To the asshole who wrote to my wife...

I have been reading your blog for several months now, and I'm so astranged by the fact that if you are unhappy and distrought of Mr. Nina, and all his non-physical, but verbal abusive commments, that tear you down at every turn. Why do you stay? Maybe I do not understand love, maybe I do not understand passion, but I do understand happiness, and you seem like such a brillant, beautiful person with so much to offer to someone outthere why do you stay? Why do you let Mr. Ninja, constantly berate you, and convince yourself that you are lucky to have him, when in all hoensty he doens't know what a beautiful, intelectual, aspiring person you are. If anything Mr. Ninja should be the thanksing the stars above that he has you?

I just read this blog, and I love to read it, because your humor is amazing, but why let Mr. Ninja, karate chop you one more time

The above post was sent to my wife...About me...

*deep breaths* let me address this post...

Ok first things first, when the dumbfuck says astranged, I'm sure they meant estranged, but even if that were the case it makes no fucking sense. I give Mrs.Ninja shit for her horrendous grammar all the time so I can only assume this was actually written by my wife. So for that she is going to catch another beating!

Pointing out the verbal but not physical abuse? Well excuse me but Mrs.Ninja just...fell down the stairs three times and will need a guest writer for her blog.

She stays cause, well, I am Mr.Ninja and you aren't. She stays because if she doesn't I have promised to chase her down and kill her, scattering her body parts across the dankest Florida swamp!

Why does she let me berate her? LET ME??? I spent years breaking down her self esteem, and now that I have it right where I want it, you dare question me? Do you have any idea how much effort it takes to completely tear another human being apart? The effort is immeasurable.

Why let Mr. Ninja Karate chop you one more time...I actually liked this line and am stating now and here in writing that I am stealing it, and from this day onward it shall be known as MY FUCKING LINE!

OK now that is taken care of and the proper satirical chord has been struck let me state the obvious. You, Sir, are a fucking moron. Mrs. Ninja and I, have the same kinds of problems a lot of married people do and we struggle through them because of our mutual love and respect for each other. and if that doesn't work she catches a beating!

I mean have you read the shit this crazy bitch writes? You said you had been reading it for months! She hits me in my fucking sleep! She is crazy! IT SAYS SO IN HER FUCKING BLOG TITLE! And you ask her why she puts up with me? How about why I put up with her? The smells that slip out from beneath her side of the blanket that would make a colony of homeless monkeys proud. The mood swings, on my god the mood swings! I mean she can go from zero to cunt faster than anyone I know, and I love her all the more for it. My wife is CRAZY, my shit is purely an act of self defense, and I stand by it.

So to all you Mrs. Ninja fan bois out there, anytime you think you can free my lovely, stable, princess from her hell on earth...Please do so, just remember, half the bills are yours, the youngest two are mine, and never....EVER touch the Xbox.

The Opry Mill Mall, Nasvhille

Mrs.Ninja, Teenage Ninja, baby Ninja, and myself took a trip to Nashville Tennessee this weekend to visit the Opry mills Mall. Student loan check firmly in hand we entered the Opry Mills Mall happy and ready to spend money. Two days later we left shell shocked and disappointed, here are a few observations from our trip.

Old lady in the red shirt with the cell phone who hissed at my wife like a menstruating possum on crack: Please fuck off and die. In the future you might want to refrain from being a total cuntastic douche bag to my wife and progeny. I am large, mean, and full of bail money! When you are walking with your head down, yelling into your cell phone like a crazed baboon, and then almost demo the whole Ninja clan and have the audacity to shoot us a dirty look for getting in your way, it just pushes a button inside me that makes me want to fucking kill you. Have a great day, I hope you get cancer from your cell phone addiction and die old (you already are) and alone ( I am going to assume you have chased any friends/family away you grotesque thundercunt).

The Kiosk people: I love you! From your products touting the advantage of the dead sea, to your awesome assortment of hair products, you guys are the best! No, not really. You guys fucking suck. You guys hock your goods with a kind of aggression that would make a crack addicted hooker wither in embarrassment. And then when we buy your makeup for my wife and you stick a bunch of off brand shit in there AND short us on the quantity it just doesn't leave me with the warm fuzzy feeling I get after I have been fucked. Usually, I only fuck Mrs. Ninja and this leaves me feeling happy and in tune with nature and the world. Today after your fucking I can only assume the feeling you left me with was the same one many guys receive after waking up, rubbing the whiskey out of their eyes and contemplating the physics required to gnaw their fucking arm off rather than wake up the naked, sweaty hambeast in their bed. Even though your kiosk had a sign that said no refunds, you motherfuckers exchanged my product for money really quick when I started informing everyone who walked by that your kiosks were raising money for terrorism. How the fuck was I supposed to know you were Jews and not Arabs, all you Semites look the same to me. Thank you for the prompt refund, and the free product I received if I only promised to never come back!

The tatted up, thugged out black dude who knocked Baby Ninja down: Thanks for the apology, and for helping her up. It meant a lot to her and me, and I feel safe in saying that looks aside, you were one of the nicest, politest people we ran into on our sojourn to Nashville.

