Josh's Profile

While reminiscing about my adventures in large animal medicine during my vet tech years, Josh started feeling nostalgic about his colonoscopy.

Josh: "I had 100 feet of hose jammed up my ass."

Me: "100? Really...  A colon is only about 8 feet long."

Josh: "But I have an abnormally long rectum - like an extra 8 inches."

Me: "Really?  They actually told you that afterwards?"

Josh:  "Yeah, it's in my Match.com profile."

Three Scars, The Missing Body Part, and Bozo the Clown

After a recent bout of appendicitis and the immediate corrective surgery I have a few thoughts.

First off if you have the choice, pass, it totally sucks. Second, if you do go through with it do it close to home. 

The following are some things you can look forward to:

-The illness and pain leading up to your trip to the hospital sucks. I threw up green goo and nearly shat myself to death before begging my neighbors to drive to the money Sierra Vista Regional Health Center near Ft Huachuca AZ.

- I found it helpful to throw-up in the triage office of the hospital, it gets you faster service (but not faster drugs).

- When you do eventually get drugs their really good, the downside is they made me stand for x-rays which was probably fun to watch, but was scary to do.

- You will get a catheter , this also sucks … a lot (note: when they take it out, they mean it when they tell you to hold your breath).

- I awoke to the sound of laughter, so I naturally checked to make sure my junk was covered. Luckily it was and it makes it a lot easier to pretend they weren't thinking back to when it wasn't.

- Speaking of your junk, I discovered that they had shaved a U-shape into my pube patch causing the total package to bear a striking resemblance to one Bozo the clown. I blame myself for letting get out of hand (figuratively) down there. I guess pubes are like clean underwear in that respect.

- Along with that the shave job they gave left chest hair from my nipples up. I know that's still a lot of hair, but come on people go the extra mile and finish the job.

- For only being three little cuts (belly button, left side (opposite of appendix) and the afore mentioned pube slice bruising is extensive and discomfort high.

- I was lucky enough to have both my wife and my mother fly out to visit / care for me. Unfortunately, combined they are twice as smart as the hospital staff and 100 times smarter than the US army. Luckily I had drugs to deal with the pain.

- Speaking of drugs you will pound about 100 Percocets in a week. The hallucinations are pretty cool and never will your dreams be so needlessly detailed. The downside is that it takes Ronald McDonalds secret grease to counteract the turd logjam that the drugs induce (I said duce).

- Additionally, the surgery apparently requires the muscle responsible for pushing out urine to be cut. That is to say that I had to pee with no pressure for a week and a half. Lack of pressure peeing take 5 times as long and is highly inaccurate.

- Tiffany had to drive me/the Jeep back to FL so we spent 3 lovely days smashed in the car together. On the upside I did score a shit-load of pure cane sugar Dr Pepper (the best soda ever!).

- Going back to work also sucks, but they have been cool about letting skate out early when I get burned/worn out for the day … only for this week though.

Well that should be about enough whining for now, guess I'll head for the bathroom and finish trimming the hedges … if I can only find Tiffany's hot wax … just kidding that would really suck.

Josh's Christmas Tales: Foam Heads Are No Substitute for Jewelry

While watching a little TV today I was reminded of my greatest holiday prank ... ever.

A few Christmas' ago I was shopping for gifts at the Ft Meade, MD Base Exchange. At the register the checkout girl threw a Spiderman head antenna topper into my shopping bag. (I think she wanted me, but that's neither here nor there.) As I stared at that 3 1/2 inch foam head I was touched by the hand of God, and I knew what I had to do. I searched franticly through the house for a box the right size. I stuffed Spidey in a box, then into another, wrapped it with paper and ribbons and placed it under the tree 3 weeks before Christmas in plain view.

I, of course, was unable to keep my greatness to myself so I told everyone what I had planned. Not understanding the divine nature of this prank all the ladies at work advised against it but I was on a mission from the lord. Every day they asked if I had come clean and started a betting pool on how badly I would be beaten.

Within hours Tiffany discovered the package and the shaking , guessing and wonder lust commenced. Her excitement grew at a rate much faster than I expected. At first I fanned the flames and danced around them like the devil. Then I started to get the feeling this might not work out as well as I had hoped. So I began to down play the box, telling her not to get her hopes up ... but they were already up and there was only one way to bring them down.

