Are you threatening me? I am the great Cornholio! I need t.p. for my bunghole.

Yes, I wear eyeliner. I sometimes spend up to twenty minutes in the bathroom fixing my hair too. Oh, and I love tight fitting colorful t-shirts. And because of these rather odd things, often times men tend to question my "manliness". But what they fail to understand however is that there are certain things a dude can do that give him an automatic lifetime membership into the man club. And guess what, I've done one of those things. My guy card is forever stamped! It will never to be revoked. And why? Because yours truly has fought in a war. That's a guarantee spot in the the man club right there, no matter how much makeup I put on.

 

But fighting in a war isn't the only way to get a permanent invite. There are tons of other manly things a guy can do that will land him an all access card. And below is just a few of those things. Maybe you yourself qualify.

 

 

 

ASTRONAUT.

 

This is pretty self explanatory. These guys are complete studs! And being able to call yourself an astronaut automatically gets you a lifetime membership. Picture it now, you're at some stuffy party with your new girlfriend. You don't know anybody, it's all of her friends. Every guy who introduces himself tells you how great he is. I graduated from Yale, top of my class. I played college football for Notre Dame. I work on Wall Street with some of the top investors. Oh yeah, I flew into fucking space! Checkmate.

 

BULL RIDER!

Um, if you have rode one bull in your life then sir, please take this seat next to me. The "I don't give a fuck" attitude it takes to mount this 2,000 pound muscled out psychotic beast is what being a man is all about.

 

HUNTER (BUT NOT WITH A GUN).

A lot of people hunt. But to qualify for a lifetime membership in the man club, you had to have killed a wild animal that weighed at least as much as you with something other than a vehicle or a gun. So if you've taken a deer out with a bow, a wild boar with a machete, or a mountain lion with a battle ax, which by the way would make you the leader of the man club, the key to the front gate is at your doorstep.

 

HAD A THREESOME (WITH THE THIRD MEMBER BEING ANOTHER WOMAN OF COURSE).

First off, I don't care if the two chicks you hooked up with were hogs. This isn't a beauty contest. I mean, it's hard enough convincing one girl to sleep with you, let alone two girls at the same time. So if you've accomplished this, welcome aboard. Your invite is in the mail.

KICKED NATURES ASS! WELL, SURVIVED IT AT LEAST.

If you were attacked by a chimpanzee in the African safari, a shark in the Pacific ocean, a bear in the Colorado mountains, insert whatever wild animal here, and lived to tell about it, man card stamped! And I don't care if whatever you faced took an arm. If you're still alive and breathing after battling the fiercest things this planet has to offer, there's room in the club for you.

JORTS!

Okay, this one doesn't get you in. But my friends, this is the prize! You see, if you qualify for a lifetime membership you too can get away with rocking these sweet jorts whenever you want. Jorts are clearly what separates the men from the boys. I'm not sure what the man in the above picture did to qualify for his lifetime membership, but I can only imagine it was spectacular.

Now these are just a few things that get you in for good. There are tons of other stuff as well. Hope to see all you manly men soon in the VIP room. Wait, did that sound gay? Good Lord, it's a good thing I fought in that war. Otherwise I'd be in the Fairy Club for Lady Boys. 

The greatest story in the world!

Haha! She's going to be so pissed at me when she see's what picture I used of her!

"Gather round children and let grandpa tell you the story of how he met your grandmother. Oh, and let grandpa also tell you how much of a war hero he is too!" This could be me someday saying this exact thing. Well, definitely the part about me being a war hero. But also about how I met "grandma"! I mean, if I ever end up marrying the girl I'm with now anyways. Her name is Balqees. She's originally from Iraq. But she'll be the first to tell you she's an American! I wouldn't claim that country either honey :) Ha! We met for the first time in Baghdad. And the amazing journey that me and this woman have taken is an incredible one! Like they should write a movie about it or something. So here goes.

Eight years ago, on a patrol during my first week in Baghdad, me and my squad came across a very friendly family who lived in a beautiful home overlooking the Tigris river. The father of the family was a lawyer and a very intelligent, caring man who asked us if we'd like to come up to his house for tea and a quick visit. After walking around for two hours with eighty pounds of gear on in one-hundred plus degree heat we looked for any excuse to sit down and take a break, so we obliged.

As I walked up to the house I noticed that he had daughters. Beautiful daughters! But there was one that stood out to me. Her name was Balqees. She had long black hair, dark eyes, spoke amazing English, and was absolutely gorgeous. We talked the entire time that I was there. And although I had made an instant connection with her, I never thought anything more would come of it. I was in a war zone after all! But it turns out that I was wrong.

