Captain Conundrum's Ramble

Hello I'm Anthony.

Nobody Likes a Snitch

There’s a sign on a highway perpetually filled with assholes that I drive on regularly that states, “Report Aggressive Driving” followed by a phone number.  Perfect example of the New Jersey Department of Transportation promoting the usage of the phone, while the New Jersey State Police are hanging out just down the road ready to peg you in the ass for a few hundred dollars and a handful of points on your license.  We pay for the DOT to fix our roads.  They promote safe driving by encouraging us to snitch on assholes who shouldn’t be driving.  While driving.  Causing us to lose focus on the task at hand (driving your own damn car) and recklessly veering back and forth halfway out and darting back into our lanes where we find that we’ve in fact became that exact asshole we were initially reporting!


It was a random Friday at the bar down at the end of town, as we were playing pool on the run down billiards table that’s seen more action than most rodeo clowns.  We’ve all been drinking for a few hours and my current belligerently shitfaced opponent, a friend of a friend, was rapidly losing interest in our game of 8-ball.  Completely ignoring me, I lightly ball-tapped him (100% inappropriate, but in my tipsy state couldn’t get his attention any other way, and that was my solution) figuring he’d get the point, maybe be a little disgruntled, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.  To put it lightly, things escalated, and he was in my face instantly threatening, “IF YOU WEREN’T <mutual friend’s> FRIEND I WOULD FUCKING BREAK YOUR PRETTY LITTLE FACE.  YOU FUCKING FAGGOT, YOU PRETTY BOY, I WOULD FUCK YOU IN THE ASS.”  I stood there and didn’t budge with his face so close I could taste the Coors Light, refusing to back down, mentally prepping myself for the multitude of things that might happen, and completely unsure if I should be ready to throw a punch or protect my anal cavity.

Right Under My Nose

I was fucking a girl for about a year that I refused to have as my girlfriend.  We’d see each other once per week or so, and she grew attached as I used her as a crutch while I searched out somebody I felt was more along the lines of what I was looking for.  One evening, after the drunken naked gymnastics we performed in her living room she saw an opening to say something meaningful.  Something that would get me to realize that I should stop galavanting around town looking for that perfect woman and realize that she’s been there the whole time, waiting for me.  As I zipped up my jeans she seductively looked over at me as she lied on the couch naked, clearly positioning herself in the most alluring way possible, and timidly asked me to stay with her.  I couldn’t believe it.  She never asked me to stay before, and I stopped before buttoning my pants and asked why.  She looked me in the eye and said, “There’s a ghost in here.”  Fucking nut job, “Have fun with Casper.”

Fun Old Guy

People Watching is one of the most entertaining activities that I frequently partake in, and when you couple it with laughing and making fun of those strangers, you’ll be participating in one of my most cherished past times.  That being said, I’ve been to events and kept my mouth shut, somewhat away from the crowd, and just soaked in the happenings around me.  People would notice, and when they did there would always be one that would come on over and inquire, “Hey, is everything alright?” And one day I’ll be an old fuck who responds with, “Absolutely, I love seeing all these different people get together, socializing, and really getting to know each other.  It’s a sign of true camaraderie and a glimpse of hope for us as humans becoming more accepting of one another despite cultural, physical or any other differences which will hopefully stimulate world peace.  Now kindly fuck off so I can sit back here and make fun of you.” 

She Likes Me for Me

There’s few things hotter than a beautiful young woman driving down the street in a covetable car.  Lamborghini, Maserati, Rolls Royce, or whatever with her sleek sunglasses, and alluring, long curly hair blowing in the wind.  That one that when you see her it’s almost as if the moment is going in slow motion and your eyes know that they need to focus as long as humanly possible to imagine that one day you’ll be a rich old sugar daddy.


I was standing up in the single bathroom at work, positioning myself into a good angle to take a dick pic, because everyone knows you can never have too many of them, and that particular day was dragging a bit.  After focusing properly, and getting the right lighting (which isn’t easy when there’s only one light), I took the shot.  And instantly wished the bathroom was further away from everyone else’s desks.  In case you weren’t aware, small bathrooms echo.  Loudly. 