I talked her into opening the box about a week before Christmas (or gift exchange day as I prefer). She hurriedly ripped through the ribbon and paper to uncover a classic white box. Opening the box she discovered a small black felt box ... her excitement had reached its pentacle. As she slowly pried the lid open, I turned away conceal the tears of joy that were by now streaming down my reddened face. Suddenly I was struck in the side of the head by Spiderman. "Asshole" she exclaimed "I can't believe you would let me think it was jewelry all this time". Of course she was disappointed, hurt, and humiliated but it was hilarious nonetheless.

And just so you don't think I'm the worlds biggest ass clown, I did have a very nice bracelet all ready for gift exchange day the whole time.

Danger Close to Getting Their Wish

Yesterday Josh was kind enough to offer to stop at CVS to pick up my prescription.  Inevitably, it was screwed up and there was mass confusion on all fronts.  The situation required several phone calls to my doctor while Josh waited somewhat patiently.  What follows is a texting conversation between Josh and I.

Josh: Dr Bianchi never called back, he is trying again now hooray

Tiff: Jesus...

Josh: Think he is filling it now

Tiff: Sweet

Josh: Calling your Dr again

Josh: In other news, my bp is 111/78

Josh: I'll check again in 20 mins

Tiff: At least you're getting the chance to check on your health.  Sorry about the goat rope.

(20 minutes later)

Tiff: They get it straightened out?

Josh: I think so, but they are jackassing around back there like its their job.

Josh: Jerry could work here.

Josh: They're bitching that nothing cool ever happens, even so close to the "hood" no gunshots or nuthin.  They are danger close to getting their wish.

Tiff: Nice, complain to the manger. That would be cool.

Josh: The cane display may become a weapons cache. I think they filled your rx wrong, starting the count over.

Tiff: They are total idiots.  It's not like there should be more than a few pills.

Josh: I'm in a mood dave (Editors Note: This is a reference to the movie "Anger Management")

Josh: Pretty sure I could take the whole staff with a 4 prong cane and back massager.

Tiff: Don't see how the back massager would help you but okay...

Josh: Racking dudes and gouging eyes

Tiff: That's what the cane is for.

Josh: Cane is for creating distance and death, I figured the massager would be nice for close quarters combat.

Tiff: You could always go Tires Plus on them and tell every customer how much CVS sucks.
(Editor's Note: Once Josh got brand new break pads on our Dodge Neon upgraded free of charge by sitting in the lobby of a Tires Plus for 2 hours telling everyone who came in they were about to get screwed.  The manager finally came out and told Josh he would replace them if Josh went away.)


Josh: I think everyone knows.  I'm finally done here.

Fraggle Rock Guts

Disclaimer: it is with great hesitation that I post this one but Josh insists so here it is.

Tonight, after a delightful dessert of creme brûlée, Josh suffered the inevitable digestive consequences. We were laying in bed when he says, "I just had diarrhea 3 times!! How can I need to pee!"

I replied, "Why would you expect to not have to pee?"

"I just assumed it would all come out my ass."

I made the mistake of further questioning his logic by asking, "Do you think you have little elves that build pipelines from your bladders to your rear?"

"I just assumed that its like Fraggle Rock in there. My intestinal distress is the Fraggles doing their dance in there. Then when they arer done with their little song, the Dozers came out and rebuilt it all - scaffolding and pipes and shit."

The conversation ended here. What more could I say?

White Trash Karate

While at Target to buy dog food and diapers, Josh spotted a child of probable white trash DNA with a bandana tied around his head karate chopping the air.

"Holy shit, do you see that kid? It's like white trash karate! I don't know what that entails but I imagine it involves dodging beer bottles for training. I bet he is a level 7 in beer bottle dodging and a brown belt in taking cigarette burns on the back of the neck. His dad's mullet didn't help matters either. 'Someday I'll be able to cut my daddy's hair with these karate chops.' He'll just lay that Billy Ray Cyrus mullet out on a board and chop it to the length he wants. I bet he opens a barber shop someday. He'll call it 'Bobby's Macho Karate Hair Cut Dojo and 8-Track Exchange'. Jesus..."

Florida Ave. Beyond Thunderdome

Josh shared his observations about his drive home one day last week:

"Florida Avenue was a freak show on the way home today.  There was some weirdo dressed in all black wearing a breast plate and shin guards like it was something to do.  In the same block there were a bunch of other weirdos wandering around without shirts on looking confused.  It was like 'Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome' out there."

The Queen Bee

I made the mistake of relaying a warning I read on the back of a jar of Tucks.

