Rants of a Mindless Fool

The Last Flight

2010-05-18T01:29:00.001-06:00

Oh watch - my son – the dragons’ fly,
Watch their silhouettes on high.
Watch their tails, their scales, their wings;
Remember all these different things.
Watch now: they are soaring higher,
Watch their parting puffs of fire.
And as you watch, give one small tear,
For this has been their final year.

Before our fathers reached these shores,
Retreating from their ancient wars,
The dynasties of dragons old
Sat here upon their treasured gold.
Here they lay in mountain caves,
Caverns delved by dwarfish slaves,
Here they ruled with splendid peace,
But this – alas – was soon to cease.

Our ancestors cannot be blamed
For marching in where dragons reigned,
They had been fighting far too long
Against the hordes that were too strong.
Their choice was die like fools or run
And so ‘twas here new homes begun;
New homes set up beside this sea,
New homes - they hoped - where peace could be.

These beasts that slept through winter’s days
Knew nothing of our father’s ways
Until they rose for spring’s first flight
And many huts then met their sight.
And then to men the Winged War came,
As from their peaks they dived in flame;
But these same men fought back with zeal
And showed the worms the demon steel.

They’d never met the metal foe,
But of its pain they soon did know.
It let their blood in many fights
And bought dark death with savage bites.
Their anguished cries cut through the air
And sorrow filled the dragon’s lair.
At last they’d met their match in might,
A match that brought their end in sight.

You know the heroes of those days,
Of Kraust’s and Thed’s inspiring ways,
Of battles, leaders, deeds and dates,
Determining the dragons’ fates.
But give – I ask – a little thought
For those ‘gainst which these heroes fought,
Like us they had a right to life,
But to their hearts we plunged the knife.

Through centuries our victory came
And much of it we won in shame;
We smashed their eggs and stabbed the ill,
Used every way to wound or kill.
Until last winter while they slept
Our ‘heroes’ to their caverns crept,
And there the entrance they did block,
Entombing dragons in the rock.

Now victory is here at last,
Now dragon dynasties are past,
The end of three dark hundred years
Filled full with fight and fears and tears;
But ‘fore you dance and sing with joy
I pray you pray my little boy
That those who with the wind do flee
Will find their peace across the sea.

10 Things I Have Learned Living Alone

2010-05-18T01:11:00.000-06:00

while i dont truly live alone anymore..... You do learn many things when you first live on your own, here is an account of the things i have learned so far:

1. Food does not expire, it merely changes consistencies.
2. Spaghetti loses some cache but tastes just the same when eaten out of 3 mugs instead of a bowl.
3. Forgetting to drain a can of corn before dumping it into a hot skillet will not only set off the smoke detector but will also shoot hot corn at you and all around the kitchen, only to be found later. If you choose to attempt this I highly recommend wearing a shirt as you do so, hot corn will sting badly.
4. It is time to vacuum when you hear crunching as you walk.
5. While not as glamorous, trying to kill flies using a Nerf gun with your shirt wrapped around your head can make you feel a lot like Rambo, even if you never kill a single one.
6. Many people believe that it is easier to wait for the rain to come instead of washing their car. For a man, a similar approach can be taken towards cleaning your toilet.
7. An interesting physiological change occurs when it is 2:00 in the morning and no one is there to talk some sense into you, suddenly a perfectly balanced fishing rod, made from ballistic nylon, with an eye gauge protector, for only 4 small payments of $39.95 seems very reasonable.
8. Diet 7up is an awful thing, it tastes like the carbonated, decaffeinated urine of a well hydrated cat. If you are wondering how i am so familiar with the taste of cat pee then i should let you know that there was a drink released not long ago that I believe was super caffeinated cat urine, remember surge?
9. Rather than having to get up to take my trash to the garbage can, I find it much more efficient to leave the trash where it is and bring the can to the trash right before it is time to take out the garbage.
10. Just because you are alone does not make it ok to watch super nanny. You feel guilty and dirty the whole time.

Nuke It

2010-05-17T06:15:00.003-06:00

I like to cook, as long as cooking means putting something in the microwave. Chances are if a product involves more steps than ripping off a wrapping and putting in near a heat source, I can’t do it. Sometimes I forget this though. Every once in awhile I extend myself beyond my culinary boundaries.

One day I was doing my grocery shopping and was wandering through the aisles picking up whatever caught my eye. That’s how I buy food, don’t judge me! While in the bakery aisle I noticed a box of pancake batter. I had not had pancakes in a long while, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of having them that day. Granted, it was already 1:00 in the afternoon and having pancakes for dinner is a little too crazy for most folks. Luckily Im young, if the Birthgiver's mother ever found out I was having dessert for supper she would be furious.

Later in the frozen foods aisle, I saw a pack of frozen raspberries. On the package in big curvy black letters it said, “Great for cooking!” I put two and two together and decided raspberries would go great with my cooked pancakes.

Somewhat later in the evening, I began to make my pancakes. On the box it clearly stated that adding water to the mix was the only thing necessary to prepare the batter. I pondered this for a moment and then decided that just adding water to the mix was boring. So, I put in a couple of eggs and replaced the water with milk…and got rid of a little bit of butter I had leftover.

I did not have a skillet so I had to use a frying pan. My apartment’s stove was notorious for its uneven cooking, but I braved the conditions just the same. I put some batter in the pan and I dropped in raspberries one by one. I added about ten, but it just didn’t seem like enough. To speed the process, I decided to pour from the bag. Instead of some raspberries, a bunch of raspberry juice came out. I said to myself, “Whatever, more raspberriness.”

Using a spatula, I mixed the raspberry juice in evenly, but that turned the batter purple. I now had purple raspberry pancakes. This did not concern me because I happen to find the color purple quite appetizing. After the pancake cooked on one side, I attempted to flip it. However, the pancake was too large to flip. I concluded that the best course of action was simply to use a smaller pan. This way the pancakes would be more manageable and probably more delicious.

It took me several minutes to locate my smaller pan. I tend to lose most of my cooking utensils if they are not vital to the operation of the microwave. Meanwhile, the pancake became overcooked and caked to my large pan. Caked isn’t a very good word, more like welded. I ended up chopping up the pancake into small chunks to get it out of the large pan. I wasn’t about to throw it away, I was quite sure the situation could be salvaged. Besides, I paid a hefty sum for those empty calories.

In the small pan the pancake was exactly the right size. However, the actual cooking was taking much too long, so I turned up my stove a notch. Apparently the 3 dial on the cooker means, “Smell funny, and don’t actually cook anything.” and the 2 means, “Burn the shit out of my pancakes.” Special note: pancake smoke is more acrid than French fry smoke, but far less acrid than turkey smoke. Just a little FYI there.

I didn’t want to set off the fire alarm so instead of turning off the stove I took the battery out of my fire alarm. I must have ripped a wire out in the process, because the fire alarm has never worked again. I’m still sitting here so my recommendation to everyone is to not put another dime in the pocket of Big Alarm. After both sides of the pancake were burnt I put them on a plate to eat.

The pancakes ended up not being cooked all of the way through. I was basically back to where I started: Relying on a microwave. The only setting I really know how to use was the ‘Popcorn in a Bag’ setting, so I put my pancakes in the microwave and pressed that button. The end product ended up looking a lot like purple burnt hamburger meat with thousands of raspberry seeds spread over the surface. I ate it too, I really hate wasting money.

The big day

2010-05-17T06:06:00.004-06:00

I’m the type of guy that likes to have things planned out, not just for how I expect things to go, but for every possible contingency. Regardless of how a situation enfolds, I will always be prepared. That’s why I’ve already fully planned out my wedding.

The idea for this really started after I attended the bachelor party of a good friend. It was nothing fancy; we just went out to a local bar to quietly have a few beers. I’m not a huge fan of beer and tend to go for the hard liquor. As Mohandas Ghandi famously stated, “Don’t drink a lot of Jaeger. It will pretty much mess you up.” At least I think it was him, I could be mistaken.

As I was driven home, my friends started to ask me questions every so often to confirm my consciousness. Seeing as how they were going to a wedding the next day they appropriately asked, “Fool, what do you want your wedding to be like?” I gave a muffled groan, raised to a sitting position in the back of the vehicle, clearly stated “Ninjas,” and then passed out.

My wedding shall proceed as follows: The wedding will take place in a church that has a large glass window in the ceiling near the altar. I will be wearing a tuxedo with tails covered by a frilled leather jacket. A gold rimmed monocle will complete the ensemble. I will not be wearing a top hat, that’s just tacky.

The wedding will begin as planned, but fifteen to twenty minutes will pass with me waiting at the altar with not sign of the groom. As whispers among the wedding guests transforms into unmasked chatter, the sound of a helicopter will grow near. The window above will unexpectedly shatter and in will repel my soon-to-be in a commando outfit. he will unzip the uniform and reveal his tux as well as a bouquet. “Sorry honey, my hair appointment ran late,” he will say accompanied by a wink. The ceremony will then begin properly as the priest suddenly appears in a puff of purple smoke.

In the back of the wedding hall will sit a three tiered wedding cake. Most often, this tradition is reserved for the reception, but sometimes I like to be slightly unconventional. Six ceramic pillars will hold up each consecutive level of the delicious baked good. Everyone will assume these pillars are merely an aesthetic choice. They will be wrong.

Model rocket engines will be housed inside each pillar. Each layer of the pastry will be on a timer to coincide with a significant happening of the wedding, for example the completion of the priest’s sermon. With simultaneous ignition of the six engines, each level will blast off accordingly, reaching heights of well over twenty feet…or however high the ceiling is. If financial holdings permit, there will be parachute recovery. Guests are welcome to whatever bits of frosting they can scavenge, as long as they are quiet about it. It’s a wedding, for god-sakes!

This cake situation may seem a little elaborate, but I just want people to be clear on where we are in the schedule. This whole thing may run a little long, and I’m not even Catholic.

As the pastor is about to conclude the wedding with the vows, three guests will leap from their seats and simultaneously shout, “I object!” They then reveal that they are actually ninjas…the evil kind! Of course, these ninjas will be highly paid actors, but no one including my future spouse will know this.

I will grab a nearby brass candle holder, do a back flip off the wall, and engage in battle with the ninjas. This is also where more pyrotechnics come into play. Through the carefully choreographed fifteen minute battle, you will learn through deftly divulged plot points that each ninja is actually an ex-boyfriend of the groom. The unique way in which my fiancée had dumped them will determine their individual combat styles.

Since my guy is radiant with quality and class, the ninjas will be especially vicious when it comes to winning his honor. The audience will learn that the ninjas were unable to deal will the emotional pain of rejection, and had sadly turned to violence and vengeance. Special attention will be paid to enumerate their transgressions against my companion to provide proper justification for the severe beating they are receiving.

If for some reason the groom has had fewer than three previous boyfriends, then we will attribute the ninja’s appearance and past history to the groom’s previously unknown retrograde amnesia. Looking at the big picture, this segment of the wedding will resemble a soap opera episode with significantly more explosions.

After the last ninja has fallen I will rejoin my husband near the altar, look him in the eyes deeply and proclaim, “I do.” As we walk from the wedding hall a large platform will lower from the broken window carrying the band ZZ Top. As they play “Gimme All Your Lovin” I will take off my leather jacket and put it around my newly gotten hubby.

Waiting for us in the parking lot will be a dune buggy, including roll cage. Many would question why exactly I would choose a dune buggy. To this I would retort, “Have you ever driven a car?” The answer would most likely be yes. My second question would be, “Have you ever driven a dune buggy?” Our stylish transportation would be fitted with a sign reading, “Just married, paid for in ninja blood.” That outta get some honks!

The reception will be held shortly after. The centerpieces on all of the tables will be blue lightsabers if the guests are people I like and red lightsabers if they are from the grooms’s family. There also will be one of two types of masks distributed at each person’s seat. These party favors will be printed on the highest quality paper. The masks will be detailed replicas of myself and groom’s faces. Each mask will have the eyes and mouth cut out for practicality purposes. The wearing of these masks is to be considered mandatory fun.

It is my feelings that there should be no dancing of any kind at my wedding. It’s not something I really have ever cared for. No, that’s a lie. It’s more like something I can’t remember not hating. However, I realize that I am now in a partnership. If my husband has a strong preference to do so, I am prepared to make compromise and agree to at least a single dance.

The lights will go dark, “our” song will start to play, and we will proceed to the dance floor with my him leading me. At this time a trapdoor in the floor will open and I will stealthily slide into it. A man of roughly equal height and stature will replace me for the next five minutes. With any luck my husband will be as unobservant as I am.

As the night progresses and the time for guest departure draws near, I will raise a crystal goblet and give a romantic toast to my him. I will take special care to verbalize my reasoning for entering into this relationship, and promise to make it an exciting, fulfilling, and ninja-free experience. After the toast is concluded, he will produce a jet pack from under the table, give me a kiss, and fly through the ceiling (hopefully avoiding injury). I will sit down calmly and continue my dinner as if nothing had happened. After some time I will quietly look inwards on myself, realizing that it has indeed been a very special day.

The first man to agree to all of this will be my soul mate.

Fan Fiction

2010-05-17T05:51:00.002-06:00

One of the least enjoyable things in life is when I am having a completely normal conversation with someone which steers naturally into what kind of books or movies we both like, and ends with a 3 hour discussion about this persons insane fan fiction.

Sure I like to come home from the Transformers movie and imagine how cool it would be to have a robot car that I never had to fill with gas for the trade off of mild radiation poisoning. But to write a 30 page story about how BumbleBee is in love with me and is really a girl robot and how he transforms into the best lover you've ever had, well... that's literally insane...
No seriously, I looked it up
Insane: Traditionally, insanity, craziness or madness is the behavior whereby a person flouts societal norms and may become a danger to themselves and others.

You bypassed social norms by thinking it was ok to tell me about your sexual fantasy involving a robot car, and endangered yourself by not realizing that I might beat the crap out of you!

Now I have always considered myself nerdy beyond all reason. I enjoy D&D themed books, play videogames, am a semi-accountant, write a blog, and have seen every episode of the "newer" Star Treks. I however draw the line at having sexual fantasies, or thinking that works of fiction could be real. Normally I am generally against the death penalty but if I have to sit through one more discussion about How Gandalf could in fact be your grandfather because you were adopted and you have strange magical powers I might just have to inject you myself.

I'll give you this you do have the power to make me feel normal weirdo. I need to converse with more sane people.

