Past Secret

Hi! Do you have a deep dark secret you'd like to tell but cannot because you fear retribution from your family, peers or neighbors?

Please let me tell your story. If you've got one, please e-mail me at holyjuan@gmail.com.

If you have a question for Ask HolyJuan, you can send it to that same address.

Bathroom Trickery

I poop. Sometimes at work. Sometimes it is pretty stinky.

My office is in a building where other guys use the bathroom too. Enough so that every other time I use the bathroom, there is a good chance that someone is going to be in there when I walk in or come in right as I am walking out. Our bathroom only has one pisser and one shitter so it is pretty close quarters in there.

Every guy in the building knows that there are other stinky poopy other in the building. When you find one, you mention it to your other guy buddies. They usually have a story about the stinky guy.

I do not want to be known as the stinky guy.

Sometimes after a night out with Shorty and a quick stop at White Castle, I am the stinky guy the next day. To combat this, I have a simple regiment.

If I walk in and someone is at the pisser, I act as if I am going into the stall just to pee. When they leave, I let loose and get the hell out. Chances are no one will be coming in as I am leaving. The next guy that walks in gets a surprise and can only place the blame on who he and his buddies think the stinky guy is.

If I walk in and the bathroom is empty, I try to get in and get out. If someone starts walking it, I move my feet as far as possible to the side so that they cannot see my shoes. Shoes are the dead giveaway. You’ll be walking down the hall and see a guy with brown loafers with the dangly things on them and realize he was the stinky guy from last week. I wear converse so I’m easily spotted. Keep quiet. Keep shoes far to the side. Wait till they leave. Wait thirty seconds. Run!

Now, here’s the tricky one. If I walk in and no one is in there, I drop trough and listen for guys walking in. If I finish before anyone walks in, odds suggest that someone will be coming in any second. I stand up, walk to the urinal and fake pee for a few seconds. If someone walks in to the cloud of retch, I can act as if I am just an innocent pisser who walked into an all ready polluted bathroom. You share a half second of silent sorrow with the guy who walked in, wash up and leave. Let him take the blame.

If you are the stinky guy, don’t even try this. We all ready know who you are. Please continue to take the blame for us other schmucks and continue to wear those awful brown loafers.

(And to you women who claim this article doesn't apply to you, you are wrong. If you have to poop, poop in the men's bathroom. Problem solved.)

Food shopping

I went shopping tonight. It was not the fun shopping where I meet Erik out for drinks first and then go shopping second. In the winter, you can shop first and then grab a drink with your car trunk acting as a refrigerator. In the summer, you have to shop after drinks or else the milk gets warm and goes the way of the cottage cheese. When I shop after drinks, Greg is more likely to get fruit roll-ups.

Tonight though, I just went shopping.

But I was reminded that when we were kids, mom did most of the shopping. We always had diverse meals and it seemed that we never got tired of what we were fed. On the same note, mom never bought anything fun.

We loved it when dad went shopping. He’d come home with frozen waffles and honey with the honeycomb still attached. You’d help bring the groceries in and there would be a frozen turkey in the middle of July. Beans in a plastic bag that you had to soak for twelve hours. Brown eggs. Spam. It was like the carnival except with the four food groups plus a mysterious new canned food group that was either La Choy or canned brown bread. (Yes, there is such a thing as canned brown bread.)

Now that I do most the shopping, I wonder if I am a Mom shopper or a Dad shopper.

I think I’ll head to Dad’s this weekend and take some photos of the pantry. I bet there is still food coloring from 1976 in there when we made the Bicentennial cookies. Right there next to the bag of beans and the Deviled Ham.

My Wife Magazined Me

Miss Sally gave Greg his bath last night as I finished painting the living room. (It was an awful red that only looked good in photos.) Usually I give Greg his bath and afterwards we watch 15 minutes of cartoons as he dries off. We then revert back to the normal bedtime routine. The good thing about “routines” is that they create expectations and get a child to sleep with limited wrangling. The bad thing about routines is if you stray from them, the schedully unrestrained child will most likely tumble out of control.

Miss Sally was not aware of Greg’s bath night routine of cartoon watching and she ended up wrangling him for an additional thirty minutes after the twenty minutes of arguing and figuring out where the train left the track.

Later on in the kitchen, Sally suggested that we need to get Greg on a standardized routine or share with each other what the routines are. I agreed. She also then mentioned that it would be nice if we could get out of the house and go on a date. I thought these were both great suggestions and I realized that we just had a conversation that was suitable for Dr. Phil. Wow. Communication. Sharing. What a great marriage!!

