If I had a million dollars, I’d buy you a green dress
And if I had a million dollars, I’d buy you some art
If I had a million dollars, I’d buy you a monkey
If I had a million dollars
I’d buy your love…
So sang popular music group The Barenaked Ladies. Well, it’s alright for them, isn’t it? With their luxury jets, platinum records and gold-plated bongs, it’s easy for rock stars to imagine such fabulous wealth. But in the current financial climate we are all going to have to lower our sights somewhat.
What if I had a hundred dollars? Could I still live a jet-set lifestyle?
Travel
Taking an exotic vacation is an everyday task for the rich and famous. I was planning to slip onto a flight to Bermuda disguised as an oversized golf bag. Then I realized it would cost me $60 for a taxi to the airport. And $60 to get back home. That’s $120, dammit!
Magnetic Hill! More fun than, erm...Forget air travel then. What about the bus? Not very glamorous, but if I pretended it was a rock ‘n’ roll tour bus I might just cope. I could pretend the old people were roadies and the lanky students were drug dealers.
Unfortunately, for $100 return I can only get as far as… Calgary, Alberta Bermuda it ain’t. I can spend my luxury vacation in a hot disgusting city full of rude hicks. Oh good.
Shelter
Forget a penthouse apartment. Forget a basement bed-sit. Forget a tent - they’re $200! But for $100 you can buy a lot of bin bags and a roll of duct tape. Simply stick them together to create a fabulous tent! You can even add an extension by taping grocery bags together. All the stars will be living in them soon! I’m going to take it on my Calgary camping trip.
I wonder… are bin bags bear-proof? At $3 a roll, I bloody hope so!
Food
Jet-setters never set foot in the kitchen - cooking is for poor people! So how can you eat out every day for months, on just $100? Easy. The cheapest food is found in a school canteen. I’m sure we all have fond childhood memories of school lunches and that plate of succulent meat thing pizza, fries and grease sauce. Yum!
Invest $50 in a pile of textbooks, a bundle of papers and an unfashionable sweater. Roam the corridors of your local school pretending to be the supply Physics teacher. When the lunchtime bell rings, join the queue for your hearty subsidized feast!
If your disguise is too convincing, you may find yourself in front of a class full of bored teenagers. Simply tell them to open their textbooks at page 132 and read to themselves for an hour, while you hide in the janitor’s shed until home time. That’s what my teachers did!
Bargain bling! And a free key with every purchase.Stuff
$100 isn’t going to buy much stuff. I went to the dollar store to splash out on $1 trinkets and shiny things, but to my horror I discovered everything cost $2! Bastards.
Fortunately, I’ve found the perfect store to load up on bargain gems. Murder Mo’s House Of Bling & Key Cutting While-U-Wait offers glittering collection of stunning jewelry that looks a million bucks, but only costs a few Canadian Dollars! Now I can ‘jewel up’ and hang with the beautiful people in the hippest clubs in Deadmonton, without looking like a cheap idiot! Phew.
So in conclusion, is it possible to live like a jet-setting rock star on $100? Well, unless you live in a bin bag tent in Calgary and spend your days hiding in school sheds wearing plastic diamonds… No.
The internet is full of people looking for answers to things. Well, this is how I like to screw with them. The following are via yahoo answers.
Original Post:
How do I get rid of a beehive? I have a nest under my porch and every summer there are tons of bees all over my yard. Anyone know how to make them stop coming back?
Bee master (ME):
Have you tried the honey technique? Dip your hand in honey get really close to the hive and lure the bees away. When they get tired of making their own honey and realize that you have an abundant source of free, non union honey they will move to the good life. Then just smear all that honey on a neighbors door preferably the one you didn't like anyways.
Optimus Bee (also me):
lol the honey hand only works in the UK. You need to lure the bees from hiding by pretending to be their queen. The queen of the Africanus Beeimus calls her bees with a low hum like sound. Everyone knows bees will not sting their queen, so get as close as you can and hum loudly; when you are designated as the new queen you simply have to walk away from your house and the bees will follow. Hum again and the bees will stay where you designate. This worked for my neighbor Bill.
Original Poster:
Ok, "Optimus Bee" that sounds totally made up nothing I googled about humming to bees comes up at all.
