HampoLand

Homeless Guys With Cell Phones

For months I’ve been going out of my mind because the government now gives free cell phones to poor people. If you receive any kind of government assistance, HUD, Food Stamps etc… you are eligible.

CRAZYNESS! I know I don’t sound very liberal or like a democrat or like a woman who voted for Obama,  but how can our government justify the expense of giving all those people cell phones. And why do they deserve them?

My annoyance only increased when my daughter Mary told me abut a group of kids that begs for money in front of Wal-Greens while texting on their iphones.

My family hangs on to middle class by our cuticles, my husband and I work hard for everything we have. Why won’t anyone give us a free cell phone? None of us have the kind of phone with a screen or key board, we all have flip phones, the same kind the government is giving away. That’s the kind of moaning and wailing I was doing when my friend, Dick Antoine, walked into my office…his face glowing.

“Guess what? I just talked to my brother in Las Vegas!” he announced happily.

“The one who lives in a box?” I asked because Dick has told me all about his brother who is homeless, 55 years old with a three foot beard. He lives in a box and only makes money when he sells his blood. Dick hasn’t talked to him in a few years.

“Yeah, he called me, he got one of those Obama phones. He gets 250 minutes a month. How bout that”!

Dick looked so happy because his brother in a box had a phone.

I think giving phones to people who won’t or can’t get a job is stupid and insane. But I’m happy Dick gets to talk to his long lost brother. Still, I am wondering how his brother will charge his new Obama phone in a cardboard box.

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Please, Teach That Kid How To Shake Hands Like A Man

My last blog was about men putting their hand in their pants and now I’m going to write about handshakes. Yeah, I realize that’s a little odd and I think I’ve written about this before but I’m feeling passionate and it’s really really important.

This weekend I met two perfectly good kids with really sorry handshakes. They were pathetic and weak and the kids didn’t have a clue what to say or how to make eye contact. The seemed hopelessly squirrely. I felt sorry for them because it was obvious no adult had ever taken the time to teach them how to shake hands.

Parents, it’s nearly criminal if you don’t teach your children, especially your boys, how to shake hands like a man and say, “nice to meet you”. If you don’t teach them, who will? You should start teaching your kids how to shake hands as soon as they can walk so when they are six it’s not a big deal. When they are toddlers shake hands with them around the house, at dinner shake hands at the table and say “Nice to meet you, will you pass the chicken, please?” AND YOU HAVE TO MAKE EYE CONTACT.

If you don’t teach your kids how to do this, people will think they are slimy little punks, like Draco Malifoy. Seriously, that’s what we are thinking. I know it’s wrong but if a 13 year old kid has a pansy handshake I assume he’s also the kid who picks on little girls and spits in front of Grandmas.

If you love your child give them an advantage in life and teach them how to shake hands.

And now, will somebody please help me off my soapbox?

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He’s Got His Hand In His Pants….Again

Here’s the question all women want to ask. Why do guys always have their hands in their pants? It’s a really strange thing to do in front of people. But everyone who is married or had a boyfriend or brother knows that’s exactly what they do…all the time.

Lying on the couch watching tv…the hand goes south,

Standing on the porch, drinking a coke, his left hand is checking on the situation in his pants.

Brushing his teeth with his right hand, the left is warming up in his boxers.

I honestly believe half the time guys don’t even realize they have their hands full, it just happens.

Men, how weird would it be if women stood around with our hand in our panties all the time. Pretty strange visual, huh?

The hand in the pants habit seems to happen a little later in life but I’m not exactly sure when. Little boys don’t need to cup their jewels quite as often.  Maybe they would do it too more if they didn’t have moms  barking like a walrus  every time a hand started moving in that direction.

This week I decided to simply ask a few men why they do it and the two answeres they repeated were “It feels good”, and “It feels natural or comforting”. Some were willing to tell me exactly what they were doing down there but I don’t feel the need to share that information with you.

Guys, I’m not going to ask you to stop. I  don’t think you can and you’ve probably been doing it for thousands of years. But please, take a look around the room. If you’re not alone just put your hand in your pocket. Then at least your in the right neighborhood but you’re not freaking anyone out. As my friend at work said, “Stop checking on it, that things not going anywhere”.

Leave a comment even if you like the hand in the pants look.

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Just Don’t Take A Break…You’ll Never Come Back

If there is something good in your life, something that inspires you or makes you  better….but requires work….don’t ever think you can “take a break” and you’ll come back refreshed or renewed. Chances are you won’t come back at all.

