is down might also be frowned upon by alley staff….
…. depending on whether you can hit the attendant or not.

And finally,
It is only common courtesy to buy all the drinks when bowling a round with Muscleheaded.

Now — go have fun !!!!

Tell em Muscleheaded sent ya!!