And the winner is... comment #49

Looks like our winner is JC, if I can count. (And yes, I included my own comment because that's what I decided to do before I hit the go button.)

Congrats, JC! Everyone else, thanks for playing, and thanks for sharing your stories. I enjoyed learning a little bit about these brave men and women.


You probably think this song is about you.

As I've mentioned before, I sometimes get these offers from companies that want me to pimp their wares, usually via some "review" of one of their products in exchange for said product. Occasionally, if I can see a humorous angle to take while writing it up, I will agree. I mean, who can forget the goatee saver? I know I can't. I wish someone would send me a ChumBuddy, but since I did that one completely on my own, there's been no offers yet.

Once in a while though, the offer is too good to pass up. Fortunately for someone reading this right now, this is one of those times. It's what I like to call Free Stuff For Someone Who Is Not Me.

The guys from CSN are calling me a "Preferred Blogger" which I am pretty sure means I'm on their short list of people they figure they can probably suck up to and get to do stuff for them.

The offer in this case was to either do a review and get free stuff for me, (no.) or hold some kind of contest and get free stuff for someone else. (why not?) so I agreed to the second option.

Here's the deal: They sell an amazing number of different bathroom vanities, among other things. Lots of other things, actually. They have a couple of hundred online stores, each geared toward a particular product line, and a warehouse that must be almost the size of Bill Gates' 2nd largest guest bathroom on the 5th floor of his summer home.

Sometimes I'm sure the companies end up sorry that they asked me, but in this case I think they will do fine.

They are offering a $150 gift certificate to use at any of their 200+ stores, no strings attached. (I really wish they'd give me something too, but apparently that's not how it works, so instead of a lame post about bathroom vanities that gets me free stuff, you get this one instead.)

In order for you to win this Memorial Day weekend contest, just leave a comment and remember a soldier. That's it. If you feel like it, tell me a little bit about them, because I'd enjoy that.

I'll cut off comments sometime Monday, or whenever they peter out, and use a random number generator to pick the winner.

Thanks, everyone, and have a great long weekend!


Surf and Turf

So this happened:

Believe it or not, the guy is supposedly going to be OK, but holeeee shit. When I saw that photo I immediately tried to picture what it would be like to have all MY teeth knocked out -- from the inside. I couldn't do it.

That picture is just...Unbelievable. I learned two things that I did not know before. One, never read the NY Post. Two, the sad thing about this horrible sport is that the bull dies whether he wins or loses, because, well, that's the rules. I call bullshit.

Bullfighting may be a tradition, but it's time to stop the madness. Not only because it's cruel and inhumane to the poor animals, but also so I don't have to see shit like this and feel obligated to pass it on to all of you. Man, that looks painful. Dumb ass. Taunting a giant horned animal like that.

Now that you're awake, and collectively holding your jaws and running your tongues around inside your mouths, let's talk about this:

Are you with me here? Are you understanding what it is you are seeing?

Just to clarify: Yes, it is a giant shark sleeping bag.

Why? Well, why not? Who hasn't wanted to fall asleep in the mouth of one of the world's most terrifying predators? I know I have. The designer says she created it in an effort to make sharks more "cuddly" which is really something I never thought about. Usually, when I think about making a shark more of something, it pretty much culminates with "uninterested in me, personally."

The absolute worst thing about this? Well, it's not that it costs two hundred bucks (which includes shipping) although that's pretty bad in its own right. The worst thing has to be the name.

It's called ... The ChumBuddy.

Ignoring for a second the fact that the name sounds like some sort of elaborate masturbatory device designed for men to use while in the library, it's also completely inaccurate.

Here's my detailed analysis as to why: I've always been led to understand that "chum" is what they call the bucket of bloody fish heads that they throw in the water to lure the sharks in.

This would mean that a "ChumBuddy" would be someone who likes to hang out and watch movies with a bucket of bloody fish heads, and I don't think anybody really wants that, so my conclusion stands. Worst name ever.

At first I thought a better name would be something like "Shark Buddy" but then I got thinking that maybe that's still too "cuddly" and she should really name her product something like "Horrific, Urine-soaked Dreams" or "Your Child's Future Therapy Sessions."

