Okay, so apparently the misdirection in my last blog post — I began as though I was about to share my favorite posts of the past four years, but then I delved into a rambling rant about swimming pools, time machines, clothes and punching younger versions of me in the throat — wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Apparently, everyone wanted me to actually share old blog posts. Go figure!

I have no idea why I used the phrase “cup of tea” when it is so antiquated, feminine and I could have used so, so, so many other phrases in its place. I could have said, “wasn’t everyone’s idea of a good time.” I could have said, “was more haha-lame than haha-funny in the eyes of some.” But no, I said cup of tea.

But you know what? I’m not going to apologize. I’m going to bring back “cup of tea” into the mainstream. I’ve just decided this. And while I’m at it, I’m bringing back “cat’s meow” and “bee’s knees.” Cat’s meow and bee’s knees are making a comeback, people. And this time, they’re going to be masculine phrases. How masculine? Guys in biker gangs will use them in day-to-day conversations.

“Spike,” one biker will say to another biker.

“That skull and crossbones tattoo of yours is the bee’s knees.”

“Thanks,” Spike will reply.

And then they will go burn down someone’s house.

Yep, that’s what will happen. Who says so? Kev says so. Kev, the master of witty phrases and all things cool and hip (and masculine).

Where was I? Oh yes, my misdirection in the last blog post. Alright, since I like all of you people, I’ll follow through and share some of the best things I’ve written in the past four years. Of course, since I have SO much amazing material, I’ll have to split this “best of” idea into several different posts. First, I’ll split up my favorite funny posts. Later, I’ll post some of my favorite “deep” blog posts.

What’s that? You don’t think I’m capable of deep thought? Did you just not read my clever usage of bee’s knees? Clean your bifocals, people.

I present to you all some things I wrote from May 2005 to May 2007 — my first two years blogging. I call these, “My Best Kinda Sorta Funny Posts Most of You Haven’t Read Before, But if You Have Just Humor Me and Read Them Again: Years 1 and 2.” You’re welcome.

May 29, 2005

A forgotten part of the moving process is you have to clean your old place. And right now, my old place looks like a garbage can exploded inside of it. Why is my brother such a slob? Why do I keep everything ever given to me? An hour ago, I came across a November 2002 memo from (my former employer). Why did I hold onto it? Did it strike me as funny at the time? Did I keep it in case I ever wanted to spit out some gum? Was it a magic memo that promised to grant me three wishes? And if the latter, where are my millions of dollars, my Ivy-league educated supermodel girlfriend, and my ability to turn invisible?

July 10, 2005

God is funny. My freshman year in college, I dated a girl against the advice of friends and adults who had known her longer. These were people I trusted, but for whatever reason, in this case, I thought they were crazy. They turned out to be right, she turned out to have more issues than a magazine rack, and my poor judgment ultimately led me to move hours away back home to finish college. Tonight, I found out this girl now lives in the area. More specifically, she lives minutes away from me.

In short, I have to move again. Good one, God. You got me.

August 16, 2005

I came across some old pictures the other day, one of them being a picture from my high school prom. This immediately brought back the memory of my friend, Luke, who decided to do a “strip tease” dance on his table during the middle of the prom. Everyone was sitting at their tables in their formal wear listening to two singers sing some silly prom-themed song. Next thing you know my friend was standing on his table dancing while taking off his jacket. The school suspended him three days for that little stunt.

This friend is also responsible for two of the strangest exchanges I’ve had in my lifetime…

When planning for the aforementioned prom, my friend told me, “you know…I think I might get an orange tux like Jim Carey wore in the movie Dumb & Dumber.” Figuring he was joking, I responded, “why don’t you get a blue one like Jeff Daniels wore in the movie?” My friend responded, “no way…I don’t want to look stupid.”

On our senior class trip, we went skiing. After we reached areas where there was snow, my friend asked the bus driver, our teacher, “Mrs. Wilcox…where does snow come from?” After a few seconds and several dozen chuckles from those around us, I responded, “you see, Luke, when a daddy snow and a mommy snow really love each other…”

Last I heard, my friend was going to school to be a doctor. Be afraid, people. Be very, very afraid.

August 20, 2005

Someday, FoodTV “personalities” Rachael Ray and Emeril Lagasse are going to fall in love and have a child. And that child will one day destroy the world.

Ironically, however, the child will not be able to cook.

August 24, 2005

I have been without my cell phone for 8 days and counting. Possibly because it heard me bad mouth all phones one time too many, my phone apparently took its own life.