She was a translator for the U.S. Army. And because of this, she was allowed access to the guarded sector in which I stayed. A place called the green zone. So we began talking every chance that we got! And soon after, we started to fall in love. She was the only connection I had to any sort of human emotion. In a sea of hate, in a place where evil prevails and the worst of humanity is brought out, she was my light. She kept me connected to who I was before, to my human side. So then I started needing her. After a mission or a patrol, I'd return back to the palace where I was staying, wash up, then sneak out into the enemy sector, by myself at times and usually under the cover of darkness, just to visit her. I'd skirt along the river bank to get to her house. It was very risky. But well worth the reward! We spent many nights together, among an array of gunfire and explosions, sharing our love for one another.

But then I received orders to leave Iraq. My time was up. We spent the whole last day together. It was a very emotional one. In the back of our minds I think we both thought that this would be the last time we'd ever see each other again. I flew out of Iraq the next day. And over the next eight years I lived my life never thinking I'd see her again, but never forgetting who she was or what she made me feel either. We shared a love unlike any other. A bond that could never be broken. We loved one another in war. And what she meant to me during my hour of darkness is more than she will ever know.

Over the years we sporadically kept in contact. Sometimes we'd go years without speaking. But then, a few years ago, she moved to America. Washington D.C. to be exact. We began talking again. And suddenly, all of my old feelings began to resurface. And about a year ago she moved to Dallas, Texas. And on Saturday night I saw her again for the first time since Iraq. Eight years had passed and she was even more beautiful than I remembered. We started right where we left off. And now, she's my girlfriend and someone that I have always cared deeply about. I'm not sure where the future will lead us, but I'm grateful that she's back in my life! So long single life! Good riddance…

My top five albums of all time!

Number 5) "Mullet rock anthems of the 70's and 80's!"

As if this needs an explanation! From Winger to Starship to the Ozark Mountain Daredevils (wait, who) this album is full of music that get's you up and ready for a good time! Girl just broke up with you? Boss man treating you like shit? Pop in this cd, hit up track 25, and let Night Ranger's melt your face off jam "Sister Christian" bring you back to were you belong! Rock on rock Gods! Rock the fuck on!!!

Number 4) "Clay Walker's greatest hits." 

When one thinks great country music, one NEVER thinks of Clay fucking Walker. But I can explain this mess. I grew up poor. And as a poor kid you learn to value anything that you can get your hands on. And somehow I got my hands on this jewel. Clay Walker's greatest (more like lamest) hits. But at the time I was young and MADLY in love. Like that obsessional high school I'm gonna die if she leaves me type of love. And with my mind being so twisted somehow Clay's songs spoke to me. "You're beginning to get to me." "Hypnotize the moon." "What's it to you." This album makes you laugh, it'll make you cry, and sometimes it makes you wish you couldn't hear anything at all (it's that fucking cheesy). But in my eyes, it's number four all time!

Number 3) Lifehouse's "No name face"!

For those of you who don't know who the band Lifehouse is, basically they produce music that makes Kenny G's shit seem hardcore. I mean, this band is LAME!!! If anyone ever heard me listening to this crap I'd be humiliated. But with that being said I can (unfortunately) sing every single track on this album word for word. And I have!!! Numerous times (alone of course). And how did I end up liking such a craptacular album? Here's how. I was shipped off to bootcamp back in 2001 and I went four months without being able to watch a television, read any magazines, books, or papers (aside from letters sent from home) and I was not allowed to listen to ANY music. They took all of that stuff away from us. But a week before graduation they let us go to the military's version of Wal-Mart (the PX) and we were allowed to buy one cd and a cd player with headphones. By the time my turn came up in line they only had two cd's left. Slim Thug and Lifehouse. I chose Lifehouse because I obviously wasn't going to listen to Slim fucking Thug! And let me tell you, when you go four months without hearing any music other then drill sergeant cadence, Lifehouse is the greatest shit you have ever heard! I know it's gay, but "No name face" is in my top five!!!

Number 2) "Cher's greatest hits".

This album has touched me since day one! Whenever I look back at the moments in my life that have moved me, the times I've had that have set my heart on fire, that have filled my very soul with pure love, joy, and happiness, moments that I will forever cherish, Cher was there. Whenever I lost my virginity, I went home, laid in bed, and spent the night crying to "I found someone". Cher was there. Whenever my heart was crushed by a girl for the very first time, "If I could turn back time" helped me through it. Cher was there. Heck, just last summer I went outside on a warm and muggy night, laid down on top of a blanket in the middle of an open field, turned my iPod on to "Believe", then proceeded to have a real life spiritual experience as I watched the universe entertain me with a meteor shower while Cher's angelic voice took me to a different place. That's right… Cher was there. She's always been there.

