I want, I want, I want

I want to be able to strap a couple of dolphins to my feet like water skies and see how far I can make it before being caught in a tuna net that is not Dolphin safe, communist bastards.

I want to actually do a Calvary charge. I mean a real one where there is actually something on the line. Not like in some weirdo re-enactment. Seriously man, you need to give that up. Look, this is a dork telling you that you are to dorky. Come on, come to the good side, it’s nice over here. No, I mean like to build a time machine, jump in with my favorite type of juice box, find a medieval army and charge them like Braveheart on speed.

I want to wrestle a gator. I have no idea why. But deep down, somewhere in my over macho brain, I am thinking—Yup, I could take him. God help me.

I want that guy who thinks he is a bad ass and decides that normal traffic is not respecting him enough and then decides to ride up on the shoulder of the road at 50 mph, you know the guy, I want him to get into a serious car wreck. Not just like, hey, I have a flat tire, but the OHMYGOD is someone injured kind of car wreck. I wouldn’t feel bad at all. Jackass.

I want to wear a NASA space suit. Seriously, how cool is that thing. I mean, honestly, it’s got it’s own oxygen supply. In fact, I want to wear the NASA space suit while playing xbox. I want to wear the suit while playing xbox, and urinate in the tube that comes with it so I don’t have to get up during a good game.

I want my daughter to stop slugging people like she is the next Mike Tyson. This week she hit four different people, even her best friend. They keep telling me that this is just her frustrations by not being able to talk, but I think that she just enjoys giving people a good pummeling. And I’m pretty sure my wife blames me for this.

I want to know where the hell all the flying cars and hover shoes are at. It’s 2007! When I was a kid and went to Disney World in 1983, the “Land of Tomorrow” exhibit said that we would have these things by now. I would bet you a hundred bucks that they haven’t changed that exhibit since then. Is it so hard to make the individual jet pack affordable for everyone?? We have all seen the footage where the dude in white straps on the jet pack and vaults over some trees. I fill gipped. I want my money back in today’s dollars from Disney, he owes me. They call it just using your imagination, I call it a lie. I want my money, don’t make me send Rocko, the 18 month old baby hitter to knee cap you.

I want my ankles to stop being that of a 1 year old and that of a 32 year old man. A gust of wind even seems to either sprain them or destroy them. How can a hoss, such as myself, have glass ankles? It’s time to nut up and actually do your job buddy and that means caring my massive frame around without tripping and spraining on a paper clip.

I want two chicks to double up on a guy like me. I figure if I had a million dollars I could arrange something like that.

I want to drive one of those massive cranes around that can pick up a large house. I want it in my backyard but I would want to use it to pooper scoop, my back is starting to kill me. I am so old.

I want whatever jackass that is trying to leave comments on my blog selling their shit to knock it off. Look, I’ve figured it out. You don’t read my blog and you are just “seeding” it to sell your Work from Home Bullshit. I love it when people comment on my blog, it makes me feel loved and helps my manchild ego. But we are on to you bub. We don’t care that Hey, I’m going to California, see how I made money by visiting this website. I hope you are in California and that it sinks. It would be worth it just to get rid of your dumbass pop up adds. I have to moderate comments now because you are trying to scam my readers. I hope you die. In fact, I want everyone else who reads my blog to sell their shit except for you. You hear that people, advertise away and let’s all hate Mr. California Spammer.

I want horses to like me. For some reason, they don’t, they never really have. When I was a kid everyone would get to pet them. They would just pee on me then always kind of trot away when I tried to get on. That made it more embarrassing because I had to call Mr. Rancher Dude to come over and hold him still while I got up on him. The last time I rode a horse I was 20 and with a group. Everyone’s horse did fine and jogged away. I got the mean horse that wasn’t allowed next to the other horses so I had to ride by myself in the very back for 3 hours. As a kid, this hurt my feelings and I still think about it. And please don’t say “they can feel your fear.” I am afraid of nothing.
Well, maybe sharks and I wish they liked me too so they wouldn’t eat me. That would be cool.

I want the OB/GYN doctors office to have a Dad’s Only entrance. I have to meet my wife there for a baby check up and I know I’ll have to do the walk of shame. In about an hour, everyone think of me because I will be getting the You are A Pervert stare from the 63 year old Grandma who is in for her yearly. I’m sorry lady, I don’t like this anymore than you do. And I’m only caring this purse because my wife is currently peeing into a cup.

I want to once, just once, throw a penny off the Empire State building, just to see what would happen. Would it really, if it hit someone in the head, go all the way through them and come out their pooper. I am intrigued by this and have been since I first heard about it in the 3rd grade.

I want every parent out there to know that when your child gets on xbox live, you should be very worried about who they are meeting. I tell you, it can be as bad and as bulling as the playground. Your children already have enough self esteem issues without having 42 year old divorced bitter guy make fun of him for his voice cracking. And moms, you should really know that you are insulted hourly on xbox live. I feel terrible, but I have done this myself. Mainly because your child is a peckerhead.

I want to pop that big zit on your forehead. I swear to you I can’t help this sickness because I just want to pin you down and pop it, dear god, please let me pop it, ughhhhh.

I want to know how to do the Safety Dance and I want that little midget to do it with me.

I want to get a really good topic to blog about so I don’t have to write this drivel that is serving only as a filler blog so that my readers out there won’t abandon me and read someone else. Come on, just give me a chance baby, I swear I got something good coming up. I tell you what, I’ll just go outside until something funny happens to me, then I’ll write about it and you can tell me that you love me, will always love me. Right after I pop that zit. God forgive me.