Me: "Did you know that you're not supposed to insert Tucks into your rectum using your finger, mechanical device, or other applicator?  Who would actually do that??"

Josh: "Hmm...  I suppose there could be a situation wherein you would be so desperate for hemorrhoidal relief that you would want to go directly to the source.  You gotta get the Queen Bee while she's still in the hive."

Trashimus Prime

As we were pulling out of the parking lot on our way to Nordstrom's today, Josh again noticed that the neighbors on the corner need to replace the ceiling fan on their porch and this prompted the following rant.

Josh: "Is it wrong that I want to go buy a ceiling fan and sneak over and replace that floppy piece of shit on their porch?  They are so trashy!  All they do is drink beer and shoot cans with BB guns in their backyard."

Me: "They shoot cans?!?! I've never noticed that."

Josh: "YES!  OH MY GOD!  It's like Trashimus Prime over there.  They are out there every day starting at 8 o'clock in the morning shooting at Busch Light cans and bottles while listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd.  AND there's always some dumbass 10 year old over there learning how to shoot cans!  I moved out of Zephyrhills to get away from that.  I'm going to set up a tactical shooting range in the backyard and teach Laura how to shoot at cans because that's apparently the thing to do in this neighborhood!"

After watching the Lightning win a playoff game, Josh and I started watching the pre-show for the Preakness horse races.  While watching footage of some obviously arrogant jockeys prepare themselves before the race, I postulated that jockeys fight a lot.  This prompted Josh to make the claim that he could handily kick a jockey's ass while I claim that it wouldn't be as easy as he believes. 

This discussion has been going on for three days now and has followed this general pattern:

Josh: "I would destroy a jockey."

Me: "I wouldn't be too cocky about that.  They have to be strong enough to handle a thoroughbred racing horse."

Josh: "They weigh 85 pounds!! I have at least 90 pounds on them!"

Me: "First of all, jockeys usually weigh about 105 pounds.  And secondly, a race horse weighs half a ton.  If they can handle a half ton horse, they can handle you." (Don't ask me how I know the weights of racing horses and jockeys - it's just some of the stupid, useless knowledge that clogs my brain).

Josh: "No way.  I could pick up a jockey over my head and snap him in half.  Besides, they just whip the shit out of the horse with a stick - that doesn't take any strength.  A baby can do that."

Me: "So you can dead lift 105 pounds over your head with your crap shoulder?"

Josh: "Yes.  I could only fight hard for about 30 seconds but those 30 seconds would feel like an eternity for that jockey due to the ass beating I would put on him.  I can't believe you don't think I can kick a jockey's ass!  No faith!  I have specialized training."

Me: "I don't doubt that you could kick a jockey's ass... eventually.  I just don't believe it would be as easy as you think it would be.  They're strong and fast, like little leprechauns."

Josh: "Let's go to the horse track.  I'm going to find a jockey and pick a fight just to prove to you that I can kick a jockey's ass."

Me: "Let me know which jail I need to pick you up at."

Yes, Lord, we will ride with you

In honor of the rapture, and to cement the fact that we're not floating up, I'll share Josh story of some classy ladies of Zephyrhills.

Current mood: recumbent

After a recent trip to Chili's for dinner with my wife and neighbors, I noticed an 88 Shitbox Hatchback on our way home. In the front seat was the Zephyrhills version of Thelma and Louise (i.e. two frizzy haired, toothless hags looking hot in their undersized Jordache jeans). They were smoking cigarettes while heading into the local liquor store, undoubtedly for enough booze to help them stomach riding some homeless guy in their league.

In the back seat was Jesus. Not in person, the real Jesus wouldn't be seen with these "ladies". But in the form of a 3-foot tall framed portrait. I wonder if they felt guilty about putting him in the trunk while they gum down some dude in the back seat... I doubt it.

When the rapture comes...

Josh has recently been obsessed with Family Radio, the organization headed by the crazy bastard Harold Camping, which has predicted that Judgement Day will be this Saturday, May 21 at approximately 6 pm.

"You can bet if the rapture really happens Saturday I'm going to wild out.  If at 6 pm, I see f***ers float up and I do my little hop like, 'Hey, why aren't I floating up, too?' I'm gonna go crazy.  I'm going to spend the next 90 days without pants on!  Since the universe is going to cease to exist, no one will remember what I've done in the last 90 days."

