Sometimes I seriously question the ads that google decides to toss up on the side of my blog. I mean, I can see why they would stick weird shit up there given the stuff I normally post about, but still.
Mostly I don't even pay attention to them. However, my buddy Yort apparently does. The other day, he said, "What's up with all the testicles in your google ads?" I had no idea what he was talking about, so I went and checked it out. Sure enough, the first ad was titled "Undescended Testicle" and another for "The Castrator." Even as I type this, there's a generic one over there that says "Scrotum - Huge selection of posters & albums. Search for Scrotum now!" First off, they're probably not my kind of band, second, I'd be scared to see the poster and third, I'm not currently searching for scrotum, now or at any other time in the future, thank you very much.
Anyway, I couldn't just leave the ads sitting over there doing nothing, so I clicked on them. From the first one, I learned that apparently the right herbs can fix the problem, and that another word for it was "empty scrotum" which I guess stands to reason. I'm not sure why, but for some reason that just sounds way more depressing to me. Like if you call them "undescended" at least you know they're in there somewhere. "Empty" just sounds like your scrotum would be all drafty have an echo or something.
I also learned there is something called "retractile testes" which means that sometimes they're there and sometimes they're not. They can retract themselves into the abdomen. On the one hand, it would really suck if you went looking for them and they were off getting a pizza, but on the other hand, as someone who has gotten my fair share of inadvertent and extremely painful nut whacks growing up, this could be amazingly useful. Just think of the possibilities.
Biker dude: "WTF are YOU lookin' at? I'm gonna kick your ass!"
Me: "TESTES UP! TESTES UP!"
On the second ad (which I noticed is no longer there) I learned that there is such a thing as an "EZCastrator." If you're curious, just head on over. This is technically called a "bloodless castator" and there is a reason for that. I will note that in no instance do they refer to it as "painless castrator" and there is a reason for that, too. It consists of claw-like mechanism that allows you to place a very thick, very strong, very small rubber band around an animal's testicles. This cuts off the circulation until the testicles turn black and fall off by themselves. My first thought was, "I wonder what they do with all the shriveled black scrotums littering the yard?"
I know what it feels like to get them kicked, but dammit, this has to be worse -- at least at first. Maybe after they get a little black it's not so bad. They even have a demonstration on the website that uses a brown leather bag full of marbles or something. Even just watching that was uncomfortable.
I know all the guys reading this are squirming right now, and all the girls are thinking "I wonder how much one of those things costs? Are the bands extra? Are they reusable? If I buy two, is the shipping free?"
I'm a crappy salesman, so if you don't yet believe this thing is the greatest, I will now share some actual customer testimonials* from the website. Keep in mind that I am not making these up:
"Wanted to let you know I got the Castrator Thursday. I used it over the weekend and it works great, just what I was looking for. Thanks for the prompt delivery." -- Jimmy Watts
"We received the new castrator today. My, your service is prompt! My husband is already rubbing his hands gleefully, wanting to use it tonight. But, since it is 9:30 at night and -10° F, I think he'll wait until morning. Thanks Again." -- Allison Bohn, 3 Smokes Ranch
Maybe I'm wrong, but I think Allison's husband and ol' Jimmy Watts would really hit it off, although I wouldn't want to be around when they got to drinkin'.
*or teste-monials if you prefer.
2/20/06
This week, on Seriously Lost
Things are slowing down in the old Sitemeter department, I think. I keep getting googled for "one toe over the line" and also for some strange reason, there seems to be a rash of people worried about what to do in case of a gorilla attack. Is this a serious problem that I am currently unaware of? If so, I had no idea. So besides those two, here are my favorites this week:
Fantastic Google searches that somehow led people to my site:
instruction how to still break pad civic car - For full effect, you have to read that aloud using the Russian accent of super-spy Boris Badenov. Without a doubt, this is the mechanic I want working on my vehicle. Especially if my civic car has break pad that won't stay still.
how to get a guy to ask you for your number in a minute - There are lots of different ways, but unfortunately most of them only work if you're pretty hot. If you are extremely hot, you will probably have to look annoyed and say "wait a minute, pinhead" otherwise you'll get asked right away. If you aren't so hot, but only just ok, your options to beat the 60-second deadline are more limited -- which brings us to:
minute-long free porn - which would probably be one pretty effective way.
CHRISTINA BIG BOOB SLAP CHEESE GIRL - I'm at a loss. I got nothin. Suggestions?
The rope witches were wearing thongs they walked in the 15 year old house they took rope and started to wrap him up in it he screamed so they put a gag in his mouth than they a lot more things to him sexy and crule. -- Again, I have very little to add here. I am unfamilar with the crule, sexy, thong-wearing rope witches. And I hope to christ that when I die, I am still able to make that claim.
used tampons deer lure - You just know there's someone out there jumping up and down screaming "Finally! A practical use for all those used tampons I've collected over the years. I will sell them to hunters on ebay! I'll be rich! RICH, I tells ya!"
What are bucks balls look like? - Well, let me tell you. buck balls are look exactly like this:
(Hint: You needed to search on "Deer Testicles." When using Google, and especially when it comes to all things testicle, it always pays to be accurate. )
what do a boys crotch look like? - Yeah. I'm not typing that in to any search engine anywhere. Besides, I'm guessing it looks just like mine, only bigger.
trouble swallowing white meat? - If you're asking me about chicken or turkey, then no. If you're asking me about anything else, then hell yeah. This sounds like the punchline to an asian hooker joke.
sniffing diesel fumes, bad or good? - what do you think, Einstein? Here's a little experiment for you: Drinking lacquer thinner, bad or good? Give it a shot and report back.
questions not to ask the boss at lunch - I am guessing that any of the above four should probably be on the list if you would like to keep your job.
washer smells funny. how to get the smell out - again you are in luck because I am a washer and dryer repair expert. I am assuming you have one of those new front-load models. These often have a problem with a urine-like odor. Open your washer carefully, and let me know if you see anything like this:
If you do, we have found the source of your problem. These particular types of washers are known to attract the seldom-seen Giant Water Hamster. They are notoriously hard to get rid of, but I can help. OK, here's what you do: Go get a used tampon....
Fantastic Google searches that somehow led people to my site:
instruction how to still break pad civic car - For full effect, you have to read that aloud using the Russian accent of super-spy Boris Badenov. Without a doubt, this is the mechanic I want working on my vehicle. Especially if my civic car has break pad that won't stay still.
how to get a guy to ask you for your number in a minute - There are lots of different ways, but unfortunately most of them only work if you're pretty hot. If you are extremely hot, you will probably have to look annoyed and say "wait a minute, pinhead" otherwise you'll get asked right away. If you aren't so hot, but only just ok, your options to beat the 60-second deadline are more limited -- which brings us to:
minute-long free porn - which would probably be one pretty effective way.
CHRISTINA BIG BOOB SLAP CHEESE GIRL - I'm at a loss. I got nothin. Suggestions?
The rope witches were wearing thongs they walked in the 15 year old house they took rope and started to wrap him up in it he screamed so they put a gag in his mouth than they a lot more things to him sexy and crule. -- Again, I have very little to add here. I am unfamilar with the crule, sexy, thong-wearing rope witches. And I hope to christ that when I die, I am still able to make that claim.
used tampons deer lure - You just know there's someone out there jumping up and down screaming "Finally! A practical use for all those used tampons I've collected over the years. I will sell them to hunters on ebay! I'll be rich! RICH, I tells ya!"
What are bucks balls look like? - Well, let me tell you. buck balls are look exactly like this:
(Hint: You needed to search on "Deer Testicles." When using Google, and especially when it comes to all things testicle, it always pays to be accurate. )
what do a boys crotch look like? - Yeah. I'm not typing that in to any search engine anywhere. Besides, I'm guessing it looks just like mine, only bigger.
trouble swallowing white meat? - If you're asking me about chicken or turkey, then no. If you're asking me about anything else, then hell yeah. This sounds like the punchline to an asian hooker joke.
sniffing diesel fumes, bad or good? - what do you think, Einstein? Here's a little experiment for you: Drinking lacquer thinner, bad or good? Give it a shot and report back.
questions not to ask the boss at lunch - I am guessing that any of the above four should probably be on the list if you would like to keep your job.
washer smells funny. how to get the smell out - again you are in luck because I am a washer and dryer repair expert. I am assuming you have one of those new front-load models. These often have a problem with a urine-like odor. Open your washer carefully, and let me know if you see anything like this:
If you do, we have found the source of your problem. These particular types of washers are known to attract the seldom-seen Giant Water Hamster. They are notoriously hard to get rid of, but I can help. OK, here's what you do: Go get a used tampon....
2/19/06
Electricity. What a concept.
Living in the sticks, we have a well. The well has a pump. For the purposes of this discussion we will call him Mr. Pump. Normally, Mr. Pump is extremely happy to feel useful and needed by bringing water from 350 feet down in the ground and placing it directly behind the valves of all my faucets. But Mr. Pump needs his friend, Mr. Power, to accomplish this seemingly simple task. The bad news is, Mr. Power has decided to just say eff it, and take a week-long vacation.
As a result, Mr. Pump has nothing to do all day but sit there sulking, playing solitaire and smoking unfiltered camels.
Due to the freaky windstorm we had, there are currently about 80,000 people in this area with no power. As you have accurately deduced, we are included in that number. We just got our phones back, so at least I have two hours of battery life on the old laptop, which is how I'm writing this right now.
It took me almost two hours to actually get to my house on Friday, and I felt like a bug trying to get away from a sadistic kid. Every street I turned down, eventually I would get to a fire truck or National Grid truck blocking traffic because some wire or tree was down. I never saw so many snapped off telephone poles, wires all over the street and downed trees in my life. It was like an obstacle course just to get home. After the fourth time I got shut down a few miles from my street, I just sat there and started laughing. Laugh or cry. Those were the choices. I was an inch away from just abandoning my car on a back road and walking home.
Anyway, I would just like to say to National Grid that moving electrons are the tits, and I would like to have some moving in my direction again very soon if it's all the same to you. They are now saying it's looking like Wednesday. Apparently, they have over 700 trucks from as far away as Mass and Canada coming in to fix this mess up.
Here are the two major things that suck about having no power:
1. Washing yourself in a bucket.
2. Flushing toilets.
At first glance, number one might seem to be simple, but really there's a lot of thought that needs to go into the process. You need to know the correct order to wash things in, for instance. First, you heat the water on the stove (luckily, we have propane to cook with) Then you wash your face, then you wash your hair, then the major body surfaces, and then the rest of the dangly bits, finishing off with your feet. You might want to reverse the last two -- I haven't worked out the "best practices" on that yet. If my feet start to smell like ass, a correction may be in order. Although the reverse of that probably isn't good for anyone either.
Since no power means no water, number two on the list becomes a giant pain in the ass. We have a 55 gallon drum of water in the basement with a hand pump on it. This is supposed to be for drinking water, but we've been using it to flush toilets, since the only alternative is to walk a few hundred feet outside in the below zero weather carrying a bucket and get water from the hand pump on the other well. An average toilet flush is about 3 gallons. So that means you spend a lot of time either running up and down the basement stairs with pans and buckets, or freezing your ass off hauling water from the outside well. So between the water and the firewood, I feel like I'm training for the olympics or something.
I have also come to a few other conclusions, one of which is that we humans are not happy unless we are fighting the natural order of things.
Consider this: It's 2 below zero outside, and I have a freezer full of food inside that is slowly thawing. I also have a 500 gallon hot tub outside that is slowly freezing. I'm not sure what's wrong with that picture, but something definitely is.
Also, my new electronic drum set has sounded like real shit for the last few days.
OK, I'm off to try to figure out how to McGuyver up some coffee.
As a result, Mr. Pump has nothing to do all day but sit there sulking, playing solitaire and smoking unfiltered camels.
Due to the freaky windstorm we had, there are currently about 80,000 people in this area with no power. As you have accurately deduced, we are included in that number. We just got our phones back, so at least I have two hours of battery life on the old laptop, which is how I'm writing this right now.
It took me almost two hours to actually get to my house on Friday, and I felt like a bug trying to get away from a sadistic kid. Every street I turned down, eventually I would get to a fire truck or National Grid truck blocking traffic because some wire or tree was down. I never saw so many snapped off telephone poles, wires all over the street and downed trees in my life. It was like an obstacle course just to get home. After the fourth time I got shut down a few miles from my street, I just sat there and started laughing. Laugh or cry. Those were the choices. I was an inch away from just abandoning my car on a back road and walking home.
Anyway, I would just like to say to National Grid that moving electrons are the tits, and I would like to have some moving in my direction again very soon if it's all the same to you. They are now saying it's looking like Wednesday. Apparently, they have over 700 trucks from as far away as Mass and Canada coming in to fix this mess up.
Here are the two major things that suck about having no power:
1. Washing yourself in a bucket.
2. Flushing toilets.
At first glance, number one might seem to be simple, but really there's a lot of thought that needs to go into the process. You need to know the correct order to wash things in, for instance. First, you heat the water on the stove (luckily, we have propane to cook with) Then you wash your face, then you wash your hair, then the major body surfaces, and then the rest of the dangly bits, finishing off with your feet. You might want to reverse the last two -- I haven't worked out the "best practices" on that yet. If my feet start to smell like ass, a correction may be in order. Although the reverse of that probably isn't good for anyone either.