Moctopussy

2010-05-17T05:29:00.000-06:00

They want revenge. Or national treasury bling. Or weapons. They want to destroy the planet with assorted lasers. Or robots. Or giant sharks. Or giant robot sharks with lasers.

Some of them want a big-ass promotion.

But it occurred to me that very few movie villains, if any, ever want what so many highly obsessive folks teetering on the precipice of sanity seem to want...

An excess of cats.

So I was thinking, just once, I would love to see an action picture where the bad guy gets on the video comm-- which they all seem to have--

(Tech companies must make big bucks setting up satellite communication systems for Evil Overlords)

He picks up his pre-prepared evil guy speech--

(Because so often they toil for decades to achieve revenge and world domination, yet don't seem to have their evil monologues memorized. You'd think they'd be rehearsing in front of the mirror along with brushing their teeth every morning.)

-- And he tells our heroes something like this:

"This is Professor Heinous. My giant robot laser sharks are everywhere, and as you can see, I have you, citizens of Earth, right where I want you. So now that I have your complete and undivided attention, I will issue my demands..."

"By 12 midnight tomorrow, I want the major leaders of Earth to assemble and present me with the world's entire supply of...."

—You can hear a bead of sweat roll—

"...Persians!"

Here the leaders of the major nations, on each of their individual monitor screens, exchange glances with their advisors. Eyebrows are raised. The Secretary of Defense gives a meaningful look to the President and twirls a finger around one ear symbolically.

"Um," the President of the United States turns calmly to the monitor. "I believe they're called 'Iranians' nowadays."

"Not, people, you dimwit!" shouts Professor Heinous. "What am I going to do with people? I hate people. People make me sick. Persians! Persians!"

"Oh!" interjects the British Prime Minister. "Well, that can certainly be arranged. What color scheme are you going for?"

"Color sch--" A vein throbs in Professor Heinous' neck as he sputters. "Are you insulting me with talk of textiles?! This is a concrete stronghold cut into an isolated volcanic island. Do I look like I need rugs here?"

"Well, actually," says the Prime Minister, nodding hesitantly, "I wouldn't recommend the world's supply, but my wife indicates just a few would really tie the—"

"Persians!" shouts Professor Heinous. "Cats. Fluffy ones. That are soft and furry and go by names like Tiddles and Mister Whiskerton, and eat Fancy Feast out of crystal goblets. Persians, you fools! That I can talk to and pet and watch frolic after a feather on a stick. And which will never, ever leave me, largely because I will lock them in the Evil Compound and plus this is an island and they can't swim."

"Ah," said the Prime Minister of Japan, "'kay. Sure."

"And now for my second demand," says Professor Heinous. "I also expect to receive.... the world's supply of tinfoil, and all copies of the Sacramento Bee newspaper dating from 1982, February, back to 1960, July. I'm missing those copies for my collection and now that I rule the world, I'm thinking the time is right to really flesh it out."

The camera pans and we see that in most of the Evil Conference Room, there are stacks and stacks of hoarded yellow newspapers, piled high to the ceiling, many of them still in their original plastic wrappers.

"And don't send any of those Clean House people here when you drop them off. I hate that Niecy woman. She's obnoxious. I guarantee you, she will be the first to die."

So-- tell me, folks: what would you like to see a movie villain do that hasn't been done yet?

Mindless

2009-08-21T23:34:00.001-06:00

I was reading the news tonight about some airplane in Minnesota (or some state where people molest hay bales), where passengers were stuck on this plane on the tarmac for something like 8 hours and blah blah eating only pretzels, and mwah mwah.

To be honest, I wasn’t really reading the article, I was skimming it looking for some sort of reference to midget stewardesses, as my hobbies dictate I do. (You should see the guys at the Midget-Hunting Club local branch #47 when I tell them of my new finds. Totally worth all the work, being all respected by my peers n’ stuff.)

What caught my eyes were that this ‘Mesaba’ airline company (some sort of Jar-Jar Binks reference, I suppose?) or whatever the hell it’s called is a wholly owned subsidiary of Northwest Airlines, which in turn is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Delta Airlines.

I got thinking for a second, cause that’s usually all I’m capable of. “Self? What the hell would happen if Mesaba went and bought Delta Airlines?”

I just blew your fucking minds, didn’t I. No, I thought not because you’re only half fucking paying attention yourselves.

Mesaba would own Delta which would own Northwest which would own Mesaba which would own Delta which would own Northwest which would own Mesaba.

People would say, “Wait, who owns Delta?” And I’d have to answer the above line infinitely until the universe collapsed into some sort of singularity and we’d all die except for Stephen Hawking, who figured out some sort of freaky physics-avoiding umbilical cord and just floats outside the universal singularity in his tricked-out $475.00 (or more) wheelchair taunting the collapsed universe with his robotic voice:

“Hah Hah You People Should Have Spent More Time In Science Class And Less Time in Phys-Ed With Your Muscles And All That Worthless Shit”. [Imagine that being said in his Windows 95 voice.]

So, we can take from this whole rant that 1) I’m a fucking gimp-brain and 2) see 1)

Gordon Ramsay

2009-08-15T02:33:00.003-06:00

Lately I’ve been addicted to Gordon Ramsay TV shows. I guess it boils (har har, get the pun?) down to me liking swearing a whole lot, or maybe I enjoy scabby faces? I’m not sure. It doesn’t matter.

Gordon Ramsay shows include:

Hell’s Kitchen: Gordon Ramsay stars as a hypertension-riddled version of himself who screams at wannabe chefs for an hour.

If you’ve ever wondered how mad someone can be at overcooked scallops, this is the show for you to watch. Have you ever fucked up when cooking spaghetti? Holy fuck, it’s time for you to die, according to Chef Ramsay.

This is not a show you watch if you’d like to learn how to cook. This is a show you watch if you want to learn how to insult fat people, women, men, French people, cows, and Texans. But if you get off on people being ridiculed like I do except when the object of ridicule is me, then this is the show for you.

Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares: Gordon Ramsay travels from British town to British town, insulting restaurateurs who suck at pretty much everything. It’s more or less the traveling circus, except without clowns, elephants, tents, and everything that makes a circus a circus unless the circus only featured Gordon Ramsay saying “Holy fucking hell” for 30 out of a possible 40 minutes of air time.

The premise is this: Gordon Ramsay swoops into a restaurant, swears a whole lot, leaves for a month, then comes back and sees how much his swearing has improved the restaurant’s business. (It usually proves somewhat successful.)

Gordon Ramsay Kicks An Effigy of Mother Theresa In The Snatch Repeatedly: This show, which is perhaps less famous than the previous two shows, features Gordon Ramsay kicking a stuffed doll of Mother Theresa in the vaginal region for a half hour. No dialogue, no plot, just the occasional grunt and foul word, and a whole lotta foot-flailing. Due to limited syndication, this show is perhaps only aired in my brain.

“Why Mother Theresa?” you might ask. The answer from Gordon Ramsay is, “Fuck you, pig.”

Cheez Whiz. Excuse me what?

2009-08-15T02:26:00.003-06:00

Unlike other children in my Ultimate Fighting weight division, I never grew up on the teat of the Cheez Whiz.

Other kids would frequently bring their yellow-smeared vegetable sticks, sandwiches, and crackers for lunch and give me desperate looks when it came to trading time. “Sorry old chaps, this kid would be happier with his own lunch, thankyouverymuch!” (Yeah, I said it just like that because I wanted to be an elderly British man, okay? It was a phase I was going through. Wasn’t long after that I wanted to become an old Chinese lady too, that’s how I developed my “wise but disapproving ” face that I use whenever someone someone wants to do something stupid like go golfing in the middle of the night or put sticky-notes featuring a sketch of a penis on the back of our boss or something.)

Even at a young age, I was able to discern between what I should be sticking down my throat and what was clearly inedible and should be given some sort of government classification like, “Warning: Nutritional value for this product on par with eating radioactive slug excrement”.

Don’t get me wrong, the lady that birthed me would occasionally purchase a bottle of the vile orange vomit to eat herself, but even then it generally eventually wound its way to the back of the fridge -unopened, expire, grow mold, and try to crawl out of the fridge on its own and kill us while we slept and dreamed of hunting tarantula men with a bow. So it’s not like in my life I’ve never tried Cheez Whiz as if I were some sort of elite and repulsive Food Network critic, but Jesus Christ, what the fuck IS that shit?

Seriously, what is it? I just looked at the Wikipedia entry for Cheez Whiz and was only left more repulsed. Its least-horrific ingredient appears to be ‘processed cheese’, which I’m not sure if you knew or not, was created by the Germans in 1941 to poison the French into submission, which was a sure-bet given the French’s propensity to consume stupid shit like snails and frog legs. Okay, I lied about this part.

A ‘processed spread’ containing ‘processed cheese’ is like some sort of double evil entity worthy of being exploded on a remote island in the pacific to see what sort of toxic effects it has on an ecosystem. I mean hell, to start with, processed cheese itself is an abomination of epic proportion – let us not forget its origins of being the random shit they sweep up at a cheese factory when it’s not visibly contaminated with rat shit (look it up). Then they mix it with more Xanthan gum, candle wax, pig vomit, and orange food coloring, repackage it into bottles that look like they should be holding embryos at a research facility, then it ends up in your fridge. No wonder they can’t even spell it ‘Cheese Whiz’, they’ve probably been forced at some point by government to change the name in order to not mislead people into thinking they’re getting some sort of nutritional value.

Probably the most disgusting thing since Elvis Presley or edible underwear.

—

Speaking of processed cheese, America, you and I really need to sit down and have a talk about this association you have with ‘American cheese’. See, most nations are associated with shit they’re proud of, like “French Wine”, we have “Canadian Bacon”, “Polish Sausage”, “Mexican Tequila”, or “Australian Koala Toes”. (I made the last one up, but I’d expect them to be tasty with the right sauce.)

YOU though, awesome America, have unfortunately been associated with the dredges of milk byproducts, ‘American cheese’. ‘American cheese’ was a product of the US government’s Commodity Credit Corporation in 1982, as a way of simultaneously dealing with milk overstock and pacifying welfare folks with something they could use to slap on their burgers and not feel so welfare-y.

Now it’s been twisted into some sort of desirable topping on hamburgers or tacos, hell, even foo-foo kitchens keep blocks of this shit on their shelf somewhere since it never goes bad and advertise it on their fancy-pants menus – “Oh look, how quaint, Reginald, American Cheese on our foie gras! Let us!”

There are far more awesome things that could be associated with the word ‘America’, like chicken-fried steaks. Or cornbread. Or cheesecake. Or hell, liver is even better. Please make it so that when I travel to some sort of exotic international destination like Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and choose to have a Whopper, it comes with something that remotely resembles cheese instead of the tasteless processed crap that has become known as “American cheese”. It’s not worthy of the title, considering your awesome-but-not-quite-as-awesome-as-Norway (according to recent polls conducted in my memory) nation.

Thanks America, I’m glad we could have this little chat. Can we speak later about your aversion to free healthcare? It’s the other retarded thing with your sexy country that we need to talk about, then you can brag all you want again. Shhh though, I’m liable to be shot by some sort of medicare operative for telling you things you’re not supposed to know. Shhh.

Mysterious Restaurant Meals

2009-08-10T02:33:00.004-06:00

Due to the large amount of overtime im working, the 2 head bosses at my work decided to take me to a smart new edmonton restaurant for dinner. I eagerly scanned the menu, only to recoil in horror and confusion. The menu was all in foreign! There were some words I understood, like fried and with, but the dish descriptions were alien to me. The waiter sneered as I pretended to study the menu. He knew I had no clue, the bastard. Panicking, I picked the cheapest dish and hoped it didn’t have tentacles.

If you are intending to visit a fancy restaurant this weekend, here’s a few translations you need to know. Unless you like dining dangerously.

Starters are not called Starters any more. It’s First Dish, Amuse-Bouche or whatever the pretentious phrase is this week.

Soup is no longer soup, it’s bisque. It isn’t cream of mushroom, it’s organic shiitake bisque with crème fraiche emulsion . If you are unfamiliar with those ingredients, who knows what could arrive on your plate? A shit biscuit covered in cream paint?

How about panko encrusted scallops with tamarind drizzle ? Anything with a panko encrustation should be examined by a doctor. I don’t know what a tamarind is, or that it causes drizzle (or indeed any sort of damp weather).

The next danger dish is carpaccio. The description sounds innocent enough - warmed winter salad with organic carpaccio . Carpaccio must be like some kind of goats’ cheese, right? No.
Carpaccio is RAW MEAT. Just-dead. No flame has touched its bloody mass.
You end up with raw beef and cooked salad. The chef must have some serious issues.
Perhaps stick with the bread rolls for now.

Now for the main course, sorry, Dish Principal, Fourth Course or whatever the hell we’re up to by now. Attempting to impress your fellow diners, you order boneless grain-fed Cornish Rock with a compliment of seared potato shards and a blemish of spiced Peruvian tomato reduction . Your friends are not impressed when waiter serves you chicken and chips with a dollop of ketchup.

Pan-seared halibut with... green things! Eww.Those dastardly chefs can’t even leave simple Italian food alone. For years I avoided pizza topped with pomodoro, assuming it was some kind of chewy squid. Pomodoro means tomato. Why don’t they just say tomato?

Sometimes you recognize all the ingredients - except one. Roast (ok) pork (ok) with apple sauce (ok) and seared Ulluco. Uh-oh. Ulluco sounds like it may still have eyes attached. Pan-seared halibut sounds familiar, but unfortunately that psychotic chef has coated it in rocambole jus . Some poor rocambole (which I imagine is some sort of shrew) has been squeezed all over a nice bit of fish. Time for another bread roll.

Thank goodness for dessert! You won’t find any raw cow or crusty crustations in that. Probably.

Although you are reasonably safe ordering anything from the dessert menu, don’t expect your expectations to match what is plonked in front of you.

Four things are guaranteed:

Chocolate cake! With shrew!- Your dessert will be six times smaller than expected.

- There will be a single strawberry and two blueberries somewhere on the plate.

- The plate will be coated with a squiggle of unidentifiable brown sauce (probably chocolate and rocambole jus).

- Your dessert will cost six times more than expected.

If you are invited to a fancy restaurant this weekend, be prepared. Be prepared to face three courses of embarrassment, indigestible food and disappointment. Or tell your host you refuse to eat there as you contracted food poisoning after your last visit. Their carpaccio was suspiciously warm.

New Swear Words - Just For You!