Little Asian massage guy: My wife said that I should take the crippling pain in my back as a compliment. Either you thought I was a big guy and could take the pain (my guess), or you thought you had so much fat to dig though on my back, that you were surprised that there was actually any muscle there (Mrs.Ninja's guess). Feeling your elbow dig into my back and actually pop out of my chest was a bad sign, speaker of very bad and limited English. Having to hold me down with all your weight as you jammed your elbow into my neck to stop me from squirming off your table and hiding in the corner sucking my thumb and crying for my mother, was a very distressing experience. Laughing every time you asked if I was ok because I could not make the pain stop long enough to stammer out anything intelligible was not your signal to grind harder into my back. having to pay 45.00 for your little yellow ass to take out all the ills the white man has ever done the yellow man over history hurt even more.

Fat black female security guard on the segway: Step away from the buffet you fat bitch. No matter how many times you see "Paul Blart, Mall Cop", it doesn't make you, your job, or the fucking segway cool! Bombing down the length of the mall while screaming into your shoulder mounted mic, while making little siren noises was about the funniest thing I saw all weekend...Until you almost ran over my fucking kid! Is there anything that important happening in the mall, that you are qualified to respond to? Was there a doughnut eating contest going on, or was Chris Brown beating the shit out of Rhianna in the mall?

Our trip to Nashville was a blast and I will post the rest of the Odyssey in the next day or so, right now my back hurts to much to stay in the upright position required to use my computer...

Panic Switch

Anyone else think this drummer looks like Animal off of the Muppets?

PETA is Racist

So Michael Vick was signed by the Eagles. This has been met with both criticism and approval and going with the same tenor of past blogs im going to give my opinion on the subject.

We are talking about dogs, right? I mean he was accused of bankrolling a dog fighting ring, and he was tried and he was convicted. He then served 19 months in federal prison, and subsequently went broke. Are you fucking kidding me? 19 fucking months for being involved in dog fighting? Dante Stallworth, who actually killed a human being, got less than a month in jail. Well maybe if Vick had killed a Latino in Florida he too would have received less than a fucking month in jail. This is so sad it almost boggles the damn mind. If any of you who read this blog think that he wasn't tried, and sentenced to such a harsh sentence because he was famous you are a fucking moron. I watch discovery channel and I see the damn people on there who run puppy mills, or fight dogs, or who hurt animals in some way and what happens to them? Nothing, they get a damn fine.

So I was watching the news and a bunch of fat, affluent, white women were protesting outside the Eagles facilities saying they would not buy tickets of support the team. I say fine, leave the hambeasts at home so we can sit around drinking beer and having mastubatory fantasies involving the cheerleaders or the superbowl. The man served his damn time, get off his fucking back and go back to making brownies for the PTA you fucking twats.

PETA... I mean what the fuck can I say about these fucking clowns. According to them we should not: Eat meat, wear fur, leather or any other animal products, use any of the drugs that were tested on animals, or develop new drugs by testing them on animals...These guys are fucking nuts and owuld have us prancing around the forest eating roots and drinking stream water, uh no thanks I want a big mac and diet coke, thanks.

Police stupidity!

So I was reading the news and I found this story about a car wreck and I was pretty fucking disgusted. Why do the Police continue to make these mistakes time after time? People are dying for what? Running a fucking stop sign? I know that the police have a really hard job, and I know that the only time most people interact with the Police is when they have done something to break the law but what the fuck.

These guys allegedly were in a stolen neon *Who the fuck steals a neon* when they refused to pull over for the Police. Turns out they were all of the Latino persuasion *driving while Mexican anyone?* and they broke some minor traffic regulations to incur the wrath of the local Police.

Now is anyone else wondering why 7 fucking people died over this shit? Do you think if this was happening in Malibu or Brentwood that the population would be like, "hey no big deal, an entire family dead over a busted taillight"? I mean c'mon folks use your fucking head. If the chase looks like it is going to be dangerous, and you are chasing them for something less serious than, of I don't know, say jaywalking how about we don't kill a bunch of innocent people to chase down this bloodthirsty gang?

I am not blaming the Police per say, I am blaming society for making this kind of tragedy just another news article.

Memphis!

To those of you who have been subjugated the rantings of my blog you know I have a 6 moth old Dachshund. What you didn't know, and until today neither did I, was that he has recently undergone some kind of Navy Seal special training. What it involves, apparently, is being a sneaky little fuck by silently egressing out of my room and down the stairs.

Now upon leaving the scrutiny of his moronic human masters it now behooves him to shit on the floor in a most diabolical place. Generally this is by the hallway or front door where the stinky little IED can take out the most civilians while remaining hidden from the view of the poop sweeper squad.

But even that isn't enough for my Little sapper, no, now the little fucker is HIDING IT! I mean look at the damn picture, he has evolved to where he can actually shit on my fucking floor, place it in an area with lots of "BAREFOOT" traffic, and then camouflage it for maximum effectiveness!

Fortunately for us I found this little shit bomb and defused it, but whats next? Sneaking outside to take the car for a spin? Stealing my fucking credit card to order himself a mail order bride, or some really good rib eyes?

Be afraid, be very afraid...

Mojitos!

This is pretty great little song, if you have been wondering what that song off of the Bacardi run commercial is, well here ya go!