Since no power means no water, number two on the list becomes a giant pain in the ass. We have a 55 gallon drum of water in the basement with a hand pump on it. This is supposed to be for drinking water, but we've been using it to flush toilets, since the only alternative is to walk a few hundred feet outside in the below zero weather carrying a bucket and get water from the hand pump on the other well. An average toilet flush is about 3 gallons. So that means you spend a lot of time either running up and down the basement stairs with pans and buckets, or freezing your ass off hauling water from the outside well. So between the water and the firewood, I feel like I'm training for the olympics or something.
I have also come to a few other conclusions, one of which is that we humans are not happy unless we are fighting the natural order of things.
Consider this: It's 2 below zero outside, and I have a freezer full of food inside that is slowly thawing. I also have a 500 gallon hot tub outside that is slowly freezing. I'm not sure what's wrong with that picture, but something definitely is.
Also, my new electronic drum set has sounded like real shit for the last few days.
OK, I'm off to try to figure out how to McGuyver up some coffee.
2/14/06
I want the real story, dammit!
After reading all the news stories, and listening to all the snide comments made by the liberal dems I work with, I still can't find out the answer to the question that's been bugging me for the last couple of days. I'm hoping one of you has an inside source.
So tell me -- Did Cheney get the damn quail, or what?
I wonder if he gets the Sportsman's Guide catalog as many times a week as I do? He should pick up one of these:
I'm not sure I would be completely comfortable wearing a Croatian-lined jacket, but all ethics aside - for the price you really can't go wrong. I heard their skin is like Goretex.
OK, I'm off to eat chocolate covered strawberries and then.......you know....do absolutely nothing because my wife is still full of surgery holes. Happy Ballantines day!
So tell me -- Did Cheney get the damn quail, or what?
I wonder if he gets the Sportsman's Guide catalog as many times a week as I do? He should pick up one of these:
I'm not sure I would be completely comfortable wearing a Croatian-lined jacket, but all ethics aside - for the price you really can't go wrong. I heard their skin is like Goretex.
OK, I'm off to eat chocolate covered strawberries and then.......you know....do absolutely nothing because my wife is still full of surgery holes. Happy Ballantines day!
2/13/06
You might think it's funny but it'snot.
Thanks to Sarah, I now have a name to put with what I witnessed today. I was in the men's room, just about to wash my hands, when a darker-skinned gentleman of middle-eastern descent came out of the stall. He immediately walked over to the sink next to mine and did some sort of elaborate hand washing exercise that looked like this, except for the feet part. He dipped each hand multiple times, all while mumbling something.
I can only assume that he was some sort of Muslim, and this was his thing.
That's fine. (Although as an aside, this particular dude might want to throw an armpit or two into the mix as well -- I'm just sayin'.) Anyway, I have no problem with any of that. He can strip naked, climb in the urinal and take a leisurely bath and I wouldn't give a shit.
My problem is with what he did next.
The next thing he did, (which, incidentally, I noticed was definitely not on the above diagram,) was exactly this:
He blew his nose into the sink.
He did this by plugging his left nostril with his left index finger, and blowing hard from his right nostril, and then doing the same thing on the other side.
I actually saw snot spray out of his nose. In fact, I heard it hit the porcelain.
Yep. Your basic snot-rocket, as Sarah informed me. I was so stunned I said, "What the FUCK?" before I realized I was actually talking out loud. He just glanced over at me, and then cupped some water in his hand and splashed it on the sink snot as if to say, "Happy now?"
Then he turned and left. He just walked out. No paper towels, no nothing. I'm 100% sure his snotty remnants are still on the door handle as I type this.
To all the Muslims that read my blog, let me reiterate my question: WTF?
In fact, I'll open it up to everyone, since I probably don't have that many Muslim readers.
Is this just an incidence of "disgusting slob with no clue" or is there something in the Koran that prohibits using toilet paper or paper towels to blow your nose? If this is indeed the case, please let me know.
I stood there pondering his actions for a moment or two, then washed my own hands. I opened the door with a giant wad of paper towels.
Don't worry. I'm pretty sure I got away snot-free.
I can only assume that he was some sort of Muslim, and this was his thing.
That's fine. (Although as an aside, this particular dude might want to throw an armpit or two into the mix as well -- I'm just sayin'.) Anyway, I have no problem with any of that. He can strip naked, climb in the urinal and take a leisurely bath and I wouldn't give a shit.
My problem is with what he did next.
The next thing he did, (which, incidentally, I noticed was definitely not on the above diagram,) was exactly this:
He blew his nose into the sink.
He did this by plugging his left nostril with his left index finger, and blowing hard from his right nostril, and then doing the same thing on the other side.
I actually saw snot spray out of his nose. In fact, I heard it hit the porcelain.
Yep. Your basic snot-rocket, as Sarah informed me. I was so stunned I said, "What the FUCK?" before I realized I was actually talking out loud. He just glanced over at me, and then cupped some water in his hand and splashed it on the sink snot as if to say, "Happy now?"
Then he turned and left. He just walked out. No paper towels, no nothing. I'm 100% sure his snotty remnants are still on the door handle as I type this.
To all the Muslims that read my blog, let me reiterate my question: WTF?
In fact, I'll open it up to everyone, since I probably don't have that many Muslim readers.
Is this just an incidence of "disgusting slob with no clue" or is there something in the Koran that prohibits using toilet paper or paper towels to blow your nose? If this is indeed the case, please let me know.
I stood there pondering his actions for a moment or two, then washed my own hands. I opened the door with a giant wad of paper towels.
Don't worry. I'm pretty sure I got away snot-free.
2/11/06
Man-servant endures Everyday Insanity
So my wife had her gallbladder out Tuesday, and aside from the fact that her stomach looks like a really white version of 50 Cent's after he got shot up, she's doing OK. I took the week off to play man-servant, and all I can say is, I wish our house didn't have stairs.
I also wish there was no such thing as cooking shows, because the food network is all that has been on the upstairs TV for the last week. It's gotten so bad, I'm having nightmares about Giada De Laurentiis. In my dream, she looks like this:
Hmmm. Actually, even out of my dream she pretty much looks like that.
I keep dreaming that I'm a piece of sentient "MOOT-za-RELL-a" and she is going to dip her giant bobble-head down to the counter and take a gigantic bite out of me with her two rows of 149 perfectly white, razor-sharp teeth. Every time she smiles, she looks like she's checking her teeth for poppy seeds in the bathroom mirror.
I don't know if it's just her humongous insane-person grin that bugs me, or the fact that the cameraman sees fit to show us a close up of her uvula every time she speaks, but I can't take this show for very long. Every time she fellat--, er, tastes something she made I expect her to shuck her clothes, jump on the counter and roll around in it while screaming out the names of random italian foods using a fake, over-the-top italian accent.
Here's some other people I've learned to hate over the last week:
Sandra Lee - I forget the name of her show, but I call her Sandra Low because every single time I see her I wonder if her boobs could get any lower without having to be tucked into her pants. Seriously, who dresses this woman? Yank a little harder on those winches, will ya?
Some grey-haired southern butterball - This woman must have solid butter in her arteries, based on some of the recipes I've seen. Don't know her name, or the name of her show. I just know that she bugs the shit out of me, y'all.
Rachel Ray - Despite the fact that she's almost cute in a Miss-Piggy-meets-The-Joker sort of way and she seems to be the most genuine of the bunch, her voice sounds like it belongs to a 50 year old ex-hooker waitress working the nightshift at a truckstop. I can listen to it for about three minutes, tops.
Staying home for the week wasn't all bad though. I did learn how to make home-made chicken soup, using nothing but my own two hands and the instructions that periodically came out of the magic walkie-talkie. Oh, and I used some chicken and stuff. I didn't actually make soup out of my hands. I'm sure it would be tasty and flavorful, but it would make it really hard to type.
I also wish there was no such thing as cooking shows, because the food network is all that has been on the upstairs TV for the last week. It's gotten so bad, I'm having nightmares about Giada De Laurentiis. In my dream, she looks like this:
Hmmm. Actually, even out of my dream she pretty much looks like that.
I keep dreaming that I'm a piece of sentient "MOOT-za-RELL-a" and she is going to dip her giant bobble-head down to the counter and take a gigantic bite out of me with her two rows of 149 perfectly white, razor-sharp teeth. Every time she smiles, she looks like she's checking her teeth for poppy seeds in the bathroom mirror.
I don't know if it's just her humongous insane-person grin that bugs me, or the fact that the cameraman sees fit to show us a close up of her uvula every time she speaks, but I can't take this show for very long. Every time she fellat--, er, tastes something she made I expect her to shuck her clothes, jump on the counter and roll around in it while screaming out the names of random italian foods using a fake, over-the-top italian accent.
Here's some other people I've learned to hate over the last week:
Sandra Lee - I forget the name of her show, but I call her Sandra Low because every single time I see her I wonder if her boobs could get any lower without having to be tucked into her pants. Seriously, who dresses this woman? Yank a little harder on those winches, will ya?
Some grey-haired southern butterball - This woman must have solid butter in her arteries, based on some of the recipes I've seen. Don't know her name, or the name of her show. I just know that she bugs the shit out of me, y'all.
Rachel Ray - Despite the fact that she's almost cute in a Miss-Piggy-meets-The-Joker sort of way and she seems to be the most genuine of the bunch, her voice sounds like it belongs to a 50 year old ex-hooker waitress working the nightshift at a truckstop. I can listen to it for about three minutes, tops.
Staying home for the week wasn't all bad though. I did learn how to make home-made chicken soup, using nothing but my own two hands and the instructions that periodically came out of the magic walkie-talkie. Oh, and I used some chicken and stuff. I didn't actually make soup out of my hands. I'm sure it would be tasty and flavorful, but it would make it really hard to type.
2/9/06
Another "feel good" Disney moment. Like when Bambi's mother died.
There's a new Disney movie out about dog sledding, and I've been seeing the previews lately on television. The movie looks really Disney-ish and sappy, except for one thing, and that thing is this:
What the hell IS that?? I am pretty sure it could eat an entire dog sled team in a single, flesh-rending bite. It doesn't look very fast, but I have to believe it would catch me easily because I would be frozen to the ice by my own pee.
What the hell IS that?? I am pretty sure it could eat an entire dog sled team in a single, flesh-rending bite. It doesn't look very fast, but I have to believe it would catch me easily because I would be frozen to the ice by my own pee.
2/8/06
Superbowl X-tra Large
I was talking to a buddy of mine the other day about the fact that most of our friends have no interest in watching football in general, or the superbowl in particular. I said I didn't even know who was in it this year, and he told me this funny story.
A few days ago, he was having a very similar conversation with another friend of ours, and he told her he didn't know who was playing. She said, "Oh wait -- I just saw the commercial. I think it's the Steelers vs. the Bangles."
The sad thing is, I know a lot more about Susanna Hoffs than I do about football.
A few days ago, he was having a very similar conversation with another friend of ours, and he told her he didn't know who was playing. She said, "Oh wait -- I just saw the commercial. I think it's the Steelers vs. the Bangles."
The sad thing is, I know a lot more about Susanna Hoffs than I do about football.
2/6/06
More "too much of a good thing"
I just saw this little number on TV:
I don't know what kind of geyser this thing is supposed to put an end to, but I am pretty sure I could drain 5 quarts of dirty motor oil into it during my next oil change and not mess up the garage floor.
When will the marketing madness end? Just look at it. This thing's wings have wings. If the wings were any bigger, it would be a diaper. At least they didn't magically fold it into a little tiny lounge chair like that other commercial. This one was much classier. They had a steel ball bearing ricocheting around inside of it like it was a pinball machine.
And is it just me, or are all these things starting to look like Nike Air insoles?
Yeah. I know. It's just me.
I don't know what kind of geyser this thing is supposed to put an end to, but I am pretty sure I could drain 5 quarts of dirty motor oil into it during my next oil change and not mess up the garage floor.
When will the marketing madness end? Just look at it. This thing's wings have wings. If the wings were any bigger, it would be a diaper. At least they didn't magically fold it into a little tiny lounge chair like that other commercial. This one was much classier. They had a steel ball bearing ricocheting around inside of it like it was a pinball machine.
And is it just me, or are all these things starting to look like Nike Air insoles?
Yeah. I know. It's just me.
2/5/06
Too much of a good and bad thing
A few miscellaneous things that occurred to me lately:
Has anyone else noticed that automobile manufacturers are going a little overboard with the safety features? The other day I saw a commercial for a car that had seven airbags. Seven! I can't even imagine where they would put the damn things. You had better hope you don't get into an accident, because seven airbags going off inside your car would squirt you out of the sunroof like a giant watermelon seed.
Now they have cars where all four wheels turn. That might sound good on paper, and it probably works great on snow, but to me it just sounds like something really hard to fix. That's if you actually survived the malfunction. Something about hitting an off-ramp at 60mph and suddenly realizing that my front tires are turning right and my rear tires are turning left doesn't really appeal to me. Although if it broke just right, your car would be like a two-ton version of the Krazy Kar I had when I was a kid, and that was always a fun ride.
Now they have headlights that turn too. You start to turn left, and the headlights turn left as well, to illuminate where you are thinking of going. What if I just swerved to avoid a pot hole? Suddenly my lights are pointing directly into someone's living room window instead of actually illuminating the road in front of me. It might be fun to play with though. The night-time joggers would probably get a kick out of it if you just gave the wheel a quick nudge to the left when you were coming up on them. They love that.