Number 1) Metallica "Ride the Lightning"

What? I'm not a fag ya know! Ha!



I was kicked in the face by a horse…

When I was three years old I was kicked in the face by a horse. I was playing in the backyard alone, because what parent doesn't let their three year old play in the backyard alone, and was kicked in the face by my neighbors f*cking evil ass horse!!! It had broken free from its pen and roamed into my backyard to graze, which wouldn't have been a problem had my parents been watching me!!! But since they weren't, I decided to go check out the "wittle horsey" and… BAM! Hoof to the face. The blow to the head immediately collapsed both of my eardrums and left me 100% deaf. It also crushed my skull and nearly killed me. So I stumbled up to the house, dying, and was discovered by my parents and rushed to the hospital. I survived, clearly!

But the best part of the story is years later my parents thought I was the dumbest kid ever because I couldn't understand any of their commands. Turns out I couldn't hear any of their f'n commands BECAUSE I WAS F*CKING DEAF!!! Yeah, it took them that long to figure out that I couldn't hear anything! Thanks for really paying attention to me mom and dad. So tubes were put into my ears and I regained my hearing, but not before missing out on a crucial part of learning. You know, like TALKING!!!

Most kids learn to speak when they are three. I was deaf at three. So needless to say I was a little behind. By the time I got to school I couldn't pronounce the letter R or S. So I'd say things like wimming pool and wabbit! Yeah, I was definitely the coolest kid at school with that speech impediment. I spent an hour a day in the special needs class learning how to talk. And it was there I realized I'd never make fun of people with disabilities and I'd never complain about how bad I have it, because these poor kids never even had a shot.

Anyways, that's my horse kicked story! And to this day, every horse that I see, I hate! If I could eat horse steak, or horse burgers, or horse burger helper every single day for the rest of my life I would! Horses are not majestic, gentle creatures. They are diseased, fly infested monsters who, if given the chance, will try to kick a baby's head off its shoulders! Trust me, I know! Had I been a weaker man, a man not carved of granite and marble, I too might be nothing more than a headless statistic. But alas, I'm still here! Something that head kicking horse can't claim!



The shittiest (no pun intended) job I have ever had!

Be, all that you can be, in the A-R-M-Y!!!

So as some of you may know (because I talk it about it all the time), I joined the United States Army Infantry a year after I got out of high school back in 2001. Which at the time seemed like a great idea! Until 9/11 went down. Next thing I know, I'm standing in the middle of Baghdad, Iraq wondering what in the hell just happened! But that's another story. This story is about the worst job I have ever had. The worst job imaginable! The type of job Lucifer himself gives to only the most corrupt souls of hell. I'm talking about burning human shit!

How would you like your poop? Extra crispy?

That's right, America's hero, the defender of her land, of her freedom, of all we hold sacred, spent his off hours stirring around a bucket of melted, flaming human shit!!! And yes, it melts. Almost into a thick, milkshake like substance. Except it smells WAY worse. And the smoke that rises off the flames of a burning bucket of shit are as dark as night. It's very disturbing. And VERY humbling. You think you have confidence? You think you have some self-esteem? Well then why don't you go grab yourself a broom handle and start stirring around a bucket of other people's melted shit for about half an hour. See if that doesn't change your entire perspective on how important you think you really are. Because it sure as hell put me in check! Now some of you might ask, "Rob, how did you get so lucky as to have the privilege of burning multiple buckets full of other people's shit"? Well I'll tell ya!

Iraq is pretty much the hottest place in the universe. And when I say hot, I mean you'd jump onto the surface of the sun to cool off. And when you're in the Army, you're given all this kick ass gear. Only problem is, you have to wear all that kick ass gear 24/7 when in combat. And all that gear weighs about a hundred pounds. So needless to say, you're hot! And as part of the wonderful  brain washing technique that the military likes to use on its soldiers so that they are controlled like little puppets, they have all these stupid rules. And I mean STUPID!!! Did you know it's actually against the Uniform Code of Military Justice to receive a blow job from your wife? And missionary position is the ONLY sexual position allowed. That's right. The Army even tries to tell you how to have sex! Although they OBVIOUSLY don't enforce any of those rules anymore (because I sure as hell would be in some trouble), however they are still on the books. But anyways, a lot of the rules that they have pertain to the proper wearing of the uniform. And one of those ridiculous rules in regards to the uniform is that both sleeves must be rolled down at all times.

