My wife left me...

So my wife finally left me for another man, a much, much older man. His name is Edward and was introduced to my wife by her friend, Jen, who I now hate. This 98 year-old Edward douche lives in the Pacific Northwest and, oh yeah, he’s also a vampire…a vegetarian vampire. And look at this guy…you could show a friggin IMAX movie on his forehead.

In case you haven’t figured it out by now, my wife didn’t literally leave me, just figuratively. She’s contracted a really bad case of Twilightis. This highly contagious virus is attacking 13 year-old girls who wish they were women, and women who wish they were still 13 year-old girls.

To all the men out there, if you’re dating a woman and she is reading the Twilight series, I recommend that you get out now. I’m not joking around, you should seriously cut all ties with your girlfriend before I finish this sentence, because it’s inevitable that you’ll never be good enough for her anyways. If you are in that unfortunate group of married men whose wife has started to read the books then you are likely screwed, but you still have a chance. I have designed a foolproof test. What you need to do is put on a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else, then walk up to your wife while she’s reading one of those devil books, knock it out of her hands and shout, “NO MORE!”, then when the book’s on the floor, kick it across the room. Finally, pull your penis out through the front hole of the boxers, rotate you hips so that your penis whirls around like a helicopter blade, and shout, “I’m better than Edward!”.

If she laughs and hugs you, then congratulations because I just saved your marriage. If she gets pissed at you, then you shouldn’t be married to an unfunny frigid bitch like that and you should leave her, so congratulations because I just saved you from a lifetime of misery. Either way, my system is right.

Now I need to talk to the women.

Are you kidding me? Vampires? Really!? Are you so blinded by romanticism that you completely overlook everything that is wrong about being with one of these vampires? Let me break it down for you:

1) Vampire Farts: The vampires in these stories are “vegetarians”, and I know what happens to your colon when you eat lots of veggies. Believe me, girls, if you go to bed with one of these vampires, you will bear witness to a thunderstorm of flatulence and a 100% chance of dutch oven.

2) Pedophilia: Edward Cullen was born in 1901 and Bella is 17. That shit is just gross, unless you’re in Mississippi.

3) Stephanie Meyer is a liar: Vampires have no reflection and cannot come out in the sunlight…those are facts (as far as facts go based on fictitious people). She writes that they can see themselves in mirrors and can come out during the day. Really?! Tell that to the poor schlubs that failed with their “For Vampires Only” stores in shopping malls that closed at sunset.

4) Inevitable Depression: The story ends, but the reader’s are still ravenously awaiting more…but there is nothing left. Now they have to re-integrate into the public after weeks of reading hibernation.

Listen to me ladies, it’s a book not a lifestyle. The story is over, good run while it lasted, blah, blah, blah. If your husbands have survived this experience, then you should cherish him, big jim, and the the twins. I don’t have a nice, neat wrapup for this because apparently Stephanie Meyer wants to rewrite the same stories from different perspectives. 4 more books? That are same as the last 4? Ummm, no thanks. No one is stupid enough to fall for that.

Nobody tell my wife, though, cuz she’ll totally buy those new books.

Monkey See, Monkey Do, Yeah

I was looking forward to writing a blog about my experiences in West Palm Beach this weekend where I attended two Dave Matthews Band concerts (my 35th and 36th overall), but due to a lack of creativity, I've handed over writing duties to my primate pal, Proudess.
He came back to me today with this:

Friday, August 14, 2009

I'm so excited to go on my first ever road trip today. We're heading down to south Florida for what I'm expecting to be a debaucherous weekend of drinking booze and eating bananas and then to periodically stop chewing and looking around with an angry expression to make sure no one's plotting to steal them. I'm not big enough to drive, but I'm an excellent navigator.


We rolled into the PGA National Resort in Palm Beach Gardens in the early afternoon, and it's a gorgeous hotel. It'll sure beat sleeping in a tree.


And check out this pool area.



Here's me enjoying my first mai tai.


I need to cool off because I'm hotter than a ring-tailed lemur eyeballing a lar gibbon in May - it's a rainforest thang, you wouldn't understand.