This would also be a maintenance issue, I'm sure. Just explaining it to the mechanic would be bad enough. "Hello? Yes, I need to get my car serviced. What's wrong with it? Well, first it went cross-eyed, and now all it does is spin in circles. Yes. I can have it towed in on Thursday. That will give me time to get the home equity loan squared away."
I can't even imagine how much stuff like this would cost to fix.
*******************************
In other news, a University of Arizona study identified prime common areas harboring cold and flu-causing germs and the bacteria count per square inch:
· Kitchen sink sponges and dishcloths, 7 billion;
· Kitchen faucets -- 229,000;
· Office phones -- 25,000;
· Desktops -- 21,000 and;
· Office toilet seats -- 49.
Do asses have some sort of inherent anti-bacterial properties that I am unaware of?
Anyway, I'll be eating my lunch in the handicapper stall from now on. (As an aside, I wish they'd move the giant toilet paper dispenser to above the rail. I'm not even handicapped and I can't get toilet paper out of that piece of shit without throwing my back out.)
I thought it was all good, because I had my trusty bottle of Purell. Then I saw on the bottle that it "Kills 99.99% of germs!" I only have second-grade math skills, but even I can tell you this:
.01% of SEVEN BILLION is still a shitload.
Has anyone else noticed that automobile manufacturers are going a little overboard with the safety features? The other day I saw a commercial for a car that had seven airbags. Seven! I can't even imagine where they would put the damn things. You had better hope you don't get into an accident, because seven airbags going off inside your car would squirt you out of the sunroof like a giant watermelon seed.
Now they have cars where all four wheels turn. That might sound good on paper, and it probably works great on snow, but to me it just sounds like something really hard to fix. That's if you actually survived the malfunction. Something about hitting an off-ramp at 60mph and suddenly realizing that my front tires are turning right and my rear tires are turning left doesn't really appeal to me. Although if it broke just right, your car would be like a two-ton version of the Krazy Kar I had when I was a kid, and that was always a fun ride.
Now they have headlights that turn too. You start to turn left, and the headlights turn left as well, to illuminate where you are thinking of going. What if I just swerved to avoid a pot hole? Suddenly my lights are pointing directly into someone's living room window instead of actually illuminating the road in front of me. It might be fun to play with though. The night-time joggers would probably get a kick out of it if you just gave the wheel a quick nudge to the left when you were coming up on them. They love that.
This would also be a maintenance issue, I'm sure. Just explaining it to the mechanic would be bad enough. "Hello? Yes, I need to get my car serviced. What's wrong with it? Well, first it went cross-eyed, and now all it does is spin in circles. Yes. I can have it towed in on Thursday. That will give me time to get the home equity loan squared away."
I can't even imagine how much stuff like this would cost to fix.
*******************************
In other news, a University of Arizona study identified prime common areas harboring cold and flu-causing germs and the bacteria count per square inch:
· Kitchen sink sponges and dishcloths, 7 billion;
· Kitchen faucets -- 229,000;
· Office phones -- 25,000;
· Desktops -- 21,000 and;
· Office toilet seats -- 49.
Do asses have some sort of inherent anti-bacterial properties that I am unaware of?
Anyway, I'll be eating my lunch in the handicapper stall from now on. (As an aside, I wish they'd move the giant toilet paper dispenser to above the rail. I'm not even handicapped and I can't get toilet paper out of that piece of shit without throwing my back out.)
I thought it was all good, because I had my trusty bottle of Purell. Then I saw on the bottle that it "Kills 99.99% of germs!" I only have second-grade math skills, but even I can tell you this:
.01% of SEVEN BILLION is still a shitload.
2/2/06
State of the Island Address
I didn't get a chance to actually watch the state of the union address, so today I read the transcript. I was following along quite nicely when suddenly, I read this:
"Tonight I ask you to pass legislation to prohibit the most egregious abuses of medical research -- …creating human-animal hybrids … "
I realize this is a huge concern for the entire population. If they outlaw it, it'll just mean only the rich will be able to get it done. In fact, just today I was telling a co-worker that I was having a bitch of a time trying to find someone to graft a rhino horn to my forehead. I found one guy in Mexico, but he doesn't guarantee his work.
I had my eye on that horse-penis upgrade too, but my wife gave the old thumbs-down to that idea. Truthfully, I'm a little surprised she went for the horn. I didn't really expect that.
Anyway, I just thought I'd bring this up and see what you all thought. I am, after all, what they call a "single-issue voter," and I gotta say: I think human-animal hybrids is my issue.
Also, I heard that Cheney was trying to get G to flip-flop on his whole anti-hybrid stance and just go for that bitchin' cheetah mod. He said Putin would shit his pants.
"Tonight I ask you to pass legislation to prohibit the most egregious abuses of medical research -- …creating human-animal hybrids … "
I realize this is a huge concern for the entire population. If they outlaw it, it'll just mean only the rich will be able to get it done. In fact, just today I was telling a co-worker that I was having a bitch of a time trying to find someone to graft a rhino horn to my forehead. I found one guy in Mexico, but he doesn't guarantee his work.
I had my eye on that horse-penis upgrade too, but my wife gave the old thumbs-down to that idea. Truthfully, I'm a little surprised she went for the horn. I didn't really expect that.
Anyway, I just thought I'd bring this up and see what you all thought. I am, after all, what they call a "single-issue voter," and I gotta say: I think human-animal hybrids is my issue.
Also, I heard that Cheney was trying to get G to flip-flop on his whole anti-hybrid stance and just go for that bitchin' cheetah mod. He said Putin would shit his pants.
2/1/06
I AM NOT AN ANIMAL!
So this is new.
I had just finished eating my lunch yesterday -- the same exact type of sandwich I eat most every day -- when my jaw felt a little funny. I reached up to touch it and I hit beard a full inch and a half before I expected to.
"Hmmmm," I thought to myself. "I certainly don't remember having a goiter."
But suddenly I did. The entire left side of my jaw and part of my neck was swollen and strangely numb. My jaw felt funny when I closed it, like my teeth didn't line up correctly any more. I wasn't having any trouble swallowing, and I've never been allergic to a thing in my entire life.
Other possibilities ran through my mind: Was I a late-blooming shape shifter? Was my recessive lycanthrope gene rearing its ugly head again? I had no idea. I grabbed a mirror to see what sort of transformation was occurring, and I was not disappointed. I immediately saw that the left side of my face was looking extremely Leno-esque.
I called my GP, and said "I ate lunth and my fathe swelled up." Then I realized I sounded exactly like Edgar Stiles on 24, so I added "Mithster Buchanan, Jack Bauer ith on the phone."
They said, "Um, yeah. You'd better go to the emergency room."
I hung up and decided to wait a bit to see if it got better.
While I was waiting, I drove my ass to the drugstore and choked down a few handfuls of Benedryl while standing in the cold and flu aisle. The first box I picked up was the chewable version, and since my teeth didn't line up anymore, I had to hunt around for something else. I had no idea there were so many different kinds. All of them are as dry as desert dust, by the way.
I approached the register with the open box, and I must have scared the clerk with the proto-Leno look I had going on, because he said, "Are you all right?" I tried to cough up the Benedryl that was jammed sideways in my esophogus, then said, "Yeth, I think thoe. Juth need to pay." He backed up like I had Ebola or something. I am not sure, but I may or may not have been drooling.
I got back to the office, and an hour later, everything was back to normal.
WTF? Can faces spontaneously inflate? Just half of them?
Apparently the answer to that question is, "Yes, Johnny. Yes, they can."
I had just finished eating my lunch yesterday -- the same exact type of sandwich I eat most every day -- when my jaw felt a little funny. I reached up to touch it and I hit beard a full inch and a half before I expected to.
"Hmmmm," I thought to myself. "I certainly don't remember having a goiter."
But suddenly I did. The entire left side of my jaw and part of my neck was swollen and strangely numb. My jaw felt funny when I closed it, like my teeth didn't line up correctly any more. I wasn't having any trouble swallowing, and I've never been allergic to a thing in my entire life.
Other possibilities ran through my mind: Was I a late-blooming shape shifter? Was my recessive lycanthrope gene rearing its ugly head again? I had no idea. I grabbed a mirror to see what sort of transformation was occurring, and I was not disappointed. I immediately saw that the left side of my face was looking extremely Leno-esque.
I called my GP, and said "I ate lunth and my fathe swelled up." Then I realized I sounded exactly like Edgar Stiles on 24, so I added "Mithster Buchanan, Jack Bauer ith on the phone."
They said, "Um, yeah. You'd better go to the emergency room."
I hung up and decided to wait a bit to see if it got better.
While I was waiting, I drove my ass to the drugstore and choked down a few handfuls of Benedryl while standing in the cold and flu aisle. The first box I picked up was the chewable version, and since my teeth didn't line up anymore, I had to hunt around for something else. I had no idea there were so many different kinds. All of them are as dry as desert dust, by the way.
I approached the register with the open box, and I must have scared the clerk with the proto-Leno look I had going on, because he said, "Are you all right?" I tried to cough up the Benedryl that was jammed sideways in my esophogus, then said, "Yeth, I think thoe. Juth need to pay." He backed up like I had Ebola or something. I am not sure, but I may or may not have been drooling.
I got back to the office, and an hour later, everything was back to normal.
WTF? Can faces spontaneously inflate? Just half of them?
Apparently the answer to that question is, "Yes, Johnny. Yes, they can."
1/30/06
Lust and found
Ladies and gents, I present you with this week's edition of:
Fantastic searches that somehow led people to my site
Are sharks attracted to dogs? - You know, I've often wondered this myself. If the dog was smokin' hot, and also an excellent swimmer, I could maybe see a quick roll in the hay, but a lasting relationship? I really can't see it working. The shark would have to keep moving all the time, the dog would get fed up with not being able to keep the kids in one school...It would end badly for everyone involved. But I won't rule it out completely, because we all know that opposites attack, er, attract.
Twisted Village - I had no idea they were even back together. At any rate, I would suggest just picking up this one CD and calling it a day:
It has all their very best stuff on it anyway.
Should you curl into a ball during a shark attack? - I guess the answer to this question depends on who you ask. If you ask the shark, the shark would say that yes - Sharks, as a group, generally appreciate ball-curling on the humans' part. Basically, it puts the crunchy shell on the outside, like an m&m. They love that.
How a wolfman would speak - I 'm not a wolfman, so I don't really knowoooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Jeez. I have no idea where that came from.
Dog shit attractant - I've had pretty good luck with these:
Shit smells. -- Clearly, this search was performed by a scientist researching a theory. The first step is to make an observation, e.g. "shit smells." The second step is to verify that the observation is not an anomaly and is totally repeatable, e.g. "yup, shit still smells." Obviously, the third and final step is to search the internet to see if anyone else has independently researched and published information similar to your discovery. Sadly, even though the clues were right in front of me, stuck to my shoe, I never put two and two together. I simply could not figure out where the smell was coming from, until it was too late. No scientific journal publication credit for me, I guess.
Anus leaching -- Oh Jesus save me. Leaching what? LEACHING WHAT? Oh. They meant BLEACHING. Yeah. That's much better.
How to get rid of an earwig's lodge in your ear -- I would call the building inspector. I'd bet good money that those bastards didn't even have a building permit. Also, I am pretty sure that a lot of it is probably not built to code. It will take a while, but you can get the structure condemned and then start eviction proceedings. I would do it soon, because I've heard rumors that they are looking for someone to burn it down for the insurance money.
Scrotum interrogation -- I'm really at a loss here, because I've never had to go to the police station to bail out my scrotum. Luckily, it has never been implicated in a drive-by shooting or any other violent crime, so I'm not really up to speed on the the latest and greatest scrotum interrogation techniques. I imagine it involves bright lights, small propane torches and some sort of nutcracker.
What to do to get your asshole ready for anal sex -- Here's another search that I really can't help with. However, I'm never one to hold off on advice even when I have no idea what I'm talking about, so I would suggest starting with maybe a really snappy bleaching. Make that sucker so white it glows in the dark. Make it hard to miss, in other words. An interrogation probably wouldn't hurt either -- failing that, I would at least have someone give it a stern talking to.
Good size for a ho train platform -- Another tough one. My feeling is that you're going to need a pretty big platform if you're going to start up a working ho train. I would suggest something at least three times the normal platform size and comfortably soft, since people will most likely be lying down rather than standing up. I would also suggest something that is easily hosed off. I am leaning towards vinyl padding, but I'll let you know which way I go once the project comes together and I make my first cross country run. You'll be able to get pre-sale tickets and investment information at www.hotrain.com when I finally get it up. I'm talking about the website. Get your mind out of the gutter, people.
Fantastic searches that somehow led people to my site
Are sharks attracted to dogs? - You know, I've often wondered this myself. If the dog was smokin' hot, and also an excellent swimmer, I could maybe see a quick roll in the hay, but a lasting relationship? I really can't see it working. The shark would have to keep moving all the time, the dog would get fed up with not being able to keep the kids in one school...It would end badly for everyone involved. But I won't rule it out completely, because we all know that opposites attack, er, attract.
Twisted Village - I had no idea they were even back together. At any rate, I would suggest just picking up this one CD and calling it a day:
It has all their very best stuff on it anyway.