I do not mourn its death. For one thing, I hated it. Plus, in the later stages of its life, my phone had obtained a massive ego. This was probably due to the fact I took it with me wherever I went. Only my wallet and my keys could make similar claims. However, the inflated ego was merely a defense mechanism. Beneath its black and gray exterior was a scared lil’ thing in need of constant reassurance and attention. Unfortunately for it, I did not give it the attention it needed. This was mainly due to the fact I hated it so very, very much.

Someday soon, I will get me a new cell phone. Maybe I won’t hate this one. I probably will, though.

September 23, 2005

Do you ever envy deaf people? I just got home from a two-hour bus ride filled with teenage girls “singing” every annoying radio song from the past five years. And when I say singing, I mean screaming. And by screaming, I mean they verbally assaulted my ear drums in a manner so horrific I actually prayed for the sweet release of death at one point.

I’ll never make fun of Billy Corgan (tone deaf lead singer of the rock band Smashing Pumpkins) ever again. I would listen to ten straight hours of him singing covers of Backstreet Boys’ songs in a southern accent and a lisp before I would endure a repeat of tonight’s hell on earth. Compared to them, Billy Corgan’s voice is angelic. And by angelic, I mean slightly better.

October 15, 2005

When at a singles gathering, it is very important to keep track of the fake names, professions, general details, etc. you give to the people you meet. You don’t want to call yourself “Brad” around a girl you’d met earlier and who thought your name was “Jake.” You’ve got to have a system in place.

For example, to brunettes, you are Ross, a three-time divorced anthropologist. To blonds, you are Joey, an actor who is very fond of sandwiches. And to red heads, you are Chandler, a sarcastic guy with an eating disorder no one acknowledges and a job no one can remember. I call this one the Friends System. I also like the Seinfeld System, the Buffy the Vampire Slayer System, and the Spongebob Squarepants System. The Spongebob one should only be used when there is an unusually large number of blonds.

Now, if you find a girl who figures out your game and calls you on it, thank your lucky stars. It means you’ve found a keeper. A keeper who watches lots of tv.

January 23, 2006

I propose a new “celeb reality” tv show. Anyone who has ever appeared on a reality television show or has played a hand in the creation of a reality television show will be placed on a deserted island. Then a nuclear bomb will be dropped on the island.

Possible names for the show are, “Exploding with the Stars”; “But Can They Dodge a Nuclear Bomb?”; and “Today is the Day Your Dreams Come True, Kevin.”

Edit: It’s been brought to my attention that if this proposal of mine were picked up, technically, I would then have played a hand in the creation of a reality tv show and would therefore be required to set up residence on said deserted island. A valid point, but allow me to retort: Shut up.

February 7, 2006

I’ve researched the topic thoroughly, and apparently the best method for young males to prove to the world they are cool is doing something completely asinine while driving a vehicle.

According to my research, “gunning” a vehicle when exiting a parking lot is the epitome of coolness. It does not matter if you are driving a black Ford Mustang GT or your mom’s pink Volkswagon Beatle, if you gun your vehicle when exiting a parking lot all the girls will swoon over you.

Honking your horn or yelling out your vehicle’s window are other tried-and-true tactics. Girls will admire your boldness if you honk at them. That or they will be impressed by your ability to drive and push down on the horn at the same time.

What’s the next big thing for the male looking to make an impression? That’s easy: Running into female pedestrians/drivers with your vehicle. The exchanging of insurance info or the ambulance ride to the hospital will be great opportunities to let her get to know you. Plus, getting her attention is half the battle. And nothing will get a girl’s attention quite like chasing her down a sidewalk in your mom’s Beatle.

July 7, 2006

Granted, I haven’t seen it yet, but I think Superman Returns would have been better with some creative casting. Morgan Freeman is solid in every movie he’s ever been in. Why not cast him as the man of steel? Don’t give me any of that “he’s too old…he’s black…are you insane” nonsense. The movie would be cinematic gold.

August 25, 2006

Tyler and Cody Chung received failing grades during the recent “show and tell” in Mrs. Timberland’s fourth grade class, according to insiders who eat lunch with the brothers.

Both boys, age 10, presented photos taken during a recent Atlanta Braves game the pair had attended. Their presentation was going smoothly until Cody declared the Braves to be the best team in the world.