Check it out...spider monkey


We all head back to our respective rooms and shower up. Then we drive down to the Cruzan Amphitheatre. Here's me waiting for the curtain to drop.


I decided go get myself a cold brew before the show started, and while I was swinging over to the beer stand, I ran into these two fellows. The one on the left is wearing alligator skin pants, an alligator purse, and me on his shoulder.


I found it strange that the amphitheatre has a lighthouse since we are 10 miles from the ocean. Maybe because of all the people getting ship-faced? Yeah, yeah, not a great pun, but I'm a friggin monkey, not a stand-ape comic.


Back in my seat, relaxing with a beer. There's some sort of strange smell floating in the air. It appears to be making people happier. I'm kinda hungry for Doritos.


For the next two and a half hours, we're all singing and dancing.



All that drinking did a number on my monkey bladder


Unfortunately, we didn't make it to the post party at the PGA Resort because I had passed out.


Saturday, August 15, 2009:

Woke up with an incredible headache, almost as if I'd been kicked in the head by a silverback gorilla. I need a little "hair of the monkey".


We head back down to the pool so I can soak my head in the water and fill my belly with libations. Like this vodka and lemonade for instance.


This resort made some of the most incredible mojitos, and I had several.


I was making all sorts of friends



This girl's got what I want


I got to meet another monkey at the resort, and sat on her lap. But after a brief conversation, I felt she was a bit of an airhead. And she was completely hairless, which made me feel dirty.


What is it about you humans that makes you want to do handstands every time you get into a swimming pool?



After spending all day drinking booze in the sun, I get washed up and head to Friday's where we wish this woman a happy birthday.


I start knocking back banana daquiris, because I'm a monkey and that's how we roll.


This waitress thought I was cute


We get to the concert, and I start making all sorts of new friends









We all enjoyed another great show, even with the monsoon coming down from above.


At some point at the end of the night, I passed out and slept between Tina's bosoms


Well, that's it. I don't remember anything from 11:30 pm Saturday night until they we got home at 2pm Sunday. Thanks to everyone at AntsMarching.org for such an entertaining weekend. Now I'm off to go throw my feces.

RIP John Hughes

Not many people can define a generation the way he did, and unfortunately there's nothing I can say that hasn't already been said about the man, so I'll just let his work speak for itself:



Be sure to check out this link too cuz it's a great read:
Sincerely, John Hughes

Chad and Tina cruise the Western Carribean Part 2 (from 2007)

Day 5:

This is the second of a two-part series. To read part 1 click here

We arrive at Limon, Costa Rica, and disembark for our shore excursion at 7:30am. Tina with a croissant and I with my bacon bar. My heart is starting to hurt. We’re taking a two hour bus ride through the mountains to a rain forest where we’ll be zip-lining through the trees with all the monkeys.

Tina gets prepared for what is sure to make her piss her pants…

…and she’s off!

After nine different zip lines, some as far apart as a football field, she arrived at the bottom with dry shorts. Damn. After that, we hop on an aerial tram for a ride through the rain forest at about 70 feet off the ground. We saw a few spiders as big as your fist, weird flowers, and some stupid birds. No monkeys. Friggin bullshit. Now I understand why developers are destroying the rain forests; cuz they’re boring as hell. This place would be a lot cooler with some condos , a pool, maybe a movie theatre, and a monkey zoo so they can’t hide in the trees when I come to see them.

On our two hour ride back to the ship, we passed the Dole Plantation, The Del Monte Plantation, and the Chiquita Plantation. Nothing but banana plants as far as the eye could see. How many you ask? A bunch! HAHAHAHA! Get it?! A bunch! Oh man, I need a nap.

Blah, blah, dinner. Blah, blah, towel animal. For some reason, this one is seductively posed. Our room steward is beginning to creep me out.

Tonight we’re partying, cuz we have a day at sea tomorrow. WOOHOO!!

Day 6:

I skipped the bacon this morning and went with the sausage instead. Ya know, the more heart healthy option. They have oatmeal, but this is vacation, and oatmeal can kiss my ass. Today was a pretty lazy day. I got Tina to come work out with me, we went to an art auction (for the free champagne), Tina went to bingo (again…and it turns out third time is NOT a charm – stupid bingo), and we slept out in the sun by the pool.

