Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Excuse Me While I Lick This Toad

Every so often my mind tends to wander. Who am I kidding? Since I took off the restraints it made a downright sprint towards insanity. But for the point of this post, let's pretend it just casually wanders pondering the great questions of the world:

Did Christopher Columbus really discover America? If not, why did he get all of the credit?

Was the Big Bang loud?

What if Al Capone had a better accountant?

Can I wear black and yellow without looking like a bumblebee?

Who licked the first toad?

Drugs have always baffled me for several reasons that I won't get into. However one thing has always twisted my brain into a tiny little knot more than the rest:  Who licked the first toad?

Think about it. For every drug that is on the market, there has to be someone that was the first to try it. Now while I haven't done it, there are certain things that seem more natural than others. For example, pill popping seems like it would be the most obvious. From the time we are born, we start putting things in our mouths (*Note: Please hold all of your sexual comments and innuendos until the end you big bunch of pervs!). Anyway, we're born and our fists go in there. Then we move on to food, toys, etc. So while the concept of a pill and how to make it causes us to scratch our heads, the act of taking one seems almost second nature.

Cheech & Chong
No copyright infringement intended
The next most obvious choice would be to smoke something. Opium is arguably the first drug ever discovered. Some dude in a robe with no hair, but an incredibly long, twisted beard was sucking on a pipe of opium long before Cheech and Chong ever sparked their first doobie. And you can kind of see an opium field (or even a marijuana field) catching fire, everyone getting this kick ass buzz and being like, "Dude, we SO have to do this again."

Hence the Blazing of the Doobie begins.

Now it gets a little crazy. Needles. When some sadistic bastard said, "Hey, you see this sharp pointy thing? Well I filled this tube it's connected to with a bunch of crazy ass shit and I want to stick it in you to see what happens," I want to know what crazy ass person said, "Oh man, that sounds like a GREAT idea!"

And when the first person shot up, did they immediately use heroine or morphine or did they start with something simpler like milk or bleach?

"Let's check our test subjects. OK, the guy we injected with milk is still alive, but nothing seems to have happened. Where's the guy with the bleach...OH! WHOA! It looks like he actually tore his skin off his body before his head burst into flames. However look how pearly white his teeth are!"

Then there are the snorters. Based on my own research I can only assume this starts somewhere in childhood because when I was in 3rd grade I watched as Jeff Redmen crushed up a bunch of sweet tarts and snorted them up his nose. I don't know if that is still the way he enjoys them, but I know I still prefer to chew mine.

Which brings me to toads. Years ago, I was speaking with someone whom I would describe as a drug connoisseur, meaning he was an on-again off-again addict. Junkies are great. OK, that sounded bad. What I mean is, junkies seem to be mystified by anyone that has not taken drugs. They immediately launch into a list of every drug they have ever taken or heard about along with some whacked out story of something that happened when they did.

"Oh man, I was hyped up on some Ecstasy and Coke and I drove my car into a cow pasture, took off all my clothes made a slip and slide out of cow patties, shot myself up with some milk and then woke up next to a very satisfied looking goat."

So this guy was the first to ever tell me about toad licking. Apparently if you lick a certain kind of toad, you get this psychedelic effect that is "really bitchin'." At first I thought he was yanking my chain, but over the years I have heard a few people mention it. When they do, I always ask the same question: Who licked the first toad?

Crazy toad licker!
More importantly, I want to meet the person that convinced the other person to lick the first toad because that my friend, is someone that could sell water to a drowning man. Was it a bunch or drunken Rednecks that made someone do it on a dare? Maybe some naive teenage girls that took the you-have-to-kiss-a-lot-of-frogs-before-you-find-a-prince a little too far?

And more importantly, how many licks did it take to get to the center?

The world may never know.

Friday, June 8, 2012

You Must Be Out Of Your Damn Mind!

If you are like anything like me, you love a good massage. If you aren't anything like me, then you're insane because massages rock. There are only two times I get annoyed while getting a massage. The first is when someone massages me too light. I need some crap worked out so don't be a wuss and gently stroke my body. Get in there and break some shit up. The second thing that annoys me is when I get a Chatty Cathy. How the hell am I supposed to relax and envision myself on a beach with Johnny Depp or Colin Farrell as my masseuse if you won't shut the hell up?

