Armbone's Guide to Life, Parenting, and Living as a Functioning Dengenerate

Last week I took part in an 8 hour course on Hazardous Materials and the proper safety procedures in the workplace. The class was taught by this kind hearted, middle-aged African American fella, we’ll just call Scranford. Nicest guy you’ll ever meet, but to give you a good idea of what we’re dealing with here, this man recently told me that I can look up “Who’s on First” by Alfred and Costello on Goggles. When I tried to correct him, and said “Don’t you mean, look up Abbott and Costello on Google?" His response back was, “Yeah, dats what is said, Alfred and Costello on Goggles.” It's obivious that his level of edjumakation is much higher then any of us are accustom to.   He started the class off with an introduction to the different types of hazardous materials we my be dealing with in the workplace. According to Scranford, hazardous materials can enter your system through 2 routes of entry. The first one is inhalation, and the second is indigestion. Yup, indigestion. Amazing!

It's been 4 days now since the wife and kid left to visit family in North Dakota. I'm realizing that being alone, not having a woman around, and not having a child in the house that I'm supposed to make sure is alive at all times, gets really fucking boring and can almost start to make yourself feel a little crazy. I've had to work everyday, so at least I've gotten out the house and hit the gym, so I don't feel like a total piece of shit. I've also visited the parents, gone out to eat with them, went to a my nephews football game (lost to a bunch of cheating, pussy-ass Ledyard kids), and met up for a couple of cocktails with a buddy of mine (in a bar full of douche bags). So I haven't been cooped up the whole time. But when I'm home, in an empty house, with absolutely no responsibilities, some weird shit has happened. The other night I sitting home, catching up on the dvr, and I decide to have a cocktail. I'm a responsible adult, I can have a c

The day started off extremely productive. My father in-law came over to check out the spray-in mold/moisture resistant insulation in the basement, which lead us straight to Hanley Williams to order sheet rock. After dropping $500+ on the rock, we grabbed some grinders for lunch and ate them out back at my house. Apparently eating outside got the father in-law's head wandering, because in the blink of an eye he had a tape measure in his hand and he was getting a measurement for lumber to finish my fence. Next thing I know, I'm dropping another $500+ for the wood. I get back to the house just in time to meet the sheet rock delivery guy at my house, and lug 30 sheets of rock down into my basement. So at this point in the day, I'm a G lighter in the pockets and my back is fucking killing me. But my wife is home from work, she was feeling kinda funny, and the nephew wants to hit some baseballs at the school down the street, so the next place I found myself was shagging balls in

I thought my birthing class days were over a couple weeks ago, when I blogged about the man tits, penis pumps, and what not. Apparently I had forgotten about a three hour course we signed up for the same time we signed up for the birthing class. Well that class was tonight. It was called "Caring For Your Newborn", and it's a class that touched on all the real important shit that you didn't learn in the birthing class. For example: changing diapers, how to swaddle a baby, how to save a choking baby, and breast feeding. It was a little toned down when compared to the birthing classes, but I did manage to learn a few tidbits of information that I think all you armboners might be find interesting. First the teacher told us all the in's and out's of breast feeding. The baby drops out the vag automatically knowing that it needs to find the tit and suck, in order to survive. Just like a dog, or a cat would. Amazing how nature works. You know how pregnant chicks get

There's regulars that stick in the memory of Armbone Stallone, and then there's people that think they're important enough to be consider regulars. People need to understand that the rib palace is located in one of the busiest places in the world, and we see thousands of people a week. If you want to be remembered, you have to have certain attributes. You either have to be a good tipper, a total dickhead, surrounded by hot women, or you have to be a fucking nutjob like the Fry-Nubs. You can't just be an everyday Joe Shmo and expect us to remember you. We got one older couple that comes in every week. I'd say they classify as weirdos. The man looks like Charlie Manson, has fake teeth, and reeks like cigarettes. Imagine the most average looking, heavy set, trailer park queen ever, and that's the wife. They order the same thing every time. They order two hot dogs, with chili, cheddar cheese, sauerkraut, onions, and bacon. The wife drinks water. Manson drinks noth