The next morning, still glowing from our conversation the night before, I gave Ann her bottle and was making ACTUAL PANCAKES ON THE STOVE . It was during this time that I flipped aimlessly through Real Simple Family magazine that had been sitting on the counter. My eyes glanced over an article about “Sticky Situations” with bottle of glue icons to rate the level of stickiness.

That’s when I saw this one:


Coincidence? I think NOT! I'd been magazined. My wife had read something in a magazine and tried to covertly implement it into our life.

I circled it with pink highlighter and left it open on the counter. Miss Sally came down a few minutes later and I said, “Look what we have here…” and pointed to the magazine.

She read the quip and shrugged slightly. I accused, “This is almost word for word what you said last night. And this article suggests I lie on the couch all the time.”

She denied it. Yes, she had read that article, but in no way shape or form was she attempting to article verbatim our relationship. And she was not accusing me of laziness as I am always putting Greg to bed. The routine suggestion was just that and the date night comment was just that as well.

Still… I’m sure it was possibly a subconscious train of thought to go from Greg’s routine to date night. Miss Sally would never magazine me.

I wish the article would have been from Cosmopolitan magazine and been titled “Ten Sex Cravings All Guys Have” with boobs for rating icons. Maybe I should get the highlighter out.

American Version of Roundabout Navagation

For the American Tourist... see original article here.

Weapons of Mass Destruction FOUND!

Chris, the ever astute Neo-conservative has been searching for the Weapons of Mass Destruction for the past four years non-stop.

Who knew this whole time they right under his nose.

He sent me this photographic proof



Good job, Freedom Fighter!!

In Case of Last Minute Art Project - Break Glass

Why average girls don't get laid

{Author's note: I have been besieged with e-mails asking me about this cartoon. Many do not get it because either I am too smart or I am an idiot. I'm sure many of you know which is correct. I drew this after reading an article about averages and how people can get them confused with medians. Basically what I am trying to say is that the "average" girl might turn out to be 0.5. And who wants to hook up with 50% of a girl?}

Job (Part 17)

Got a job.

I think this one will stick. No dead bodies.

Well, one.

And the seven dead fetuses.

And the box of ashes.

But I think that's it.

Jesus as a child: Jesus is IN

A letter to myself 20 years ago

We all have made decisions that we regret. Sometimes we wish we could go back and change everything. I’ve tried sending a message to my future self with mixed results. I think my next option is to send a letter to myself twenty years ago. The way you do that is write a letter, address it to yourself and then hope someday scientists figure out a way to send mail back in time. The cost should be low because postage was cheaper back then.

My letter to me twenty years ago would go a little like this:

Dear Doug,

Hi. This is you writing to yourself twenty years in the future. I’ve come to tell you about… How do you know it’s really you? Well, I’m the only one that knows that you once were masturbating in the laundry room and when mom came down stairs you had to hide silently in the corner for ten minutes with your pants down while she finished switching loads. Good enough?

So, I’ve come to tell you about… yes, you still have hair. Thinning, but it is still there. And you get fat. I’m waiting for the letter from my future me suggesting I start losing weight.

So allow me to say… no, disco is still dead. And don’t buy more than 4 flannel shirts in the next 3 or 4 years. You think you will need more, but they will look better the grungier they get.

Here’s the deal. In the future, you are going to make several mistakes. Some of them embarrassing. Some of them life changing. You are going to miss out on some wonderful opportunities and kick yourself for not choosing the other path. You are going to see some horrific things and your heart is going to be broken by beautiful women and people you should not have trusted.

The one most important thing you should know is this: don’t change a thing.

Everything you have done has led you to where I am now. At the time, you made decisions based on what you knew and they may not have been the best choices, but they were your choices. We both know that we do not believe in fate, but I do not what to screw up where I am now based on making you re-think or doubt your decisions.

I guess what I am saying is that you need to believe in yourself. I do.

Take care buddy.

Love,

Doug

P.S. Buy Google stock at $85

P.S.S. In 1994 you have the choice of going home with a girl named Trobes or a girl named Sally. DO NOT SCREW THAT ONE UP.

P.S.S.S. Vote for Gore in 2000. I know it might seem stupid now, but just do it.

P.S.S.S.S. Parachute pants make a HUGE comeback in 2002. Buy at least 10 – 15 pair.