Other than that, I love getting a massage. The quiet, serene room with new wave music or nature sounds playing softly over the speaker; the warm massage oil against your skin; the firm yet soft hands rubbing away the tension; and of course the snakes slithering across your body.


Yes, apparently some place in Israel offers snake massages. They take non-venomous snakes (Duh!- Do they really need to specify that?), put them on your back and let them slither all over you. And I guess to some degree, that would relax me. You know, if you consider death to be a form of relaxation.

 I don't think she is relaxed.
I think she is dead. (photo from MSN)

And you thought it was bad when
I pooped on your car!
Now after you have finished with your massage and have changed your underwear because you have undoubtedly pissed your pants, you can take a quick plane ride to Japan (or New York) and get yourself  a nice nightingale, bird poop facial. No no...wait, it's not crazy. They use ultra violet lights to sanitize it and make it odor neutralized. See it is called a Geisha facial because it is said that Geisha girls do it to keep their skin that beautiful, smooth milky white. Well, maybe it is milky white...it may just be residuals from the bird poop.

Once those scaly suckers have been removed from your back and your face is a nice, soft bird poop white, you can head on over to Turkey or Virginia for a nice fishy pedicure. That's right stick your feet in a bucket and let these little toothless fish gnaw your troubles and dead skin away.

"Hi, I'd like an order of foot. Can I get a side of toe jam with that?"
(MSN pic)
OK, I am against this for several reasons. First, as a general rule, I don't want fish to eat me. It is why I am scared to swim in the ocean. Maybe I'm good for them. After all, fish is supposed to be good for humans. Maybe somewhere there is a fish reading (it would have to read because they don't have internet because computers are not waterproof). Anyway, maybe a fish is reading an article in the Daily Reef and thinking, "They eat us? Why would they want to eat us? See, this is why I don't like to go on the land."

 Second, (although admittedly this might be kind of cool), I think I would get a Paul Bunyan complex. I would think of myself as this giant with these Great White sharks nibbling at my feet unable to hurt me because I am 9 million feet tall and can hold them by their tails (fins) and eat them like sardines, you know, assuming sardines weren't gross and disgusting. Third, I kind of feel bad for the fish. What? They don't feed them all day so the little things are so hungry they will eat anything you put in front of them? I mean, seriously, have you seen some people's feet? But maybe dead foot skin is all they can eat.  Are these fish really just tiny piranha minus the chompers? I mean seriously, where are their teeth? Is there a little fishy dentist or tooth fairy going around removing them all? Finally, after my fish-acure was over and I left not only would I be afraid my feet would smell like fish (unless they were smart enough to use the same odor neutralizer they used for the bird poop), but I would also be afraid that maybe the fish would talk smack about my feet after I left.

"Did you see her feet?"

"Does she really think she can pull off that crazy yellow nail polish color?"

"Dude, she wasn't wearing nail polish!"

Of course I wouldn't understand any of this because I don't speak fish, much like I don't understand the women at the nail salon I go to now, whom I am certain are talking about me.

No, after careful consideration, I think I will stick with the old school treatments. So you can go ahead and be one of those cool trendsetters. Enjoy your snake massage, bird poop facial and fishy pedicure. Just don't ever expect me to rub your back, let you borrow my shoes, or kiss your face. After all, I know where they've been.

Seriously, WTH?

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

I haven't died I swear!

Hey everyone. I am sorry I have not posted. I am suffering from router rage meaning no matter what I do I can't set up my freaking router since my other one went kapooey (It actually said, "Kapooey" before it quit working. I have been spending all of my spare time trying to get this stupid thing set up!!! I promise a new post will be coming soon.

BTW, my book was officially released and it is currently #4 on Amazon's New Release Self-Help and #2 on Amazon's New Release Pain Management:) If you or someone you know suffer from chronic pain, or if you just love me and want to help me sell lots of books, check it out:


I will post again soon (and next time it will be an actual post). Right now I have to go pick-up my router off of the floor and see if I can glue it back together. Stupid technology!!!!