2009-08-10T01:35:00.003-06:00

Fuck. I’m so bored of that swear word. I use the same old insults every minute of every day. Fuck off, screw you, suck a swan, blah, blah, etc. These insults are getting old and tired!

Luckily for everyone, I’ve come up with a variety of new swears, insults and handy phrases you can use for your everyday rants and road rage showdowns.

1. Suck My Invisible Cock - This is a useful insult for ladies. Or men without cocks.

2. Dick Trap - a nice change from the usual slut or whore.

3. Twat Ratchet - Every mechanics’ garage should have one, and frequently does.

4. Go Fuck Toffee - Have you tried fucking toffee? It’s very difficult.

5. Frig Magnet - Not to be confused with the handy kitchen accessory.

6. Wankatron - A great nerd insult. You’ve spilled Cheez Whiz all over the file server, you wankatron.

7. Jizz Jockey - A bit like a Disc Jockey, only stickier.

8. Butt Frog - Not something you’d want to see in your local pond.

9. Mitch - A male bitch. Apologies to readers called Mitch, but hey, wouldn’t it be cool to have a swearword as a name?

10. Cock Doctor - OK, some people really are cock doctors.

11. Twot - Only very posh people should use this, like the Queen or Oprah Winfrey

12. Chimney Whore - I don’t really know what one of these is.

13. Fog Fucker - Have you tried fucking fog? It’s almost impossible.

14. Twatwagon - A great insult for the motorist. Why don’t you go join your rolling twatwagon of fog fuckers… Officer.

15. Nadbadger - A comparison to a testicle-loving woodland animal? Ouch!

16. Kiss My Colon - I’m sure I wouldn’t want to do that.

17. Penguin Filler - Go fill a penguin, you wankatron. Another good insult for nerdy Linux fans.

18. Fuckerydoo - A game played by nadbadgers with the intention of pissing you off. My neighbor played fuckerydoo with the cops and busted my illegal puppy farm.

19. Sharkey - You’ll never hear this very rude word on TV, that’s for sure! For added impact, combine with Fergal - Nearly as bad as sharkey, but referring to a less moist orifice.

20. Jam Banger - Have you tried… oh, never mind.

So, next time some dicktrap driving her twatwagon full of screaming frig magnets rear-ends you, you can let the jam-banging cock doctor know exactly how you feel. Then you can tell that fergal sharkey of a twat ratchet at the repair garage to quit playing fuckerydoo and fix your car, otherwise he can suck your invisible cock. Fog fucker.

No, don’t thank me or send money for adding new swears to your lexicon. It’s just a service I provide.

The Fools bucket list

2009-08-09T23:36:00.001-06:00

I’m not thinking of dropping dead any time soon. There are things I need to do first. So, like those old guys in the coincidently titled “The Bucket List”, I’ve made a list of all the things I want to do before I kick the bucket.

Have you ever done any of these things? If they were a bit boring let me know and I’ll cross them off.

1. See inside my brain.

2. Vomit sake into a Tokyo gutter.

3. Fire a gun without killing someone (for once).

4. Win the Turner Prize for Art with my work Frozen Prawn in a Bucket.

5. Win a Dog Show with a cunningly disguised hamster.

6. Drive a tractor into the Sphinx.

7. Eat a jam and spam flan on a trip to Milan.

8. Send back a meal cooked by Gordon Ramsey.

9. Tour Namibia on a space hopper.

10. Endure a bitter and acrimonious divorce from George Clooney.

11. Roll a joint in less than three hours.

12. Ride a Segway around the CERN particle accelerator while it’s on.

13. Crawl through air ducts while being chased by robots.

14. Win an Oscar for my screen adaptation of the Yellow Pages.

15. Accidentally delete YouTube.

16. Run over a pop tart with a traction engine.

17. Give a three-hour lecture to an audience of people I hate, entitled “My Favourite Spoon”.

18. Think up a funny Lolcat caption.

19. Liberate Greenland.

20. Enter rehab for an addiction to tree sap.

21. Star in a medieval-themed adult movie called Robbin Hood of Sherfuck Forest.

22. Use the ‘c’ word in a company presentation.

23. Invent a new kind of cheese.

24. Take pot shots at kite boarders with a potato gun.

25. Ban the word “soccer”. It’s football.

26. Tickle a panda.

27. Steal a cloud.

28. Open a peanut-themed restaurant and call it The Nut Sack.

29. Un-see Two Girls, One Cup.

There’s no knowing when that ragged mob will catch up with me and burn me at the stake, so I’m pumping up my space hopper and heading off before it’s too late.
What’s on your bucket list?

The Dreaded Office Greeting Card

2009-08-09T23:23:00.007-06:00

You’re sitting at your office desk, minding your own business and pretending to work when the boss shoves a greetings card in your face. Some office monkey you don’t give a crap about is leaving/having a baby/had the sense to clear off and get another job. And now the whole damn company has to sign a tacky greetings card. By the time the card reaches you, it is already full of witty and clever remarks.

Stuck for something to write? Here are a few ideas.

Good luck with the op! I’m sure the surgeon has extracted stranger things from “up there”.

If you die, can I have your desk? No, only kidding! But assuming the worst happens, can I have it? Only kidding! Although you never know.
Let me know about the desk.

You’re so brave! May you endure the searing pain with dignity, and I hope the very long road to recovery will be worth the obvious distress it will bring to you and your family.

Don’t
Eat
Anything
Too
Hot while you’re recuperating!

Do
Ingest
Every medication you doctor gives you!

Please
Advise
If
Nothing works and you’ll be off work for longer!

Don’t
Be
Long-
Our
Office
Doesn’t feel the same without you!

Look on the bright side mate! That morphine drip will be a lot stronger than that other “stuff” you like to put up your nose, eh?!

Now they’ll never know who was stealing all the pens! And they never missed that photocopier. Nice one, dude!

Good luck with your new “career” - when I see a nicely sewn mail bag I’ll think of you.

Are you going to masturbate over the boss’s desk like you said you would? Oh go on, it’s your last day after all!

Congrats on your new career in “customer relationship management”!
Don’t forget this customer likes large fries with his Value Meal.

The washroom won’t smell the same without you! I’ll miss you like you missed the bowl, Lol!
To be honest, that was pretty disgusting.

an’t quite imagine someone having sex with you, but well done anyway.

Congratulations! What colour is it?

Here’s to many years of sleepless nights and vomit! Really, it only gets worse. You may regret this.

Yeah, it’s a baby. What a miracle. Special bundle of joy etc.
I know what one looks like, so don’t junk up my e-mail with baby pictures.

I’m so happy for you! As you watched that bloody, mucus-covered being spurt forth from your wife’s hideously stretched vagina, it must have felt like the most special day ever. Isn’t childbirth a miracle?

Does it look like you? Or does it look like the father? Only kidding! Although Jeff in Accounts mentioned something about… anyway, congratulations! I think.

Congratulations on your little miracle! I can’t have children, so I’ll never experience the joy of that first smile. Some people have all the luck! And some of us will face our old age forgotten and alone. Some couples breed like rabbits, while us barren rejects are left to suffer having baby pictures shoved in our faces and hearing the same frigging cute anecdotes again and again in a torturous reminder of how useless we are. Bastards.

I’m so excited for you! It must be the best thing that’s ever happened to you! It’s probably the best day of your life, right? I guess that’s kinda sad in a way. It’s only a sales award after all.

OMG dude, whose cock did you have to suck to get that award?!?!?!
Seriously, let me know.

God bless you! An angel from heaven must have been on your shoulder when you made that winning sale. And Jesus himself can guide you to strive for more! Have you felt Jesus’ love lately? I’ll be round your office in a while to share some exciting news about God’s big plan for you! See you soon!

I know what you did to get that award, you filthy pervert. I was hiding under your desk with my camera phone.
Don’t believe me? Search “Sock Puppet Anal Domination” on YouTube.

Hey Dave, well done! I’m so happy for you. I always knew you were the best. That cute smile, those big blue eyes… you are a special guy. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.
I’ll swing by your office after work, maybe we can get to know each other a little better?
XXX
John

Now when that office card drops on your desk, you’ll never be stuck for a comment again!

(Disclaimer: Employment termination may result from using these comments. Do not use.)

5 A Day Food Hell

2009-08-06T05:07:00.006-06:00

Why do healthy foods taste like cack? I’m sorry, but a weedy carrot is no substitute for a moist chocolate cake dripping with cream and hot silky fudge.

I’ve tried to follow a healthy diet, but there are some foods I cannot get past my gullet…

Brown Anything
“Substitute regular pasta and rice with the wholemeal variety!” squeaks the skinny fitness guru on TV. “It will make your heart and rectum happy!”
Have you eaten wholemeal pasta? It puts the ‘rough’ into roughage, that’s for sure! Rather than sucking up silky strings of spaghetti, the wholemeal version feels like your lips are being sandblasted. It has a crunch that should not be there. It’s brown.
I bet that if I traveled the length and breadth of Italy I wouldnt see a single shred of brown pasta anywhere. I guess the Mafia destroyed the Italian wholemeal industry after a ‘healthy’ lasagna made a Don a bit too regular. Well done, chaps!

Brown rice is even worse. Health nut vegans coming to dinner? Out of brown rice? Simply get your hamster to shred a cardboard box and serve the chewy shards with tofu. Your pasty party guests never notice the difference!

Raw Food
My granny swore by raw food during World War II. Having spent her rations on silk stockings and liquor, she often had nothing left for cooking fuel. So she would ‘dig for victory’ and unearth a few turnips to chew on while the Luftwaffe bombed seven bells out of her. That was the wartime spirit! And everyone was as fit as an ox! Not like kids today, mutter, mutter, etc.

Granny was wrong. Most people from World War II are now shriveled, white-haired and have false teeth (probably from all that raw turnip chewing). The epitome of health and vitality? I think not!

Bacteria
Seen those TV adverts for probiotic yogurt? The advert seems to think that having billions of crawling bacteria in your pudding is a good thing.
This is what bacteria look like:

an you imagine that swimming around your yogurt pot?

I’d like to know what makes these wiggly critters so good for me. Would they make me taller? Whiten my teeth? Put more smart thoughts in my brain? I doubt it. I don’t know about you but I don’t want any bacteria in my body, thank you very much.

Be everyone's friend at the movie theatre with a durian!Smells Funny
I should eat more green vegetables. But they smell funny. That tempting clump of broccoli smells good at the supermarket, but as soon as I get it home it starts to give off a strange cabbagey aroma. Boiling it turns the aroma into a toxic stink. Dinner guests move outside and eyes begin to water. Suddenly a Chinese take-out is looking favourable.

Did you know the world’s stinkiest fruit is the durian? Imagine a main sewer blockage on a hot day and you’re about there. In many Asian countries you can’t take a durian for a ride on a bus or to a movie because they are banned from many public places (sadly, this ban does not extend to sweaty tourists).

If you can get over the rotting flesh smell, the durian is the sweetest and most delicious fruit ever tasted. Apparently. Next dinner party, I’ll give it a try. It might mask the smell of broccoli.

I feel quite queasy now. I wonder though - maybe there is sales potential in the eco-nut health market for brown rice and broccoli yogurt…?

Testing, Testing: The fools Mock Exam

2009-08-06T04:59:00.002-06:00

Examination day is almost upon me! My job is making us do stupid little tests to gauge how much we know about the workplace and our jobs.... Being the fool I am, I have compiled a series of pencil-chewing mock exam questions for you to try out for fun.

You have three hours… no talking, eating or bleeding.

Good luck!

MATHEMATICS
1. Assuming an average erect penis is 5.25″, how many members of the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey team would be able to sign their name on one penis before they run out of space?

2. A car is travelling at 130 kilometers per hour. A police officer has 6 minutes to wait before being served at the Tim Horton’s drive-thru. How long will it take for the cop to finish his coffee and apprehend the speeding car?

3. A Somali pirate has slashed your throat after seizing control of your ship.
Assuming a bleed rate of 58ml of blood per second, how many minutes will you wreathe on the floor in agony before succumbing to your injury?

4. An Amsterdam prostitute charges €50 an hour for services rendered. At an exchange rate of €1 to $1.37, calculate the cost of a 7 minute blow.

5. Scholars insist 3 into 7 won’t go. Make it go.

HISTORY
1. Did the 19th Century Chartist movement represent a major challenge to the English political system? Or was it all just a bit gay?

2. “Peas in our time.” Discuss the political impact of frozen vegetables on the 1948 Berlin Blockade.

3. The construction of the Great Pyramid of Giza - How dey do dat?

4. With reference to the socio-economic hypothesis presented in Das Kapital, if Karl Marx was an ice cream, what flavour would he be?

5. Explain the main issues behind the Great Papal Schism of the 14th Century, in a French accent.

PHILOSOPHY prepared for the inevitable Meat Loaf question!
1. Meat Loaf would do anything for love, but won’t do that. Explain what you think that thing is he won’t do.

2. “‘Tis is better for a man to be noble and impotent, than be ignoble and have a really hard cock.” Discuss.

3. Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near? Explain.

4. “You’ll be saying ‘Wow’ every time you use it.” Examine this statement a) in relation to ancient Greek Sophist theory and b) with reference to Aristotle’s assertion that a Zorbeez was a lot better at mopping up cola spills.

5. Why is Richard Simmons? Discuss.

BUSINESS STUDIES
1. Your business can save $1,000,000 a year by transferring production to an African sweatshop. Give five reasons why having small children working in your factory is actually for their own good.

2. A competitor has copied your product and has flooded the market with a cheap imitation. Explain how to counter the threat using a) revised marketing strategies b) legal action and c) a dirty hooker and a video camera.

3. Wholesaler #1 has 55 grams of poor quality Kush, whereas Wholesaler #2 is offering 28 grams of premium Moroccan hash. The wholesale price for both is $13 per gram. Assess the best value deal for your clients.

4. Customer profiling reveals that 57% of your customers are male, aged 35-50, with a preference for large hairy men. Explain how this will affect your forthcoming advertising campaign.

5. Discuss how the stock market crash of 2008 affected commodity values of a) oil, b) puppies and c) Meat Loaf.

Time’s up, pencils down. So how did you do? I’m guessing not so well.
Don’t despair, hopeless exam flunkers! Trump your tests the Fool's way, with my new study guide Math, Marx and Meat Loaf - only $19.95, available from all good pet stores.

If It Moves, Tax It!