Should you curl into a ball during a shark attack? - I guess the answer to this question depends on who you ask. If you ask the shark, the shark would say that yes - Sharks, as a group, generally appreciate ball-curling on the humans' part. Basically, it puts the crunchy shell on the outside, like an m&m. They love that.
How a wolfman would speak - I 'm not a wolfman, so I don't really knowoooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Jeez. I have no idea where that came from.
Dog shit attractant - I've had pretty good luck with these:
Shit smells. -- Clearly, this search was performed by a scientist researching a theory. The first step is to make an observation, e.g. "shit smells." The second step is to verify that the observation is not an anomaly and is totally repeatable, e.g. "yup, shit still smells." Obviously, the third and final step is to search the internet to see if anyone else has independently researched and published information similar to your discovery. Sadly, even though the clues were right in front of me, stuck to my shoe, I never put two and two together. I simply could not figure out where the smell was coming from, until it was too late. No scientific journal publication credit for me, I guess.
Anus leaching -- Oh Jesus save me. Leaching what? LEACHING WHAT? Oh. They meant BLEACHING. Yeah. That's much better.
How to get rid of an earwig's lodge in your ear -- I would call the building inspector. I'd bet good money that those bastards didn't even have a building permit. Also, I am pretty sure that a lot of it is probably not built to code. It will take a while, but you can get the structure condemned and then start eviction proceedings. I would do it soon, because I've heard rumors that they are looking for someone to burn it down for the insurance money.
Scrotum interrogation -- I'm really at a loss here, because I've never had to go to the police station to bail out my scrotum. Luckily, it has never been implicated in a drive-by shooting or any other violent crime, so I'm not really up to speed on the the latest and greatest scrotum interrogation techniques. I imagine it involves bright lights, small propane torches and some sort of nutcracker.
What to do to get your asshole ready for anal sex -- Here's another search that I really can't help with. However, I'm never one to hold off on advice even when I have no idea what I'm talking about, so I would suggest starting with maybe a really snappy bleaching. Make that sucker so white it glows in the dark. Make it hard to miss, in other words. An interrogation probably wouldn't hurt either -- failing that, I would at least have someone give it a stern talking to.
Good size for a ho train platform -- Another tough one. My feeling is that you're going to need a pretty big platform if you're going to start up a working ho train. I would suggest something at least three times the normal platform size and comfortably soft, since people will most likely be lying down rather than standing up. I would also suggest something that is easily hosed off. I am leaning towards vinyl padding, but I'll let you know which way I go once the project comes together and I make my first cross country run. You'll be able to get pre-sale tickets and investment information at www.hotrain.com when I finally get it up. I'm talking about the website. Get your mind out of the gutter, people.
1/26/06
It's over between us.
Courage. Commitment. Trust. All good things in a relationship, although sometimes tough to come by. Such was the case yesterday. I would like to briefly address these topics with the anonymous woman driving in front of me on the way home last night, since she seems to be in need of a little refresher.
Courage -- It was very commendable of you to decide that when the light turned yellow, you were going for it. This type of courage is not normally seen in women drivers. It warmed my heart to see you grab the bull by the horns, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching your car accelerate quickly away from mine. I smiled, because I could see that you were going to have plenty of time. So much time, in fact, that I quickly calculated that I would also have time to make the light, given your current rate of acceleration.
You were thinking of both of us, and I sincerely appreciate that. I suppose that could be mere wishful thinking on my part, and I realize now that it was probably more of an "every man for himself" kind of thing, but still. There had to be something there, or you could have tried to time it so that only you got through, but you didn't stoop to that level. Because of that, I honestly thought you cared.
Commitment -- Sadly my love, this is where we part ways. While I was committed to our relationship, apparently you were not. When you glanced to your left a moment after you gunned your engine and saw the cop sitting at the red light, your bravery and commitment evaporated instantly, and you slammed on your brakes. I would be the first one to forgive you for your sudden lack of courage and commitment, were I privy to your impending change of heart.
I tell you this to save you some heartache in future relationships: Going forward, it is imperative for you to understand that it is not permissible to change your mind mid-stomp and decide that you want to stop for the yellow after all. This is a Very Bad Thing, and causes the other person in the relationship to scream and yell and tightly pucker their nether-orifice as they swerve from side to side trying desperately to not plow your field. I only mention this so you know next time: A police officer will generally not give you a ticket for running a yellow light.
Trust -- I am normally a good judge of driving ability, and up until that moment, you seemed like you were the Master of your Vehicle. You were consistently 7-10 mph over the speed limit, you lined the curves, you didn't ride your brakes. You were decisive and confident. You handled that little foreign job like the true professional I believed you to be. You were everything I wanted.
I admit this to you, now that it's over.
I was falling in love with you.
That all changed in an instant, as it so often does. You betrayed my trust in you. You looked like you had it all together, but unfortunately for both of us, I was gravely mistaken. The sight of a single police car caused you to abandon your feelings for me, and go running to him.
I lost all respect for you. I don't think I'll be able to look at you the same way any longer.
In fact, I.....I don't think I can drive behind you anymore.
I'm sorry it had to end like this.
Courage -- It was very commendable of you to decide that when the light turned yellow, you were going for it. This type of courage is not normally seen in women drivers. It warmed my heart to see you grab the bull by the horns, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching your car accelerate quickly away from mine. I smiled, because I could see that you were going to have plenty of time. So much time, in fact, that I quickly calculated that I would also have time to make the light, given your current rate of acceleration.
You were thinking of both of us, and I sincerely appreciate that. I suppose that could be mere wishful thinking on my part, and I realize now that it was probably more of an "every man for himself" kind of thing, but still. There had to be something there, or you could have tried to time it so that only you got through, but you didn't stoop to that level. Because of that, I honestly thought you cared.
Commitment -- Sadly my love, this is where we part ways. While I was committed to our relationship, apparently you were not. When you glanced to your left a moment after you gunned your engine and saw the cop sitting at the red light, your bravery and commitment evaporated instantly, and you slammed on your brakes. I would be the first one to forgive you for your sudden lack of courage and commitment, were I privy to your impending change of heart.
I tell you this to save you some heartache in future relationships: Going forward, it is imperative for you to understand that it is not permissible to change your mind mid-stomp and decide that you want to stop for the yellow after all. This is a Very Bad Thing, and causes the other person in the relationship to scream and yell and tightly pucker their nether-orifice as they swerve from side to side trying desperately to not plow your field. I only mention this so you know next time: A police officer will generally not give you a ticket for running a yellow light.
Trust -- I am normally a good judge of driving ability, and up until that moment, you seemed like you were the Master of your Vehicle. You were consistently 7-10 mph over the speed limit, you lined the curves, you didn't ride your brakes. You were decisive and confident. You handled that little foreign job like the true professional I believed you to be. You were everything I wanted.
I admit this to you, now that it's over.
I was falling in love with you.
That all changed in an instant, as it so often does. You betrayed my trust in you. You looked like you had it all together, but unfortunately for both of us, I was gravely mistaken. The sight of a single police car caused you to abandon your feelings for me, and go running to him.
I lost all respect for you. I don't think I'll be able to look at you the same way any longer.
In fact, I.....I don't think I can drive behind you anymore.
I'm sorry it had to end like this.
1/25/06
i-Rock
I know I've been neglecting my blogging duties, but I have a good reason.
I think I finally found the ultimate accessory for my iPod:
Right. I just got these bad boys, and I cannot TELL you how good it feels to have drumsticks in my hands again. I played in a rock band all through high school and most of college, and I missed playing a lot. When I moved into my first apartment, I traded the acoustics for an electronic set, but the technology wasn't quite there yet. I ended up selling them a short time later to buy a flatscreen monitor.
Not exactly the same as trading the Bluesmobile for a microphone, but close.
Anyway, these things are pretty amazing, and the feel is very natural. In fact, with your eyes closed, they don't feel like rubber at all. They have just the right bounce, and once you get used to them, they're easy to use. They could stand to be a bit bigger, but for the cheapest decent set available, they're pretty damn fine.
I realize that sounds like I'm describing my wife's new boob-job, but I'm not. I will say, however, that you would have to have some pretty spectacular knockers for me to be drawn away from this drum set any time soon.
I am still mulling over the answers to the war-pig test. I'll get back to you soon with the winners and the prizes.
I know. You can hardly wait.
I think I finally found the ultimate accessory for my iPod:
Right. I just got these bad boys, and I cannot TELL you how good it feels to have drumsticks in my hands again. I played in a rock band all through high school and most of college, and I missed playing a lot. When I moved into my first apartment, I traded the acoustics for an electronic set, but the technology wasn't quite there yet. I ended up selling them a short time later to buy a flatscreen monitor.
Not exactly the same as trading the Bluesmobile for a microphone, but close.
Anyway, these things are pretty amazing, and the feel is very natural. In fact, with your eyes closed, they don't feel like rubber at all. They have just the right bounce, and once you get used to them, they're easy to use. They could stand to be a bit bigger, but for the cheapest decent set available, they're pretty damn fine.
I realize that sounds like I'm describing my wife's new boob-job, but I'm not. I will say, however, that you would have to have some pretty spectacular knockers for me to be drawn away from this drum set any time soon.
I am still mulling over the answers to the war-pig test. I'll get back to you soon with the winners and the prizes.
I know. You can hardly wait.
1/22/06
War Pigs
Take a look at this.
Study it closely, because there's going to be a test. There are no incorrect answers. Basically, I'm looking for an answer from you guys, because nothing I can come up with explains this.
Let's go over a few things.
First, let's look at the product name: MURA: Military Pigs
That name seems to tie in nicely with the graphic, if those melon-headed, teardrop-eyed, rosy-cheeked little nightmare creatures can be considered pigs. They are clearly military somethings. One only needs to observe the bazooka-like weapon, the GI helmets and the gear belts in order to come to this conclusion.
Counter-balancing that, however, is (1) The complete lack of both clothes and genitalia, (2) The fact they they appear to be effortlessly standing on their hind legs, and (3) The fact that it appears to be snowing out. Not that it's entirely out of the question for extremely coordinated Military Pigs to conduct naked warfare in the snow -- but still.
So.
What would you expect to be inside this package? Ammunition? Bazooka operating instructions? Bacon-flavored pork-jerky?
Well, I can tell you that it's none of the above. What is inside happens to be exactly this:
Lightly scented facial tissues.
So here's your test. It's entirely essay based (I know, you guys hate that, but no multiple-choice for finals - only midterms), and you can place your answers in my comments section. The person who receives the highest grade will get a prize.
Question One: Pigs, while generally naked, do not normally engage in warfare with hand-held weapons, or, in fact, any weapons. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure they rarely engage in warfare at all. In 50 words or less, explain what these pigs are fighting for.
Question Two: In 50 words or less, give me your best explanation as to how these pigs lost all their clothes, but managed to hang on to their helmets and belts.
Question Three: In 50 words or less, Explain what was going through the mind of the package designer when he/she/it decided that a good graphic for a small package of Kleenex would consist of naked, bi-pedal pigs holding a bazooka.
OK, pick up your pencils and begin.
Study it closely, because there's going to be a test. There are no incorrect answers. Basically, I'm looking for an answer from you guys, because nothing I can come up with explains this.
Let's go over a few things.
First, let's look at the product name: MURA: Military Pigs
That name seems to tie in nicely with the graphic, if those melon-headed, teardrop-eyed, rosy-cheeked little nightmare creatures can be considered pigs. They are clearly military somethings. One only needs to observe the bazooka-like weapon, the GI helmets and the gear belts in order to come to this conclusion.
Counter-balancing that, however, is (1) The complete lack of both clothes and genitalia, (2) The fact they they appear to be effortlessly standing on their hind legs, and (3) The fact that it appears to be snowing out. Not that it's entirely out of the question for extremely coordinated Military Pigs to conduct naked warfare in the snow -- but still.
So.
What would you expect to be inside this package? Ammunition? Bazooka operating instructions? Bacon-flavored pork-jerky?
Well, I can tell you that it's none of the above. What is inside happens to be exactly this:
Lightly scented facial tissues.
So here's your test. It's entirely essay based (I know, you guys hate that, but no multiple-choice for finals - only midterms), and you can place your answers in my comments section. The person who receives the highest grade will get a prize.
Question One: Pigs, while generally naked, do not normally engage in warfare with hand-held weapons, or, in fact, any weapons. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure they rarely engage in warfare at all. In 50 words or less, explain what these pigs are fighting for.
Question Two: In 50 words or less, give me your best explanation as to how these pigs lost all their clothes, but managed to hang on to their helmets and belts.
Question Three: In 50 words or less, Explain what was going through the mind of the package designer when he/she/it decided that a good graphic for a small package of Kleenex would consist of naked, bi-pedal pigs holding a bazooka.
OK, pick up your pencils and begin.
1/19/06
I know too much. I'm probably a dead man.
So I get in the elevator to ride up to the fifth floor and a large woman I have never seen before gets on with me.
To me, the extent of conversation in an elevator with a person you don't know should be, at most, "What floor?" followed by a response consisting of a monosyllabic word, preferably a number, and then a button push on my part.
But no.
The split-second the doors close, she starts talking.
Here is the conversation, as it happened:
Me: "4th?"