Motivational Speaker

Just shy of three years and a set of buck teeth later, my sixteen-year-old self walked into the kitchen braces-free to show my dad what all that money he’s dropped left me.  First thing out of his mouth, ”Let’s see.”  So I excitedly smiled, so happy those dreaded braces were finally off.  Impressed with the outcome, he responded ”Wow, they look great.  Your whole face changed!” as he glanced at the “before” picture I brought back from the orthodontist and compared it to me standing in front of him. “Now to work on that body.”

What is Love

I used to tell my last girlfriend that I loved her, probably cause I’m dumb.  I’d be all intimate and shit, look her in the eyes and hold her tightly and expressed a meaningful “I love you”.  She’d be looking right back at me and say, “I love you”.  That’s when I knew I didn’t love her.  You’re supposed to say “I love you TOO”.  COME ON.  That was weird, it was never going to work.  

Just a Flesh Wound

I was watching porn the other day, nothing new, and right as it got going I noticed the female lead had an eye patch.  It was an instant turnoff and I almost closed the tab to move on to another lustful piece of cinematography until it dawned on me.  That chick still has a rocking body, and if it wasn’t for that Pirates of the Caribbean eye patch she’d be pretty hot, which only meant one thing:  she is one tenacious cocksucker.  And I mean cocksucker in a literal sense, not in a demeaning way.  So I stayed on and did my business.  Moral of the story, if you keep your head down and work real hard you’ll accomplish all your goals, and that day I did.

Duck Face

I had just made it to the NY Waterway on my way home from work and I saw a girl holding up her phone making a goofy face, clearly taking a selfie.  The word “selfie” alone makes me want to scream.  Anyway, I couldn’t resist blurting out, “YOU LOOK LIKE A NARCISSISTIC ASSHOLE TAKING SELFIES IN PUBLIC YOU DUMB BITCH!”  I’m ending pre-teen selfies one 12 year old at a time.


If your friend owes you money, and writes you a check with the name “CASH” it’s clearly for one of two reasons.

1.  You’ve successfully made someone disappear without anyone else noticing.

2.  They can’t spell your last name.

Either way it’s time to find new friends.

Pretty Good

The other day she said to me, “The sex is always really good, except when you cum too fast, then it’s just pretty good.”  She could’ve just told me the sex is pretty good.

Emergency Room

I HATE going to the doctor.  That being said, I broke my hand about a year ago now, and despite setting the bone myself I decided it would be stupid if I didn’t at least get it checked out.  I sat in that emergency room for almost three hours with an ice pack on my hand looking at all the people writhing in pain as they hoped they’d be next.  The guy closest to me was only 2 seats away and he looked like death.  He barely had the energy to hold up his head as his girlfriend tried comforting him.  The man groaned continuously and I couldn’t help but realize that it could always be worse, and that my silly broken hand was probably a blessing compared to the agony this man was experiencing. Also, how I wish he would SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR 5 FUCKING SECONDS.

Anything Will Help

I was walking down the street and couldn’t help but notice the homeless man on the corner.  He had his cardboard sign, little cup for change, tattered blanket to sleep on, and signature scraggly beard.  As I stared at him with his head lowered, down on his luck hoping somebody would help him I thought, “Damn, his penmanship is horrendous.”

Make Out Competition

Eighth grade brought me my first, and only, Make Out Competition.  It consisted of myself, the lovely young girl on my team, another “couple” (if you will), and the girl nobody wanted to kiss (AKA the referee).  The idea of this game was to see who could make out for the longest amount of time.  The referee kindly made sure both teams were loose and ready before a commanding, “3…2…1…GO!”  It was only the second occurrence of tonsil hockey I’ve ever experienced and my tongue was whipping like an eel out of water while our lips were fused together like Han Solo stuck in carbonite.  All of a sudden I couldn’t breathe, but I refused to lose!  So I opened my mouth SUPER wide (I literally have a big mouth) in hopes to grasp some air while my tongue still whipped like an unhinged and untamed helicopter blade.  There was no clear winner, but I knew I was the loser when our heads detached and I saw her face.  It was at that moment I realized breathing through my nose was an option I should start implementing.