2009-08-06T04:54:00.002-06:00

Governments are always trying to think up sneaky ways to tax us. Here are some things that annoy me. I think they should be taxed more.

Crocs Tax
I nearly bought a pair of these hideous plastic things once. In theory Crocs are a good idea - you can get them wet and are perfect for the beach! Fortunately, my fashion sense beat back all rational thoughts and I managed to escape the store empty-handed. Phew!

Free Form Jazz Tax
Now I like a good tune as much as anyone. But free form jazz sounds like an orchestra being fed into a crushing machine. It confuses my brain and makes me cry. I sometimes think they play it in trendy furniture stores just to get rid of me.

Tax on the Phrase “Going Forward”
Next time your boss uses this phrase in a meeting, thump him. It’s for his own good. If your boss is a lady, don’t worry as ladies don’t say that sort of thing. If your boss is a lady and uses that phrase, she is really a man in disguise, so feel free to thump her/him. Then call the tax office and squeal.

Dog Tax
This umbrella tax covers Dog Poo Tax, Dog Piss Tax, Dog stupidly barking at nothing tx and I Only Bought A Dog So I Could Take Amusing Pictures Of It And Post Them On The Internet Tax.

Irritating Receptionist Voice Tax
“Good morning, TwatCorp - how can I direct your call?” squeaks that irritating high-pitched voice on the other end of the phone. Have you noticed how receptionists always sound slightly sarcastic? They don’t really want you to have a good day, TwatCorp can go suck it and it doesn’t matter who you want to speak to because they are going to cut you off in three seconds. All receptionists should be taxed out of existence and replaced with Steven Hawking.

Terrible TV Tax
Oh hang on, I think we already have that one. It’s called ‘Cable Subscription’.

Facebook Tax
Maybe not a popular tax, but if Facebook was taxed I may think twice about spending hours poking friends, sending pretend cocktails to people I don’t know and taking “What Colour Spacehopper Are You?” quizzes.

I mean, really! Come on. I mean, not to come on, but...Tacky Fake Tits Tax
Ladies who show off their man-made mammaries because they think they look sexy should be slapped with a huge tax, or at least compensate the rest of us for visual tit trauma. You’d think boffins would come up with fake tit implants that actually look like real breasts. They spend enough time on the internet looking at them.

Are there any other products or services you would like to see a huge tax slapped on? (Please note: suggestions including blond Tax, Fat Arse Tax and Canadian Blog Tax may result in you being banned from my blog.)

People I NEVER want to meet

2009-08-06T04:50:00.001-06:00

1. A cop wearing only one shoe

2. People who order skinny lattes but aren’t sure what skinny lattes are

3. People who believe Sunday is the first day of the week

4. People who insist a tomato is a fruit

5. A lap dancer that smells of cheese

6. Eighty-seven Goths

7. A door-to-door tampon salesman

8. A Christmas Parade Santa with a weak bladder

9. A vicar clenching a potato between his buttocks

10. An underage ambulance driver

11. A one-armed pizza chef

12. A dwarf dressed as a pixie

13. Anyone who bought a ShamWow because they liked the TV ad

14. A superhero with Tourette’s

15. A door-to-door door salesman

16. A bishop with a squirrel under his hat

17. A lawyer who lives in a trailer

18. A heavily perspiring Hooters Girl

19. A pixie dressed as a leprechaun

20. A Wal-Mart greeter with an erection

Have you met anyone you don’t want to meet recently?

Money?

2009-07-29T23:09:00.002-06:00

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.

You wanted answers.......

2009-07-29T22:32:00.002-06:00

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.

Holy shit! Microsoft + yahoo? Double suckage?

2009-07-29T21:53:00.002-06:00

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.

I dream of Pee

2009-07-21T00:47:00.002-06:00

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.

Hentai and Sudoku, dont mix them up

2009-07-21T00:28:00.002-06:00

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.

Fucking with Co-workers minds

2009-07-20T23:56:00.006-06:00

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.

Jack Of All Trades, Master Of None

2009-07-15T03:06:00.000-06:00

(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.)

I have a chromosome for belching when I stand up

2009-07-15T00:01:00.003-06:00

(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.

Silence

2009-07-09T06:09:00.000-06:00

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.

Rich, Chocolate...Circletine?

2009-07-08T05:50:00.000-06:00

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.

Half-awake writing

2009-07-03T01:18:00.009-06:00

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.

Sigh

2009-06-26T23:49:00.000-06:00

Elvis put it best, as usual:
"But if I've done something wrong there's no ifs and buts
'Cos I love you just as much as I hate your guts."

It's almost five months after the fact, and it still hurts like hell and pisses me off all at the same time. In spite of the faith I try to hold that at any given time things are exactly as they should be, I can't help but feel like in this case, this one time, it should just be different. I don't know if there was ever even a possibility that it could have turned out any other way. But the very thought of the potential existence of that possibility is absolutely killing me, and thus must be extinguished post-haste. I deserve more. And better. Soon.

Those of you that have the elusive "it": Congratulations. Sincerely. Don't fuck it up.

The Flat Earth Society

2009-06-26T04:52:00.006-06:00

There are a few things you can count on as you go through your life. 2 + 2 will always equal 4, and the fall TV schedule will bring another slew of irresistibly stupid reality shows. But above all these, we know when we walk along our city streets, play our Xbox 360s, and eat at our favorite restaurants, we are doing so within the confines of a round planet Earth. This is what is considered "common knowledge" by those of us who have been educated beyond Kindergarten. While not everything we learned in elementary school was accurate (for instance, the world--particularly sailors--had long accepted the Earth's roundness by the time Christopher Columbus came along), I'm going to go out on a limb--just this once--and say that I believe without a shadow of doubt that the Earth is indeed spherical in nature.

There are those who would disagree.

Meet the Flat Earth Society. At first glance, the site, which consists of nothing more than a message board, seems as though it has to be the product of someone's very dry sense of humor. I read entry after entry, convinced this must be the case. My friends, after long and thoughtful pursuit of this topic, I am no longer convinced. These people--these sad, sad people--actually believe the Earth is flat. As I read through the "literature" and "arguments" presented on the site, I felt a strange mixture of head-shaking-bewilderment and nervous glee. I don't think I have to explain the former. The latter I felt because I think I may have finally come across a site that fulfills a lifelong ambition of mine: to find the dumbest people on the Internet. I thought this mission was already fulfilled after studying the individuals who post comments on Youtube, but this had to take the cake.

In case you're reading this, scratching your head, and asking "How? How could they believe such a thing?", I shall take the liberty of reproducing some select choices from their FAQ. All your answers are inside. Delightful from the very start, the author of the FAQ informs us that he created this list after the society realized that for someone coming from a "round earth" background, the Flat Earth theory would appear to have some holes. Well, you have to give them credit for at least a modicum of self awareness. Here are some of the Flat Earth's Society's most frequently asked questions:

Q: "Why do you guys believe the Earth is flat?"

A: Well, it looks that way up close. In our local frame of reference, it appears to take a flat shape, ignoring obvious hills and valleys. Also, Samuel Rowbotham et al. performed a variety of experiments over a period of several years that show it must be flat. They are all explained in his book, which is linked at the top of this article.

This is perhaps the most enlightening thing a prospective reader will take from the site. Indeed, "Well, it looks that way up close" is the primary basis for the Flat Earth Society's belief in their doctrine. The book they mentioned was published in 1881 and, while we had made some important scientific and technological discoveries by that time, let's just say that we've learned a lot since then. Well, some of us.

Q: "Why do the all the world governments say the Earth is round?"

A: There exists a conspiracy among world governments claiming to have space programs and has disseminated the lie to the other governments, the media and the general public. The conspiracy hides the Earth's true shape from us for unknown objectives.

Rii-ight.

Q: "What about NASA? Don't they have photos to prove that the Earth is round?"

A: NASA is part of the conspiracy too. The photos can be faked using simple imaging software.

Do you see how close to the satirical line they travel?

Q: "If you're not sure about the motive, why do you say there is a conspiracy?"

A: Well it's quite simple really; if the earth is in fact flat, then the governments must be lying when they say it isn't.

Folks, there's no arguing with logic like that.

"Banned for Life" List

2009-06-25T06:48:00.003-06:00

Dear 7-11 Manager,

You should really post a sign reading, "Do not drink directly from the nozzle" on your Slurpee machine if that is your store policy.

Thanks,
The Fool

The Fool's Guide to a Successful First Date

2009-06-25T06:35:00.006-06:00

A first date, according to a study I read somewhere a few months ago, is one of the most stressful situations for a human being to put themselves in. Many have simply not mastered the fine art of mating. Well, I'm here to help. Follow these tips and you'll have a great first date and be on your way to the kind of relationship most people (most other people) can only dream about.

Brag
Early and often. This may go against your modest and polite nature, but you know what? Your polite and modest nature is going to leave you alone and desperate, drinking bacteria-infested water out of some creek in the middle of a Michigan forest.

Now some will complain, "But I don't have anything worth bragging about!" To this, I say "Nonsense!" Everyone can brag. Sit down and make a list of all your accomplishments, no matter how small and seemingly inconsequential. Did you graduate college? There you go. Only high school? Brag about it! Less than high school? Let's find something else to talk about!

"I can beat Super Mario Bros. in less than eight minutes."

"I was voted MVP of my T-ball team."

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard."

All of these make fine and decent brags, certain to impress your date and set the stage for a wonderful evening.

Tell an Uncomfortable Truth

Most people go out on a first date with the idea of "putting their best foot forward". Well, if you keep putting your best foot forward, you're going to wind up at a home for retired circus clowns, sucking down Jamaican ginger extract and slathering greasepaint on your old, wrinkled face. Not only is honesty the best policy on a first date, uncomfortably frank honesty will show your date you trust them and will engender a deeper connection. Some examples:

"I have an incurable foot fungus."

"Sometimes I poop in my cat's litter box."

"I have an unopened bottle of Crystal Pepsi I'm planning to drink when I lose my virginity."

Feel free to improvise with your own.

Forge a Bond
You might think it's impossible to forge a real bond on a first date. You might also find yourself sifting through camel dung in your later years, looking for something edible and moist as you make your way across the vast Arabian desert.

One of the easiest ways to make an instant connection is through the use of magic. Invite your date to think of a two-digit number between 1 and 50. When they have the number, do a little wave of your hand and guess, "37." Most of the time you'll be right, and your date will be utterly taken aback by the psychic connection you share. If the number was not 37, grumble, "Well, the trick only works with smart people." This will leave your date feeling ignorant and defenseless, possibly bringing them down to your league.

Specific Advice
You're probably saying, "Come on, Fool, isn't this enough? How am I going to remember all this?" You'll also probably be saying, "Hear ye, hear ye," as you accept a job as a town crier at Fort Edmonton just a few days shy of your 80th birthday, you sad, pathetic loser.

Guys/Girls: Flip a coin to see who pays for dinner. If you win, lucky you! If they win, tough break, sucker.

Girls: Take off a shoe and place it on the dinner table just before dessert. Say, "I'll be your Cinderella."

Straight Guys: Research one topic for a week straight before your date. You can then talk over your date's head for most of the meal, which will subconsciously remind them that, as a man, you are naturally smarter than her.

Everyone: Spend at least 1/3 of the meal repeating the phrase, "I could have made all of this at home for much less money." Increase percentage to 1/2 if the dinner costs more than $100.

Guys: Place a condom in your wallet. "Accidentally" let them glimpse it when you pay the bill. If they arent looking, mention it directly.

Gay Guys: Casually mention that you've had sex with so many guys this month that you're sure your AIDS test results are no longer valid. Guys like a sense of risk and adventure.

Getting a Second Date
Truthfully, I don't have a lot of experience in this area. Feel free to offer your own suggestions.

Ten Suitable Punishments for Your Disobedient Brat

2009-06-25T06:15:00.004-06:00

I was reading an interesting story the other day about a mom who had given her son up for adoption at the age of 7 because the kid would not listen to her or do anything she told him to do. Wash the dishes, no. Clean up your room, nuh uh. Go to bed at a decent hour, not gonna happen. What happened next was especially sad, as the boy was adopted by an unsavory religious cult somewhere north and was soon eaten by an bear as part of a bizarre ceremony. Even sadder, the bear turned out to be allergic to brat, and died subsequently. Adding to the misfortune, the bear's rotting corpse polluted a small section of the forest, causing myriad wildlife to die or relocate.

Okay, I'm not sure if I really read that story somewhere or I dreamed it, but the point remains the same. Many parents are unable to get their kids to listen, and the results can be horrifying. I thought it would be nice to once again give freely of my wise advice. Here, for struggling parents everywhere, are my top ten punishments to dole out to misbehaving children, so that they may avoid causing a minor ecological disaster in the future.

#10: Refuse to allow the child to wear his or her seatbelt for a three week period.

#9: Take away Playstation 3. Replace with Atari 2600.

#8: For teenagers: Drop child off in front of school each day for a week. Make big production out of kissing and hugging them before letting them go inside.

#7: For small child: Read them the classic children's book, The Invisible Bees Who Are Everywhere. Do not alert them to its fictional nature.

#6: Gently remind them that they are the reason Dad left.

#5: Threaten to pull car over.

#4: Friend them on Facebook. Immediately post brutally honest 25 Things About Me meme.

#3: Continue regimen of haphazard, rage-driven corporal punishment.

#2: Write a starkly inappropriate love note to his teacher, signed with his name. Instruct child to give to teacher.

#1: Pay neighborhood bully $5 to teach em a lesson.

When Is It Okay?

2009-06-25T06:02:00.003-06:00

I was reading an article some time ago that was addressing some of the variations on one of the most common questions people have--namely, "When is it okay...?" The questions and answers were so common and generic, however, I found myself losing interest rather quickly. "When is it okay to lie?" "When is it okay to wear white?" "When is it okay to...to...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

I looked through the article, but I couldn't find any answers to the questions I found most pressing in my life. Knowing that the article was likely to be popular and recurring, I penned a list of ten questions in the same format and submitted them to the magazine. Well, it's been roughly a year and none of my questions have made it into the magazine. However, I still need answers! Therefore, I'm turning to you...the Internet...to help me find the answers I'm seeking.

Question #1: When is it okay to eat one of those dishwasher detergent cakes?
***

Question #2: When is it okay to tell a department store clerk that you'd like to feel the inside of their pocket?

***

Question #3: When is it okay to don a rainbow colored vest and skip through a public park?