Tonight was another fancy night, so we got ourselves all pimped out and headed to the pre-dinner martini party. I’m double-fisting the martinis and it’s only 7pm.

Tina is buzzed on vodka by the time we get to dinner and is so amazed by our waiter’s sleight-of-hand trick with two wine corks that she decides to try it for herself.

This is about 5-6 minutes in…

And finally…

Back in our room, we’re attacked by a killer towel monkey.

As an added bonus, tonight is the Grand Gala Buffet at 12:30am, ya know in case five meals a day just don’t stave off your hunger. They had some great displays…

…but what does yours truly think of the food?

I’m going to bed

Day 7:

At this point I’ve eaten enough bacon to have had two heart seizures, but I don’t care cuz bacon tastes good. We arrive in Belize City, Belize this morning and board a catamaran at 11:30am for a twenty-five minute trip out to the reef (only Australia’s great barrier is larger), to try out Snuba.

While Tina and I are both certified Scuba divers, she’s had trouble in the past with her ears at depth, and I don’t care for snorkeling, so Snuba is a happy medium. It’s basically scuba diving at twenty feet without an air tank; you are just attached to a twenty foot air hose. It’s 50% snorkeling, 50% scuba, and 100% lame. The good news is that now she wants to go back to Belize and try to scuba dive again. After our child’s play, we hop back on the catamaran for a trip to a private island.

And out comes the free rum punch.

Free rum punch on the catamaran, free rum punch on the island and after an hour and a half, everyone is rum punch drunk.

And I neglected to wear sunscreen on this particular day, so I’m redder than the Kool-Aid Man. On the boat trip back to our cruise ship, we’re all dancing and conga-lining and high-fiving and having a blast. I wish we could’ve had this day at the beginning of our trip. Everyone boards the cruise ship and the majority head up to the pool bar where we all continue to drink and dance and hoot and holler. This dude is wearing the same suit as me...so obviously, he's badass.

…until we all head back to our rooms to pass out. Tina and I wake up at 8pm, grab a coupla pepperoni pizzas and a ton of ice water, and stay in our rooms the rest of the night watching tv and rubbing on aloe.

Day 8:

This is it, the last day. Mmmm, bacon. Yeah, I’m about over my bacon kick now. I’m starting to sweat bacon grease and some fat guy tried to put me on his cheeseburger. Tina headed to morning bingo and lost again. It would probably be cooler to burn $20 bills, but at least bingo takes longer. It still sucks donkey balls and I still loathe it.

I had time today to ponder three things: The first is that this ship has a Purser’s desk, which is essentially the information desk. I kinda find that sexist. I mean, why can’t it be called the Walleter’s desk? This ship had a bunch of pursers, no walleters, and judging by the nightly 11pm meetings of the Friends of Dorothy, there were a handful of fannypackers. Giggle-giggle.

The second thing is these two pictures, which were side by side on the ship:

I guess Carnival has an opposition to masturbation. What a bunch of fascists.

The third thing had to do with Domino’s Pizza. If you recall back in the late 80’s and early 90’s Domino’s drilled it into your head to Avoid The Noid. Now I don’t know whatever happened to The Noid, but if he’s being abusing drugs and alcohol over the last ten or so years, then this may be him. Either way, I stayed out of his way the entire cruise.

And what’s up with the dude on the right? This picture just creeps me out.

Well enough of my ramblings, it’s the last evening on ship, so I grabbed a photo of the sunset…

…had dinner, and checked out tonight’s towel animal which was some sort of baby. Tina, in her recent throes of baby fever, demonstrates for me what a great mother she would be. Tina had a baby…

…and it’s head popped off!

Finally, we end the trip with Tina heading to bingo. Why? Because she’s getting her ass handed to her in the casino and she’ll lose less money if she plays stupid, old lady bingo. What’s that you say? How’d she do? Do you really have to ask?

Yep, she won $1000.

It’s like I’ve been saying, if you find yourself on a cruise ship, head over to the bingo room, because it’s the greatest game in the history of everything of all time, ever.