Her: "Yes. please. Oh my God, I hope I can function today. I only got one hour's sleep last night. My daughter called as soon as I went to bed, and I ended up at the hospital because she was having contractions. I told her they were just going to send her home but no, she had to go anyway. They kept her there almost the entire night."
She pauses, then leans toward me a little bit, and gives me the conspiratorial whisper "She was scared, because last week she had some spotting."
Luckily, the elevator responded to my silent prayer of "ohjesuspleasegofasterpleasegofastergofaster" and the doors opened on the 4th floor and she got out.
I'm still dazed.
To me, the extent of conversation in an elevator with a person you don't know should be, at most, "What floor?" followed by a response consisting of a monosyllabic word, preferably a number, and then a button push on my part.
But no.
The split-second the doors close, she starts talking.
Here is the conversation, as it happened:
Me: "4th?"
Her: "Yes. please. Oh my God, I hope I can function today. I only got one hour's sleep last night. My daughter called as soon as I went to bed, and I ended up at the hospital because she was having contractions. I told her they were just going to send her home but no, she had to go anyway. They kept her there almost the entire night."
She pauses, then leans toward me a little bit, and gives me the conspiratorial whisper "She was scared, because last week she had some spotting."
Luckily, the elevator responded to my silent prayer of "ohjesuspleasegofasterpleasegofastergofaster" and the doors opened on the 4th floor and she got out.
I'm still dazed.
1/17/06
Finding Mr. Virgil
It's time for your weekly dose of....
Fantastic Searches That Somehow Pointed People To My Site
difference between exuding confidence and being annoying - In reality, these are generally one and the same. People who exude confidence are intrisically annoying. There is fine line between arrogance and awareness of self-worth, and the confidence-exuder walks this line. There is only one thing more annoying than a confidence-exuder, and that is an arrogant asshole. And the only thing worse than an arrogant asshole is an arrogant asshole who exudes unwarranted confidence.
rapid clacking noise on my washer - You are in luck, because I am an expert at fixing washers and dryers. OK, here's what you do. Look very closely at your washing machine. Tell me if it looks anything like this:
If it does, you have found the source of your problem. Do not get too close -- those things can be very dangerous. Immediately get a big stick and pound the shit out of it until your washer is covered in tiny, red and white slivers of plastic. The clacking should have stopped. Your washer is now fixed.
Washing machine won't go into rise cycle - Ugh. Magicians. They have no idea what to do when their appliances break down.
flaming doe scent - I've burned hair off my arm while grilling steaks, and lemme tell ya -- that shit stinks bad. You cannot get rid of that smell. I can only imagine how bad an entire flaming doe smells. It can't be good. I have no idea why you would even want to smell it.
How many hours should you space between breakfast and lunch? - I recommend spacing for at least an hour. What I like to do is grab some breakfast around 8, head back to my desk around ten thirty, then space for an hour or so until lunch. By then it's all downhill and almost time to leave.
Jolly Ranger candies - I'm not sure why, but this candy sounds much gayer than the Jolly Rancher version.
WGY CANT WE LOOK ET THE SUN - BECUASZ WE WIL GO BLINED AND NPOT BE ABL TO CEE THE KLEYBOARD REELG OOD.
wedgie instructions - OK, here you go: Grab the underwear firmly, using both hands if possible. (The single-handed wedgie is beyond the scope of this text, and will be covered next semester.) To avoid thumb injury, the proper form is very important. Hook the elastic waistband with four fingers of each hand. Ideally, you want all fingers on the inside of the elastic, and the thumbs on the outside. The thumbs should be almost touching, but be sure to leave a bit of slack to allow for the upward motion to follow. Once you have properly grabbed the underwear, jerk the underwear up quickly, using your shoulders and upper back. Do not lean forward too much or you will risk injuring your lower back. However, there is a caveat: Do not pull up too quickly. It is possible to completely rip the underwear if you are too over-exuberant, which immediately nullifies the worthiness of the wedgie. This botched wedgie only results in momentary pain. The best wedgie will result in a 4x increase in underwear length, and the pain will be continuous until the offending garments are extricated via out-patient surgery. You will know you have executed the perfect, text-book wedgie if both leg holes extend past the waistband by at least 3 inches, and the underwear has still not ripped.
Scrotum grabbing - I have no instructions here. Scratching, yes. Grabbing, not so much. My only advice for you would be not to go around doing it, unless asked.
How do you handle a lying bastard? - I'm not completely sure, but I'd put good money on the answer "Firmly, by the scrotum."
tell some real tip on how to be a good smart not scared model and funny model - Clearly, you've got your mastery of the english language down, (good enough to be a model, anyway) so I would suggest concentrating on being 5' 11" and really hot.
Fantastic Searches That Somehow Pointed People To My Site
difference between exuding confidence and being annoying - In reality, these are generally one and the same. People who exude confidence are intrisically annoying. There is fine line between arrogance and awareness of self-worth, and the confidence-exuder walks this line. There is only one thing more annoying than a confidence-exuder, and that is an arrogant asshole. And the only thing worse than an arrogant asshole is an arrogant asshole who exudes unwarranted confidence.
rapid clacking noise on my washer - You are in luck, because I am an expert at fixing washers and dryers. OK, here's what you do. Look very closely at your washing machine. Tell me if it looks anything like this:
If it does, you have found the source of your problem. Do not get too close -- those things can be very dangerous. Immediately get a big stick and pound the shit out of it until your washer is covered in tiny, red and white slivers of plastic. The clacking should have stopped. Your washer is now fixed.
Washing machine won't go into rise cycle - Ugh. Magicians. They have no idea what to do when their appliances break down.
flaming doe scent - I've burned hair off my arm while grilling steaks, and lemme tell ya -- that shit stinks bad. You cannot get rid of that smell. I can only imagine how bad an entire flaming doe smells. It can't be good. I have no idea why you would even want to smell it.
How many hours should you space between breakfast and lunch? - I recommend spacing for at least an hour. What I like to do is grab some breakfast around 8, head back to my desk around ten thirty, then space for an hour or so until lunch. By then it's all downhill and almost time to leave.
Jolly Ranger candies - I'm not sure why, but this candy sounds much gayer than the Jolly Rancher version.
WGY CANT WE LOOK ET THE SUN - BECUASZ WE WIL GO BLINED AND NPOT BE ABL TO CEE THE KLEYBOARD REELG OOD.
wedgie instructions - OK, here you go: Grab the underwear firmly, using both hands if possible. (The single-handed wedgie is beyond the scope of this text, and will be covered next semester.) To avoid thumb injury, the proper form is very important. Hook the elastic waistband with four fingers of each hand. Ideally, you want all fingers on the inside of the elastic, and the thumbs on the outside. The thumbs should be almost touching, but be sure to leave a bit of slack to allow for the upward motion to follow. Once you have properly grabbed the underwear, jerk the underwear up quickly, using your shoulders and upper back. Do not lean forward too much or you will risk injuring your lower back. However, there is a caveat: Do not pull up too quickly. It is possible to completely rip the underwear if you are too over-exuberant, which immediately nullifies the worthiness of the wedgie. This botched wedgie only results in momentary pain. The best wedgie will result in a 4x increase in underwear length, and the pain will be continuous until the offending garments are extricated via out-patient surgery. You will know you have executed the perfect, text-book wedgie if both leg holes extend past the waistband by at least 3 inches, and the underwear has still not ripped.
Scrotum grabbing - I have no instructions here. Scratching, yes. Grabbing, not so much. My only advice for you would be not to go around doing it, unless asked.
How do you handle a lying bastard? - I'm not completely sure, but I'd put good money on the answer "Firmly, by the scrotum."
tell some real tip on how to be a good smart not scared model and funny model - Clearly, you've got your mastery of the english language down, (good enough to be a model, anyway) so I would suggest concentrating on being 5' 11" and really hot.
1/16/06
File under: Lies, Direct vs. Indirect
So I was watching 24 last night and trying not to have a heart attack and/or shit myself, when I saw another commercial on TV for the memory foam mattress. I have a problem with that commercial, and I'm going to tell you what it is.
Comfortable? I'm sure it is. That's probably not a lie. But the omissions are what get to me. I always want to ask the announcer some pointed questions.
"Mr. Announcer, after you're laying on this thing for 30 minutes, does it or does it not act like a giant foam insulator, causing you to sweat like John Goodman does when he eats?"
or perhaps:
"Mr. Announcer, you state that Mrs. Jones can get out of bed without disturbing Mr. Jones. Do these people not use covers? I don't know about you, but it generally isn't the bed bouncing that wakes me up when my wife gets up to pee 6 times a night. It's all the damn freezing cold air coming in under the covers, or -- on most nights - the actual sensation of the covers completely leaving my body. Can your insanely expensive foam bed fix that?"
I think not.
The only thing so far that has increased my comfort level while sleeping is to sleep on the couch.
Then there's always the one for Enzyte. I have a problem with that one too -- not because they didn't ship my free trial quickly enough, but because of all the unsubstantiated claims they make. Also, there is something deeply, seriously wrong with that Bob guy and it's probably caused by those little pills he's been popping. Anything that makes you walk around with a rictus-like, Joker-Gas grin on your face can't be good for you.
So my questions would be:
"Mr. Announcer, How is it that this stuff hasn't been taken off the market, and the company sued for false advertising claims? And what the eff is up with Bob?"
My theory is that the men who bought this shit are either a) embarrassed to admit that it didn't work, or b) embarrassed that they bought it to begin with. They don't want to call up the Better Business Bureau and complain to the nice lady that they didn't get a "firmer and fuller-feeling erection." But that's just a guess.
I would have to say that if my choices were between walking around looking like this,
or living with my average, white-boy package size, I'd stick with my un-enhanced parts thank-you-very-much. Plus, the last thing I need is Batman on my ass.
Besides if you look at the ingredients list for this stuff, there's nothing in it that you can't buy for a lot less at the drug-store. Also, I think I've figured out the active ingredient:
So my suggestion is to just make a beeline for the active ingredient, and stock up here.
Comfortable? I'm sure it is. That's probably not a lie. But the omissions are what get to me. I always want to ask the announcer some pointed questions.
"Mr. Announcer, after you're laying on this thing for 30 minutes, does it or does it not act like a giant foam insulator, causing you to sweat like John Goodman does when he eats?"
or perhaps:
"Mr. Announcer, you state that Mrs. Jones can get out of bed without disturbing Mr. Jones. Do these people not use covers? I don't know about you, but it generally isn't the bed bouncing that wakes me up when my wife gets up to pee 6 times a night. It's all the damn freezing cold air coming in under the covers, or -- on most nights - the actual sensation of the covers completely leaving my body. Can your insanely expensive foam bed fix that?"
I think not.
The only thing so far that has increased my comfort level while sleeping is to sleep on the couch.
Then there's always the one for Enzyte. I have a problem with that one too -- not because they didn't ship my free trial quickly enough, but because of all the unsubstantiated claims they make. Also, there is something deeply, seriously wrong with that Bob guy and it's probably caused by those little pills he's been popping. Anything that makes you walk around with a rictus-like, Joker-Gas grin on your face can't be good for you.
So my questions would be:
"Mr. Announcer, How is it that this stuff hasn't been taken off the market, and the company sued for false advertising claims? And what the eff is up with Bob?"
My theory is that the men who bought this shit are either a) embarrassed to admit that it didn't work, or b) embarrassed that they bought it to begin with. They don't want to call up the Better Business Bureau and complain to the nice lady that they didn't get a "firmer and fuller-feeling erection." But that's just a guess.
I would have to say that if my choices were between walking around looking like this,
or living with my average, white-boy package size, I'd stick with my un-enhanced parts thank-you-very-much. Plus, the last thing I need is Batman on my ass.
Besides if you look at the ingredients list for this stuff, there's nothing in it that you can't buy for a lot less at the drug-store. Also, I think I've figured out the active ingredient:
So my suggestion is to just make a beeline for the active ingredient, and stock up here.
1/14/06
Wow. I almost missed it.
I just realized that exactly a year ago today, I started this here blog.
I did it on a dare from the weenjammer , Big Tool, and Sarah, and I thought it wouldn't last two weeks. I figured either nobody would read it, I would run out of things to write about, or both. Luckily, neither of those things happened. It's a good thing too, since I'm still having fun with it.
The cool thing to me is that somewhere along the line, people started thinking my blog was funny. I never tried writing anything funny before, so that was a welcome surprise.
Then these same people started stopping by on a regular basis, and leaving me comments. That was also pretty cool. So to those regulars that happen to see this, thanks for continuing to stop by and check out the insanity inside my head. It's always good to know I'm not alone. Insanity loves company, I think the saying goes, and you magnificent bastards are great company.
I did it on a dare from the weenjammer , Big Tool, and Sarah, and I thought it wouldn't last two weeks. I figured either nobody would read it, I would run out of things to write about, or both. Luckily, neither of those things happened. It's a good thing too, since I'm still having fun with it.
The cool thing to me is that somewhere along the line, people started thinking my blog was funny. I never tried writing anything funny before, so that was a welcome surprise.
Then these same people started stopping by on a regular basis, and leaving me comments. That was also pretty cool. So to those regulars that happen to see this, thanks for continuing to stop by and check out the insanity inside my head. It's always good to know I'm not alone. Insanity loves company, I think the saying goes, and you magnificent bastards are great company.
He's dead, Jim.