***

Question #4: When is it okay to use your finger to sample the salsa, rather than a chip?
***

Question #5: When is it okay to tell people you saw a dinosaur in their laundry hamper?
***

Question #6: When is it okay to poop in the shower?

***

Question #7: When is it okay to show co-workers your nude drawings of Abraham Lincoln?
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Question #8: When is it okay to ask your father to change his name to Forrest Whitaker?

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Question #9: When is it okay to admit to a (possible) homicide (legally speaking)?
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Question #10: When is it okay to punch an otter?

Curious seekers...

2009-06-25T00:40:00.000-06:00

It’s time once again to take a look at what people were searching for when they came across my blog. To be honest, I think I get more enjoyment out of this than anyone else, but here goes…

Jack the necrophiliac: The part of the nursery rhyme you hadn’t heard. I guess climbing up a hill to fetch a pail of water wasn’t’ Jack’s only passion.

Olympic boinking icon: Who knew that this was an Olympic event, let alone what the icon for it is. Gold medal, bronze medal, who the hell cares…just tell me where the tryouts are being held.

Cyanide pie: I’d bet my last dollar that it was Martha Stewart who typed those words. The judge who sentenced her to prison might want to avoid baked goods for a while…I’m telling you this woman never forgets.

Average life span of sumo wrestler: Well, lets’ put it this way, I’m pretty sure that unlike baseball, there’s no “Old Timer’s Day” in sumo wrestling.

World record largest bowel movement: I don’t have any exact numbers on this, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it involved one of the aforementioned sumo wrestlers.

Alternate uses for a motorcycle helmet: Lets see…a hot tub for hamsters, an ashtray, a some what leaky Jell-O mold…oh, the possibilities are endless.

Naked druid priestess: Probably someone from the “Dungeons & Dragons” crowd surfing for porn.

Cat Stevens half eaten sandwich: I couldn't figure out if this was a search for a Cat Stevens song called “Half eaten sandwich” or if someone was looking to buy an actual sandwich that Cat Stevens didn’t get to finish. This may haunt me forever.

The howler monkey’s enemy: Anyone who has ever heard the song “Daydream Believer”, no wait…wrong group of monkey’s.

Strudel sayings: When you start to believe baked goods have the ability to speak, you’ve probably “over medicated” yourself.

News Flash!

2009-06-25T00:34:00.001-06:00

If ever I were. And now may have to stop this silly thing-whatever-it-is.

Those waiting for any elaboration upon the subject of the dreadful ‘Jeremy’ may have to wait FOREVER!

Today.

I am At Work.

As I take my job very seriously, I am reading a online newspaper. As are several of my colleagues. There is a news item regarding a very pleasant – by all accounts, and there are lots of them – local man who had tried to prevent some youths from being a terrible nuisance on his street and who had been killed to death for his trouble.

I read it, and can only think that the sub-editors have let themselves down.

The page headline on the subject reads ‘Death of Mr. Nice Guy’.

It could have been better, I think.

How, ask my colleagues. What would be the more effective headline?

Me: ‘No More Mr. Nice Guy’.

Absolutely nobody laughs.

Many look horrified.

I quit.

Jon and Kate divorcing? Math gets all fucked up, yo!!!!

2009-06-24T23:59:00.002-06:00

I just read that Jon and Kate are getting a divorce, and now I’m wondering how this affects their math equation?

"Jon minus Kate, plus eight, minus four, three out of seven days?"

In other news, who the hell cares? If I could punch both of them in the vaginas, I would.

The fools review of: Transformers 2

2009-06-24T05:35:00.002-06:00

Michael Bay is a Transformer. Consider: In the 2007 Transformers movie and in this unwieldily titled sequel, robots from space try to defeat human adversaries by attacking from all directions with inexorable force, making resistance to their onslaught futile. Can it be mere coincidence that this also describes Bay's method of movie-making? If he ever wins an Oscar (and he's clearly trying with this bloated, two-and-a-half-hour monsterpiece) I expect to see him morph from man to Steadicam on the podium.

Not that there's much steadiness in Revenge of the Fallen. In spite of the putative defeat of the bad guys and the destruction of a dangerous doohickey called the Allspark in the last movie, there are now about twice as many robots, good and evil, wandering the Earth. Most of them fall into the category of annoying-and-slightly-racist-comic-relief, like the mini-bot Frenzy, who sounds like a speeded-up recording of Joe Pesci, or the jive-talkin' Skids and Mudflap, who don't do any favours to General Motors' public image.

The story finds Sam Witwicky (Shia LaBeouf) fully recovered from the events of the last movie, and heading off to college. He leaves behind girlfriend Mikaela (Megan Fox), though he'll call on her later. You don't put Fox in a movie and not give adequate screen time to her curves, just as you don't cast the U. S. Army and not have them blow up most of Egypt, significant portions of Shanghai and strategic bits of Paris and Washington. (It's easy to gloss over Fox's character, however, since Bay coats her in lip gloss, hair gloss, skin gloss and tooth gloss before placing her before the cameras.)

While packing for college, Sam stumbles on an overlooked splinter from the Allspark, which gives him seizures and makes him see strange symbols. (The underlying moral: Clean up your room!) This causes every Decepticon (bad robot) to give chase, while every Autobot (good robot) tries to protect him, and a few fence-sitters wait for the dust to clear. Which takes a while, since most of the action happens in the desert outside Cairo, with a giant robot vacuum blowing sand in everyone's eyes. (Notice, I didn't say the movie sucks.)

Many of these Cairo scenes feature images, locations and events eerily similar to those from the Indiana Jones series of films. LaBeouf, you'll recall, had a major role in the last of those; some actors get to keep their costumes, but he seems to have been allowed to plunder the scripts.

Speaking of scripts, let's assume for the sake of argument that writers Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman (Star Trek, Transformers) and Ehren Kruger (The Brothers Grimm) have penned one that makes sense. You still might find that a prolonged, mid-movie trip to the snack bar helps you understand it, if only by giving you time to clear your head.

Of course, you risk missing one of the 17 utterances of "the fallen shall rise!" that make the movie sound like an angry advertisement for a seniors' help line. On the other hand, you may walk out during a sequence that sounds like this -- BLAM! "Oh no!" POWIE! "runrunrun!" KER-PLOW! "Go!" BLAM! -- only to find it still going on when you come back 15 minutes later. That's if you choose to come back; the nice thing about summer movies is there's no coat on your seat to retrieve.

Should you stay, you'll find no end of action. (That's how it feels, literally: Action. Without. End.) Bay opens his movie in "17,000 BC" and an early meeting between humans and Transformers, back when all they could transform into was the wheel. From this vague, prehistoric beginning we move to a more precise and timely location: "Shanghai, 22:14 today." But regardless of when or where the robots do battle, their tactics differ little from their cousins, the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. They crash into each other and hurl heavy objects and insults. Optimus Prime, the head honcho, prefers vintage taunts like "punk-ass Decepticon!" as though channelling early Eastwood.

The humans -- by which I mean the audience as well as the characters in the movie -- are best advised to stay out of the way as Bay destroys things big-- the pyramids take a beating -- and small (really, a car/fruit stand collision in a US$200-million movie? Really?). Every so often, one of the flesh-and-blood types reveals a little wisdom. John Turturro, reprising his role as an agitated government agent, quotes from Screenwriting 101 when he tells another character: "Beginning. Middle. End. Facts. Details. Plot. Tell it." If only someone, human or otherwise, had been listening.

public service anouncement......

2009-06-04T05:16:00.001-06:00

So i had lunch with jackie, and I have a public service anouncement......

Dear white guys:

I would like to point out that unless you're Eminem, it's pretty fucking difficult to pull off the ginormous pants, Fila sneakers, fake gold rolex, and huge jersey. What's twice as hard to pull off is the sideways hat a la Will Smith circa 1993.

If you are to look at the example of a guy dressed like this who sat next to me at lunch, you'll note that it's four times as hard to pull off this look if you happen to also be Jewish. So, please, for your own sake, stop. Actually, no, for my sake, please stop because I think I have bruised ribs from trying to control my internal giggle fit.

Now that we've discussed clothes, let's discuss the language. Here's a list of words/phrases that should never come out of your mouth unless you're joking:

Yo, bitch, you wanna take a ride in my hoopdee?
That shit is tight, yo
we crunkin up in hee-yuh

You get the idea. Do I need to bother with the token disclaimer that states I am not a racist? blah, blah, blah, I heart everyone. Fuckyouverymuch.

It's called hygiene, folks, and it's a good thing.

2009-06-04T05:12:00.001-06:00

It's been so long since I worked in the day that I must have forgotten how disgusting people are.

Edmonton is ripe, literally, with BO, body hair, and just plain old grossness. Is it so fucking difficult to take a shower, put on deoderant, or God forbid, pick up a razor now and again?

Good Lord, I was helping a woman with her luggage the other day. She was wearing a tank top and she appeared to have Pauly Shore in a headlock. When you see that much hair under a girl's arm, it sorta takes you off guard for a minute. I was in mid-sentence when she lifted her arm and I find myself saying "uh....uh...yeah, no problem". Gah! It's disgusting.

Then a whole bunch of hippie-alterna-punk kids came in and asked how much for a night. You know, because they can afford a hotel (bullshit) Anyway, they all stunk. Horribly. Terrible BO. I had to hold my breath.

These people can't all live alone. What are their significant others or parents doing about this? If Mr. T stunk like that, I'd be like, "Get your ass in the shower and just when you think you're really clean, take another fucking shower". We don't need no stinky here, thanks. I know he would do the same for me and I love him for it. And if you're worried about wasting water, then conserve it by showering with a friend. It's the least you can do for the environment.

Dear Annoying, Violent Tweeker Guests:

2009-06-04T05:10:00.000-06:00

Do I owe you $19.95? I feel this must be the going rate for amateur pornos...

Also, Can I request that if, in the future, you feel the need to have 1 1/2 hour long bouts of REALLY REALLY LOUD sex, complete w/ wall banging, POSSIBLE megaphone usage, and every cliche thing that you can think of to say during said REALLY REALLY LOUD and FRIGHTENINGLY LONG sexual romp, that you PLEASE do it at home.... not when their is a single mom and a 5 year old in the room below you?

Really...i'm not sure what to say to her when she asks me what the noises are that are coming from ABOVE HER ROOM! (and good lord...was that for real?? You should be taping that shit...you could make some serious money.)

That is all.

In Awe,

The Night Manager

Sigh....

2009-06-04T04:55:00.001-06:00

So I’ve been sitting at my chair for, um, who knows. All I know is that I came to work sometime today. The rest since then is a blur, I’ve been working nonstop on a project for two days now, yuck.

To salute other hardworking individuals out there, I’d like to mention a few special people who also worked tirelessly towards their goals:

MacGyver – this sonofabitch never rested, all he ever did was like build coke bottle fusion reactors and fire-alarm-setting-off smoke bombs out of dry ice all day and all night until he scored some big haired 80’s B-actress and wiped the smirk off that bald-headed prick boss of his with his “smell my fingers” gloating shenanigans after a successful mission.

Bob Newhart – when did Bob Newhart ever throw up his hands and give up? Okay, maybe in every single episode of Newhart. So take him off this list, I guess.

Those guys whose plane crashed in the Andes and they ate each other - remember them? Yeah, the story Alive, you had to read it in high school didn’t you? I did, and I actually LIKED the story despite being forced to read it. They never gave up, they climbed the mountain up and down and chewed through dead people’s asses in order to survive. Back in the day, that’s how shit was done – copious ass-chewings. Nowadays kids couldn’t chew through an ass to save their life.

Bon Jovi - here’s a dick that never gave up. Did you know he’s STILL making music? True! Someone hasn’t killed him yet! I think he went country or something though, or maybe he got a sex change and is singing with the Pussycat Dolls these days. Who the hell knows. All I know is that he hasn’t yet produced a grave for me to spit on.

Newt Gingrich – hey, after 170 years in politics with the pussiest name known to humankind, you have to admire this guy’s tenacity. Didn’t he even survive some sort of sex scandal where he was caught sucking someone’s toes? Oh, wait, that was the Marv Albert scandal, which was a pretty tame scandal compared to today’s standards.

Madonna – I swear this twat of a human being will keep dancing till she’s 150. She’ll also keep opening her vaginal flower to accommodate wayward basketball players for just as long, I suspect. God, can you imagine what her snootch looks like after the endless stream of man-meat that has thrust into it after all these years? I’m disgusted and turned on at the same time by the thought of it. Maybe a bit more on the disgusted side, not sure.

Santa – how does he keep doing it? Last year I didn’t get anything from him at ALL, which I kind of expected since I had masturbated into a big mayonnaise jar over the whole year and dumped it in the apartment building’s water supply facility, hoping to impregnate someone who lingered in their bath water a little too long. It was a stupid idea really, how would I know if I were ever successful? And why did I do it to begin with? Who knows, it sounded like a good idea at the time. Whatever, anyways, even though he caught me being a bad boy and stiffed me at Christmas, I still admire him for being able to hang in there for about 16000 years or however long he’s been at it.

Well, I’m going to get some coffee. Think of me when you’re having your next bath!

Mindless

2009-06-04T04:45:00.000-06:00

Its time I actually wrote something about myself. I’ve thought long and hard about what I can say. Everyone has their own opinion and view on who they are, and most of the time its different from what others see. So ill just write a couple things I've learnt about myself and let you judge:

Ill start off by saying I keep my emotions and opinions close to the surface. I’m the type of person who will tell you your being an ass, get mad at you, maybe yell at you a bit, and then after I’ve vented ill be fine. I don’t hold grudges or keep feelings on the inside. To me it seems unhealthy.

Online I seem harsh, even jaded. While these two things are a part of my personality by no means are they 100% of it. Chances are you’ll see the fun dopey side of me a lot more if I see eye to eye with you. I do have buttons that don’t like to be pushed, and personally don’t think of this as unusual, almost everyone has issues that they feel strongly about, the difference is most people are driven by fear to hid them, ignore them, or suppress them. I tend to be blunt and honest about mine. Yes it gives me an "assholish" quality. But if you sit back and think; wouldn’t it be better for someone to inform you that you’re pissing them off? Or would you rather have them hide it and let those feelings of disgust and anger multiply, until they cause a much larger fight later on.

