Stuff You Don’t Care About: Issue 10: Go Potty

So, my son is out of diapers with… mixed results. Wrote a song about it. Like to hear it? Hear it go:

Go Potty

My son is getting bigger
And we have him out of diapers
But he just just keeps on peeing (uh)
In whatever clothes he’s wearing

You’ve come too far to put stains in your shorts
So please use the pot, because that’s what it’s for

I’m up all night with my son
He’s up all night to do one
He’s up all night to go two
We’re up all night to go potty

I’m up all night with my son
He’s up all night to do one
He’s up all night to go two
We’re up all night to go potty

We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty

I really love parenting
It’s the gift that keeps on giving,
But what is this smell I’m smelling?
Why’s the back of your pant’s swelling? (ew)

You’ve come too far to put stains in your shorts
So please use the pot, because that’s what it’s for

I’m up all night with my son
He’s up all night to do one
He’s up all night to go two
We’re up all night to go potty

I’m up all night with my son
He’s up all night to do one
He’s up all night to go two
We’re up all night to go potty

We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty

(We’re up all night to go
We’re up all night to go
We’re up all night to go
We’re up all night to go)

(We’re up all night to go (together)
We’re up all night to get (let’s all go poop again)
We’re up all night to go stinky
We’re up all night to go potty)

(We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty)

(We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty)

You’ve (We’re up all night to go potty)
Come too far (We’re up all night to go potty)
To put stains (We’re up all night to go potty)
In your shorts (We’re up all night to go potty)
So please (We’re up all night to go potty
Use the pot (We’re up all night to go potty)
Because that’s (We’re up all night to go potty)
What it’s for (We’re up all night to go potty)

I’m up all night with my son
He’s up all night to do one
He’s up all night to go two
We’re up all night to go potty

I’m up all night with my son
He’s up all night to drain one
He’s up all night to go poo
We’re up all night to go potty

We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty

We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty
We’re up all night to go potty


Stuff You Don’t Care About: Issue 9: Sir Mixeth Often

Forsooth, dear Rebecca, feast thine eyes upon yon derriere!
It can only be described as copious.
Nay, the wench resembles a chattering bard’s romantic companion.
Though, in confession I must concede that I have no understanding of such as them.
Indeed, their chattering is only such, being due to her appearance as a harlot, I’faith?
Prithee her rump is so corpulent, and bulbous. It is obvious that it is grievously abhorrent, behold!
Be she so… Nubian!

An inclination have I for voluminous posteriors, and this is no untruth.
Nay, my brothers in arms, you cannot dispute this fact.
When you rest your eyes upon a maiden blessed with a humble midriff
And an elliptical form presented before you, one leaps to present his John Thomas
For you have realized the rump in question was cumbersome at best.
Buried in the confines of her bustle,
My fascination bids my eyes to remain stationary.
O wondrous Lady, that we could only rendezvous,
That I may render a delightful portrait in your likeness.
My entourage bid me caution,
But that backside you possess sets my loins aflame.
Ooh, elastic sickly epidermis.
I invite you to board my chariot, M’Lady.
Do what you will, what you will with me,
I’faith, you are an exceptional devotee.
I have witnessed her capering.
Affairs of the heart be damned!
She doth perspire, and is sodden as such.
Have she the status on par with a champion pedigree? I think so.
I grow weary of periodicals
That lay claim that petite behinds are all the fashion.
Present the question to a typical moor,
He will remind you of the contrary.
Yea, comrades! (Huzzah!) Comrades! (Huzzah!)
Doth thine companion be blessed with such a derriere? (Undoubtedly !)
Instruct that wench to jostle it vigorously! (Jostle it!) Jostle it! (Jostle it!)
Jostle thine physically fit backside.
Baby possess back!


Stuff You Don’t Care About: Issue 8: Yelp this, ya Bastard

This a quick and easy post. The following is a restaurant review I wrote for Yelp.com. If you’re not familiar with Yelp, it is a website where your average joe can post a review for various establishments like restaurants, bars, and whatnot. It is also a den of evil, where lies are generated and spread though the internet like a cancer. In my case, after I posted my review, they promptly removed it. It seems the rest of the reviews for the site were positive, and they did not like my honest criticism.