So we finally did the deed today. We took down the Christmas tree. It was still as fresh as the day we put it up. A few years ago we got a tree in Vermont, and the old farmer running the place shared a little tip with us -- When you get your tree home, put a fresh cut on the bottom, then as soon as you get it in the stand, fill it up with 180 degree water. This will activate some sort of Christmas magic root-sucking action, and the tree will stay fresh for 2 months. Last year, the damn thing had 2 inches of new growth on it when we took it down. Give it a try next year.
So here's the poor tree, just waiting for Spring and the annual Yort-burning.
We thought we got all the ornaments off it, but as I was hauling it outside, I noticed this one still attached:
Damn Klingons and their cloaking device. They're always screwing with me.
So here's the poor tree, just waiting for Spring and the annual Yort-burning.
We thought we got all the ornaments off it, but as I was hauling it outside, I noticed this one still attached:
Damn Klingons and their cloaking device. They're always screwing with me.
1/10/06
My Pal Jesus
I was feeling pretty good this morning. I opened my mail and was pleased to see that my man Jesus was checking in, just to say 'sup.
I hadn't heard from him in a while -- he's been pretty busy with all the natural disasters and what not. He has a lot of things up in the air these days, so I wasn't too upset with him. I knew he'd come over and hang whenever he got a chance --you know, knock back a few brewski's and maybe pop in a movie or something. He gets a kick out of that flick "Dogma" even though he thinks that Ben's a sucky actor. We usually watch that one if there's nothing better left at the rental place. He knows all the lines by heart. It's either Dogma or Highlander. He's a huge Connery fan. He digs the soundtrack to that one, too.
I told him Freddie Mercury was gay, but he already knew. He just shook his head and said, "Doesn't matter. The songs are freakin' great. The dude was a genius, man. Genius." I couldn't really argue. I was gonna ask where Freddie ended up, but I didn't want to take advantage of our relationship, and besides, I try not to talk about his work stuff.
One time when he was coming over I rented "The Passion of the Christ" but he when he got to my house he was all like "Dude...seriously. What the eff were you thinking?" and I was like, "Aw Jesus, sorry man -- I didn't even think that it might bother you." And he was like, "Well, it does. They didn't even ask me for a consult. That bastard Gibson is such an asshole know-it-all. I could have given them some primo tips, but nooooooo..they just went ahead and did it their way."
He gets on a spin about that movie sometimes. He's still kinda bitter about that whole thing.
Anyway, long story short, I was stoked to get the e-mail message. But when I opened it up, I didn't know what the hell his deal was. Jay must be trying to make some quick cashola on the side, because here he was trying to sell me viagra or some shit.
I couldn't believe it. I told him all that stuff about my problem in confidence, and besides it was only that one time. I couldn't believe he had the balls to go and pitch me on it.
Seriously, you gotta admit, that's pretty lame. So I replied to his e-mail and told him that he was a dick for hitting me up, and that he's crazy if he thinks I'm buying any of that crap from him. I also told him that he's buying the beer next time, and I don't want to see any of that Bud Light shit this time around.
I haven't heard back yet, but I know how he is. Lots of people to see and places to be and all that. He'll drop me a line when I least expect it.
It's sorta what makes him who he is, ya know?
I hadn't heard from him in a while -- he's been pretty busy with all the natural disasters and what not. He has a lot of things up in the air these days, so I wasn't too upset with him. I knew he'd come over and hang whenever he got a chance --you know, knock back a few brewski's and maybe pop in a movie or something. He gets a kick out of that flick "Dogma" even though he thinks that Ben's a sucky actor. We usually watch that one if there's nothing better left at the rental place. He knows all the lines by heart. It's either Dogma or Highlander. He's a huge Connery fan. He digs the soundtrack to that one, too.
I told him Freddie Mercury was gay, but he already knew. He just shook his head and said, "Doesn't matter. The songs are freakin' great. The dude was a genius, man. Genius." I couldn't really argue. I was gonna ask where Freddie ended up, but I didn't want to take advantage of our relationship, and besides, I try not to talk about his work stuff.
One time when he was coming over I rented "The Passion of the Christ" but he when he got to my house he was all like "Dude...seriously. What the eff were you thinking?" and I was like, "Aw Jesus, sorry man -- I didn't even think that it might bother you." And he was like, "Well, it does. They didn't even ask me for a consult. That bastard Gibson is such an asshole know-it-all. I could have given them some primo tips, but nooooooo..they just went ahead and did it their way."
He gets on a spin about that movie sometimes. He's still kinda bitter about that whole thing.
Anyway, long story short, I was stoked to get the e-mail message. But when I opened it up, I didn't know what the hell his deal was. Jay must be trying to make some quick cashola on the side, because here he was trying to sell me viagra or some shit.
I couldn't believe it. I told him all that stuff about my problem in confidence, and besides it was only that one time. I couldn't believe he had the balls to go and pitch me on it.
Seriously, you gotta admit, that's pretty lame. So I replied to his e-mail and told him that he was a dick for hitting me up, and that he's crazy if he thinks I'm buying any of that crap from him. I also told him that he's buying the beer next time, and I don't want to see any of that Bud Light shit this time around.
I haven't heard back yet, but I know how he is. Lots of people to see and places to be and all that. He'll drop me a line when I least expect it.
It's sorta what makes him who he is, ya know?
1/8/06
Helpful Hints.
I was browsing the internet today (yes, the entire thing) and I saw some helpful hints. Specifically, helpful hints on "how to get rid of odors" and "what to do in case of attack by various wild animals." As I was reading, I realized that many of these tips would not work for me, and in fact would probably not work for anyone. Some of them were so bizarre, I questioned their validity. In other cases, the condition the helpful hint addresses would never happen to 99.9% of us in our lifetimes, thereby making the hint almost completely useless. For your enjoyment, and to further your education in all hints helpful, I have listed some of them below. I have also included the reasons I thought they wouldn't really help me out in a crisis.
Odor Hints
Helpful hint: To knock out smells in your home set down apple halves. Unlike artificial sprays that make unpleasant odors, apples actually absorb odors. Why this doesn't work for me: In no time at all, my house would smell like rotting apples.
Helpful hint: Absorb smells in refrigerator. Place charcoal inside. Why this doesn't work for me: In no time at all, my refrigerator would smell like rotting charcoal.
Helpful hint: Remove odor from shoes. Put some unscented clay cat litter in a sock and put the sock in your shoe. Let it sit overnight and it should absorb the smell. Why this doesn't work for me: In no time at all, my shoe would have a fresh pile of cat shit in it.
Helpful hint: Remove skunk odor from dog. Bathe dog in mixture of one quart 3% hydrogen peroxide, ¼ cup baking soda, one tablespoon liquid dish soap. Follow with a thorough rinsing. Why this doesn't work for me: This sounds very time consuming. I would just get the electric shears and shave that dumbass skunk-chasing son of a whore completely bald. If he's embarrassed walking around hairless, it serves him right.
Insect and Wild Animal Hints
Helpful hint: Prevent flying insects. Hang fresh bunch of stinging nettles to front of door. Why this doesn't work for me: "OW! OW! OW!" Goddammit, who hung those there?"
Helpful hint: How to get rid of earwigs. Trap the earwigs with rolled up newspapers moistened with water. The insects will be attracted to the moist area and will hide in the papers by day. Why this doesn't work for me: I don't subscribe to a newspaper, and I don't know what the hell an earwig is. But if I ever get them, I will call the New York Times subscription office immediately. You can never be too careful.
Helpful hint: Trash cans. To keep critters away from garbage, mix up two tablespoons liquid dish soap, two tablespoons cayenne pepper, and one quart warm water. Spray liberally over trash to keep varmints at bay. Why this doesn't work for me: It would keep me away from the garbage too. Hell, the garbage man probably wouldn't even go near the damn thing with all that sticky, eye-burning shit sprayed all over it.
Helpful hint: Dog attack. If vicious dogs are running towards you, stay where you are until they leave, but do not stare them in the eye. They will see that as a challenge to their territory and attack. If they are actually attacking you, the best thing to do is to curl into a ball and cover your neck with your hands. If you don't fight back, they will lose interest and leave. Why this doesn't work for me: Somehow, I don't think a vicious dog with the blood lust on him is going to "lose interest and leave." He will not leave. He will just save your juicy neck parts for last.
Helpful hint: Outrun Crocodile/Alligator. Run in a zig-zag pattern, and not just in one straight direction. When making left or right turns, the crocodile/alligator has to come to a crawl to move in that direction because of its short legs. Why this doesn't work for me: I live in NY. The only alligators around here are the ones that are supposed to be living down in the sewers, and if I too am living down in the sewer, I have bigger problems than this little info-nugget can solve for me.
Helpful hint: Outrun a Grizzly Bear. Run downhill. Because of its 2 short front legs, a grizzly has to crawl down a hill. It can run up a hill, or up a tree, but when going down, its center of gravity forces it to go slower. Why this doesn't work for me: I'm not sure if I am buying this one. I have seen grizzly bears run downhill pretty damn fast on TV. Also, I think that no matter how slowly Mr. Griz is forced to go when traveling downhill, he will still have no problem catching me. This is because it is pretty easy to catch something that is lying unconscious in a puddle of its own pee.
Helpful hint: Gorilla Attack. If a Gorilla runs after you, do not run! Simply do not stare at his eyes, and look at the ground, and humble yourself towards it. He will walk away. Why this doesn't work for me: For some reason, I am thinking that they left out part of that last sentence, which is probably either "....after he has ripped your head from your body" or "...after he has had his way with you." Or perhaps both. The order would depend upon the individual gorilla's sexual preferences, of course.
Helpful hint: Shark Attack. If a shark is approaching, simply stare it down. Do not swim away, because sharks are attracted to erratic movements. When a man swims away from a shark, it looks to the shark like he is struggling, squirming, and panicking, and the shark will attack! Also, do not play dead. A shark has all the senses we have, plus more, and a shark will know that you are not dead, but will be confused why you are not acting like you should be. So, it will get curious and may start to gnaw at you. Why this doesn't work for me: This advice seems a little passive. You're damned if you do, and damned if you don't. Either way, you are, at the very least, getting gnawed. Basically, this advice is telling you that it's your time to die, so you may as well just sit back and accept it. Don't swim, don't play dead. Simply look deeply into its soulless shark eyes as it eats you.
Helpful hint: Snake Attack. If you are bitten by a poisonous snake, the best thing to do is to let it bleed and make your way back to help. Do not take a knife and make the hole bigger and suck the venom out, like you see in movies. One other thing you can do if you are bitten by a poisonous snake is to take a stun gun and zap the area where you were bit. The electricity will turn the poison into a harmless protein. Why this doesn't work for me: First, who carries a stun gun in the wilderness? Nobody. They carry a .45 or a 12 gauge, either of which can turn just about anything into a harmless protein, albeit permanently. Secondly, I am thinking that perhaps the last thing I would want to do if I had been bitten by a snake while in the wilderness would be to completely disconnect my central nervous system from my brain with a stun gun.
Helpful hint: Bee Attack. If you are being stung by a swarm of bees, don't breathe. Bees are attracted to carbon dioxide. Why this doesn't work for me: It's hard to "not breathe" when you are screaming at the top of your lungs like a little girl while simultaneously running in circles at full speed, slapping madly at your own rapidly swelling head.
So anyway, enjoy your new-found knowledge. If you're ever being chased by a grizzly bear or a pack of wild dogs, or even a shark, be sure to remember these helpful hints. Have your next of kin let me know how you made out.
Odor Hints
Helpful hint: To knock out smells in your home set down apple halves. Unlike artificial sprays that make unpleasant odors, apples actually absorb odors. Why this doesn't work for me: In no time at all, my house would smell like rotting apples.
Helpful hint: Absorb smells in refrigerator. Place charcoal inside. Why this doesn't work for me: In no time at all, my refrigerator would smell like rotting charcoal.
Helpful hint: Remove odor from shoes. Put some unscented clay cat litter in a sock and put the sock in your shoe. Let it sit overnight and it should absorb the smell. Why this doesn't work for me: In no time at all, my shoe would have a fresh pile of cat shit in it.
Helpful hint: Remove skunk odor from dog. Bathe dog in mixture of one quart 3% hydrogen peroxide, ¼ cup baking soda, one tablespoon liquid dish soap. Follow with a thorough rinsing. Why this doesn't work for me: This sounds very time consuming. I would just get the electric shears and shave that dumbass skunk-chasing son of a whore completely bald. If he's embarrassed walking around hairless, it serves him right.
Insect and Wild Animal Hints
Helpful hint: Prevent flying insects. Hang fresh bunch of stinging nettles to front of door. Why this doesn't work for me: "OW! OW! OW!" Goddammit, who hung those there?"
Helpful hint: How to get rid of earwigs. Trap the earwigs with rolled up newspapers moistened with water. The insects will be attracted to the moist area and will hide in the papers by day. Why this doesn't work for me: I don't subscribe to a newspaper, and I don't know what the hell an earwig is. But if I ever get them, I will call the New York Times subscription office immediately. You can never be too careful.
Helpful hint: Trash cans. To keep critters away from garbage, mix up two tablespoons liquid dish soap, two tablespoons cayenne pepper, and one quart warm water. Spray liberally over trash to keep varmints at bay. Why this doesn't work for me: It would keep me away from the garbage too. Hell, the garbage man probably wouldn't even go near the damn thing with all that sticky, eye-burning shit sprayed all over it.