I hate the gay community. No im not talking about the bars, the drag queens, or guys holding hands in public. In fact I remain neutral to almost everything along those lines. I’m talking about the people in the community itself. To me it seems like most of you are following 1 of 3 basic stereotypes. Clones if you will. And to put it bluntly they aren’t very good stereotypes to emulate.
1. The gym/tanning JL guy.
I have nothing against looking good, and I respect people who look after their bodies. But since when did this "mentality" suppress all other aspects of your personality? If all you do is work, gym "it", tan, and then club with friends is there any time left to better yourself intellectually, and not worry about how others view you?
These guys also tend to fall into two sub categories, your ether "out" and stuck up; looking down on those of us who still think a shirt is a shirt as long as it looks ok, and don’t feel the need to be a poster boy for "JL’s gay trash of the week" magazine. Or. Your a closet case who is afraid of who you are, and tries way to hard to be as "masc." as you can be, while only really enjoying the sex, never anything more.
2. The cultural Rebel.
The type of guy who always starts out by saying he’s not into the “scene” at all, a guy who always has music and reading in there profile. True this is interesting at times, but just like with the aforementioned “meat-heads” their need to appear more cultured and intelligent then the rest of “normal gay guys” seems to assimilate any other shred of personality they had. Leaving them looking boring and giving them a rude ego few can match. All are to busy trying to be “different” that they cannot see they are all coming out the same.
This brings me to the third stereotype. The one I despise most.
3. The spoiled brat.
Guys in this category usually seem to be in their late teens or early 20s, and out of everyone they annoy me the most. Sometimes I would rather hear Rosie O’Donnell inserting a watermelon in her vagina without any lubrication than these “twinks” speak.
These are the types who think everything should be done for them, in a relationship or in real life. I almost want to compare them to the “society women” of New York. All have over inflated egos of themselves and have never really had any life experience at all, leaving them with a shallow shell of tanning lotion and hair gel.

Disclaimer: Yes im grouping a lot of you into categories, and I may be wrong for doing so. Maybe meat heads have more to them, but the problem is all of you are so obsessed about keeping up these “shells” and emulating each other that you forget not everyone can see the real you.

I have much more to say, so read my blog, or just speak to me, ask me anything and ill answer

???

2009-06-03T06:47:00.001-06:00

The last night I had off as I lay in bed sleeping, drooling and likely dreaming of hunting arachnid people with a bow and arrow, I was awakened by the loudest, most horrible sound possible. No dummy, not Rosie O’Donnell inserting a watermelon in her vagina without any lubrication, it was the apartment complex’s fire alarm.

Of course it was a false alarm, it always is (until the day I figure out how to sleep through them, that’ll be the first time that there will actually be a fire). I got out of bed, not knowing where I was or what was going on, nearly walking out the door in my undies.Whoops, that’s for internal use only!

I threw on some respectable sweatpants and ventured out into the hallway to see what was going on, only to be greeted by a gaggle of people who looked just as angry and as tired as I did. The very old man across the hallway looked as if he’d just been interrupted having sex, giving me a WTF-this-shit-again-? look. I didn’t know whether or not to high-five him for what might have been one of his final sexual performances (if that’s indeed what he was up to) and I wasn’t going to give him my cursory crotch-sniff greeting to determine whether or not I should, wayyy too early for that kind of determination.

I wondered, who the hell pulls the fire alarm anyways? Aren’t they also inconvenienced by the 7000 decibel noise? They need to start fingerprinting the alarms that have been pulled or DNA dusting or whatever the hell those CSI type people do. Then when they find the person, they should notify everyone in the building and haul the jackass down to the lobby where we can stone them, sodomize them, photoshop them into compromising situations, or maybe just lob psychologically harmful insults their way. That way there’d be no false alarms, unless of course the person is like me and they’re into being stoned, sodomized, photoshopped, or insulted.

Likely the fire alarm was caused by an elderly person freaking out and imagining the smell of smoke. It’s easiest to blame old people for the world’s problems, they’re the guys that voted for all previous governments and make it so that I can’t egress from a drug store in a timely fashion due to their slowness at the cashiers, so fuck ‘em. I’m pinning this incident on them. After all, they blame me for today’s music and lack of moral fibre, so they can all just go to Suckmyballsistan.

Ugh monday

2009-05-25T20:07:00.002-06:00

Mondays ponderings:

Whenever I hear a cellphone ring in the lobby and the ringtone is still the one that came with the phone I think, "Wow. That person is really boring. Why would anyone be calling them?"
When the background of your website is so distracting that the simplest text can't be read it's time to take your web designer out into the parking lot and beat him with a section of rubber hose.

Yes, I cut the head off the squeaky pig that everyone in the company got and put it on my Dundy Award from the season 2 DVD boxed set from "The Office". So stop looking at me like I am Charles Manson and go back to your whatever it is you ever doing.

When I started at my company you could go and grab supplies like pens and pads of paper off a cart by the mail room. But then they realized that people were stealing things for home use so then they made you fill out a form when you needed stuff. Seemed to work. But recently they scrapped that idea to go more "green" and set up some complicated hard to find spreadsheet to fill out whenever you need a pen. That's great. Perhaps I will just stop using supplies at all. I'll go totally green. So when you start to get notes written in my own blood because I can't find a working pen and am too tired to fill out the form you can't complain.

Which brings me to this:
I was a little bored at work today and I was flipping through the office supply catalog and came across some things that I found odd amongst the pens and office furniture. Namely:
- A tape gun shaped like a shark
- Pastel highlighters which I think defeat the purpose of highlighting, which if I am not mistaken is to make things stand out.
- Crayons
- Toe Tags (Okay, they may have been mailing tags but they looked like toe tags)
- A motivational poster that says "TEAMWORK - Many hands, many minds, one goal" with a picture of the Great Wall on it. Um, correct me if I am mistaken, but I believe the Great Wall was built by soldiers, commoners, and prisoners. And if that is what is in your office you may want to search for a new job.
- And the best item - a $300 stethoscope

Internet Dating Translation Tool

2009-04-25T05:16:00.003-06:00

I know. Millions of profiles to plough through, and so little time to find the gentleman of your dreams. But what does it all mean? When he says he likes dogs, does he mean he is blind? When he says weighs 'a few extra pounds', does he mean he weighs twenty stone and doesn't get out much?

Help is at hand. This handy guide will help you negotiate the hundreds of profiles that turn up when you press 'search'. First tip: when's the last time you believed someone who kept telling you they were honest? Exactly. With the online, you can't see the whites of their eyes. Still. Chin up!

"I like independent men."
"I refuse to commit, and I will be particularly reluctant to commit if you earn more than me and are funnier/more intelligent than me."

"I love snowboarding, skydiving, scuba diving, bungee jumping and jumping off high things"
"I am an accountant. My name is Trevor. I live in Drayton Valley."

"I enjoy going out and staying in."
"I will never have anything of any import to say about anything, ever."

"I am looking for a committed relationship."
"I am a commitmentphobe looking for a series of one-night stands with emotionally unstable men"

"I am just a normal guy looking for a normal man. Looks not important."
"I am clinically insane, and rarely wash."

"Hi i am New to edmonton, looking friends and Good Times!!!"
"I am from Russia, and looking for residency."

"My weight could be most accurately described as: a few extra pounds"
"I weigh at least 250lbs and have to do internet dating because I can't walk anymore. I have strange things caught in folds."

"Blonde"
Really?

"I am a 42 year old man"
"I am 50, and my wife has just left me for her 37 year old secretary, Gary. I think they've been at it for years but I can't be sure. But I've pulled myself together, and I'm trying something new no-one's going to stop me being happy."

"I am average looking."
"I fell hard from the ugly tree, hitting every branch on the way down."

"I am attractive"
"I am plain. You wouldn't remember my face if you were introduced to me twice, but I'm not actually ugly."

"I am very attractive"
"I look after myself and in a certain light, am not unattractive."

"I am very good looking."
"'I am a delusional, narcissistic fool."

"I live life to the full."
"I do not know what I am saying."

"I am looking for someone to make me better."
"I am me, and I will not change, so don't even try it; just accept me for who I am."

"I often enjoy a round of golf"
"I am a twat."

"I've been concentrating on my career and have just noticed that all my friends are dateing."
Two options here:
1. "Fuck me, better pay attention and get on with it"; or
2. "I have had to fill my life with work because no-one wants to go out with me."

"I like cuddling up on the sofa with a DVD and a bottle of red wine."
"I am so dull I can't think of anything else to do with the time I have left over from tending my terrapins."

**As it goes everyone really likes doing this, but you shouldn't say it out loud. And for the record, you need at least 2 bottles.

"I can't believe I'm doing this!"
"I am a bit embarrassed that I am this desperate." Come on, love, we all are: it's fine.

"I can't believe I've had to resort to this."
"I am angry that someone has gorgeous as I am is like everyone else, really."

"Looks aren't that important to me."
"I care very much how someone looks, but don't think I'm good looking enough to be able to say that."

"I asked my friends how they'd describe me, and they said kind, funny, and generous to a fault."
"I have 3 friends: 2 men called Andy, and a woman called Helen I went out with once. We were all at university together."

**Like people who are murdered (who are always described in the most glowing terms - do only the good die young, or was Joel pulling our legs?), friends ONLY ever say 'kind, generous, loving, funny'. And perhaps 'crazy'. Or 'kooky' if they're a girl. If I asked my friends what they thought of me they'd laugh until they couldn't speak.

"My friends can't believe I'm single."
"My friends ply me with consolatory words when I am being drunkenly maudlin."

**More like they wish you weren't single, then they wouldn't have to hear you going ON AND ON about it the whole time and looking at them resentfully at couples-only dinner parties.

**As it happens my friends can believe I'm single, but not in a bad way.

"I have just come out of a relationship."
"I need someone to make me feel better, for I am very, very lonely and confused."

**Avoid. At all costs. Whatever you do. Really. They are not over it, whatever they say. If someone mentions an ex, or the fact that they've just come out of a relationship, it means they are still thinking of the other person, and therefore will not have any room in their head for you. I have said this elsewhere, I know.

"I'm a crazy, kooky guy just looking for love, smiles and cuddles!!!!!!!! :-)"
"I am mentally deficient and like glitter."

bla....

2009-04-25T05:09:00.002-06:00

Maybe THIS will help with my boo-hooing...
Ah, the intervention of fate...or just some silly bullshit that made me giggle for a second.
Whatever. I'll take it.

Dear Mindless Fool,
Here is your horoscope for Saturday April 25:
Okay, so you've never exactly been the soul of willpower. You've always believed that if one is good, two is better and many, many more would be just great. That's going to go double for several weeks, starting now. Better hire a chaperone.

Volunteers?
No, didn't think so. I hope you're smarter than that...

Things Discussed With My Therapist

2009-04-25T05:05:00.001-06:00

- According to her, it's okay to fart in her office. Anxiety can accelerate your disgestion, resulting in flatus. It's just not okay to light the flatus.

- If communication is important, why can't I text while she's talking?

- I'm traumatized by the sevarity of my childhood trauma. It was so unusual and I can never undo that.

- Is the Paxil working for my bitchyness or should I switch back to vodka? Is it okay I combine both every night?

- Why I've spent more time editing my POF profile than my résumé and how that affects my ability to pay her.

- First, a painstaking, 5 minute explanation of how MSN Instant Messenger works, complete with sounds like the slamming door sign off, necessary because my therapist is a woman who only uses the internet for dumb shit like research. Then, 40 minutes trying to figure out with her what one of my exs meant when he messaged me to say "hi, can i have my stuff back?" See, I think that sounds like a new start.

You WILL Acknowledge Me, Wal-Mart Greeter

2009-04-25T04:19:00.001-06:00

Well, here I go again, on my way into Wal-Mart. Oh look, a penny. It's turned with the tail facing up. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I can't remember. I'm pretty sure it's a bad thing. I better leave it alone.

Besides, what do I need with a penny? What can you even begin to buy with a penny these days? When was the last time the penny was worth a shit? Even the motto from the Great Depression was "Brother, can you spare a dime?" A dime! Even eighty years ago, people weren't lowering themselves to ask for a penny.

Okay, I'm approaching the doors. What the hell is that lady wearing? She looks like an American buffalo stuffed into footie pajamas. Oh wait, that's exactly what it is. Fun. I wonder what a buffalo is doing outside Wal-Mart on a day like this. Did you know that "Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo." is a complete sentence? It is.

Oh crap, someone's out here asking for money for some charity or another. Avert eyes! What's that shiny thing up there? Well, there I went and looked directly at the sun again, explicitly against my eye doctor's instructions.

All right, I've passed through the gateway. I'm no longer on municipal property. I'm in the Mart. I can't see shit. It smells like a curious mixture of popcorn and grape Bubble Tape in here. Not altogether unpleasant. Do I need a cart? Why am I even here? I completely forget. Maybe I should just go back to the train before I wind up buying something I don't need. But no, I've parked too far away. Might as well trek on.

Oh boy, here we go. The Wal-Mart greeter lies ahead. The last three times I came here, he not only didn't greet me, he failed to smile or even acknowledge my existence. He just stood there, his ancient eyes looking off at some faint point in the distance. If he doesn't greet me this time, I'm going to make a scene. That's his only job, to greet me. Am I not good enough to receive a greeting? Do I need to peacock myself in order to deserve his fleeting attention? Is it not enough that I'm wearing this halter top and a multicolored beanie?

Walking, walking, walking ....

...

... and IGNORED AGAIN!

All right, Wal-Mart greeter, you're about to get a piece of my mind. Depending on your reaction to my angry tirade, we'll see if we need to get the manager involved. I don't want to have to do that--you're probably underpaid, even considering your job and your performance at said job--but I will do what I must. There's only so much disrespect one person---

BATTERIES!

That's what I need. I better go get them before I forget again. But I won't forget this, Wal-Mart Greeter.

I won't forget this.

Sometimes......

2009-02-03T23:01:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I daydream of getting a fake passport somehow and living under the name Ivan Mendelev in some tropical country like Dominica or Switzerland. Yes, Switzerland is tropical, don’t argue with me. I’m the decider.

Anyways, wouldn’t that be great? Hell, while I’m getting that, whoever is forging the stuff for me might as well go ahead and fabricate me a doctorate in doctorology too while they’re at it! Sure, make me a surgeon!

“Ivan Mendelev at your service, does this man need an amputation? No? How about a lobotomy?” I mean really, what do doctors know anyways? Eight or ten years of schooling to learn how to work a hacksaw or to learn how to stick an icepick in someone’s eye? C’man. I could pick that shit up WHILE experimenting.