“Marker 20 is danger to society. The inside is crowded and the floor is covered with metal caltrops, the same kind that were used to cripple horses in roman chariot races. You’re strapped to a booth where a large man in a leather mask comes over and force feeds you blackened fish through your nostrils.

Or you can choose to sit outside on the patio, where the wait staff pours boiling wax on your genitals, while chimpanzees and spider monkeys attack you from the rafters above looking for fleas in your hair.

I ate there and I swear that there are now less stars in the sky because of it. I’m just sayin’.”


Stuff You Don’t Care About: Issue 7: This one goes out to you Travis…

Okay, so it’s been a while since I’ve posted on this blog. I ended on a kind of sad note last time, dedicating the post to the memory of my father, breaking from the usual tongue-in-cheek that I usually engage in. If one were to over think it, one might be under the impression that I have been in a real life “Sad Keanu“. (Just so you know, Keanu is not sad, he is just reflecting on the deliciousness of his sandwich.) I am not a “Sad Keanu”. I have, in-fact, been fairly happy as of late.

The reason I have not blogged is simple. I have had nothing to say. At least, I haven’t until now. Let us turn to the living evil that is known as Facebook. This is a cesspool of privacy being made public, the social equivalent of willingly selling your soul to Satan. That is, unless you disable “Friends of Friends” in the security settings, but I digress. The point is I have experienced one of those “Fuck You” moments when social networking.

Let me paint a picture for you. I was commenting on a friend’s post. This “friend” is a local radio personality, so it’s more like I’m a fan on her friends list. This was her comment:
“When I was 12, I had pictures taped up all over my room of Axl Rose, Sebastian Bach eating pizza, and Eddie Vedder.”

Now, I’m a big believer in limiting my Facebook usage to little jokes, a heaping helping of sarcasm, and outright silliness, so I fall back on a time tested comedic subject that any red-blooded American would use: Cannibalism.

I responded, “They were eating pizza AND Eddie Vedder? Ew.”

This should have invoked a minor chuckle, been completely ignored, or more often than not, evoking a groan from the ill-fated reader. Instead one other person responded with this little nugget of stupidity:

“@Adam: fortunately there is a comma in place to prevent MOST PEOPLE from drawing that conclusion.
Punctuation is just that important.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, the name of this person is Travis. Travis is a dick.

I’m going to back pedal on something I said in an earlier blog. I know I went off on people that use the word “Conversate” and generally have bad grammar. I know I can be kind of a douche when it comes to that sort of thing, but I don’t do it for the sake of being confrontational. I don’t go out of my way to talk down to somebody who makes that kind of error. In my case, it wasn’t an error, just silliness.

As I’m writing this entry, the war of words has continued. I have made my first Facebook enemy it seems. It’s a small world. Apparently he’s friends with one of my old high-school buddies. I just hope this isn’t somebody I should know.

It’s shit like this Facebook… (sigh)

Let’s analyze our little nemesis here.

Name: Travis Fox (That’s right I said it!)

Interests: 2nd amendment (Seriously? You start with that?) Land Surveying (Snore) Confederate States of America (Boy, I’d really like to introduce you to some of my Black Friends. I’m sure they’d love you.)

Favorite Music: A collection of metal and garage bands and “trailer park, redneck, sleeping with their sister” anthems. One such gem is somebody calling themselves General Lee and the New Confederacy. Surprisingly, Lynyrd Skynyrd didn’t make the list. Guess they were too anti-American for him or something.

Favorite Books (You’ll love this): The South was Right, Red Republicans and Lincoln’s Marxists (WTF??), and The Real Lincoln.

Okay, so we’ve established that this dude is a serious flannel shirt wearing, hippie hating, tobacco chewing, white steeple hood donning loon that sprays fake mud onto his pickup to pass himself off as an off-roading SOB. But the icing on the cake is the slogan on his site, “Novus Ordo Seciordum” or “New Order for the Ages” found on the back of a dollar bill. Oh God! He’s going to use a giant pyramid with a floating eye to take over the world! Aaaaaarrrggghhh! Hide yo kids, hide yo wife! Hide yo kids, hide yo wife.

Normally I wouldn’t let things like this bother me, but considering who this is it’s very irksome that a person like this has the balls to question my education. Sure he can read, but his reading seems to be limited to his narrow point of view. I thought I had conservative view points, but after reading up on this guy I want to go join a drum circle and talk about my feelings.