The X's over the eyes look like they were photoshopped in there, but I totally think she should sell a sleep mask like that as a ten dollar accessory.

I'm always giving my ideas away. I can't help myself. It's why I'll never be rich.


Nooks. And Crannies.

My wife bought the Nook e-book reader today. So far, there's been no limit to the entertainment value derived from her constant use of that dirty-sounding name.

"Now Lisa and I can be nook buddies."

"I think there's something wrong with my nook. Can you look at it?"

"I plugged it into my nook, but nothing happened."

"I read something that said nooks can sometimes be a little buggy."

"I'm going in the hot tub, then going upstairs to play with my nook."

And here I thought the iPad was a bad name.

Also, we have a winner in the Double Down Double Dare -- Lindy in Mexico. Go read her blog. She can be pretty damn funny.

Crap. Now I have to write a short story.

I also have a giveaway coming up that's worth $150 bucks, and a story of love in the 6th grade. Stay tuned!


I've got chicken in my beard.

I have a few things to talk about today. After hearing so much about it for so long, I finally saw the commercial for the KFC double-down last night, and it totally reminded me of the "taco town" SNL skit.

For those of you who don't have televisions, here is a picture of the double down:

Two fried chicken breasts, two strips of bacon, two melted slices of Monterey Jack and Pepper Jack cheese and the Colonel's "special sauce" whatever that is. I'm sure it's probably just ketchup mixed with mayonnaise or something. I tend to stay far, far away from fast food, but in case anyone is going to actually try this thing, here's the damage:

540 calories, 32 grams of fat and 1,380 milligrams of sodium. If you're feeling particularly health conscious, you can go for the "grilled" version, which only has 460 calories, 23 grams of fat and 1,430 milligrams of sodium. (I am pretty sure I'd have to be dating this girl to be eating that much salt on a regular basis.)

How does the grilled version have more salt? This whole creation really just boggles my mind. Just reading the description practically gives me cramps and makes me want to preemptively run to the bathroom. Anyway, I think someone needs to try one of these asap and report back to me. In fact, if you actually take a picture of yourself eating one and send it to me, I will write a short story about you and post it here.

In other news, I've become instantly 33.3% more evil by shaving my beard into a goatee. (I've also taken to walking around with a flashlight held under my chin at all times to heighten this effect. )

Well, that's not entirely true -- I don't really have the flashlight, and the traditional goatee technically has no mustache part. I have the mustache/goatee combo, so it's probably a variation of a VanDyke, but these days, they've all been genericized so "goatee" pretty much covers it. I'm not sure if I'll keep it yet. It's work, and I don't like work.

So here's how this happened. At various times over the years, friends of mine had them and some still do -- even Yort had one at one time, but people kept asking him about his kung-fu grip, so he shaved it off. I got curious one day, because I didn't really know how to shave one, so I googled it, looking for a template or some detailed instructions. What I found instead was a commercial that cracked my ass up. Seriously, it is better than most of the fake commercials on SNL. I include it here for your viewing pleasure:

If you didn't notice it, watch it again and check the expression on the girl's face at about :58 seconds, right before she walks off the screen. She's thinking "I can't believe I'm doing this." which is saying something coming from an ex-porn star.

Needless to say, I had to have one - if only to get ex-porn stars to fondle me. (Note: that hasn't happened yet) I found the company's website and sent them an e-mail, telling them I ran a somewhat successful humor blog. I offered to review the GoateeSaver if they sent me one, and they went for it. It showed up a few weeks ago, but I didn't have the balls to try it until this past weekend.

As you saw in the video, here's what it looks like from the back:

Basically, you jam it into your mouth and bite down on it, then shave around it. A drunk guy could do it. (Which, incidentally, brings up how I actually had the nerve to try it.)

Also, it has other uses. It would be a good thing to carry around just in case you happened upon someone having an epileptic fit, to keep them from biting their tongue. It totally reminds me of how a scuba-diving regulator feels in your mouth, or that rubber thing they stick in your mouth before they give you electro-shock therapy.

Perhaps I've said too much.

Anyway, I tried it, and the funny thing is, cheesy videos aside, it actually works as advertised.