The problem with this whole plan is that go get someone to forge stuff for you, you must have connections. To have connections, one must hang out in unsavory places with unsavory people. To hang out in unsavory places, one must leave the house. To leave the house, one must have ambition.

I guess that rules out my plans for becoming a doctor and living under an assumed name in a dinky little country, but if you like you can call me “Ivan” for the hell of it. And if you ever need an amputation you know where to come, but don’t expect a masterful job of it. I don’t have a lot of free time these days to make picture perfect cuts, there may be a bone sticking out here and there after I’ve done my job, but my rates are low and *affordable.

Rock climbing - not just for same-sex lovers

2009-01-17T02:28:00.000-07:00

If you’ve ever listened to rock climbers on TV with your eyes closed, it might remind you a bit something you’d expect to overhear in of one of those clubs with a name like “Boomtown” or “The Bus Station” that has loads of shirtless men everywhere that wear latex pants and dance to Mariah Carey songs.

“I’m just going to wedge my hand in this crack here.”

“I should be able to get my leg around, then work myself in tighter.”

“When you first look up, sometimes you get nervous and intimidated, but you’ve just gotta go for it.”

“You need to press yourself tight or else you could slip and end up hurting yourself.”

“If I can figure out the right knot then I should be able to tie myself up safely.”

“There is no right or wrong way to do it, the only way you know you’ve done well is when you end up on top.”

“When things get wet and slippery, you’ve really just gotta hang on tight, be careful, and go for it.”

“I’m just going to stop at this warm spot and take a nice little break.”

“Don’t look down, whatever you do. You’ll drive yourself insane.”

“I’m going to stick my cock into this hole here and just pump away on this fine man-bum.”

Don’t forget to wear your warm clothes tonight…

2009-01-17T02:22:00.001-07:00

…or, if you’re in a cult, don’t forget your motherfuckin’ sacrificial conformity poncho and special bonus free reading light!

http://www.snuggie.ca/

Recipe for Disaster:

2009-01-17T02:01:00.000-07:00

2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1 tbsp vanilla
1 cup chocolate chips
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking powder
4 cups curry powder
1 large trout head

Preheat oven to 400F. Combine all ingredients except trout head in a large bowl.

Scoop dime sized chunks of batter on to flat baking pan. Put in oven.

While baking, dance the trout head around the kitchen, across the floor, out the front door.

Take off clothes. Scream “GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!” while running from door to door hammering on neighbor’s windows with trout head. Throw head at anyone trying to apprehend you.

Return 5 hours later. Put empty plastic soda bottles in stove on top of now-charcoal pieces of burned cookies.

Make random phone calls to government offices. Cry on phone until police or fire deparment arrives from smoke.

While in custody try to bite anyone touching you. Plead insanity at court case. Spend rest of life in asylum.

Weekend lesson 1

2009-01-12T23:55:00.000-07:00

The Fool + Gin = Fun for everyone

I guess I must have been blacked out when I poured most of that bag of tortilla chips down Coco's pants at the hotel room.

Damn. I miss all the good stuff.

I got ya numbers right here...

2009-01-12T23:50:00.003-07:00

So I finally watched "The Number 23" and all I have to say is....

I got ya numbers right here...

Of all the different, quasi-mystical, pseudo-scientific fields of “learning” out there, I find numerology to be the most annoying. Perhaps it’s because it involves math, which was the bane of my existence all through school.

However, lately I’ve been wondering if I’ve been too hasty in my judgement. After all Jim Carrey has taken the trouble to make a movie about it. Remember, this is the same actor who probed the deepest theological and metaphysical questions of our time in his film “Bruce Almighty”.

So, with your indulgence, I thought I’d dabble in a little numerological study of my own. Let’s start with the year that we are now in, 2009. If you add the first and last digits you get 11. Now, 11 is the number of calories that the average fashion model consumes in a month. There are 4 weeks in a month and 52 weeks in a year. 52 plus 4 equals 56, which also happens to be the combined IQ scores of the TV executives who thought that the “Tony Danza” show was a good idea. But wait, there’s more…

Tony Danza was a cast member on a show called “Taxi” that went on the air in 1978. If you multiply 19 by 78 you get 1,482 which is the number of times that I’ve overheard someone singing the song “Just Dance” in the last 36 hours. If you divide 36 by 2 you get 18, which is exactly how old that young man claimed to be on the night the police keep interrogating me about.

Fascinating, isn’t it? Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get this information to my lawyer and find out if it’s admissible in court. If not, I have a feeling that the numbers 10 to 20 could be looming large in my future. Bruce Almighty don’t fail me now!

Wink Wink
*The Fool assumes no responsibility for any errors in the complex mathematical computations contained in this post.

The Fool: Future CEO

2009-01-12T23:46:00.000-07:00

There's a woman in my office we'll call Miss Thang. She's quite funny, a bit older than me, and has a reputation for tellin' it like it is. Occasionally, Miss Thang sends out little "brain teaser" emails to a few of us, to help pass the time we're already wasting miserably in our pathetic corporate jobs.

The last one, sent a few weeks ago, was "what's the longest word that can be typed using only one line on a keyboard?" My answer was, of course, "aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Her reply was concise and direct: "You, mister, are a complete retard."

Today, Miss Thang sent another one. I pondered it for awhile, and proceeded to send a thoughtful, potentially correct response, along with a critical query:

"Miss Thang...am I still a complete retard?"

It took her longer than I expected to respond. Clearly she was giving this question some serious thought. this morning, I received her reply:

"Well, honey...the jury's still out on whether you're a complete retard. But you're a pretty retard, nonetheless."

My response, in contrast to Miss Thang's, was almost immediate:

"I like ponies!"

Helping others to help themselves...

2009-01-12T23:44:00.000-07:00

While wandering around aimlessly through cyberspace I came across a site called wikiHow, which describes itself as “The How-To Manual That Anyone Can Write or Edit”.

Among other things, at this site you can learn how to camp out in the rain, live with an elderly person or celebrate Earthday. Now, I’ve no idea why anyone would want to do any of those things, but disseminating information of dubious value is right up my alley, so here’s a list of articles that I’m thinking about writing that will tell you how to:

Housebreak a badger

Polish your uvula

Perform an emergency appendectomy using only a steak knife and a pair of salad tongs

Have your in-laws declared “enemy combatants” and shipped off to Guantanamo Bay

Turn your child’s old chemistry set into a whiskey still

Harvest earwax for fun and profit

Covert that useless old collection of vinyl records into a lovely coffee table

Iron your clothes while still wearing them

Cure a bad case of crabs with Tabasco sauce and sawdust

Cook a Thanksgiving Day turkey with a car battery

Well, I guess I better get started on these articles…anyone know where I can find a badger?

The Fool Explores the Unknown

2009-01-12T23:42:00.000-07:00

THE MYTH

Combustible Flatulence

THE REALITY

In testing this I was amazed (and utterly shocked!!) to find farts do burn. As do bed sheets, dressers and other various bedroom furnishings. In fact the only thing that saved the house was that I was drinking beer and REALLY had to go!

This is an interesting method of removing unwanted body hair, and a large portion of wanted body hair. During this episode I invented a couple of new dances and several new swear words, including "badfitch", which apparently means "Holy crap, my bum is on fire!"

I realize having a blow torch with a bright blue flame, coming out of your behind sounds cool and exotic, but oddly it was a tad uncomfortable. The doctor says I should be able to sit down in 4-6 weeks and there shouldn't be any long term effects on other sensitive organs in that area. (They weren't being overly used anyway.)

In the future if in some drunken stupor this seems to sound like something you want to try, remember, "Preparation H" will be your new best friend.

......

2008-12-30T06:24:00.001-07:00

Usually I tell y'all about the fucked up weirdos that I see when I'm out and about. Don't worry, they're still out there. I don't have anything really exiting to tell you guys except that I witnessed a violent fight the other day: woman versus tree and from what I could tell, the tree was winning.

She's pulling branches off the thing and flailing around yelling at the tree but simultaneously getting wacked in the face with branches.

If you're an unhinged wackjob, chances are I've seen you somewhere because they certainly seem to be drawn to me

The Fool's Damnation, Uber-Professional

2008-12-30T06:05:00.002-07:00

I had an almost overwhelming urge this evening to skip up and down the bleak gray office here at work, singing "I MADE A PEE PEE, I MADE A PEE PEE!" at the top of my damaged little lungs.

I'm people already think im weird, though, which makes skipping a bad idea.

Damn.

Observations from Wal-Mart

2008-12-30T05:59:00.002-07:00

Dear Mr "Cowboy Baby":

You are not Kid Rock. Please lose the dirty, bleach blonde, scraggly-ass long hair, scruffy goatee thing, LEATHER fedora, and ratty, "I swear I've been riding a horse. A hooker named horse!" jeans. I realize you think that if you dress like this, you may be able to score someone like Pam Anderson....but, you are not in LA. You are in the cold winter city or edmonton. You will wind up w/ someone like the person I will next address.

Sincerely,

BWAH HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Uhem.....

Dear "OMFG, WHAT IS THAT??",

Um....while I have nothing against "large" women....I mean, I was fat...... And, I'd like to think that even if I was still fat, and a woman, I would NOT be wearing what you seemed to think was great evening wear for a MONDAY NIGHT in a town w/ no night life. Really, I applaud your jean mini skirt that hid NONE of your business, 4 inch clunky heels that you had no idea how to walk in, lacy see thru shirt that ALSO hid none of your OTHER business, and....and..... your SPECTACULAR thigh high black fishnet stockings. They were all a special treat to behold. Especially since the stockings were partially rolled down. And had skin/fat already trying to escape out of all the holes in the fishnet. I swear I actually think I heard the nylon screaming "hellllp meeeeeeeeee".

Really if i was a woman and dressed like THAT, (or actually, even if I had a ridiculously perfect body, and dressed like that) that someone would double bolt the doors to my house, and refuse to let me leave. I'd even understand if a stun gun needed to be involved.

But, hey! Look on the bright side! I think Kid Rock over there might think you're hot!! I mean, give him a bottle of scotch, and he'll be sure to watch your..... Hey! Speaking of, I think you owe us all some scotch!

Sincerely,

An Amazed Fellow Shopper.

Reason #856 why being alone totally rules:

2008-12-30T05:59:00.001-07:00

Because yesterday, after looking for a ski hat in the storage room, I found leftover bubble wrap, I spread it out on the hardwood floor and spent 45 minutes riding my roll-y chair over it. In my underwear.

King Wrong

2008-12-30T05:57:00.000-07:00

Inappropriate or otherwise effed up thoughts I had last night during King Kong (which i watched before work)

During the first 30 minutes of the film: "These nachos from huskey are pretty good, but 7-Eleven's are so, SO much better. Mmmmm, nachos. NACHOS!"

During the first bout of Kong action: "How come we can't see his big giant gorilla junk? Wouldn't it just kinda be, you know, bouncing around and stuff? This certainly isn't very realistic..."

During the dinosaur stampede: "No one shit their pants. Come on, SOMEONE would have shit his pants! So much for character development!"

During the girl-and-beast fall-lin-love sequence: "Awwww...This is gonna be real sweet, right up until the twenty-five-foot gorilla wants to mate."

During the scary man-eating worm part: "Holy crap! I'm never going near an uncircumcised wiener again!"

During the ice-sliding scene: "Boy, I bet those big giant gorilla balls are frozen solid. Poor monkey."

During the part where Naomi Watts climbs the spire of the Empire State Building in a diaphanous white dress: "Boy, bet the shot from beneath her was a doozy."

Throughout the entire three hours: "Hmmmm...Lord of the Rings was rife with ambiguous homosexuality. King Kong, even more so. Peter Jackson...gay gay gay gay gay. And Adrien Brody. Please god, Adrien Brody. Just let me HAVE HIM, GOD. I hate you. Sigh."

If you can look past my depravity enough to take my advice...go see it. After that, I defy you to tell me I'm wrong about any of this.

I'm Converting....

2008-12-19T01:45:00.000-07:00

Well, I just got off the toilet a few minutes ago and have had, for lack of better words, a divine revelation. Stigmata.

You see, my poop was in the shape of a cross. A perfect cross.

Had I looked closer, I’m certain the detail would have exposed Jesus himself amongst yesterday’s brunch and now today’s miracle; smiling, winking, giving me the thumbs up. But I didn’t look closer - I mean, after all, what more evidence do I need? I’m a believer.

I’m not going to be one of those capitalist believers either. No, my poop is not for sale on eBay. It’s my own private little miracle and not going to be anyone’s freak show that they’d droop over their mantle and comment about to their friends during dinner parties. No way.

I’m not one of those people that leave it to go unnoticed either. The coincidence is too strong to ignore: Friday night I watched ‘Religulous’ with Bill Maher, and this of course is a sign from God Himself to ignore the mockery made of Him and to follow Him on the path of righteousness to salvation.

Wait, did I just say “follow Him on the path of righteousness to salvation”? That sounds like work. Whoa. Forget that.

Nope, now it’s just a poop in the shape of a ‘t’ again.

Things Ive Learned From Movies

2008-12-19T01:38:00.003-07:00

Star Wars IV: A New Hope: A farm boy proves he can move away from an interstellar alberta, unlike here on earth.

Star Wars V: The Empire Strikes Back: A farm boy learns how he can potentially fondle women remotely - from a funny little green man that sounds surprisingly like Kermit the frog with a 2 pack a day smoking addiction.

Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi: A farm boy’s hopes for fucking his sister are dashed. Furry creatures called Ewoks can provide temporary relief.

Silence of the Lambs: Lesbian women have smelly snoochies. And don’t fuck around with taunting police if you plan on eating people, you’ll get caught.

The Matrix: Samuel Jackson is not the same person as Lawrence Fishburne.

Apocalypse Now: A movie that starts off really fucking awesome can turn out really fucking bad all of a sudden.

The Bourne Identity series: Motion sickness doesn’t only happen in cars, it can happen in living rooms when you’re watching movies.

The Great Escape: If you’re going to be captured by Germans, bring a baseball to your prison camp. Also bring a bunch of friends that can dig tunnels, but not French guys, they tend to freak out easily.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly: Shooting ropes at 100 yards is easy. Don’t trust people with nicknames.

Pulp Fiction: You can draw a little square in midair by moving your fingers around.

The Shawshank Redemption: Always bunk with Tim Robbins if you can, but probably don’t let him sleep in the same bed as you because he’ll be pent up.

Field of Dreams: Always do market research first.