Helpful hint: Dog attack. If vicious dogs are running towards you, stay where you are until they leave, but do not stare them in the eye. They will see that as a challenge to their territory and attack. If they are actually attacking you, the best thing to do is to curl into a ball and cover your neck with your hands. If you don't fight back, they will lose interest and leave. Why this doesn't work for me: Somehow, I don't think a vicious dog with the blood lust on him is going to "lose interest and leave." He will not leave. He will just save your juicy neck parts for last.
Helpful hint: Outrun Crocodile/Alligator. Run in a zig-zag pattern, and not just in one straight direction. When making left or right turns, the crocodile/alligator has to come to a crawl to move in that direction because of its short legs. Why this doesn't work for me: I live in NY. The only alligators around here are the ones that are supposed to be living down in the sewers, and if I too am living down in the sewer, I have bigger problems than this little info-nugget can solve for me.
Helpful hint: Outrun a Grizzly Bear. Run downhill. Because of its 2 short front legs, a grizzly has to crawl down a hill. It can run up a hill, or up a tree, but when going down, its center of gravity forces it to go slower. Why this doesn't work for me: I'm not sure if I am buying this one. I have seen grizzly bears run downhill pretty damn fast on TV. Also, I think that no matter how slowly Mr. Griz is forced to go when traveling downhill, he will still have no problem catching me. This is because it is pretty easy to catch something that is lying unconscious in a puddle of its own pee.
Helpful hint: Gorilla Attack. If a Gorilla runs after you, do not run! Simply do not stare at his eyes, and look at the ground, and humble yourself towards it. He will walk away. Why this doesn't work for me: For some reason, I am thinking that they left out part of that last sentence, which is probably either "....after he has ripped your head from your body" or "...after he has had his way with you." Or perhaps both. The order would depend upon the individual gorilla's sexual preferences, of course.
Helpful hint: Shark Attack. If a shark is approaching, simply stare it down. Do not swim away, because sharks are attracted to erratic movements. When a man swims away from a shark, it looks to the shark like he is struggling, squirming, and panicking, and the shark will attack! Also, do not play dead. A shark has all the senses we have, plus more, and a shark will know that you are not dead, but will be confused why you are not acting like you should be. So, it will get curious and may start to gnaw at you. Why this doesn't work for me: This advice seems a little passive. You're damned if you do, and damned if you don't. Either way, you are, at the very least, getting gnawed. Basically, this advice is telling you that it's your time to die, so you may as well just sit back and accept it. Don't swim, don't play dead. Simply look deeply into its soulless shark eyes as it eats you.
Helpful hint: Snake Attack. If you are bitten by a poisonous snake, the best thing to do is to let it bleed and make your way back to help. Do not take a knife and make the hole bigger and suck the venom out, like you see in movies. One other thing you can do if you are bitten by a poisonous snake is to take a stun gun and zap the area where you were bit. The electricity will turn the poison into a harmless protein. Why this doesn't work for me: First, who carries a stun gun in the wilderness? Nobody. They carry a .45 or a 12 gauge, either of which can turn just about anything into a harmless protein, albeit permanently. Secondly, I am thinking that perhaps the last thing I would want to do if I had been bitten by a snake while in the wilderness would be to completely disconnect my central nervous system from my brain with a stun gun.
Helpful hint: Bee Attack. If you are being stung by a swarm of bees, don't breathe. Bees are attracted to carbon dioxide. Why this doesn't work for me: It's hard to "not breathe" when you are screaming at the top of your lungs like a little girl while simultaneously running in circles at full speed, slapping madly at your own rapidly swelling head.
So anyway, enjoy your new-found knowledge. If you're ever being chased by a grizzly bear or a pack of wild dogs, or even a shark, be sure to remember these helpful hints. Have your next of kin let me know how you made out.
1/3/06
Search and ye shall find...my blog, maybe?
Yeah, I'm feeling lazy today and I'm trying to figure out what my New Year's resolutions are going to be. I'm going to take my time and not make any rash decisions, because then I'll just be setting myself up for certain failure. Like last year, for instance. My resolution to become Evangeline Lilly's love slave went absolutely nowhere.
So without further ado, I present this week's edition of:
Fantastic Google Searches That Somehow Pointed People To My Site
How to know when earwax is loosening - There's a couple of ways: When the inside of your head sounds like a baby's rattle when you look up and down, your ear wax is probably pretty loose. If, on the other hand, you jam a pencil in there really hard, and dig around a bit, and the pencil comes out clean, it's probably not loose.
can a dove riding a bulldozer move forward? - What is the sound of one hand clapping? Yes, grasshopper, a dove riding a bulldozer can move forward, if both the dove and the bulldozer wish it to be so, and their Chi are acting in harmony.
camel knuckle - God, I wish people would get this right. TOE. Not foot, not knuckle, but toe. And speaking of toes, I get about 10 hits a month for "one toe over the line, sweet jesus." Sweet jesus is right. Why don't people know it's TOKE? T.O.K.E. It's a song from 1970 by Brewer & Shipley.
scientific name for camel toe - Wow. The list of things I don't know gets longer every day. For instance, I didn't know there was a scientific name for it. If by some outside chance there isn't, might I suggest Labia-Majora Thongspliticus?
should you clamp the second tube not being used in a dual chest tube system? - I would. Otherwise you risk getting chest juice all over the place. I'm not an expert by any means, but it just makes sense to me.
timmy lee likes to crap his pants rather than wash socks - You know, I can almost sympathize with little timmy lee. I, too, hate to wash socks. In fact, the only thing worse than washing socks is trying to match them when they come out of the dryer. I can't count the number of times I've worn non-matching socks to work. Still, all that being said, I'd rather wash my socks than my pants, so I'm gonna have to pass on timmy's solution. While ambitious and original, it really does nothing to address the dirty sock problem.
japanese beetles paul harvey - I found this to be an intriguing combination. I absolutely cannot stand Paul Harvey's voice, precisely because it already sounds as if his vocal cords have been partially devoured by japanese beetles. I know that if I had a colony of highly-trained japanese beetles that would do my evil bidding without question, stripping the wrinkled flesh off Paul Harvey's brittle, annoying bones would be like the 5th or 6th thing on my list of things for them to do.
what do usher dick look like? - Apparently you should not Ask Jeeves this question, because that bald-headed, picture-taking pervert of a butler thinks that my blog is the first place you should go look for the answer to this question. Well, I'm here to say that I have no idea what do usher dick look like. I don't. Really. I'll go out on a limb here and venture a guess that it's probably black*, but that's all I can say about it with any reasonable degree of certainty.
Thus ends another week's worth of searches, brought to you by the fine folks at Site Meter.
And don't worry, I'll get back to you with those resolutions.
*or solid gold
So without further ado, I present this week's edition of:
Fantastic Google Searches That Somehow Pointed People To My Site
How to know when earwax is loosening - There's a couple of ways: When the inside of your head sounds like a baby's rattle when you look up and down, your ear wax is probably pretty loose. If, on the other hand, you jam a pencil in there really hard, and dig around a bit, and the pencil comes out clean, it's probably not loose.
can a dove riding a bulldozer move forward? - What is the sound of one hand clapping? Yes, grasshopper, a dove riding a bulldozer can move forward, if both the dove and the bulldozer wish it to be so, and their Chi are acting in harmony.
camel knuckle - God, I wish people would get this right. TOE. Not foot, not knuckle, but toe. And speaking of toes, I get about 10 hits a month for "one toe over the line, sweet jesus." Sweet jesus is right. Why don't people know it's TOKE? T.O.K.E. It's a song from 1970 by Brewer & Shipley.
scientific name for camel toe - Wow. The list of things I don't know gets longer every day. For instance, I didn't know there was a scientific name for it. If by some outside chance there isn't, might I suggest Labia-Majora Thongspliticus?
should you clamp the second tube not being used in a dual chest tube system? - I would. Otherwise you risk getting chest juice all over the place. I'm not an expert by any means, but it just makes sense to me.
timmy lee likes to crap his pants rather than wash socks - You know, I can almost sympathize with little timmy lee. I, too, hate to wash socks. In fact, the only thing worse than washing socks is trying to match them when they come out of the dryer. I can't count the number of times I've worn non-matching socks to work. Still, all that being said, I'd rather wash my socks than my pants, so I'm gonna have to pass on timmy's solution. While ambitious and original, it really does nothing to address the dirty sock problem.
japanese beetles paul harvey - I found this to be an intriguing combination. I absolutely cannot stand Paul Harvey's voice, precisely because it already sounds as if his vocal cords have been partially devoured by japanese beetles. I know that if I had a colony of highly-trained japanese beetles that would do my evil bidding without question, stripping the wrinkled flesh off Paul Harvey's brittle, annoying bones would be like the 5th or 6th thing on my list of things for them to do.
what do usher dick look like? - Apparently you should not Ask Jeeves this question, because that bald-headed, picture-taking pervert of a butler thinks that my blog is the first place you should go look for the answer to this question. Well, I'm here to say that I have no idea what do usher dick look like. I don't. Really. I'll go out on a limb here and venture a guess that it's probably black*, but that's all I can say about it with any reasonable degree of certainty.
Thus ends another week's worth of searches, brought to you by the fine folks at Site Meter.
And don't worry, I'll get back to you with those resolutions.
*or solid gold
1/2/06
Just Jack! in the Box.
Every Christmas, we exchange tree ornaments with Yort and his wife. We didn't manage to get together before Christmas, so they gave us our ornaments on New Year's Eve. Normally, I can count on either a Marvel or DC Superhero, or something camping/backpacking related. This year, I opened the little box and had to take a quick step back. Check this out:
Holy Androgen-Elf, Batman! Just look at that thing.
It looks a little like an old lady at first glance, but I took it out of the box and it actually has some elf-junk, so I'm 99% sure it's male.
From the look in its eyes, I am also 99% sure that it wants to make sweet, passionate man-love to me. Since I am not currently in the market for elf-lovin' of any kind, I put him back in the box, taped it shut and put it in a storage compartment in the basement just to be on the safe side.
This is, hands-down, the creepiest ornament I've ever seen. To top it all off, its arms and legs and head are on springs. The slightest motion causes it to jiggle madly for five minutes straight.
Just picture Katheryn Hepburn getting Tasered in the neck, and you'll have a good idea of what I'm talking about. And then picture her wobbling directly at you.
That, my friends, is the stuff nightmares are made of.
Sleep tight. If I were you, I'd try to stay on your back. That box looks pretty flimsy.
Holy Androgen-Elf, Batman! Just look at that thing.
It looks a little like an old lady at first glance, but I took it out of the box and it actually has some elf-junk, so I'm 99% sure it's male.
From the look in its eyes, I am also 99% sure that it wants to make sweet, passionate man-love to me. Since I am not currently in the market for elf-lovin' of any kind, I put him back in the box, taped it shut and put it in a storage compartment in the basement just to be on the safe side.
This is, hands-down, the creepiest ornament I've ever seen. To top it all off, its arms and legs and head are on springs. The slightest motion causes it to jiggle madly for five minutes straight.
Just picture Katheryn Hepburn getting Tasered in the neck, and you'll have a good idea of what I'm talking about. And then picture her wobbling directly at you.
That, my friends, is the stuff nightmares are made of.
Sleep tight. If I were you, I'd try to stay on your back. That box looks pretty flimsy.
12/31/05
Monkey Punchers.
So one day the weenjammer and I came up with a term for idiots with computers. We called them "monkeypunchers" because these are the kind of people who are stupid enough to click on the dumb flash ads that are on every webpage you see. You know, the ones where there are buttons for choices, but they don't actually do anything but take you to the same lame web page, no matter which one you click on?
These types of people have computers that are generally so full of spyware, adware and viruses, that even though the computer is a 3.2 gigahertz pentium 4, it has all the speed of my grandfather in the bathroom after thanksgiving dinner. They think a firewall is when you pack bricks between the studs of interior walls before you put the sheetrock up. They think a virus scanner is another name for their family doctor. You get the idea. They are, in a word, clueless.
At any rate, these ads for the stupid piss me off. Currently, I have two daily irritations. The first is this ad:
Are they a match? First, does anyone but them actually give a shit? Second, of course they're not a match. Semi-hot asian chicks in their late twenties do not go out with teenagers on the high school football team. Unless, of course, she's his english teacher or something. Then it's allowed, I think.
The other one currently bugging the piss out of me is this one:
How stupid do these people think you are? To call this an "IQ Question" is an insult to 4-year-olds everywhere. Don't they teach you vowels practically as soon as you can read three-letter words? Are people this stupid actually out there using computers? Because if this tickles your brain, there is something seriously effed up in there.
Anyway, that's all I have today. I hope you all have a safe and happy new year. Drive carefully, and if you drink, don't drive, because I don't want your drunk ass crossing over into my lane. And watch out for Sarah. I hear she's kissing everyone this year.
These types of people have computers that are generally so full of spyware, adware and viruses, that even though the computer is a 3.2 gigahertz pentium 4, it has all the speed of my grandfather in the bathroom after thanksgiving dinner. They think a firewall is when you pack bricks between the studs of interior walls before you put the sheetrock up. They think a virus scanner is another name for their family doctor. You get the idea. They are, in a word, clueless.