Well, not so much the part about being instantly fondled from behind by porn chicks, or gaining a douchebag attitude. (I'm thinking those might come later, after extended use.) However, when I was done, I unclenched my jaw and I had a mostly perfect goatee.

It was like a little pet for my face. This thing, as stupid as it may look, is actually great for idiots like me who tend to shave early in the morning when they are half asleep and carve into something they shouldn't. Of course, it's like $20 if you buy one, but still....it saves you time in the morning, and prevents inadvertent hatchet jobs, so maybe it's worth it.

At the very least, now when I'm in a meeting at work, I can stroke my goatee and pretend like I'm deep in thought, formulating my evil plans. Or thinking about the latest e-mail client refresh, which basically amounts to the same thing.

I also found that if I combine it with a black cloak and my ski goggles, I can jack up the evil at least one thousand percent:

You will all address me as Emperor from this moment forward, or there will be consequences.

Don't make me force-choke your asses.


And now for something completely different.

While I'm working on my next post, I wanted to bring your attention to the awesome photos that my friend Mark takes.

I hope you all enjoy seeing the world through his lens as much as I do.


Bones. Teeth. Dinner.

My wife is a big fan of the show "Bones" and I've seen quite a few episodes. Most of the time, the ones I see are in syndication, which means they're aired between 6 and 7 pm. An unfortunate consequence of this timing is that as putrid, maggot-infested flesh is falling off a human skeleton on my television, I am in the process of eating a nice rice and bean burrito covered in salsa, or perhaps some angel hair pasta and marinara.

It's pretty disgusting as crime dramas go, and it makes me very thankful that smell isn't yet one of the senses involved in watching a television show. If it ever does become a component of the entertainment experience, say, like 3D, it would not be a good thing for a show like Bones to include. Or a show like The Biggest Loser, now that I think about it.

Anyway, the last episode of Bones I happened to see is one in which they find a body being tumbled to pieces in an industrial front-loading clothes washer. After they stopped the washer, the pieces continued dropping from the top of the drum with soft "plop, plop" sounds, until a new low was reached and a testicle bounced out onto the floor. I don't think I watched the entire episode, but the whole washing machine bit stuck with me.

A few days later, I was doing a little wash of my own. I took some clothes out of the dryer, and saw what looked like a piece of gum stuck to one of the dryer vanes way in the back. (OK, I admit it. Occasionally, I've been known to forget to take my gum out of my pocket and once in a great while a piece will make it to the dryer and subsequently ruin of bunch of my shit or, god forbid, some article of clothing that my wife purchased for $300.00 an ounce. So I always stick my head in there and give it a look. You know. To hide any evidence.)

I reached up to grab the gum, and it felt a little...harder...than gum would normally be. That's because something was stuck to it:

Yes. An effing TOOTH. I immediately thought of that Bones episode. My tongue went instinctively to my molars. Nope. All there. I checked again, just because I was a little skeeved out.

I stood there, tooth in hand, and tried to think of a reasonable explanation. My wife's 90-year-old grandfather had swallowed one of his own teeth not too long ago, and other shit from bridges to babylon was always falling out of his mouth. Maybe it was one of his.

"Should I call him?" I wondered. "Ask him if he has any new unexplained gaps in his gums that he didn't think were there last week?"

I sent a text to my wife that said, "I feel like I'm in an episode of Bones. I found a fucking TOOTH in the dryer!" My thought here was that maybe she had been carrying around one of her grandfather's teeth that she found under his living room chair or something, and it had made its way into our laundry.

She sent me a text back that said, "Did you lose one?" I did another quick inventory. I couldn't help myself. One of my worst recurring nightmares is one in which my teeth fall out. Nope. No gaps. Where the hell did this tooth come from? I didn't remember killing a drifter.

Then I looked down at the pile of clothes that I had pulled out of the dryer and saw what I refer to as my "camping pants." They are 100% cotton, desert camo BDU pants that I pick up at the surplus store. I have a few pairs, because they're light, cut generously in the "crotchal area" for climbing, and -- they have lots of pockets.

Then it hit me. About 8 or ten months ago, I had been walking through the woods and found an ancient, bleached-white deer skull, and the teeth had been falling out. I remembered picking out a nice one and thinking that it would be the basis for a fine practical joke.

I know. I totally deserved it.