“That is an outright lie and you know it,” Mrs. Timberland, a disillusioned Braves season-ticket holder, reportedly remarked. “How dare you pollute my classroom with your deceitful tongues,” Timberland continued.

Unfazed, the duo continued their presentation by displaying a photo they had taken with outfielder Jeff Franceour, who they described as “an awesome player.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” an exasperated Mrs. Timberland bellowed. “That strikeout machine swings at everything!”

After a few more photos, the last one being of pitcher Tim “one of the best pitchers in baseball” Hudson, Timberland instructed Tyler and Cody to go to the restroom so that they could wash their mouths out with soap.

“You can’t coddle these kids,” remarked Mrs. Timberland when asked for comment at her home. “When they say something ignorant, I call them on it. That’s how I am. That’s how I roll.”

Both Tyler and Cody were unavailable for comment because, according to their parents, they were coming to terms with Mrs. Timberland’s announcement to the class that the boys were adopted and the Tooth Fairy did not exist.

January 16, 2007

The DMV truly is a magical place. And by magical, I mean mind-numbingly horrific. I look around at the people (my ex-girlfriend) is in line with and I’m terrified by the thought that these people are about to be behind the wheels of thousand pound vehicles.

One man, who was wearing — I kid you not — a shower cap on his head, had to have the DMV worker explain to him three times that he could not get his license reinstated until he had paid his seven — count ‘em — seven tickets.

Another man, who was wearing overalls and hair down to shoulders, went to counter #5 when he had been told to go to counter #1. Upon being told of his mistake, I overheard the man say, “I always get them two mixed up.”

Allow that to soak in for a moment.

The next time you’re driving, make sure to periodically glance in your rear view mirror to see who’s behind you. If you see a man with a shower cap on his head or a guy with long hair and a “Lynard Skynard is #5″ sticker on his bumper, drive as fast as you can.

January 18, 2007

The Olive Garden is to Italian Food as (the movie) 10 Things I Hate About You is to William Shakespeare.

March 4, 2007

A little while ago, (my ex-girlfriend) called me saying she had seen a guy on a bus wearing the exact same Kenneth Cole sandals I own. She hates these sandals like a fat kid hates broccoli. Considering she also hates my black Kenneth Cole boots and my dark blue Levis jeans, I have come to the following inevitable conclusion: (She) is jealous of my fashion greatness.

I feel sorry for her. It must not be easy being in the shadow of someone with such a flawless sense of fashion. When I wore the aforementioned sandals with tan shorts, no socks, sunglasses and a t-shirt, I know it was the jealously talking when she said I looked like a “40-year-old blind man.” And when I wore a turtleneck sweater in July, I know her “have you lost your mind?” rant stemmed from an insecure sense of self. And when I decided to pay homage to Britney Spears circa the 2001 Superbowl by wearing socks on my hands, I know her “get away from me before people think I know you” remark was made because she knew she could never pull off such a look.

Lord, why did you make me so stylish?

March 5, 2007

“Look at that guy.”

“Poor, pathetic, shell of a man.”

“Mommy, that man is holding a purse.”

These are phrases uttered at malls, grocery stores and Wal-Marts all over the nation. You’re just a guy minding his own business when your girlfriend, wife, female acquaintance or confused cousin Steve hands you a purse.

It’s not a pretty sight. And yet, day after day men everywhere are asked to hold the bag of shame.

No more.

The time has come for us men to rise up. We must throw down the lacey, feminine shackles that bind us. When we are handed a purse to carry, we must stand strong.

If you are handed a purse, give the purse giver something heavy to hold. If she questions, tell her you are just supporting women’s equality.

If you are shopping for clothes, take off your baseball cap and give it to the purse giver saying, “hold this for me while I go try this on.” And then take a nap inside the changing room while she waits outside, cap in hand.

The time for battle is at hand.

We must not acquiesce. We must fight the good fight. We must shout for all the world to hear:

“Nay woman (or cousin Steve), I will not hold your purse. For I am a man!”

March 16, 2007

“If the odds of Carrot Top winning an Academy Award for acting are better than the odds of an apparent scam not being a scam, it’s a scam.”

- The Carrot Top Rule (From my unpublished, unwritten book, “How to Make Stupid Work for You”)

April 10, 2007

(W)hat is it about babies that makes us smile whenever we see them?

Answer: Birthday Cake.

Everyone loves birthday cake. Even diabetics love birthday cake. And when we see a baby, we think of birthday cake. On that baby’s first birthday, there will be cake. On its 10th birthday, there will be cake. Assuming the baby lives to be 100, there will have been 100 birthday cakes created and eaten in his/her lifetime to celebrate the passing of each year.