I’ve seen this happen dozens of times in taekwondo. Students “take a break” so they won’t get burned out and never come back. When I see them in the video store there are always a multitude of excuses, but the truth is they just quit. Slow down if you need to, but you have to keep your foot in the door.

I took a break from taekwondo, (for medical reasons, I swear) and in just a few weeks I forgot nearly everything I’d learned in 11 years. I was suddenly a moron. My flexibility was gone and so was my confidence. I didn’t want to go back becasue I was afraid I would  suck…and I did.

The same is true of marriage and serious relationships. If you “take a break” all kinds of terrible things can happen. You go out for a drink and the next thing you know your making out with a stranger in the parking lot. And of course your girlfriend, that you actually adore, will hear about it and your done. Breaks are a terrible idea.

If you are a runner you know how dangerous a break can be.  Convincing yourself  you should return to sweating and groaning and being soar is nearly impossible. That first 1/2 mile is gonna be a nightmare so why not stay on the cushy couch? You’ve got a rerun of Friends and a bag of Cheetos…who needs to run? 

 ”Take a break” almost always turns into “I quit”  because starting over is a miserable prospect.

So, if you have a hobby or passion or loved one that makes your life better and brighter, stop your whining, tough it out and keep your foot in the door.

Hey, you, leave me a comment. Please

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The F-Bomb Needs A Make-Over

Which of these phrases would get your attention?

“You F*&%$*@* Wuss!” or
“You Chicken Baby Cheese Cake!”

One is an average insult the other is brilliant, silly  and ridicilous. The first line you can hear over and over, in any high school, mall or factory, so it’s lost most of  that legendary power and mojo.

However, if you call somebody a “chicken baby cheese cake” they will pay attention to you, yes they will wonder what planet you came from but sometimes that’s ok.

Cursing needs a style make over, a face lift that makes it cool or tough or at least meaningful and shocking again. Everyday kids hear so much cursing it’s become lukewarm at best. Not long ago throwing the “f -bomb” was shocking and a profound insult now it’s like ordering chicken noodle soup. It basically tells me you’re not very creative and you have limited verbal creativity.

The wow factor is gone, unless you’re an old person, like Betty White, then it’s still really funny.

If I say, “she’s an ugly b$%^#” you get the point. If I say “she’s as ugly and graceless as a toad” you really get an understanding of the ugly woman’s face.

So, guys, it’s time to give up on the hackneyed phrases and curse words. Step up your anger and insult game and try something new. Call the sales guy “smarmy”, call the mean waitress a “witless hag”, call the stupid bull a “vapid pawn”. 

Yeah, you might get a monstrous ass whupping by the “hulking waste of flesh” bully, but you’ll sound wonderfully droll as you make these urbane and disparaging remarks.

See, that’s so much better than “shut the f*%$ up”.

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Seat Belts, Helmets, Daisy Dukes and Personal Freedom

Generally, I don’t worry about my freedom and liberties. I trust and love my country. But there are times reality forces me to pay attention. Right now I’m really bugged about seat belts. I did get a no seat belt ticket a month ago and I started thinking.

Here’s my question, why is it ok for me scream down the highway on a Ninja at 120 miles an hour wearing Daisy Dukes, a tank top and flip flops, with my head bumping like a coconut bobble-head, naked and unprotected? If I got hit by a truck while riding  my Ninja without a helmet my skull would split like a watermelon on the curb. This scenario is just fine with law enforcement.

But, if I’m driving 25 miles an hour and I’m completely engulfed and cocooned by my 5,000 pound Hummer with cushy leather seats and  four different air bags, I better have my seat belt on or I’ll get pulled over and written up. This just doesn’t make sense.

Unless….our society doesn’t really like motorcycle riders and wants to eliminate them completely. No, that can’t be it, I’m just making stuff up now.

The truth is, if I choose not to wear my seat belt or helmet I’m not endangering anyone but myself.  If I’m willing to have my head cracked like a honey dew melon, that’s my own stupid decision.

I understand laws that protect other people from my idiocy.  I should not be allowed to drive around with my kids in the trunk or in the bed of my truck because they might get hurt. I should not be allowed to drive with my feet on the steering wheel or while smoking crack, both might cause me to kill someone else. So those laws make perfect sense. But when I decide to drive without my seat belt, I’m only endangering my self and as an American, my right  to act like a moron and make super stupid decisions, is protected.

We must cherish and protect our freedom, even from those who mean well and want to keep us from harm.

PS I want you to believe I’m a middle-aged white woman in Arkansas who rides a Ninja in my Daisy Dukes and has a massive, gas sucking, Hummer. Yeah…that’s me! It’s possible and that’s why I love this country.

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