Travis, look at me buddy. Chill out. It takes more than punctuation and your limited grasp on reality to consider yourself intelligent. Learn to recognize harmless fun and take a fuckin’ chill pill. You’re not Captain Clever and you never will be. Also, that monocle clashes with your Klan robes.


For the Larry Stillwell Memoral Page

As many of you know, June the 4th marks the anniversary of my Father’s passing. Obviously, if you’re visiting this page, your life has been effected in some way him. I can only tell you what kind of effect this has had on me.

Things have changed drastically in my life in the past year. We had a new baby boy, born on October 8th. Unfortunately, my Pop never got to see him. My Mother has moved out of her house and relocated to Florida. At this point, I don’t have any actual family in the area. I’ve just moved into a new home, and money’s never been tighter.

It’s said that the death of a family member tends to bring the surviving member closer together. I really don’t feel that that has happened, at least not yet. Pop’s death should mean something, but it just doesn’t. No good has come of it. Yes, he’s in a better place, but what about the rest of us?

There were people that were responsible for his passing. I know this to be true and I will not be convinced otherwise. There has been no justice for there negligence, and there apparently never will be. Apparently, those individuals are exempt from their responsibilities when if comes to my Pop. I won’t go into the details. Most of you know them already. Thinking about it just enrages me to such an extent, that it has taken me all day just to write this post.

I will do as I have always done. I will not focus on things I have no control over. I will try not to blame myself for his passing. I will try to move on.

I love you Pop.

Click here for The Larry Stillwell Memorial Page


Stuff You Don’t Care About: Issue 6: Words and Phrases That Drive Me Crazy

Anybody that knows me is aware that I’m a bit of a Grammar Nazi. It’s strange that I am, considering my grammar is, in fact, atrocious. I can’t formulate a complete sentence without the use of spell check. I even misspell things as I talk. Yes, you can’t hear me misspell words while talking, but I can tell in my head that I am. Yes, it’s kind of abstract, but it’s true.

Still bad grammar is not the same thing as lacking the fundamental understanding of your own fucking language. (Yes I said “Fuck”. Get over it.) The English language is the second most spoken one on the planet. You may find data that says otherwise, but that doesn’t invalidate my point. I make the same complaint that Professor Higgins made before me:

Why can’t the English teach their children how to speak? This verbal class distinction, by now, should be antique. If you spoke as she does, sir, instead of the way you do, why, you might be selling flowers, too!

Ahem… Sorry. Just broke out into song there.

As the title of this blog entry suggests, there are a few words that are used commonly in our country that make me cringe every time I hear them. Here’s a short list:

Irregardless – As I type, Microsoft Word underlines it in red. This is the first clue of how stupid it is. Now keep in mind, just because the word is stupid, it doesn’t mean that you’re stupid for using it. Mass media has been pushing this word on us for years. When you say it, it sounds right. Dictionary.com even lists it as a word under the category of “Nonstandard”. This is the word that initially prompted me to create this blog entry.

In truth, it is the least offender on this list. The actual structure of the word is technically correct. The only problem is, it means the exact opposite of the way it is typically used. For example: “Irreguardless of our previous plans, I will not allow you to drip candle wax on my nipples, as I have a previous engagement.” The word is used improperly here, because the intention is for you to disregard the candle wax dripping plans, but in fact the sentence is asking you to regard that kinky shit.

Conversate – Grr. This one really gets me riled up. A non-sense word that is used so often that is on the verge of becoming proper grammar. I’m not kidding. This is in review by the faceless bastards that meet in secret and decide such things. I’m pretty sure it’s the inner circles of the Illuminati, the Tri-Lateral Commission and the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. These entities have joined forces to destroy our language, increase our dependency on commercialize gadgets like the iPad, and fight Frankenstein. I’m not entirely sure about that last part.

Unlike Irregardless you really look like an idiot when you say Conversate, especially when Converse is so much easier to say. If you use this word and have any level of self-respect, I urge you to discontinue using it. This word is the catalyst to the dumbing down of our species.

