Palm My Ass

So I went to lunch at the “Between the Buns” family restaurant in Mishawaka today. Like the other locations the theme is sports with each table being a different team of whatever sport. Well my old buddy Harry and I were sat at the “ICE” table. “ICE” stands for “Indiana Cheer Elite”.

Cheerleading is a sport now? Have I been in a coma? I thought cheerleading was something done as a sideline at a REAL sporting event? But then again I guess there ARE a couple movies about the trials and tribulations of cheerleading. Let’s see, there’s “Bring it On” and… uhhh… “Bring it On Again” and… uhhh…

(time to do a quick Google search)… yeah, there’s other well known titles like “Sugar and Spice”, “Cheer” and “The Positively True Adventures of the Alleged Texas Cheerleader-Murdering Mom” (based on true events, see it this Sunday on the Lifetime network.).

“Riiiight”

In my mind gymnastics is not a sport, so that means synchronized gymnastics isn’t a sport either. Now that I’ve possibly pissed off some woman that one hand drives her SUV so she can brag about whoring up her 6 year old for this weeks “competition” on her cell phone, I have to talk about another aspect of Cheering.

Dudes. Among the photos embedded into the table was a group picture of male cheerleaders making faces like they were some kind of bad-asses. One guy in particular looked as if he was pissed about his father dying of an alcohol soaked liver due to the poor guy wanting to forget his son being a worm boy. Come on, am I suppose to be scared? What are you going to do? Palm my ass and lift me up in the air? Since I’m roughly the size of a classic Volkswagon Bettle, I doubt that’s gonna happen.

It boils down to this… I come from the day when cheerleaders were looked at as sex objects (i.e. Dallas Cheerleaders) and their gyrating bodies could induce us in the crowd to “cheer” for our team or maybe even take extra long showers. Now it’s considered a “sport” and I guess I can live with that, but does that mean now we have parents going to sporting events to cheer there children which are in turn cheering for a sports team. That’s fucked up. It kinda reminds me of my old suck-ass high school that had half the crowd leave after halftime of a football game because they were “Band Parents”. That’s a whole different breed of Melvin there folks.

Yargnits OUT

Indecent Proposal, My #2 Blog

I find that one of the best things in life is the occasional get together with the guys. A drink at the local watering hole and taking the bikes out score high on the fun-meter, but the absolute best is Poker night. It’s a house full of alcohol, foul language, dirty jokes, and an abundant surplus of flatulence (usually produced by me). Defiantly no place for someone with the occasional case of mittelschmerz.

I’m really the odd-ball of the poker group. I’m still married and happily so. The usual host of the event, Brian, is recently divorced. We regularly refer to Shelly (the woman that use to toss his salad) as "that whore of an ex-wife” but it’s not that we dislike her. O'contraire, we’d all like to see if she’d do a DVDA performance. We hear she’s quite famous for that now.

Other regulars include Bill, Les and Harry.

Bill’s divorced and constantly chasing tail but so out of touch that he got all excited about getting a phone number from a chick. The number was 867-5309. (Serious!)

Les has been divorced around 12 times and is the quiet perv of the group. The sad thing about Les is he thinks the girls at Hooter’s really like him. Could it be the $20 tips? There’s an episode of South Park he should watch. Les IS Butters!


Then there’s the only single guy of the group, Harry Jousam. Ladies just can’t seem to reel this fish in. On one of our poker nights he confessed to what would cause him to drop to one knee and take the plunge into matrimony. He said any woman that would do a “Blumpkin” would be worthy of buying a ring for. That’s to say his girlfriend would play the blind puppy while he’s coiling a steamer. You know what I’m saying? She’d have to be willing to get a purple Mushroom while he parks his breakfast.

Now since I know that Harry’s current girlfriend wants to settle down and become Mrs. Jousam, I thought I’d be the stand-up guy that I am and tell her what she could do to secure a proposal from Harry. I told her that if she’d be a frothy walrus while he’s wrestling a Brown corn-belly snake, she’d finally take Harry off the market. She found the idea disturbing. This I don’t understand. If a woman REALLY wants to get Harry all to herself all she has to do is wear a zombie mask while this guy drops his kids off at the pool.



Since she’s not willing Harry remains the single guy on Poker night. Who knows, maybe Harry would find an Indian Teabag or a Rusty Trombone just as vow worthy and one night he’ll ask us to get fitted for tuxes. Only time will tell… speaking of time, mine’s up. Besides, I need to go and make a Green Bay Hand Warmer.