When my wife first told me we were gonna be taking a birthing class, my first thoughts were, "Fuck that, I heard those classes were bullshit". Well I'm not gonna lie, I learned a lot and I'm glad we did it. Overall I had a good time, and meet some good people. Also gained a few armboners in the process. Well tonight was the last class. It was a little more tame then I would've liked, but there were a few good laughs. The class started off with the teacher showing us a few more things we might encounter during labor, if there are any complications. The first thing was the vacuum, used in vacuum extration deliveries. It's not like a shop-vac, although that would be pretty funny. It was a hand held, pump vac. It had a cup at the end of a tube, the tube ran to a hand pump, and you grip the handle of it in and out to create suction. As she was holding it up, one of the other guys in the class started laughing to himself. The teacher turn to him and asked what he

One place that I go to, to get away from the world and clear my head, is the gym. It's a place where I can go blow off stream, burn off extra energy, and basically make myself feel good about existing. The problem is, there's quite a few assholes out there that have no clue about gym etiquette. I swear these fucks are there with no idea what they're doing, and they always come close to ruining one of my favorite forms of therapy. So with all that said, let me run down a little list of unwritten rules that you need to know if you're one of these dickheads. Form - Listen, nobody gives a fuck how much weight you have on the bar. If you have 225 on the bench, and your reps consist of a 3 or 4 inch range of motion, then you're pretty much wasting your time. Do yourself a favor, drop down to 185, and do a full rep. And ask for a spot if you need it. You'll be working your muscles better, and you won't look like an asshole. I'm in the gym today and this fucki

Anybody that knows me, has most likely at some point meet "Hank". Hank is my drunken alter ego. An unstoppable force, that makes an appearance everytime I do shots. The stories of Hank are legendary. Fights, headbutt contests, snorting salt, arrests. You name it, he's done. One of these days I'll share the epic tales of "Hank the Tank", but tonight I will tell you about how my alter ego, has an alter ego of his own. And that guy is known to the world as "The Night-Pisser". I know what you might be thinking, and the answer is no. I'm not a schizo! I'm just a fun fucking guy, with a couple of fun fucking personalities, that like to have a fun fucking time! So back off! Sorry. The first time the Night-Pisser was ever discovered, was back when I was still living in my parents basement. At the time, my girlfriend and I had finished the basement and turned it into an apartment, and we were living down there together. It was just another typical

Birthing class numero tres was tonight. It was another interesting class, containing a couple moments of severe hilarity. The class laughed hard and the teacher informed me that she's never had so many inappropriate comments in any of her prior classes. Don't worry though, she said it in a good way. First thing that we went over tonight, were the different positions the woman can be in while pushing. The beginning was a pretty boring part of class for the man. We pretty much just sat there, while the women sat holding their knees, with their chins down to their chest, practicing pushing for ten seconds on and off. While this was going on, my mind had time to wander. So I was looking at the chart of different "pushing positions", and I couldn't help but notice that they all strangely resembled sex positions. Call me a pervert, but I bet I wasn't the only guy in the class that was thinking this shit. So here they are. There's the most common pushing positi

I've been pretty much all over the world in my life. I've seen many beautiful places. I've gotten completely shit-faced in at least a dozen countries. And along the way, as you probably could imagine, I managed to rack up a whole shitload of fucked up, yet classic stories. I figured tonight I would sure one with you. I spent 16 days in Germany with my wife a few years ago. We were taking leave from a deployment we were on with the Army national guard. If you've never been to Germany, I would strongly urge you to go. It's a full of gorgeous scenery, laid back poeple, speed limit-less highways, and they drink beer with breakfast. Tell me that doesn't sound like the perfect place to live. Well, my wife and I rented a car called an Opel Corsa, which is pretty much the size of a fucking tuna can and gets about 400 miles to the gallon. I'm not gonna lie though, the little shitbox could get up and go. My wife's mother meet us in Germany, and stayed with us fo