Back in the Day – Okay, so I’m a hypocrite. I use this term fairly often. Why I remember back in the day when I first heard it used. That was the day that I first heard back in the day, which was a day that I’ll always remember because I wondered what day they were talking about. Seriously, be more specific. What day was it? Tell me! Don’t make me go all Jack Bauer on your ass.

This one doesn’t offend me so much. It has a certain retrospective, nostalgic sound to it that is somewhat comforting in its own way. The thing is, the expression is slang, pure and simple. Benign, but slang nonetheless. The only time this ever bothered me is when I head a local news anchor say it without missing a beat, while telling a tale about a local tragedy. It was flippant and trite, and so I’ve concluded that it has no place in literary text. It’s okay for simple conversation, but the minute I see it in a history book, (I.E. Back in the day, Abe Lincoln was shot by some mo-fo, ma nizzzle) I’m going to make my way down to the local Board of Education and just go on a slapping spree.

Don’t be hatin’ – Sorry. I can’t help it.

That’s Money – Used in the context of saying something is good, this expression was obviously conceived by one pathetic person who wanted people to think he was cool. Chances are it was that prick, Jeremy Piven.

Can’t nobody hold me down – Well, you smell like Hennessey. I don’t think I would want to get that close to you.

I got the Itis – You’ve never eaten soul food in your life, you idiot.

Integrationalize – Yes, somebody actually said this to me. This person needs to be crucified on a cactus.

Disharmonation / Stratery – This was uttered in the same sentence by some lightweight boxer I saw on ESPN. I think he said something like, “I’ma gonna use a lot o’ disharmonation and stratery to take him down.” Granted, he was a boxer, and they are not known for their linguistics skills. I can excuse him, because he probably took one to many blows to the head. I can understand. After he said it, I wanted to punch him in the head too.

Pretty much anything that Roger Ebert ever said or wrote – Okay, this is the opposite end of the spectrum. I’m not going to focus on his health issues. That has nothing to do with this. The point is as you read this, you may think I’m an utter snob. This will never be true, so long as you compare me to Roger Ebert.

Here’s a man that has a remarkable gift for the English language. I doubt that he has ever used slang in any form either verbally or in print. And that is just the problem. Despite the fact that he’s the master of the written word, he has distanced himself from the rest of society. Perhaps that was intentional, as the media tends to put him up on a pedestal. This self-imposed snobbery achieves the same thing as sounding like an under-educated slob, due strictly to its content. Check out his site: http://rogerebert.suntimes.com. You’ll see what I’m talking about if you read enough. And if you’re hoping to get a good review of your movie from him, you better hope your name is Orson Welles and your movie title is Citizen Kane.

I’m out! (Drops the microphone like Chris Rock)



Stuff You Don’t Care About: Issue 5: Worst… Joke… Ever…

Okay, so two guys walk into a bar.

Wait! It wasn’t two guys. It was a construction worker and a Jew.

Uh, never mind, Jew is racist.

It was actually a construction worker and a sailer.

Damn it! Now it sounds like the Village People.

Well, why not?

Okay, the village people walk into a bar.

No it’s not a gay bar. It’s just a bar. Why does it always have to be a bar?

So, it’s not a bar. It’s a bank.

Yeah, the village people walk into a bank. And the bartender says…

Wait, banks don’t have bartenders.

Teller, it’s a teller.

It’s Penn and Teller.

No, that’s not right. I’m getting side tracked…

What was I saying?

Oh, yeah!

Penn and Teller walk into a Bar…


I mean, The Village people walk into a bar… er, the bank,

And the teller says, “What’ll it be?”

Wait! I forgot about the Duck.

One of the village people is carrying a duck.

I think it’s the Janitor Guy.

Did the village people have a janitor guy?

Let me check Wikipedia.

Let’s see Cowboy, Construction Worker, Cop, Indian (Huh? That dude’s black!), Gay Biker, Navy dude.

Nope, no janitor.

So we’ll say the cowboy is carrying the Duck.

Why the hell did he have the duck again?

Oh, yeah, I remember.

He he he he! Snicker…

Sorry, I can’t help it. Just wait for it.

You’re gonna love this one…


Oh man! It’s so funny.

So the bartender, uh, Teller says, “I said Bucks not Ducks!”

Why aren’t you laughing?

Ah fuck! I forgot the middle part!

Let me start over.

Hey! Where ya goin’?