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EDITOR\'S NOTE: This month, regular column author Fphatty Lamar traded places with Mr. Baggadonuts, granting him free reign of this space for a turn at his beloved My Comic. Next month, everything will be back to normal.

 

You’re in for a treat, literate people, for I’m no ordinary man. I’m a jack of all trades (master of the nuns)! Or, perhaps, I’m a \"Jose\" of all trades, what with the slightly Spanish theme of these helpful hints I’m about to give you.

 

Knowledge, consider yourself \"dropped\".

 

SINKO DE MAYO!


Let’s start with an obvious one, shall we? A day when most Americans take a beautiful south-of-the-border celebration, commemorating the victory of the Mexicans over the French Army at The Battle Of Puebla in 1862, and water it down to nothing more than another reason to get shitfaced on tequila shots and wake up naked next to some strange fat chick and a pile of spent rubbers. But for we men of arms and hammers, especially our union brothers in the plumbing industry, it’s a day quite comedically called \"Sinko de Mayo\". Sadly, though, it’s the gravest joke ever made... among plumbers.

 

According to records dating back to 1869, May 5th without fail brings forth an unusual record number of plumbing dilemmas. The plumbing community, answering each and every one of these calls, finds itself suddenly spread thin. The strongest of the profession walks away with nothing more than a dangerously high stress level. The less fortunate find themselves succumbing to drug and/or alcohol addictions to wash away the horrors of the day. And the worst off take their own lives, in record numbers, I might add, bumping the plumbing community’s usually low monthly suicide average from a measly one-a-month to a whopping estimated 13,000. Dia de los muertos!

 

Damn... I’m not sure if I was telling you this to give you some helpful drain dilemma prevention methods, or to donate to your local suicide hotline. Oh well. On to the next one, amigos!

 

MUCHAS GRASSY-ASS!


No one loves to do laundry. You may have no complaints about it, but that doesn’t mean you love doing it. And having kids will make you like it even less. When spring rolls around, your little mijos will want nothing more than to run, jump, and make your life a living hell in the grassiest of neighborhood lawns. So if you’re doubly unfortunate, and have both kids and dirty clothes, maybe it’s time you took some preventive measures. Don’t let those inevitable grass stains get you first. Make a preemptive strike.
 

Take a pair of your child’s pants and designate them as their \"playpants\". Cover said playpants with healthy, moist topsoil. Then add some basic grass seed to the soil. With a little time, water, and sunlight, your kid will soon have a pair of grass-covered playpants. Seem ridiculous? Maybe. But you can’t grass-stain grass. And you definitely can’t grass-stain grasspants! Viva la grass-a!

 

EYE-YA-YAY!


Finally, this time of year brings a flood of letters forth, mostly from men, asking me about something every guy in a relationship wishes he didn’t do as often as he does: stare at other women.

 

Realistically, there’s nothing wrong with it. Men, like women, are animals. Our eyes are built to wander. Unfortunately, society has deemed it unacceptable to exercise the mechanics of your peepers. And while it may be easy to control in the colder months, springtime is a test of true wills. The change in the weather compels the fairer sex to wear a heck of a lot less, and do it while laying around, outside, in broad daylight.

 

It’s no wonder that many a man catches himself eyes affixed, tastefully appreciating the female form. Unfortunately, women don’t seem to understand our simple optical tribute to God’s greatest work. What’s an innocent appreciator of the greatest living work of art to do to defend himself from the misguided attacks of the female population?

 

Well, anyone with a G.E.D. (forged or authentic) will tell you a pair of sunglasses will solve all of your problems. But a genius (ie. me) will tell you that’s a fool’s game. Blindness is where it’s at. Sure, you’ll still be using sunglasses to conceal the fact that you aren’t really blind. And yes, that will still help you catch a gander at their bra-less, baking boobies. But it’s the blind man’s need to see with his hands that elevates your game from \"looker\" to \"the man\".

 

And with that, I bid you adieu. No doubt I’ve raised the bar for Fphatty. Hopefully, she’ll be able to carry my load. Especially if I take her out to dinner and a movie first.
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3640
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vol 8 - issue 09 (may 2006)
section
stories
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