Tonight was our second birthing class and once again it was a good time. Just like last week, the class was filled with laughs. I once again managed to make the class a little more interesting for everyone, and also managed to get in a Back to the Future reference in consecutive weeks. It started off with the teacher talking about what we should do when the wife starts feeling contractions. Teacher told us that she should move around, keep active. She said we shouldn't automatically rush to the hospital like crazy people just because she may have felt something. My job's to time them, to keep tabs on how far apart they are. She asked us what we think we should do once we get to the hospital. There were some normal responses. Keep moving around, put on soothing music, maybe take a shower, etc. All typical, straight from the book answers. Well, as we all know, Armbone don't play that shit. My response was a little different. "Avoid elevators." I said. "Why

Growing up, one of favorite rappers was DMX. His first album was one of the most amazing things I ever heard and when I got it, it didn't leave my cd player for about six months. The guy is known for his gritty lyrics, his growl, and he's most known for barking like a dog. The dog bark is something that I've sort of mastered, and at some points during the night at work, you'll hear random barking from the back of the restaurant. That would be me. And in the process of perfecting the dog bark, I also started remaking some of his songs. Now I know you can't hear me rap this shit, but if you could I guarantee you'd laugh your ass off. A warning to all who are reading, DMX's lyrics are very gritty and graphic, so stop reading now if you can't take it. I'm guessing since you've made it this far into the life of Armbone that you're not easily offended. Listen to the first 45 seconds of this video and then read the lyrics by DMX and the remix by Arm

In the restaurant business there's an extensive vocabulary that would rarely apply to the outside world. Terms like "grat", "expo", "4-top", "prep-sequence", "86", these are all very familiar in the everyday talk at most restaurants. But working in the rib factory that I do, we've developed a much more advanced form of restaurant lingo. Tonight I will teach you just a few terms that are unique to our place. Pre-check tip none re-adjust. verb  1.  This is when the customer places the tip on the table before the check ever hits the table. Once they've received the check, the customer   looks at the total and no matter what it is, they do not change the amount of the tip they've already put down. Pre-check tip none re-adjuster . noun 1 . The dickhead that does the shit I just told you about above . 2 . Complete asshole. Once in a great while you get a customer that defies the odds. These people put down the tip ahead

Tonight was our first "birthing class". It was kind of an intro to what we're supposed to expect during labor and what not. It wasn't to bad. Especially because I have a hard time taking things serious, and anyone that's ever had a class with me knows some funny shit's gonna happen. I ask a lot of questions and make a lot of comments, keeping things interesting. If I don't, I tend to lose focus and the A.D.D. starts to kick in. It started off by the teacher showing us a diagram of what the inside of a woman looks like with a baby in it. The picture showed how the baby pretty much crushes the bladder and stomach, and the intestines get spread all around it. Here came stupid question number one. "Does the same thing happen to a man's stomach, bladder, and intestines when he grows a big beer gut?" I asked. People laughed, but it was somewhat of a serious question. "Well, no. You don't have a baby growing inside you." she answer

There's been multiple times in my rib slinging career where I've had interesting encounters with some wacky asians. Working where I do, there's always an asian show, a chinese circus, or some kind of shitshow going on. I'm serious, Charlie's everywhere. Sometimes when I'm walking in, I get a strange feeling that at any second there's gonna be a turf war between two asian gangs wielding nunchucks and tossing ninja stars. One of my favorite movies as a kid was "Big Trouble in Little China", so pretty much I hope for something like that to happen on a daily basis. Anyways, long story short, there's a shit ton of little oriental bastards running around in there at all times. And because of that there's always a story. Tonight I'll share one gem. When you're approaching a table of asian people you need to figure out which one of them speaks the best english, if any of them do, and focus all conversations with that one. It's usually