Space Pig Cometh

After noticing last weekend that Josh watched no less than 3 hours of TV about aliens and how they altered our genetic code, I was reminded of this post from October 2008.

Current mood:frisky

Last night on my way to work one of the guests on my favorite AM radio program (Coast To Coast AM) detailed the events of a most unpleasant encounter of the alien kind. Reportedly, a couple was abducted and while aboard the alien craft, the space beings forced their space pig (as described by the witnesses) to rape the woman. You read this correctly - space pigs are raping people while aliens watch...  Wow. So, a good old fashion probing isn't looking so bad now, is it? Bring on the glowing wand, I say.

Dancing With A Sandwich

Last night on our way home from the mall, Josh noticed a lady on the sidewalk dancing with a foot long sub sandwich.  This offended his sensibilities:

"Did you see that?  There was a lady dancing around in the street with a sandwich!!  I don't mean just dancing while eating a sandwich - she was holding it up in the air like it was the newborn Simba on Lion King.  I guess she was hoping that cars would circle around and honk their horns to the tune of 'Circle of Life'.  Why would you dance with a sandwich?  I mean, if I eat something really good I might give it a quick pelvic thrust and a 'Yeah', but I would never dance with it...  I'm going to have nightmares about that tonight."

A Mother's Love

In honor of Mother's Day, I'll share this post from March 2007 about Josh's interpretation of a Mother's Love.

Current mood:confused

So my mother calls me to relay a story about my 7 year old nephew getting racked at school while playing on the jungle gym. As the story went, he apparently was understandably traumatized and went to the school nurse. The nurse, unable to care for that region, calls my sister to suggest checking it out later.

That night my sister called to tell me her son shouted fuckers at some restaurant and filled me in on the details of the racking story my mother, who claims to love me, left out. Apparently during said story my mom began laughing hysterically. When she was told that it was cold blooded to laugh at a little kids pain, my own mother declared that she was laughing because she was imagining how funny it would be if I had crushed my junk on a jungle gym ... Where's the love mom? I guess your satisfied with one grand-kid.

Elmo Phone

During our baby shower in March, Josh dropped his beloved HTC Hero face down and obliterated the display.  Luckily, having learned his lesson about not having insurance on his last phone, he signed up for the Geek Squad plan through Best Buy.  This provides a loaner phone while your phone is being repaired or replaced.  Unfortunately, his loaner phone did not live up to Josh's high technological expectations...


"As karma would have it I dropped, and demolished, my awesome EVO phone and the Best Buy asses were nice enough to loan me a phone designed by and or for a 5 year old. The reason I guess five years old is because, while it does not have a button with Elmo on it, it does have a special smiley face button for picking out that perfect whatever face to relate how I'm feeling, should I lose the use of my big boy words.


It looks and feels like a klondike bar and every ringtone has dogs barking or frogs croaking. The start up sreen has a teletubbies like background, but adds gumdrop rain, which fertilizes a weak ass flower that draws the attention of some weak ass butterflies. The best part is that while I rock this turd of a phone I'm sure Sprint will continue to charge me the extra $10 for 4G service ... bitches.


Just to be a prick I tried to send the ever useful snowman, shamrock and airplane emoticons to Tiffany and, of course, phones built after 1999 are not capable of converting such BS technology into pictures so it looked roughly like this @%%&*%*%%*))0> on a grown up phone. Now its time for my nap ... where the F is my towel?"

Laughing at children's pain

From February 2008, Josh shares his thoughts on why he wasn't ready to be a father yet.  Sadly, we would still laugh if we saw this event again - scary, since we are about to become parents.

Current mood:ashamed

While commenting about the unsafe manner in which a family of three on bicycles turned in front of us, we came to the sad realization that we are still not ready to have kids. As the mom figure of this happy little parade weaved across traffic, I joked that I could get her but before I could finish that sinister thought it happened. Junior somehow hit a curb at roughly 3 1/2 mph and fell straight sideways into the street. And as this kid bounced on the pavement we broke out into a ruckus laughter that, in retrospect, seemed wholly inappropriate. So even though I have overcome the compulsion to laugh at every kid wearing a helmet, it seems that I have not reached the maturity level necessary to safely rear my own.

"Actually, I don't know if he's Russian."

Being Tampa Bay residents and hockey fans, we've been glued to the Lightning games.  Since the Lightning started playing the Capitals in Round 2, Josh has been ranting about Alexander Ovechkin.

