Querida wifey feliz dia de madre...

Image via WikipediaDear Wife and Mother (of at least 3 of my children.  Hopefully that's all I have, and hopefully they're all mine.  I can handle the truth, because if I found out that I was puttin' up with drama from somebody else's kitten, it would be the opposite of good.),

Just to clear the air and confirm the speculation, I do love it when you call me big pappa.  I also love it when you wave your hands in the air like you just don't cur.

As I sit here staring at you peacefully sleeping on the couch (mild snore, regular breathing pattern), I can't help but look down the long journey we've taken.  As I look I think--what were we thinking and why didn't anybody talk us out of it?  Of course I'm referring to the three young "princesses" that run around the house with red pitchforks and pointy red ears, and not our marriage.  It's been T-riffic watching you put up with me.  Thanks for keepin' on with the keepin' on.  You're one cool mama with an attitude all full of spiciness.  If it wasn't for you our children would run all over me.  Sometimes I feel like an old person being scammed by a salesman, then you swoop in and remind me that our children have a very elaborate MO.  Let's just face it, if it wasn't for you vigilance and Hi Def 3-D vision, they'd be a hurtin'.  You've watched over them like a hawk ready to take on Tony the Tiger, if necessary.  And with Tony's sadist smile on that cereal box, it's always necessary.  "Grrrrrreat", he says.  What's so great about you Tony?  Did you go through 9 months of incoherent speech and bipolar like symptoms, only to be ended be a long excruciating labor?

Thanks for being such a great nurturer to our children, and constantly reminding me how to check and see if I'm still breathing.  Hold up... yep, still 48 bpms.  All seriousness aside, I love you approximately 78% more than Romeo loved that one chick he was after, who also happened to have a crazy extended family.  Anybody who acts surprised by that remark, might be the direct recipient.

Anyways, Happy Mother's Day.  We love you (speaking for myself and the children that are believed to be ours).  I hope you don't ever wise up some day and chirp them tires, leaving me and the kiddos to point fingers.  (They always gang up on me.  You can't out ninja Tha Ninja.)  Love you much.

Con besos y pesos (porque ya no tengo dolares... soy pobre, que hago?),

Your breathtakingly sexy husband.

You can't handle the truth...

Image via WikipediaThe whole world wants to know if Bin Laden is really dead.  Then they're wondering if there was any intent to take him alive.  Let's think about this for a minute.  First of all, how many special trained ninja navy seal operatives were craving this opportunity?  Imagine them cruising the world like Jason Bourne and the other members of Treadstone project.  For once, the spies are sending texts to their bosses saying, "pick me, pick me, pleeeeease pick me."  They're all giddy sitting in their hideouts polishing their guns 50 times and manufacturing their own bullets, that could take down a 100 year old oak tree in one round.  Do you really think that the few who got the chance to go were thinking "capture alive"?  No sir, they certainly were not.  I'm guessing that after they busted in there, they thought their guns couldn't fire fast enough.  Reloading clip after clip, "we just want to make sure".  Typical cake and fat kid scenario, all impulse.

Of course, if you've ever seen the movie Salt or Tomb Raider or Assassins, you might have envisioned a more plausible scenario.  Like, Angelina Jolie (tight black leather for aerodynamics and stealth) cruising on a Honda crotch rocket (all black).  Takes out 15 guards on the way to the gate, back flip of the bike, perfect Olympic gymnastic landing, the bike hits the gate and explodes.  She comes out of the flames into the courtyard with that serious yet seductive look.  Takes out 10 more militants, 8 by gun, 2 by ninja kick after a boost off the wall.  She disappears into the shadows, chaos everywhere.  Works her way up to Numb Nuts royal bedroom (mind you Pakistani government is completely unaware of this palace--I get where this could cause confusion given that his suite alone is a city block).  She pimp slaps the two guards at the door, kicks them in the groin, seductive grin at the security camera, scissor kick to ceiling camera, fuzzy screen.  Bin Laden's stupid grin turns to Oh S#!* to the 5th power.  AJ fakes out Bin Laden by entering from the ceiling (he's currently waiting at the door with a safety padding of a handful of wives), AJ lands in a crouched position with missile lock in her eyes.  Tak
Cover via Amazones out 5 wives, clean shot to the forehead.  Osama (I'll have to double check the spelling with Fox News) craps his pants.  His hands are shaking so bad he drops his gun--dumbstruck.  He realizes the "Evil West" is done playing games (we pulled out the AJ, since the Taliban alone isn't really blockbuster material).   AJ- double front flip with a 180, snags a conveniently placed pull-up bar.  Swings over his shoulder from behind, ninja leg squeeze.  Osama drops to the floor, time of death--who cares.  AJ-reverse stealth out of there, rides in the back of an old truck smiling, as the sun begins to rise.  Navy seals arrive emptying clips on B Lad.  AJ- tropical beach.  Ship with B Lad sets sail and the lights in the ship cut out.  Autopsy moved to main deck.  Drinking game leads to truth or dare.  Dare- throw B Lad into the deep blue, after removal of his head (there Navy Seals, just because they're heavily intoxicated doesn't mean they're too irresponsible to save the head for testing).