So here I am, on the surface of the sun, with a hundred pounds of gear on and a LONG SLEEVED JACKET!!! Well one day I had had enough. I said "that's it, I'm rolling these fucking sleeves up". Surely my chain of command would see that it's hotter than a whore on dollar night out here and there'd be no way that they would enforce this stupid little rule! WRONG!!! After a two hour patrol, we returned to the palace that we were staying at and immediately one of the highest ranking men in my company saw me and screamed. "Stacy, you like being different?" To which I thought, "Fuck yes I like being different! Especially if it means I'm a few degrees cooler". But I played the dumb "I don't know what you're talking about" soldier and acted like I was innocent. After he pointed out to me that I had rolled up my sleeves (I'm such a rebel), he read off the rulebook to me. Then he proceeded to chew my ass out for about ten minutes before directing me straight to the outhouses were I was instructed on how to properly burn human shit (and there is a proper way). It's a delicate combination consisting of diesel fuel, a mountain of shitty ass logs and toilet paper in an overfilled metal bucket, and just the right amount of stirring! Because nothing caps off a two and a half hour combat patrol in 160 degree heat more than burning human shit. And that my friends is the shittiest (no pun intended) job I have ever had!

I HAVE A DREAM...

As summertime officially kicks into gear I can't help but be reminded of the game of baseball and how, as a little boy, I used to dream about being a great baseball player!  Hitting homeruns, pitching no hitters, I wanted to be a star! But my parents never put me into little league and thus, I never learned how to properly play the game. You see, my parents had five kids and I was the last one. So needless to say they were pretty much done raising children by the time that I came along (the dog got more attention then I did)! And so the last thing they wanted to do was waste their summer days at some crowded old ballpark watching me play.

HITTING ROCKS WITH A STICK MEANS YOU'RE POOR

But I always dreamed about playing. I loved the sport! I would hit rocks with a stick for hours pretending I was crushing 400 foot home runs! In fact, if they ever invent a game were the object is to hit a rock with a stick I'm going to be so awesome at it! But anyways, I loved baseball and I wanted to play. But I sucked at all sports requiring any sort of strength.

I WAS CRACKHEAD SKINNY AS A KID

Growing up, I was basically a walking scarecrow. In high school I weighed 130 pounds soaking wet. In Science class they would put the skeleton in the closet and just ask me to stand in front of the class shirtless instead. I tried to play football but the pads outweighed me! And they could never find a helmet that would fit my tiny little monkey head. I could put my helmet on, grab the facemask, and spin the entire thing around my face. A gust of wind could have knocked my helmet off. Hell, half the time during games when I'd be running it'd start getting all crooked on me and I'd end up not being able to see halfway through a play! Although I was very good at basketball, All-state if you must know. But that sport was easy for me because absolutely ZERO strength was required! It was all based on skill alone.

MAYBE THIS WAS A BAD IDEA

But back to the topic at hand. Above all else, I wanted to be a baseball player. So despite never having played a competitive game a day in my life I decided to try out for the high school baseball team! Great idea, right? So the very first day I show up and the coaches ask me what position I play. After I stared at them confused for like five minutes they decided that getting me as far away from the ball as possible would be the best position for me. So they shoved me in the outfield. And after I dropped every single fly ball that was hit my way I'm pretty sure they knew they didn't have the next Babe Ruth on their team. But to be nice they went ahead and let me have a few swings with my bat on the pitching machine.

CHEWBACCA THROWING A BASEBALL IS AWESOME!!!

And now it was my time to shine. Sure, I sucked at catching fly balls. But have you seen me hit a rock with a stick? I'm an animal! This will be easy! So I step up to the plate and dig into the dirt (like I know what I am doing). I grip tight on my bat and prepare for the pitch. With the summer sun beating down on my brow, and with everyone watching, I prepare myself for war. All of a sudden *whoosh* the baseball comes flying my way, right down the pipe! This is it, this is the moment that I've been waiting my whole life for! I'm going to hit this baseball a mile over the fence, just like I did to all those rocks growing up! I'm finally going to be a baseball star!!!

I'M BABE F*CKING RUTH!!!

My eyes open wide, I draw the bat back, and then, with every ounce of strength that I have, I swing that bat forward as hard as I can and hit the ball square in the face! I've never hit anything that hard in my life. I gave that ball all that I had!!! I murdered it!!! And it rolled three feet in front of me...

OKAY, MAYBE I'M NOT BABE RUTH

I literally could have spit further then I hit that damn ball. Confused (and extremely humiliated) I stared at it for a minute wondering why in the hell I was out there trying out for the baseball team to begin with. Then all of a sudden, amidst all the laughter, I heard a coach yell "run to first base you idiot"! Oh I ran, I ran right off that field and never returned again. F*ck you baseball! I hate you!!! Come find me when you trade in that bat and ball for a stick and some rocks!