Bee Keeper 3000 (also me):
No Optimus is Totally right. I have been a bee keeper for 30 years, this is what I always use to keep bees from stinging me. Just make sure you get very close to the hive, when you start to hum your lips almost have to be touching the skin for it to work right. Also I have heard of the honey hand technique working in Canada but I have never tried it personally.
Original Poster:
........ Are you serious!?
Bee Keeper 3000 (also me):
Why would I take the time to answer you if I was just going to blow smoke?
Original Poster:
I think I am just going to get some pesticide or something.
Bee Master:
Fine if you don't want to get rid of that neighbor I guess killing innocent bees is the answer YOU MURDERER!
Original Poster:
I don't want to kill them they are just dangerous don't get all huffy.
Optimus Bee (also me):
If you want an organic pesticide that wont hurt them but just drive them away, combine 2 cups of water, 1 cup of sugar, 1 tablespoon of honey, and a dash of all spice (for flavor). Then spray liberally.
Original Poster:
Wont sugar and water just attract more bees?
Optimus Bee (also me):
I thought you wanted more bees? For less bees don't use the all spice.
I never heard back from her I hope her bee situation worked out.
BREAKING NEWS: MICROSOFT AND YAHOO ANNOUNCE LONG-ANTICIPATED PARTNERSHIP TO CHALLENGE GOOGLE’S DOMINANCE AS A SEARCH ENGINE.
Right before I headed home these words were splashed across the top of CNN.com’s web site this morning.
I could hardly contain my enthusiasm as I read the headline, quietly sipped on my coffee, and pondered if ‘masturbating astronauts’ – a random term that came to my head – would be a fucking awesome band name or just a terrible way to get semen all over your face in zero-G.
Like most people, a partnership of two such search entities might have all the importance and significance to me of, say, a partnership between Hanna Montana and Spongebob Squarepants. Oh sure, they may be all cute and fun and you may get off a little bit imagining them in bed together (perhaps fisting or wearing latex with strategically-placed holes), but how does a partnership between two highly irrelevant search engines impact MY world?
The short answer is: “It doesn’t.”
See, you strap Bing, Yahoo, Ask Jeeves, DogPile, Webcrawler, StinkMonkey, Twatsniffle, and whatever else dumb named search engines there are in the world together, and they’d all dump out useless junk. Want to see what I mean?
Google: Useful, relevant, information. Do you see how Google’s results point to Yahoo Answers? That’s like irony…or serendipity….or agony….or some frikking word that ends with the letter ‘y’ and means “kinda funny”. But either way, my search for wanking moonwalkers (not the Michael Jackson variety) turned up some valuable material.
No so with Yahoo.
Porn blogs and web pages with the words ‘astronauts’ and ‘masturbating’ somehow stuffed together on the same page by idiots. Hell, the first result doesn’t even HAVE the word ‘masturbation’ in it. WTF? I want my money back, bitches? (Oh, Yahoo is FREE, you say? Nevermind then.)
And to make matters worse – Yahoo didn’t even link to it’s own Answers articles on astronauts whacking off. Useless.
What about Bing – the renamed (due to a lawsuit from the defunct band of the same name and shitty quality…rock songs about dolphins crying? You pieces of shit!) and still highly useless search engine formerly named ‘Live’ from Microsoft. How would they handle ‘masturbating astronauts’? The short answer – they don’t.
Holy sweet Jesus.
You can see what I mean though – the brightest minds at Yahoo and Microsoft can’t produce meaningful results in either of their search engines, yet now I’m supposed to be excited that they’re knocking booties? Well, I’m not.
I’ll just keep on sipping on my coffee, thinking random thoughts about sexual excrement in space, illicit sex between cartoon and Disney characters, and using Google to feed me my morning results – just like I like them, hot and steamy, and entirely relevant. Thank you Google, for continuing to read my mind like you do.
Have you ever had dreams where you, in your dream, keep thinking “I gotta go pee” and keep trying to work peeing into your dreaming events somehow?
“Pardon me, Mr. Half Tarantula Man that I am chasing with my bow and arrow in this dream, I must take a break from pursuing you in order to find the nearest bathroom.”
Then you wake up and realize, wow, you really did need to pee just like in your dream? And the half-tarantula man is really waiting for you outside, just like in your dream?
