Category: Humour

50 is a Biggie!

cindyCindy Crawford is 50.  I remember when Cindy was — OMG! — she still is.  To say the gods have been good to Cindy Crawford is like sayin’ John Dillinger robbed banks.  Yeah, she’s had some work done — big deal!  In an age when image is everything, this woman is the poster child for Wow!  And, to seal the deal, she’s worth north of 100 million dollars.  Anyway, Cindy Crawford is 50, and she’s decided to retire — or at least not model for money anymore.

Despite all the age-is-only-a-number bullshit that old people try to pull to feel good about themselves, 50 is still The Biggie.  It marks a distinct change in life and attitude.  I would not presume to give aging advice to Cindy Crawford, but for mere mortals, here are a few things you can expect when you hit the big Five-O.  (For those of us who are looking at 50 in the rear-view mirror, think of this as a stroll down memory lane.)

1 — You rediscover all the stuff you thought you couldn’t live without in your 20s and 30s and get rid of it.  Things like the soup tureen, that brass thing from Mexico, 24/7 house cleaning, punitive underwear, the whiny kid who thinks parent is spelt s-l-a-v-e and sometimes even that old thing on the sofa that’s been making your life miserable for years.

2 — Your clothes start to shrink.

3 — You start to make noises like your parents.  These aren’t words or opinions — just noises — like when you get up in the morning or bend down.

4 — Your body hair begins to resemble the fur on a badger.  The hair in your nose, ears, eyebrows and other places starts to regenerate overnight and have a wiry will of its own, sproinging off in all directions.

5 — The people on TV all start to look the same.

6 — Sex is way simpler.  First of all, you don’t have to wear uncomfortable clothes to get laid — sweats will do.  There are no Consent Forms (in triplicate) no medical history, no Vaccination Certificates, no birth control paraphernalia.  It’s all very straightforward.
“I’m horny.”
“Me too.”
“Ya wanna?”
“Yeah!”
“Meet ya behind the salad bar.”

7 — The six second delay between your mind and your mouth disappears.

8 — Everything under three feet tall appears to be unbelievably cute — kittens, pandas, Disney Princesses, ugly babies, — even those stupid little dogs with the kicked-in faces.

9 — Your body begins to betray you at the most inappropriate times, threatening to exude gases and fluids when it’s not supposed to or developing that unholy itch in a personal area just when you’re about to meet the new boss — or Kevin, from Accounting, behind the salad bar.

And finally:

10 — Even though you’ve been telling yourself this since you were 21, at 50, you finally realize that, in fact, you DON’T actually give a shit what people think.

Happy Birthday, Cindy!  Come on over; we’re having cake — and Pepsi!

Oscar is a Grouch (2016)

hollywoodOnly an idiot would get involved in Hollywood’s current Oscar controversy, and my mom didn’t raise any dummies.  It’s been my experience that when a bunch of millionaires are lining up to do battle, we common folk better head for the exits.  However, when entertainers try to be serious, there’s always the opportunity for some serious entertainment.

Some people say (but I’m not one of them) that this entire Oscar debacle started when Will Smith didn’t get a Best Actor nomination for Concussion.  When you’re one of the coolest people on the planet (and a billion-dollar box office asset) you normally get what you want — whenever you want it — so it’s understandable that when Oscar said to Will, “Sorry, not this year,” his response was “WTF?”  Unfortunately, when your carefully crafted image is one of the coolest people on the planet, you can’t actually say WTF out loud — ya gotta dress it up a little bit.  So the reason the Oscar grapes are sour is ’cause they’re just too damn monochromatic, and apparently nobody noticed that before (including both times Will Smith was nominated for an Oscar in the past.)  Anyway, the entire entertainment community is now in a politically correct conundrum — and it’s not pretty.  What to do?  What to do?

Lucky for us, movie stars are smart.  (After all, what would the world do without their wise and thoughtful political insights?)  The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences will find a way out of this mess — the show must go on.

However, should they need some help … some people (but I’m not one of them) have offered this solution.  Raise the stakes, up the ante, show some muscle and invite Caitlyn Jenner to Oscar night.  Who in their wildest politically correct nightmare would boycott that?  Plus, and this is where the bike helmet meets the pavement, have her present the Oscar for Best Actor.  After all, Eddie Redmayne’s going to win for The Danish Girl.  Let’s face it, folks: this is definitely not going to be Leonardo DiCaprio’s year.  Even with his politically correct crocodile tears over climate change, the guy is just like so-o-o white, he’s blue.  (This is in no way an insensitive reference to DiCaprio’s death scene in Titanic, nor to the number of times he would have died of hypothermia if The Revenant was real.)

Some people (but I’m not one of them) think it’s hilarious that the politically correct Hollywood Hydra is now eating its own tail.  It’s a good thing I’m not involved, or I’d be laughing my ass off right now.

Disclaimer!  The politically incorrect views and opinions expressed in this blog are those of “some people” and do not necessarily reflect or represent the views or opinions held by WD Fyfe.
All characters and events in this blog — even those based on real people — are entirely fictional.  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is only in their own minds.
No actors were injured in the writing of this blog.

I Have An Evil Twin

twinMany years ago, I discovered I have an evil twin.  He lives on the edge of reality so he can occasionally come marauding though my life, break something, and then disappear without a trace — leaving me holding the bag.  However, despite the fact he’s a total asshole, I’ve grown to appreciate his presence and, on occasion, I actually like the guy.  Over the years, he’s dropped me in enough crap to fill the Augean Stables, but without him, I wouldn’t have learned some pretty serious survival skills.

My earliest memory of him is watching a smartass kid (who looked exactly like me) shouting insults in a nose-to-nose disagreement with some very big boys.  The situation deteriorated, my evil twin disappeared and I discovered the humiliating power of the public four-man wedgie!  Lesson learned: the personal simile is not the best strategy when dealing with unreasonable people.

Once, in the heat of the moment and, against the advice of friends and a vast body of empirical evidence, he decided we should have sex with a notorious psycho.  Sometime between round three and daylight, my evil twin wandered off, and I woke up with a crazy woman who thought we’d mated for life.  Three months, 4 letters (no texts in those days) 25 phone calls and 6 stalking visits later, she finally got the message.  Lesson learned: never think with your dick.

As a sophomore in university, he thought it would be great fun if we knocked the pompous off a particularly pompous tenured professor.  The whole semester was witty and precocious and even developed into a bit of a swagger across the English Department.  Unfortunately, just before finals, my evil twin vanished, and I was informed that “although I had considerable talent I had not demonstrated any respect for serious scholarship and my grade, therefore, would be adjusted accordingly”  Lesson learned: pompous and vindictive are pretty much the same thing, and pick your targets ’cause karma’s a bitch.

Every once in a while, my evil twin still shows up, but he has grown older and wiser.  Now, he just eats the last cookie and puts the empty box back in the cupboard, shouts at the wrong people when he’s angry, and tends to forget the importance of family and friends.  So, basically, if I’ve pissed you off in recent history, cut me some slack: it’s probably my evil twin.