What really happened!

Let the truth set you free...

Okay, I figured that since it's veteran's day I owe it to
each and every red blooded, flag flying, pride filled
American to finally be brutally honest and share with
you what really happened during the Iraq war. Share
with you the real story of how one man (me)
overthrew a tyrannical dictator, single handedly
defeated the Republican guard (the Iraqi army) and
introduced freedom and democracy to millions of
innocent Iraqi's. Some may call me a hero by the end
of this tale. I just call myself "Robert"! But hero's fine
too!

---

Am I ready for this...

It all started back in high school. As many of you know,
I was a basketball phenom! Probably the greatest
athlete to every grace a court (just look at me in this
picture, physically I was a beast). Now I was fully aware
that the nation was watching my every move. I mean, I
was a superstar! But little did I know, I had also drawn the attention of a few other people as well! The United States military, the Pentagon, the FBI, the CIA, special forces, and even the president of the United States of America himself, George Herbert Walker Bush (he's a HUGE basketball fan) were all also watching me very closely. You see, they knew I had the "it" factor (once again, you can just tell that from this photo of me). All the great one's have "it"! They saw it each and every time I tossed on my uniform and balled out on people. And because of that, shortly after my 19th birthday I was offered a proposition...


Two men in black suits approached me one cold winter night and asked me if I was ready to save the world! I didn't think twice. I said "Of course"! Where do I sign up?". They instructed me that I would first have to fly to a secret training location on a government controlled island were I would train before my mission (which was somewhat unclear at the time...ya know, other than it being "saving the world"). So I left at the beginning of February, lied to my family and friends about where I was really going (I said I joined the Army...Ha) and I set off to save the world!

---

You want me to do what...

I arrived on the top secret, government controlled island and immediately my training began. They loaded me up in a helicopter, tied both my arms behind my back, blindfolded me, and dumped me out onto the beach were I was immediately engaged by two ravenous gorillas! Using just my legs, I dominated them both...then took a nap. For my next training mission, they wrapped me up like a mummy, dropped me into the bottom of the shark filled ocean floor and said I had five minutes to return to the beach. I was back in four. When asked, "How did you do THAT? And with a minute to spare?" I replied with "Actually, it only took me one minute, but I was hungry so I ate an entire shark" (which took the other three minutes). At that point, they knew they found their guy!

---

And the mission is...

So with my training complete, the president himself called me to congratulate me and to give me my mission brief. I was to invade the country of Iraq, overthrow Saddam, defeat the Iraqi military, and set millions of Iraqi's free! To which I replied with, "Mr. President, liberate an entire country? Man, I was hoping you were going to give me something hard!" And so armed with nothing more than the shirt on back, some cameo pants, and a pair of combat boots I was off to save the world! I'm heroic like that!

---

Let it begin...

They government flew me to Florida, where I would launch into outer space (with help from the good folks of NASA) and land on the moon. From there, I was to base jump off the moon and into the city of Baghdad, Iraq! I chose to do so without a parachute, as I didn't want any extra weight holding me down.


I landed on top of Saddam's palace and immediately I was surrounded by tanks, snipers, and an entire division of Iraqi infantry soldiers pointing their rifles at me. I proceeded to take off my shirt and flex. The sheer awesomeness of what they were witnessing caused many of the infantry soldiers heads to just spontaneously explode. The tanks gun barrels bent and folded over from the ripped muscles in my arms and chest. The snipers jumped out of their buildings and to their death knowing that their bullets were no match!


I walked into Saddam's palace, shirtless of course, and faced the dictator himself! He looked at me in fear. I removed my pants, rolled out my wang and said "Hang yourself with this"! He obliged! Then, despite being a virgin and having strong moral character, I decided that as a sacrifice for my country...I would proceed to impregnate every single woman in the entire middle east so that American blood could begin to be born! 

---

I'm not a hero...I'm just Robert

I returned home to no ticker tape parade. No crowds of people chanted my name. No children hugged me, no women cried over me. The U.S Army followed my lead into Iraq once I left and helped to stabilize it once my work was done. They got all the glory. And it's what I wanted. The government lied to the nation and the media told an untrue story of how our military as a whole conquered Saddam. But now you know the truth. It was me who overthrew Saddam. And now I rest. Waiting for the day that justice must be served again. Waiting for the day that the United States government, our country, lady liberty herself ask's me once again, "Young man, won't you save the world?" To which I'll reply..."I'll do so as soon as I finish this delicious hot pocket!"

Happy Veteran's day