I'm not saying I was there, but I've seen enough movies to know how this stuff goes down.

Now that we've debriefed and solved most mysteries,  we can count on Trump to close the deal.  Now, can we get back to other matters of importance.  I want to know- is Cappadonna officailly the tenth member of WuTang Clan or not?  I know different members of the clan have made statements to the press informing us that he is in fact a member, but I want to see documentation!  It seemed official on "The W" album, then we had some drama.  If he was reunited, why isn't he pictured with the clan on the "8 diagrams" album.  I don't think Ol' Dirty Bastard is going to come back from the dead to cast his official vote.  Maybe Trump could also get the ball rolling here too?  While we're at it can I vote in Redman?
Cover of Wu-Tang Clan
I think I'm entitled...

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Get in ma belly...

Image via Wikipedia "I got bigger teetees than you do!"
Has anybody ever clicked on these ads on the internet about abs?  You know what I'm talking about, the ones that say--loose 200 lbs. of belly fat by obeying these three age old rules.  Seriously, you think I'm going to buy whatever crap your selling, because some old philosophy?  If this philosophy has been around for so long, then why would I need to pay you to hear about it.  It's amazing though, how it totally plays mind games with the Curious George part of my brain.  I'm sitting here thinking--what are these age old secrets?  Then it becomes an itch that I can't get rid of.

I'm positive that no matter what their "secrets" are, I would never implement them into my non-existent work-out regime.  Still, curiousity has me by the gut (you thought I was going to say balls, didn't you?).  If it didn't involve a committment from my credit card company (on my behalf), I'd probably look further into the matter.  I'm pretty sure after a drum roll goes off in my head, that the page would load and reveal the secrets.  It would probably say something like:  "Doing sit ups three times a day (after each meal) will help you burn all your belly fat".  Then I would think--Damn! I knew it, frickin' sit-ups.  Not a chance am I doing sit-ups.  There is nothing that I hate more than sit-ups.  All that pain in the abs, then they feel like they're on fire.  Laid down, sit back up, lay down (why am I doing this), grudgingly sit back up--No Thanks!  Every time I see someone doing sit-ups, I wonder what they did to piss their own self off soooo bad.  I'm pretty sure sit-ups are the most grueling part of the Opus Dei doctorine.  I'm not confirming this, but it does sound pretty intense.
Image via Wikipedia "What a tool!"
What if you click on that ad, pay the money, and it said--"It has been confirmed by the ancient Mayans that ordering two scoops of chocolate ice cream, with gummy bear and Kit Kat mix-ins at Cold Stone, increases your metabolism by 340-363%"?  I'd be like--sweet, no longer will my shoes be lost in the mysterious land below my belly.  I can finally stop hogging the worlds supply of elastic and share.  I will no longer get laughed at for filling my back pack in the buffet lines!  Who am I kiddin'?  I don't need to see my feet, I can feel them.
Image via Wikipedia

Maybe your a skeptic so you Google Cold Stone to see when their company was founded.  "It just doesn't seem to add up.  The Mayans invented Cold Stone, and we're just barely rediscovering it.  Who's the punk that said--no more Cold Stone, lets do sit-ups."

It just doesn't seem to add up...

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