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MIKE SISCOE

My Blog, Rantings, and Musings

Never die naked. If you do, leave a detailed note explaining why.

Never tie up your own genitals. Nothing good has ever come from that.

If you find yourself alone at an abandoned summer camp, after three of your friends have been brutally murdered, now would not be a good time to take a shower.

Rules to Live By

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Three Mins of Hate

39 and My Dreams Are Over

I just turned 39 and had to realize all of my childhood dreams are now gone. Who ever heard of an international super-spy who’s lactose intolerant. Seriously, I’ve always wanted to be James Bond. How can I be James Bond if the villains can defeat me with Brie.

I can’t be James Bond anymore. I can’t chase the bad guys down on foot. I get winded getting up from the couch.

I can’t get in a fistfight with 30 henchmen, drink a martini, and save the world. I’d never make it pass the fist fight. One punch and I’m in a coma. Seriously, I hit my head once on the kitchen cupboard and had to call in sick.

James Bond always got the girl. Didn’t matter where or when or who. James Bond could get a nun to break her vows. I can’t even get my wife to sleep with me. How am I going to seduce a stranger?

James Bond is a master gambler, plays cards for thousands of dollars per hand, and wins. I lose 10 bucks on the nickel slots and I get pissed.

I can’t get in a high speed chase, not in a mini-van. There are no machine guns on an Astrostar. What am I going to do, get alongside the bad guys and throw sippy cups at them.

James Bond doesn’t have a facebook page. He’d never play Mafia Wars, but I do.

Super spies are classy, they drink vodka martinis, shaken not stirred. I buy whatever beer is on sale. It’s quantity not quality.

Secret agents live a life of luxury, eat the finest foods, drink the best wines. Me, I just want a good cup of coffee and bowel movement.

They would have to make high-tech gadgets out of the crap I have in my house.

“It may look like an ordinary Snuggie, but actually it is a Teflon coated fiber capable of stopping a .357 Magnum”

How many double 00 agents see a therapist? I’m going to be disarming a bomb, with just seconds left, and have a panic attack.

I think the real reason I could never be a secret agent is the hours. That’s a 24-7 job. I can barely do 45 minutes doing standup. If I got to do an hour, I’m pooped.

Forget staying up all night on a stakeout. If I don’t catch the bad guy before 11:30, it’s bedtime.

I wish I could be an international super spy, just so long as the espionage and intrigue take place in a one block radius, and I don’t have to get up.