I used to be a big believer that women only shit on the 25th hour of the day. I grew up in a house where in 20 plus years I never heard my mom rip a fart, or for that matter, blow up the bathroom. My sister would gas the fucking house out, but she was my sister and for whatever reason I never really counted her as "female". I guess to me she was just the stinky fucker that lived across the hall from me and my brother. Well now I'm 29 years old, I'm married, and I have my first son on the way. I already love the kid more than anything in the world, but the little shit is causing my beautiful wife to unleash some of the worst orders ever released into the atmosphere. I swear to god if we could bottle this smell, we could drop a plane full of it into the mountains of Afghanistan and we'd have Bin Laden in minutes. It's pretty much torture. I never in my life thought I'd have to sleep with a bottle of air freshener on the nightstand beside me. My wife has to

Maybe the most lucrative wednesday (non-event) night ever. It was nothing but your average wednesday. Slow night, maybe make a hundred bucks if you're lucky. Well I guess I was lucky, because walking through the restaurant my ear happened to catch a conversation going on between a four top of frat-type douche bags sitting in someone else's section. One of the guys bets his boy $200 that he couldn't drink a pint of hickory bbq sauce in under 10 minutes without puking. Are you fucking kidding me! I'd drink a pint of pretty much anything for $200, so I stuck around. If frat boy turned down the bet, I was gonna jump in. Well the shithead took the bet. Now my only hope to get in on this bet and make some money was if this dude's got a weak stomach. So I crossed my fingers and waited. Just by looking at the guy, I could tell he probably couldn't hold his liquor, let alone a pint of bbq sauce. And just as I suspected, about a half pint in and he was running to the ba

If you had a guy with no arms come into your restaurant, how would you approach the situation? I handled it like this. This is kind of an older story, but it will give you a good idea about how my mind works. So, this guy comes into the restaurant. Decent looking mid thirties guy. Two perfectly strong, working legs. But the dude was missing both his arms. (Tell me that doesn't sound like the start of a great joke, "A guy with no arms walks into a bar.....") Anyways I greeted the guy the same way I would any table, and I asked  him how he was doing and if I could get him something to drink. He orders and I fetch Legs' beverage. Back then our restaurant didn't have menus, just placemats that stayed on the tables at all times. So when I brought this dude's drink to him, I put it down just about an arm's length away, but still on the placemat. I went over to the bar and just starred with curiosity. The girl I was working with comes over and says, "What a

Listen people, there's not gonna be a hilarious tail of shenanigans every night in the world of ribs. So I'll take this time to touch on a subject that might hit home for a lot of people. Stereotypes . Working in the food service industry there's a shit ton of stereotypes. So if you fall into one of them, prove the world wrong and roundhouse kick your particular stereotype to death like my man Chuck would do. There's the "5....5 dollar....5 dollar black tiiip" (sing that to the subway $5 foot long tune if you couldn't figure it out already). Then there's the, "jewish 10% tip". There's the, "oh fuck! Here's an eight top of asians that are gonna share three meals, drink 2 owen juices, a gingo ale, and leave shit for a tip". And the never fails, "white trash, don't leave a fucking cent, no matter how big the bill is, scumbags" the absolute worst of them all. At least Bruce Lee, Mr.Mitzfah, and the Thug leave somet

There's this middle aged couple that come into the restaurant that are known as "The Fry Nubs". They're this weirdo pair that have the same routine everytime they come in. They always sit in a booth and the woman does all the ordering. First she orders two sweet teas. I go get the sweet teas and put one down in front of each of them. Then like fucking clockwork, the lady slides her tea over to the man, and orders a coke for herself. -(I tried to out smart them one time, and when she ordered the two teas, I was a step ahead and also brought the coke. Well when I put the teas in front of the man and the coke in front of her, she looked at me like I had two heads. Then with a pissed off look on her face, she slid the coke to her husband and ordered another coke! Cuckoo, cuckoo! Needless to say, I never tried that shit again.)- Once they get the beverage situation settled in, they order a large fry with cheddar cheese on the side and an extra plate. Here's where it re

Welcome all! This is officially the spot to read stories of hilarity and vulgarity that are involved in the everyday life of a server in the restaurant industry. Some of the shit you'll read will cross some lines, so if you're easily offended by swearing, sex, race, or retard jokes then stop reading now.