Ten Han Solo quotes that sound like they could have been used in a porno

10. Thanks for coming after me. I owe you one.

9. No, no, no! This one goes there, that one goes there.

8. She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid.

7. Oh. I thought they smelled bad... on the outside!

6. Great, kid. Don't get cocky.

5. Besides, I know a few maneuvers.

4. Get in there, you big furry oaf! I don't care what you smell!

3. Great shot, kid, that was one in a million!

2. Now let's blow this thing and go home.

1. Sorry about the mess!

No. It was my time.

Come back in twenty years and read this

Warning! This is neither exciting nor funny right now. Please wait until 2027 to come back and read this. Thank you.

Oh my God! 7 Terabytes for $12,399! Were they living in caves back then? And what company was Apple??

Please say it ain't so



I was doing a Google search (don't ask for what) when I came across the picture above. I thought it was a pretty funny Hello-Kitty-pink photoshop job so I did a search for the title of the comic book just to make sure it was fake.

It's not.

Here's the publisher's summary from Wookiepedia.

She's a Princess with a fiery spirit and a hot temper to match. He's a scoundrel with a mercenary's sensibility and the heart of a hero. Together they help topple an Empire and restore order to the galaxy…And if they stop fighting long enough, they just might realize that they're in love! Set during the days leading up to The Empire Strikes Back, Han Solo and Princess Leia find themselves trapped together on a downed starship, lost in the frozen wastelands of Hoth as a storm rages around them. And while the snow flies outside the ship, the sparks fly inside. No matter how hard they fight it, there's more going on between them than just friendship!

I can only hope that the last frame of the comic is "Han shot first."

Ask HolyJuan: The Perfect Job

Dear Holy Juan,
You seem to be all knowing, so tell me, how can I find the perfect job that pays great, the people are friendly, office politics don't exist, the commute is short, the hours are 10 to 5p and the dress code is casual?

Thanks for your insight!

Desperately Seeking Employment

Dear Desperately Seeking Employment,

First off, let me console you on the loss of your job at the Baby Seal Fur Processing Facility #23. I know you started as a humble Club Duller and worked your way up to Club Duller 3.

It’s tough finding the PERFECT job. But I can help you. Let’s look at you "perfect" job specifics:

1. Pays Great
I assume you will be wanting to make $100,000 plus a year.

2. Friendly People
This is impossible, so you will need to work alone or have your personality removed.

3. No office politics
Again, work alone.

4. Short commute
A short commute to me means about 45 – 60 seconds.

5. Hours are 10 – 5
A seven hour work day? Don’t kid yourself. Most people only get in 4 – 5 hours of office face time and two of that is lunch and coffee breaks. Subtract internet surfing and most people work about 30 minutes a day. Well mark you down from 2:00pm – 2:30pm.

6. Casual Dress Code
To me, casual is nude.

OK. Let’s throw all these variables into the HolyJuan Career-o-Matic and see what it spits out.

(chink-a-chink-a-chink-a-chink)

YOUR CAREER **BLOGGER**

Awesome! That’s my career too!

Good luck with that and let me know if there is anything else I can help you with.

Send all "Ask HolyJuan" questions to holyjuan@gmail.com

The difference between Men and Women

MEN



WOMEN

College pregnancy

Adam Huges shows off Bond's 755 homer ball


Adam Hughes, 33, of San Diego talks about catching San Francisco Giants Barry Bonds 755th home run ball against the San Diego Padres after their Major League Baseball in San Diego, Saturday, Aug. 4, 2007. With the hit, Bonds caught Hank Aaron and tied the career home run record. (AP Photo/Lenny Ignelzi)

Ten Things Parents Will Never Admit

As it turns out, parents do dumb, stupid and idiotic things and you'd never know because no one talks about it. Here are a few of those things that they will never admit to doing. I am an extremely good parent and deny any such activities. Deny, deny, deny.

1. Spanking
This is the biggie that very few parents fess up to, but of which some are guilty at various levels. Physical punishment really does not work in the long run. But when your kid keeps pushing your buttons and the button on top your buttons, you just want to smack them upside the head. Of course, I know you don't.

2. Laugh at their suffering

For the eighth time you told little Billy to not run through the kitchen with his socks. The ninth time he slips and falls and hits his little head. Scooping him up, you rub the knot on the back of his head, quietly snickering to yourself, “I told you so...”