Rain Man: I’m shitty at counting things.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind: It’s not always about anal probes. And I like the versatility of mashed potatoes, they go with pretty much everything, including ‘craziness’.

The Amityville Horror: Don’t buy a haunted house. Also, Long Island is full of nutjobs.

Leaving Las Vegas: Don’t drink if you want to have sex with hookers. Wait till after.

From Dusk Till Dawn: Having a bullet hole in your hand looks like an exciting new form of masturbation.

Independence Day: Alien ships rely on Windows Vista.

Aliens: Fuck saving people, save yourself.

Saving Private Ryan: Fuck saving people, save yourself.

Terminator: Fuck saving people, save yourself.

Lord of the Rings: Pretty much anyone could probably bully hobbits into sex. Also, you can go for a year without shaving and still look good.

Fight Club: Punch that fucker Brad Pitt if you see him. No wait, don’t, you’ll only punch yourself.

Trainspotting: It has nothing to do with spotting trains. Don’t fall into toilets.

Forrest Gump: Don’t sit on a park bench if you don’t want to be bored by weird people. Sally Field is easy.

Titanic: Sitting through a terrible three hour long movie in order to see someone’s boobs for three seconds isn’t worth it.

The Passion of The Christ: Beating up Jesus makes you famous.

Ghost: Pottery is fucking boring. Also, if you can pass through walls at will, why would you bother looking at Demi Moore?

Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon: Gravity is an irrelevant western concept.

Indiana Jones: Your clothing will never rip if you’re an archaeologist.

No Country For Old Men: If there’s some deep underlying premise to a movie, a psychopathic killer with a pneumatic brain hammer will negate it.

The Goonies: Chinese kids are smarter than me.

Young thoughts......

2008-12-19T01:25:00.004-07:00

When I was a young and still devastatingly handsome child, my cousins would on occasion come visit my family out in the treacherous prairie jungle, teeming with fanged cattle and rabid gophers)

Anyways, getting back to the story, the would come over and visit, as kids we would go out to play - my cousins were two slightly simple boys of immediate redneck descent. They were tactless. See, we’d go out into their garden and break out the toy cars and make roads to drive them on. But the thing was, these boys - let’s call them collectively the ‘Naab’ boys because that’s all I can think of at the moment - would bring the proverbial knife to a gun fight. They’d haul out the big Tonka dump trucks AND the little wee Matchbox cars and drive them around and bang them into each other or whatever kids do with toy cars.

This never sat well with me. See, if you’re building a society out of dirt and mud, the citizens of Imaginationland wouldn’t be all BIG like the people that would drive the Tonka trucks and SMALL like people that would drive the Matchbox cars, they would probably be somewhat uniform in scale. The proportions were all wrong. For this reason I would argue that we either set aside all the Matchbox (tiny) cars and play exclusively with the Tonka (big) toys, or vice versa. Can’t have both of these things on the same roads, it just doesn’t make sense.

The Naabs, bless their simple tobacco-spitting genes, didn’t care. They didn’t see it as anything to bother about. They’d be all dumb and happy to drive the little tiny cars into the back of a huge bloody dump truck. The fact that these two entities should never exist together in the same play session didn’t bother them one bit. I remember being upset by this - it was all out of whack and entirely dysfunctional. Then I’d ride my bike all the way home and build my own proportional and accurate universe in my own sandbox, to hell with their nonsensical world.

Fast forward to today - I see examples of this lack of regard everywhere - it seems to be a growing trend to mix all sorts of strange and bizarre universes together. That’s shouldn’t be.

For example, never should the Predator and Alien exist in the same movie. I call bullshit. Alien was from the future, Predator was from the present. How on earth anyone can shovel these two creatures into the same film is just beyond my comprehension. Even if the two beings happened to live in the same time span, you’d think they’d be all “Hey let’s have a coffee and discuss how we’re going to divvy up society” [quite literally], then kinda stay out of each other’s hair while they did their thing.

Or Freddy vs. Jason. WTF? Freddy Kreuger was an urban monster that lived in the minds of people for the most part, while Jason Voorhees was a more rural summer holiday type opportunist that would lurk in the bushes of teenage band camps and pick off screaming pubescent idiots one by one. Why Jason would bother with Freddy is beyond me. They shouldn’t be in the same film.

See, what set this whole rant off was a recent video game ad I saw on TV - pitting the ancient Japanese warriors from Mortal Combat versus the DC comics characters like Batman and Superman or whoever the hell the DC comics world perennially claims to.

Excuse me? Who the hell in their right mind puts these two groups of characters together? They’re from different universes, they shouldn’t be in the same video game AT ALL. Jesus Christ, get a grip on reality, people. You wouldn’t put a hot dog in a hamburger bun would you? It just doesn’t make sense.

People like this have no problem mixing Lego with Duplo or frikking Lincoln Logs I bet. It’s practically criminal.

Movie Plot Synopsis: Twilight

2008-12-19T01:14:00.003-07:00

What I imagine the story to be about:

Girl meets boy.

Boy is a vampire.

Boy fights enemies.

Boy wins with the help of girl.

Boy doesn’t make a vampire out of girl.

Movie over.

What the movie SHOULD be about:

Girl meets boy.

Boy is vampire.

Girl annoys the fuck out of boy.

Boy follows girl home and sucks her blood until she’s dead.

Boy kills himself because he doesn’t want to be in teeny movies any more.

Movie over.

Even better:

Girl meets boy.

Boy is vampire.

Girl annoys boy.

Boy follows girl home, craps on her face while she’s sleeping, then packs up and moves to another town.

Girl wakes up and understands that boys will only frustrate her and that she’s too young and intelligent to pay so fucking much attention to boys.

Girl goes on to focus on her education, gets her degree, goes on to have a promising career in theoretical quantum physics or paleontology. Or both.

Girl waits till she’s 30-40 and then settles down with a nice guy who cares about her and they have a nice life together and forget all about vampires.

No more teen movies about forbidden love with pale apathetic troubled vampires are ever made.

The end.

Foot Pron

2008-12-19T01:11:00.001-07:00

Okay, I’m going out on a limb here at the risk of losing a large portion of my devout readers who are undoubtedly perverted and overly sensitive:

“I don’t get foot fetishes.”

What’s with people’s feet that makes them something to spank the monkey over? Like there are some toes, hmm, toenails, an arch, a couple of hairs…and, umm, nothing else really.

It’s not like a foot houses any reproductive organs even - the last time I checked my foot, there wasn’t a vagina or even a penis attached. I just checked again, nope, nothing there that could potentially wet itself with excitement or be worked in a dark smokey club to pay for a college education.

In fact, one could argue that a foot is perhaps the least attractive part of the human anatomy. When you walk around barefoot like I do, the foot is bound to pick up some sort of STD or lymphoma or scabies or leprosy or something. It’s routinely shoved in a shoe, which is rarely washed or wiped out and usually stanks like you’d imagine Rosie O’Donnell does after rolling around naked in liver. And often times people have little wedge shaped smallest toes that are quite unappealing when compared to other toes.

I suppose that’s it - the grossness of the foot is it’s desirable feature? I just don’t understand, and that’s okay with me. To each their own (and someone else’s in the above story, I suppose).

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to writing a letter to the Armpit Licking Association of North America. I’m doing an feature article on how different types of deodorant taste. Did you know that Ladies’ Speed Stick tastes like mango? Damn that gets me hot. Bowchickawowow.

St. Jeremy's Responces to "Dear Santa Letters"

2008-12-19T00:49:00.004-07:00

So any way..... I HATE Christmas...... and I hate kids, So I decided to have a little fun......
**************************************************

Deer Santa,
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. I’v ben a gud boy all yeer.
Yer Friend, Billy
Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You’re on your way to a career in lawncare. How about I send you a book so you can learn to read and spell? I’m giving your older brother the space ranger. At least HE can spell.
Santa
*****************************************************
Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!
Love, Sarah

Dear Sarah,
Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn’t they?
Santa
***************************************************
Dear Santa,
I don’t know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I’d like for my mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do.
Love, Teddy

Dear Teddy,
Look, your dad’s banging the babysitter like a screen door in a hurricane. Do you think he’s gonna give that up to come back to your frigid mom, who rides his ass constantly? It’s time to give up that dream. Let me send you some Legos instead.
Santa
***************************************************
Dear Santa,
I want a new bike, a Playstation 3, a train, some G.I. Joes, a dog, a drum kit, a pony and a tuba.
Love, Francis

Dear Francis,
Who names their kid “Francis” nowadays. I bet you’re gay. I’ll set you up with a Barbie.
Santa
****************************************************
Dear Santa,
I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for your reindeer outside the back door.
Love, Susan

Dear Susan,
Milk gives me the shits and carrots make the deer fart in my face when riding in the sleigh. You want to do me a favor? Leave me a botle of Scotch.
Santa

****************************************************
Dear Santa,
What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you busy making toys?
Your friend, Thomas

Dear Thomas,
All the toys are made in China . I have a condo in Vegas where I spend most of my time making low-budget porno films. I unwind by drinking myself silly and squeezing the asses of cocktail waitresses while losing money at the craps table. Hey, you wanted to know.
Santa
***************************************************
Dear Santa,
Do you see us when we’re sleeping, do you really know when we’re awake, like in the song?
Love, Jessica

Dear Jessica,
Are you really that gullible? Good luck in whatever you do. I’m skipping your house.
Santa
****************************************************
Dear Santa,
I really want a puppy this year. Please, please, please, PLEASE, PLEASE could I have one?
Love, Timmy

Dear Timmy,
That whiney begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap doesn’t work with me. You’re getting a sweater again.
Santa

****************************************************
Dearest Santa,
We don’t have a chimney in our house. How do you get into our home?
Love, Marky

Dear Mark,
First stop callling yourself “Marky”, that’s why you’re getting your ass whipped at school. Second, you don’t live in a house, you live in a
low-rent apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad just like the boogeyman does, through your bedroom window.
Sweet dreams,
Santa

I can be Progressive too....

2008-12-19T00:42:00.000-07:00

I would like a hybrid car. Not just ANY hybrid car like a Prius or something though. I want a car that’s a hybrid between a pig, a tank, and Will Farrell.

I could just peel bacon off the insides and nibble on it while I drive, making those icy cold morning commutes a whole lot nicer. If anyone got in my way, I could drive right over them or blow them right off the road, and with all it’s curly hair like Will Farrell, it’d undoubtedly be warm and cozy. Oh, it’d have to be easy on gasoline too.

No one said we had to sacrifice function to be environmentally friendly.

Rant

2008-12-19T00:18:00.004-07:00

Hello gentle readers heres a simple question for you all: What is the problem with gay guys’s social skills these days?

The Internet has destroyed every last ounce of civility that once made society a more pleasurable place to live in.

For example we have cruising hookup sites like manhunt.net and musclemenformen.com where gay men slap nude photos of themselves online with such ease and without a sense of decency that I begin to wonder if it not just sheer exhibitionism at work but actually a mental illness?

In a day not to long ago one courted a person with flowers, sweet letters and candies. Now it is just poorly though out sentences typed away in frenzy, silly smiley faces to accent a dirty remark and ridiculous close-up photos of ones private parts.

In what lifetime may I ask should I know what your asshole looks like before I know what your face looks like? Unless I am giving you a colonoscopy I don’t see the logic in this. But there you find yourself downloading a pic sent to you by a guy you have been having a nice conversation with for the past hour or so on msn and as the photo begins to reveal itself suddenly you come face to face with the guys butt hole. At first you wonder, “have I been speaking to Cyclops for the last hour?” Than it hits you that Cyclops are mythical creatures and they don’t exist and that the greased up brown eye your staring at on your computer screen is his cute way of saying, “hi.” Next time, please for my sake, don’t even bother to say hello.

So I ask you gentle readers when will this madness end? Or maybe it’s better this way? At least now I don’t have to invest spending a tidy sum on "taking someone out" (the old way) to only find out later that his member is of an unfortunate small size. Seriously what happened to a world with shame? a world that you accually "dated" someone before sex? if this is what meeting guys has turned into than we have all lost our minds. And I need to move.

Stay Fresh and tell me if im nuts or not,
Jeremy

Dumber than fish*

2008-12-19T00:06:00.003-07:00

A news blog i read posted an article today regarding a specific type of brain cell found in humpback whales.

All I could think while I was reading it was, "Heh heh...humpback. HUMPback. Heh heh."

Sigh. Sorry Mom. Again.

*Yes, I know whales aren't fish. It's all part of the "Jeremy's an idiot" joke, dig? Thanks for playin'.

Sign One of the Impending Apocalypse

2008-12-18T23:58:00.002-07:00

Maybe it's the general air of crappy sadness in Edmonton this week. Maybe it's the profoundly deep personal rut I find myself in for the bazillionth time. Could be the fact that a goofy-looking little douchebag is hitting on me...... Perhaps the antics of our retarded, monkey-faced, cokehead un-prime minister are weighing on my fragile little mind.

It's probably a combination of these factors that has led to my overwhelming sense that we are all just utterly and irrevocably fucked. I see doom hanging over us all, kids. The signs are everywhere, if you look around. Lucky for you I'm paying attention, so you don't have to.

On friday, for example, I saw a very cute gay boy in the mall wearing brown shoes with black pants. A gay boy. Out in public

Yeah, we're in deep doody.

More to come...

Note:
For those of you...mostly straight guys, probably...who just said to yourselves, "Wait...What's wrong with black pants and brown shoes?" Answer: Everything. Trust me.

How to cope?

2008-12-18T23:51:00.002-07:00

A hypothetical scenario, requiring your input:

Older, respectable higher-up type gets in the elevator with you and three or four others on a Friday morning. He stands in front of you, and turns to his left to speak to a colleague. When he turns back to face the front of the elevator, you notice that the prominent bald spot on the back of his head has been painted over with some sort of bubbly beige-colored goo which closely resembles something your cat barfed up over the weekend.

The proper response is:

"Good morning, sir! My, that's some Great Looking Hair!"

Silence + the best fake smile you can muster while chomping on your tongue

Silent prayer thanking god for the spare undies in your desk drawer, as present pair has been mildly soiled

Make eye contact with fellow elevator occupant, draw his/her attention to the head in question, and struggle together to suppress horrified giggles

Avoid eye contact with all fellow elevator occupants completely, with knowledge that shared horrified giggles will be far, far more difficult to suppress

Do the old guy a favor by farting loudly and excusing yourself, red-faced, thereby trumping his humiliation

Other (please be specific)

Your thoughtful participation is greatly appreciated.