Happens to me all the time.
I was going to write something about how it’d be funny to mix up sudoku and hentai, they’re both Japanesey-sounding words and one is concerned with filling in boxes with numbers, while the other is concerned with filling in numbers of boxes with tentacles. Pretty darn close.
But then I started thinking about my parents who could love sudoku. Maybe they also like hentai? Maybe mom and dad dress up with big swords and schoolgirl outfits (respectively) and get their freak on? Then I thought, “Maybe I’m a product of their fantasy lives?”
Then I was totally thrown off whatever I was going to post, and instead posted this. I think I’m going to return to my coffee now and forget that I ever pictured my parents roleplaying.
I love messing with my coworkers, partly because I’m evil and partly because I’m usually drunk at work and don’t know what I’m doing.
I would love to work at a big faceless corporation sometimes just for the anonymity factor and how easy it would be to make someone sweat or wonder what the fuck’s going on. I would leave all sorts of sticky notes hanging from people’s screens to mess with their minds.
(A customer is trying to cancel a non-refundable reservation at my hotel…)
Me: “I apologize sir, but we will not be able to issue a refund at this time.”
Customer: “I am a doctor and will have to attend to an emergency at that time. So, you need to refund me.”
Me: “Again, I apologize, sir, but as the hotel is unwilling to refund, we will be unable to refund you at this time.”
Customer: “Well, I guess I will just have to see you in court. I am a lawyer and I am going to sue you.”
Me: “Sir, as a lawyer, I am sure you read over the terms and conditions of your reservation. As I am sure you noted, this reservation is nonrefundable. If you’d like, I’d can review the terms and conditions with you…”
Customer: “The Catholic Church is going to curse you! I am a lawyer for the Catholic Church and I will tell the bishop to curse you!”
(At this point, I didn’t know what to say to this multitalented doctor and lawyer for the Catholic Church.)
(day 2 with no sleep)
Yes, it’s true – I burp about 25% of the time whenever I get up. (Look! Math! Percentages!) Fortunately, I don’t pee myself when I laugh or poop myself when I see bright lights, otherwise I’d be coated in my own waste for most of the day.
(As an aside, I was sure I was going to get through a blog post without mentioning excrement, but it turns out I was wrong.)
That brought me to thinking about the people that orgasm uncontrollably and I began wondering, “Self, what sort of things would you really really hate to have as an automatic reaction?”
* Crying every time I hear about Michael Jackson.
* Crying every time someone tells me a sad story.
* Crying every time I’m upset.
* Crying when I’m really happy.
* Flying off the handle every time someone leaves a dirty plate laying around.
* Bleeding without being cut.
Turns out I don’t want to be a woman.
But the upside to being female is that you can get away with murder, which would be really fortunate since OMGHAIGTGROTBITC? (Oh my God, how am I going to get rid of the bodies in the closet? Cops only frown on that corpse disposal if you’re male – if you’re female, it’s cute.) Oh, and have sex whenever you want. And have vaginal monologues, whatever those are.
Speaking of vagina monologues, if I were a woman I would do crazy things, like train my vagina to bark or speak or make funny noises. You ladies are probably thinking that I’m mental, but seriously, have you ever TRIED getting your your vaginas to make noise? I thought so. I think all it’d take is a bunch of Kegel-type exercises and maybe a tubelike prop, for amplification purposes.
I can just imagine rolling into work: “Hey gang, how do you make a cat sound like a dog?” ***WRRROFFFHPPH*** [That'd be the sound of my punani making a loud barking noise.] Everyone would laugh and I’d be a frikking CELEBRITY and then by word of mouth I’d get hired for private functions and eventually get rich and then have lots of free time to do my nails or whatever women like doing with lots of free time. Having babies? (Have I offended women enough yet today? No?) Buying shoes, then?
Alright, well that was a big rambling incoherent mess of a blog post. I bet none of that made any sense. Jesus Christ – day two without sleep and I’ve become a misogynist Japanese video game script writer all of a sudden.