At any rate, these ads for the stupid piss me off. Currently, I have two daily irritations. The first is this ad:
Are they a match? First, does anyone but them actually give a shit? Second, of course they're not a match. Semi-hot asian chicks in their late twenties do not go out with teenagers on the high school football team. Unless, of course, she's his english teacher or something. Then it's allowed, I think.
The other one currently bugging the piss out of me is this one:
How stupid do these people think you are? To call this an "IQ Question" is an insult to 4-year-olds everywhere. Don't they teach you vowels practically as soon as you can read three-letter words? Are people this stupid actually out there using computers? Because if this tickles your brain, there is something seriously effed up in there.
Anyway, that's all I have today. I hope you all have a safe and happy new year. Drive carefully, and if you drink, don't drive, because I don't want your drunk ass crossing over into my lane. And watch out for Sarah. I hear she's kissing everyone this year.
12/28/05
Spring cleaning
So we're moving from one floor in our building to another, and as a result, we've had a few company-sponsored "cleanup" days toward the end of the year. I missed most of these days, and now I've been trying to fit 5 or 6 years worth of useless shit into a 12" x 16" garbage can, a little at a time, over the past two weeks. I think the cleaning lady hates me, mostly because sixty-pound chunks of old computer gear is probably not supposed to go in the little "non-recyclables" bucket. I am also pretty sure she's wiping boogers on my chair.
I don't care. At least when I am finally forced to move, I won't have to haul anything but a few pictures and my laptop.
I did find some interesting things though. Here's a look at today's inventory, from a single desk drawer and overhead bin:
Item: A Palm III, with modem. Never has there been a more useless piece of shit, even when it wasn't completely obsolete. The thing eats batteries like Rosie O'Donell eats Big Macs and/or Kelli Carpenter. I never could get the hang of that shitty handwriting code either. Status: Chucked.
Item: A bottle of cough medicine with codeine, expired 2001. I took a sniff, and it didn't smell too bad, but I don't know what kind of poison codeine turns into after 5 years. I knew I probably shouldn't take the taste test, especially since I don't have a cough right now. On the other hand, when you are hacking up your lungs at work, there's nothing like a little codeine to put the drool on the desk. Status: Saved for a rainy day. I figured it might not kill me, and if I was coughing bad enough to need it, I might prefer to die anyway.
Item: 4 tightly-swollen packages of generic mayonnaise from the cafeteria, circa 2002. These scared me. I didn't think that could happen to pre-packaged condiments. I was tempted to open one up, but was afraid that if it came out black I would puke. Status: Carefully wrapped in old newspaper and gently placed in the non-recyclable bin in someone else's cube.
Item: 400 pounds of 6-year-old documentation for a software product we don't use anymore. I can honestly say that not a single volume of this immense row of books, this standing monument to our national forests, has ever moved in the 6 years it has taken up space in my overhead file cabinet. Status: Untouched. This will remain behind when I move, for whomever inherits this cube. It is my gift to them.
Item(s): A box of hot cinnamon candy from the dawn of time, a yo-yo, a spiderman pop-up book, a foam rock, a HotWheels parking garage, a Simpsons Nuclear reactor with talking Bart and Homer, a package of expired Immodium AD, approximately 357 non-working pens, a Mennen speed stick with rug marks in it, folders with papers that contain my handwriting --the contents of which I have no recollection of ever having written, $237.50 in nickels and pennies, a pile of business cards, all of which belong to people and/or companies that are dead or out of business, And lastly, sixteen pounds of unwashed silverware from the cafeteria. Status: Chucked. Well, except for the foam rock and the talking Simpsons thing. Those were gifts.
Honestly, I'm surprised I don't have rats.
I did find one other book. This book was an unintentional gift from my favorite female boss of the past 10 years. She was a really great person, and a blast to work for. We had the same sense of humor, which made work almost fun. When her job was eliminated, I was told to go get anything useful from her cube. As I glanced around, I noticed her garbage can. Here's what I saw:
Dammit, I still miss her.
I don't care. At least when I am finally forced to move, I won't have to haul anything but a few pictures and my laptop.
I did find some interesting things though. Here's a look at today's inventory, from a single desk drawer and overhead bin:
Item: A Palm III, with modem. Never has there been a more useless piece of shit, even when it wasn't completely obsolete. The thing eats batteries like Rosie O'Donell eats Big Macs and/or Kelli Carpenter. I never could get the hang of that shitty handwriting code either. Status: Chucked.
Item: A bottle of cough medicine with codeine, expired 2001. I took a sniff, and it didn't smell too bad, but I don't know what kind of poison codeine turns into after 5 years. I knew I probably shouldn't take the taste test, especially since I don't have a cough right now. On the other hand, when you are hacking up your lungs at work, there's nothing like a little codeine to put the drool on the desk. Status: Saved for a rainy day. I figured it might not kill me, and if I was coughing bad enough to need it, I might prefer to die anyway.
Item: 4 tightly-swollen packages of generic mayonnaise from the cafeteria, circa 2002. These scared me. I didn't think that could happen to pre-packaged condiments. I was tempted to open one up, but was afraid that if it came out black I would puke. Status: Carefully wrapped in old newspaper and gently placed in the non-recyclable bin in someone else's cube.
Item: 400 pounds of 6-year-old documentation for a software product we don't use anymore. I can honestly say that not a single volume of this immense row of books, this standing monument to our national forests, has ever moved in the 6 years it has taken up space in my overhead file cabinet. Status: Untouched. This will remain behind when I move, for whomever inherits this cube. It is my gift to them.
Item(s): A box of hot cinnamon candy from the dawn of time, a yo-yo, a spiderman pop-up book, a foam rock, a HotWheels parking garage, a Simpsons Nuclear reactor with talking Bart and Homer, a package of expired Immodium AD, approximately 357 non-working pens, a Mennen speed stick with rug marks in it, folders with papers that contain my handwriting --the contents of which I have no recollection of ever having written, $237.50 in nickels and pennies, a pile of business cards, all of which belong to people and/or companies that are dead or out of business, And lastly, sixteen pounds of unwashed silverware from the cafeteria. Status: Chucked. Well, except for the foam rock and the talking Simpsons thing. Those were gifts.
Honestly, I'm surprised I don't have rats.
I did find one other book. This book was an unintentional gift from my favorite female boss of the past 10 years. She was a really great person, and a blast to work for. We had the same sense of humor, which made work almost fun. When her job was eliminated, I was told to go get anything useful from her cube. As I glanced around, I noticed her garbage can. Here's what I saw:
Dammit, I still miss her.
12/27/05
False Advertising
I stopped in today and absolutely nobody was kissing balls.
I guess the 24th was the last day.
12/23/05
Ho Ho Holy Shit, it's Zombie Claus!
I've been driving by this big bastard for a month now and knew something about him was really wrong, but couldn't put my finger on it.
Until today.
Today, I realized it was his evil, bottomless eye-sockets and the demon lights shining deep within them that was freaking me out.
Don't stare into his eyes for too long. He'll devour your soul.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
12/21/05
I was a teenage wolfman
My wife recently redecorated our downstairs bathroom. This involved lots of paint, a new shower curtain, new towels, a crapload of hardware, various light fixtures and me in the shop building this:
It came out OK for slapping it together. In addition to all this new stuff, there is also something old. It's a large, soft, furry pad. You might think it sits outside the tub, so when you get out of the shower, you step on it to avoid getting water all over the floor. You would be wrong, because the furry pad of which I speak is the one on the inside of the tub. You know, the one that prevents the water from draining. The one that looks like a single, adventurous dread that has somehow escaped from Bob Marley's entombed head, traveled across the country stuck in the tire tread of an 18 wheeler, and has finally taken up residence in your tub drain.
Every day, I get out of the shower and every day, the last thing I do is clean the hair out of this drain. For a while, I blamed my wife. She has fairly long hair, and I figured even 5 or 6 hairs of that length would weave a pretty inpenetrable mat. Then she informed me that she's been taking showers upstairs for weeks. That leaves me with few alternatives. Either the hair fairy is sneaking into my bathroom at night, or it's all me, baby.
It must run in the family. When I was a kid, I would get so pissed off at my brother Houdini. He was a hairy little bastard, and he would never clean his hair out of the drain. Invariably I would be late for school, and I'd jump in the shower without looking at the drain first. After a while, something that felt like a cold, dead hamster would brush gently against my calf, and I would realize I was standing almost knee deep in my own filth. This is because his drain-hair plugs would work in teams -- one would plug the drain, and the other one would come after you. If you weren't paying attention, it was entirely conceivable that you could fish the one out of the way with your big toe, and be so relieved to see the water actually start moving that you would not even notice the other hairy beast stuck to the back of your leg.
When I was about 17, I got tired of it. I started collecting his drain hair. I didn't actually touch it -- It grossed me out. I would grab it with my mother's tweezers, and drop it into a tissue, and drop the tissue into a box. Then, after about 8 months of daily drain scoopings, I wrapped them up with a bow and gave them to him for christmas. My mother was extremely pleased. I think she may have puked when I suggested knitting him a sweater.
Where does this hair come from you ask? Well, you may not ask, but I ask, because that's what I do, and ostensibly, it is my hair. I've read that most people lose between 50 and 100 hairs a day. That, my hairy friends, is a buttload. At first I thought perhaps that particular area could be where all this hair in my drain was coming from, but it's a tough place to check out yourself while you're standing in the shower.
Why do humans have hair anyway? We certainly don't need it. Yeah, it looks cool and all, but really - what a major pain in the ass. And to think that a small, evolutionary adjustment could have spared us all from the embarrassment of the 80s.
Not that I'm saying it wouldn't bother me if I lost mine, but that's only because everyone else would still have theirs. Think about it. If everyone else was hairless, and you had hair, I have to believe that would be a worse situation, because I am pretty sure that other humans would hunt you down and kill you because you freaked them right the hell out.
So anyway, near as I can tell, while I can't deny that the hair in the shower drain comes from me, I can confidently say that it isn't coming from my pre-existing hair, because I don't seem to be missing any.
My current theory is that the heat from the shower triggers some sort of recessive lycanthrope gene from my mother's italian side, and it causes me to sprout hair only while I'm in the shower. Since the recessive gene is obviously defective, this quick growing hair has a weak root structure, so it instantly falls out.
It's the only explanation.
It came out OK for slapping it together. In addition to all this new stuff, there is also something old. It's a large, soft, furry pad. You might think it sits outside the tub, so when you get out of the shower, you step on it to avoid getting water all over the floor. You would be wrong, because the furry pad of which I speak is the one on the inside of the tub. You know, the one that prevents the water from draining. The one that looks like a single, adventurous dread that has somehow escaped from Bob Marley's entombed head, traveled across the country stuck in the tire tread of an 18 wheeler, and has finally taken up residence in your tub drain.
Every day, I get out of the shower and every day, the last thing I do is clean the hair out of this drain. For a while, I blamed my wife. She has fairly long hair, and I figured even 5 or 6 hairs of that length would weave a pretty inpenetrable mat. Then she informed me that she's been taking showers upstairs for weeks. That leaves me with few alternatives. Either the hair fairy is sneaking into my bathroom at night, or it's all me, baby.
It must run in the family. When I was a kid, I would get so pissed off at my brother Houdini. He was a hairy little bastard, and he would never clean his hair out of the drain. Invariably I would be late for school, and I'd jump in the shower without looking at the drain first. After a while, something that felt like a cold, dead hamster would brush gently against my calf, and I would realize I was standing almost knee deep in my own filth. This is because his drain-hair plugs would work in teams -- one would plug the drain, and the other one would come after you. If you weren't paying attention, it was entirely conceivable that you could fish the one out of the way with your big toe, and be so relieved to see the water actually start moving that you would not even notice the other hairy beast stuck to the back of your leg.
When I was about 17, I got tired of it. I started collecting his drain hair. I didn't actually touch it -- It grossed me out. I would grab it with my mother's tweezers, and drop it into a tissue, and drop the tissue into a box. Then, after about 8 months of daily drain scoopings, I wrapped them up with a bow and gave them to him for christmas. My mother was extremely pleased. I think she may have puked when I suggested knitting him a sweater.
Where does this hair come from you ask? Well, you may not ask, but I ask, because that's what I do, and ostensibly, it is my hair. I've read that most people lose between 50 and 100 hairs a day. That, my hairy friends, is a buttload. At first I thought perhaps that particular area could be where all this hair in my drain was coming from, but it's a tough place to check out yourself while you're standing in the shower.
Why do humans have hair anyway? We certainly don't need it. Yeah, it looks cool and all, but really - what a major pain in the ass. And to think that a small, evolutionary adjustment could have spared us all from the embarrassment of the 80s.
Not that I'm saying it wouldn't bother me if I lost mine, but that's only because everyone else would still have theirs. Think about it. If everyone else was hairless, and you had hair, I have to believe that would be a worse situation, because I am pretty sure that other humans would hunt you down and kill you because you freaked them right the hell out.
So anyway, near as I can tell, while I can't deny that the hair in the shower drain comes from me, I can confidently say that it isn't coming from my pre-existing hair, because I don't seem to be missing any.
My current theory is that the heat from the shower triggers some sort of recessive lycanthrope gene from my mother's italian side, and it causes me to sprout hair only while I'm in the shower. Since the recessive gene is obviously defective, this quick growing hair has a weak root structure, so it instantly falls out.
It's the only explanation.
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