"God, I hate Alexander Ovechkin!!!!!"

"Why? What did he do?"

"He's such a f'ing showboater!  He dances around like a clown when he scores and that's not the kind of game hockey is.  I hate that Russian asshole!"

Josh was silent for about a minute then followed up with, "Actually, I don't know if he's Russian."

Then last night, after repeating essentially the same rant, he did a Google search to determine if Ovechkin was actually Russian.

"He IS a Russian asshole!"

Osama's Death

Josh on Osama Bin Laden's death:


"I’m over it. The news coverage makes it look like the US dumped out a million Toby Keith fans out of their trailers into times square. That’s what I want the world to see a f’ing hillbilly jamboree after what sounds like the shooting of a 70 year old unarmed man … awesome."

Air Horn Rules

In regards to NHL fans using airhorns during games:

(From the other room) "Is that the goal horn I hear?"

Me: "No."

"Oh, just people blasting airhorns like assholes.  It should be a league rule that you get to punch anyone who uses an air horn in the face.  No, it should be LIFE rule that you get to beat the shit out of anyone who blows an air horn.  Unless your lost in the <expletive>ing ocean, you don't need an air horn."

Do you have an inside voice?!?!

Josh recently had to fly on Southwest Airlines, one of his least favorite airlines.

"Of course I was in the last boarding zone on that horse shit Southwest open seating.  I don't know why they think that's a good idea, people sitting in random seats like assholes.  The first open seat I came upon was a middle seat, of course, next to a woman with a baby.  So I said, 'Sorry buddy, that's all you' to the guy behind me and rolled.  The next seat was by two old people reading books and ignoring everyone else.   Perfect.  But the asshole behind me kept yelling at his daughter while playing Hangman.  'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!  WHY WOULD YOU PICK F?  WHAT WORDS HAVE F AS THE SECOND LETTER?!?! OH MY GOD!!'  Then he would bang on the seat tray 'F??  AHHH'.  So after an hour of this I turned around and yelled, '<EXPLETIVE>! DO YOU HAVE AN INSIDE VOICE FOR <EXPLETIVE>'S SAKE???'  He just stared at me then started yelling about Hangman again.  Thank god we landed because my next course of action was to tell him that I was going to shatter his daughter's perception that he was invincible by kicking his ass when we got off the plane."

Simba is a pussy

Josh and I often have random discussions at bed time when neither of us can sleep.  On one such night we were discussing our favorite Disney movies and somehow started talking about Lion King characters.  I asked which characters were his favorite.

"The mean uncle lion and the hyenas.  I HATED Simba because he was a <expletive> pussy.  'Ohhh, my dad died, I'm so sad.'  If it hadn't been for a girl kicking his ass relentlessly he would have pussed out."

The Troll Demands a Toll

While waiting for his new phone at Best Buy today, Josh encountered a lady that offended his sensibilities.  She was wearing hobo gloves, had 3 inch fungus nails, and 2 inch fungus toenails.   

"What a train wreck.  She looks like a troll and has Freddy Krueger claws.  I'm afraid I'm going to have a pay a toll to get out of the store alive.  And if I don't she'll grind up my bones for her bread.  What's up with those gloves? They are just work gloves with the fingers cut off so she can get her Freddy Kruger claws in them.Her nails are disgusting!!  And someone has to touch those things to polish them and paint designs on them!  Some poor Vietnamese person had to touch those!!!!  There is a Vietnamese woman somewhere crying herself to sleep right now.  Why are you writing this down?!?!?!"

Fat Ass Jimmy Buffet

"If I were single and suddenly became independently wealthy, I'd move to Key West and become a fat ass Jimmy Buffet.  I'd grow a pony tail and start dressing like my dad (author's note: his dad has an affinity for brightly colored Hawaiian type shirts).  Then I'd spend all day drinking mojitos and all night plowing drunk tourist chicks.  That's what those chicks go to Key West for anyway, to bang fat ass Jimmy Buffet look alikes."

I replied, "Really?  Drunk chicks?"

In response, he said, "Why do you think I'd drink mojitos all day?  To forget the shame."

Welcome to Josh's Epic Rants...

Anyone who knows Josh knows that he can throw down a good rant.  If you don't know Josh, well, then you are about to find out that he can throw down a good rant.  I am routinely entertained by his disgruntled and humorous musings, so it just didn't seem fair that everyone else didn't get to share in the glory. I am here to spread the gospel of Josh...