There are many kinds of silence in this world, so many in fact that I have not had a chance to experience them all. There is a certain silence at 3:08 in the morning that differs slightly from the silence at 6:05, right before the sun comes up. There is a silence after you tell a joke and anticipation before you know if there will be laughter or more silence. There is a silence of mourning and a moment of silence for the fallen. There is a palpable silence when you take a stage that only you can hear. There is the silence of a hunter stalking it's prey and the silence before something spectacular is about to happen. And with all the variations and tapestries of silence that are woven together I have come to a conclusion. I don't really like silence well, not "that kind" anyways.
I find that I narrate many things in my own head, and while most people just think about things. I on the other hand have a tiny me inside that actually takes time to punctuate every thought as though from a podium. He has slides, video clips, a laser pointer, and rehearses the way he wishes conversations would have gone. I sometimes argue with him but he always seems to win. He can make me laugh at random times, so when you see me randomly chuckle for no apparent reason it's because tiny me has just told a particularly good joke. Not necessarily because I think you looked really stupid talking on the phone and trying to push your elevator button and missing 4 times in a row. Although tiny me will probably bring that up later.
Im sure you've all seen the make-ya-wanna-barf commercials for a certain nutritious chocolatesque drink wherein all the childrens are extremely happy to be given the chance to drink it, and their moms discuss how healthy it is. Right? They conclude with the kids whining in unison "More chocolatesque product, please!"
Oh, man I hate childrens. Especially ones that get excited over nutrition. I'd think about buying their drink if the commercials were more like my rendition:
Kid 1: Wow! Playing in the sewers all day sure makes me thirsty!
Kid 2: Yeah! I have diseases now!
Kid 1: How ‘bout we go back to my house?
Kid 3: Your house blows, Rodney.
Kid 2: He’s right! Your dog gave me cancer!
Kid 1: We can all have some rich chocolate Circletine!
Kids 2 and 3: Yay! Let’s go!
Sounds of scampering, shouting, clanging and shattering glass.
Cut to a spacious suburban kitchen. Two women are wandering around in it, putting away groceries and throwing carrots at eachother.
Mom 1: Ow! My eye!
Mom 2: Ha ha!
Mom 1: The kids will be home from the sewers soon. How about we turn off all the lights and pretend we’re not home?
Mom 2: That’s a good idea! I’ll go set fire to the lawn!
The two women hi-five and run to put their plans into action.
The childrens burst into the kitchen through the side door and track in mud, grass clippings, leaves and dog doo.
Kid 1: Mom?
Kid 3: Mom?
Kid 2: I’m itchy, and it’s dark in here.
Kid 1: Mooooommm! Can we have some Circletine?
Kid 3: It’s rich and full of chocolate, vitamins and lemur fur, Mrs. Rodney’s mom!
Kid 1: Forget her. She’s probably doing drugs with your mom, Kid 3!
They all laugh
Kid 2: Here’s the can. Yay! I’ll get some skim milk!
The other two beat the crap out of him
Kid 1: Skim!? That’s nasty!
Kid 3: Yeah. Here’s some butter instead.
The lights come on and the two women enter the room.
Mom 1: You little—!
Mom 2: Be careful with the microwave, childrens!
Mom 1: Roll your musty little friend out onto the porch, will you?
Kid 1: Can we have some rich chocolate Circletine when we’re done?
Mom 1: Hell no!
Mom 2: Of course!
Kids 1 and 3: Yay! Circletine!
Of course, it's not likely that any company interested in making money will air a commercial like that, but I've got my fingers crossed and my wallet ready.
He came from a small town, hypnotized by the big city life.
He came looking for a piece of action, all he received was a big city life.
He tried to convince himself that this was leading somewhere, but just like on the last day of school, everything was gone by the time he got there.
This guy Can't keep them boys away. We all thought he was happy.
But he say's "nooo, see I used to have dreams. But I cashed in something long ago, that I can't redeem. Once you do, your just another cut away. Scarred forever, and they just won't fade. I learned you don't get something for nothing, without giving up your soul."
He's now got the "get away" look, with a drink in his hand.
And he feels like no one.
He tries to put the past behind him.
And in his mind he he thinks that if he ever get out of this place things could be different.
But he still hides at the bottom of the bottle, and cries when he looks in the mirror.
Thoughts flicker through his mind;
Am I looking at myself?
I don't see anybody else
This is the price I paid. It's costing me my life just to get out of the game.
Once you are just another cut away you lose a part of your soul.
Now im scarred, And these scars won't fade.