Why do we smile?

Because we think maybe, just maybe, we’ll get to eat some of that cake.

April 15, 2007

If Al Gore was alive to see what has become of his precious invention, the Internet, I believe he would weep. Well, he wouldn’t actually cry (robots cannot cry), but he’d be sad. Why? Because MySpace is using the Internet to destroy civilization as we know it.

May 7, 2007

In a move experts predict will once and for all prove His existence, God used the Los Angeles legal system to sentence socialite/moron Paris Hilton to 45 days in jail for violating her probation in an alcohol-related reckless driving case.

The sentencing has been met by unanimous approval by every person in the entire world, and has sparked a religious revival not seen since the release of Mel Gibson’s film, The Passion of the Christ.

Churches across the world have been packed since the sentencing was announced.

“People have been coming in droves since the announcement,” said James O’Keefe, pastor of First Baptist Church in Decatur, Georgia.

“I was so certain God didn’t exist, but this has completely altered my outlook,” remarked atheist Dan Ryder of Omaha, Nebraska.

“God is real. And He is awesome.”

Hilton, who helped promote the “Vote or Die” campaign during the 2004 Presidential Election despite the fact she was not registered to vote, has called her sentencing cruel and unwarranted.

“I feel that I was treated unfairly and that the sentence is both cruel and unwarranted,” said Hilton as she left for a shopping trip with her mother.

“I don’t deserve this.”

Experts disagreed.

“This has been a long time coming,” noted karma expert and God enthusiast Kevin Dugan. “This [air quotes] woman [end air quotes] has been a thorn in the side of common sense for far too long. Monica Lewinsky had the decency to go away after her embarrassing scandal. Paris Hilton? She gets her own TV show and records an album.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised God didn’t smite her years ago.”

May 25, 2007

I saw you on aisle twelve at the grocery store. “Orville Redenbacher’s Gourmet Popping Corn” was written on you in big, cursive letters. You lured me in with your smiling, awkward picture and promises of 30-calorie servings. I put you into my grocery cart and dreamed of the “94% Fat Free Butter” snacking I would soon enjoy.

If only I had known the tragedy that would follow.

I took you to work with me and gave you a featured spot on the top of my desk. “Hands off,” the sticky note I put on you warned. “This delicious and healthy Orville Redenbacher popcorn belongs to me.”

Fierce were the stares I gave all co-workers who glanced in your general direction. Unnerving were the verbal assaults I hurled at anyone who stopped to read the extra-large sticky note I put on you. The stapler thrown at the head of the individual who touched you while reaching for a pencil served notice to all of the obvious:

You were mine.

Like a pirate opening a treasure chest filled with gold coins or Rosie O’Donnell opening a bag of McDonald’s hamburgers, I eagerly took one of the ten packs of popcorn you held inside.

“How is it that William Shakespeare never wrote a sonnet about you,” I asked out loud while throwing a pen at the aforementioned individual who was returning my pencil (and stapler). His screams of “my eye, my eye” could not drown the sound of the singing angels as I held you up high.

Into the microwave you went as I followed the cooking directions and pressed START. As I left to use the restroom, I could hear the “pop, pop” music you were belting for all to hear. As I washed my hands, I could hear the faint sound of an ambulance or firetruck.

“Oh no,” I thought to myself. “My popcorn!”

I rushed out of the restroom. You were in pain, I could feel it. My path to you was blocked by paramedics attending to the individual who stole my stapler, pencil and pen.

“Thank goodness,” I thought to myself as I pushed my way through the pile of people. “That must have been the noise I heard. My popcorn is safe.”

And then I smelled it.

I ran to you and opened the microwave door. You were gone. The magnificent, pure thing I had known just minutes earlier had been replaced by a burnt bag of crap. A tear fell down my cheek as I held you close, but not too close. You did smell rather bad, after all.

You left this world before your time. I knew then why blues music was invented — to document somber moments just like this one. You lived your life like a candle in the wind, never knowing who to cling to when the rain set in. And now, you’re gone.

I blame the one-eyed stapler thief…

Were these not the cat’s meow? Weren’t they the bee’s knees? Weren’t they all that and a bag of chips (yes, I’m claiming that phrase for straight men also)?

If there is an adequate demand for it, later in the week I’ll share some of the “deep” posts I wrote way back in the day.

As you were.