3. Lie
I know we lie to our children for their own good. Santa. The tooth fairy. Sex. God. But sometimes we lie just because we fucked up and cannot let them know that we are mortal. Lies like, “I didn’t say that,” when you did or “We’ll get a toy next time,” when you wont. Be careful. Those little bastards have a rock solid memory and will call you out. If they do, see #1.

4. Forget to buckle them in their car seat

When precious is fighting from getting in the car seat and your cell phone rings you might forget to strap your kid in. It happens. You get to where you are going and when you go to unfasten the kid, they are all ready unbuckled. That’s when you pretend to unbuckle them so that they don’t know the difference and don’t say to the other parent that you didn’t buckle them in last time. That will get you all sorts of “unfit parent” BS from the other spouse when you know full well they have forgotten too.

5. Eat the last of the child's fun food
I have had the last fruit roll up about thirty times.

6. Make frozen pancakes when there’s mix in the cupboard and eggs in the refrigerator.
This one covers a lot of bases. Basically it is taking a short-cut when you should actually be doing “the right thing.” This includes letting your kid watch TV when you should be interacting with them, calling grandma instead of going to visit and allowing your kid have a TV in their room (the greatest of all parental sins. You know who you are.)

7. Forget about a child
This one can end in tragedy, but this is a light hearted piece so we will keep it on the up and up. Most the time you forget, it ends up with you leaving for work, going back in to grab your coffee and seeing junior sitting quietly on the couch waiting for you to take him to school. Oops! Or getting home from work and having your spouse ask you if you picked up junior from practice. Oops! Most parents have done it, but they’ll never tell.

8. Cuss in front of the kids
If you get cut off in traffic, you will drop an f-bomb. If you hit your hand with a hammer, you will say “shit.” If you burn your hand on the stove, you’re guaranteed a resounding “mother fuck.” When little Sarah comes home from school with a note saying she said “Fuck shit mother fuck,” you will blame the neighbor kid. It worked in “A Christmas Story” and it works for you… with this one, you are really lying to yourself, but you know the truth.

9. Listen to inappropriate music with the kids around
I will listen to Howard Stern on satellite radio until someone cusses or they start talking about VA-GI-NAS. This means I get to listen for about fifteen seconds. Some parents are OK with listening to graphic rap or crappy pop in front of their kids. I like hearing my son going around singing, “Hey, hey, you, you, I don’t like your girlfriend,” or “Go Shorty, it’s your burfday. We gonna drink Bacardi like it's mah burfday.” I have to pretend like he heard it at the neighbor kid’s birthday party. (Which he did. (Really.))

10. Let your kid see you naked
Your kid will see you naked. Hopefully not during your fifteen seconds of awkward lovemaking. The question is at what age do you cut them off without making it look like you are trying to hide your bits and pieces? The answer is that healthy, good looking people can be naked all the time around their kids. It gives the children an excellent example to live up to. If you are an ugly mess, cover your shame as no kid needs to see that. But either way, don’t let other people know you are naked around your kid. That’s just sick.

99% Safe or is it 1% Unsafe?

A recent article from MSNBC has China’s Bo Xilai, commerce minister, quoted as saying that "over 99 per cent of China's export products are good and safe".

Yea!

Unless you look at it as 1% of their exports are unsafe.

China exported about $974 billion worth of goods and materials in 2006. The United States receives about 21.4% of those exports. If 1% of those exports are unsafe, that means that $2.06 billion dollars worth of imports are for shit. Even if, as he said, more than 99% are safe, you are still talking around $1 billion dollars worth of unsafe crap.

I’m in the process now of sending my kid’s Thomas the Train cars back to the manufacturer.


Note the chew marks on the caboose.

When I worked at a retail installation company, we dealt with a lot of imports from China. It seemed like the quality was decent, but there were always little problems such as poor welds or holes that weren’t drilled out completely. I, like anyone else with 4th grade math skills, understand the business mentality of savings. A big retailer was planning a rollout of 1,000+ stores. Slightly better quality wire shelving in the States was only $12.50 higher per unit. There were sixty units to be installed per store so by going with China, they saved $750,000. Which route would you go? Now, if you find yourself buried under a poorly fabricated shelving unit, you might think differently. All I had to do was listen to the installers bitching all day about “Chinese crap.”

I think what Bo Xilai should have said was that 100% of all exports are safe and then back it up by saying that in China they round up to the closest 100.

The New(s) Pavlov's Dog