LEMONADE - 25 cents.

I had to have a little work done on the car the other day, and as a result I worked the first half of the morning from the waiting room at the Honda dealership. I love you, WiFi.

On my way back to work, I was sitting at a light and noticed the most awesome sign ever:

As I've said before, anything that close to the road is garbage.

(And remember, every time you click here, an angel gets her table back.)


Tongs? Really? Man, I lead a sheltered life.

It's time once again for one of my semi-regular features, since I'm still formulating my next "real" post. Google searchers have been letting me down lately but I've still managed to catch a few gems. For your reading pleasure, I now present:

Fantastic Google Searches That Somehow Led People To My Site:

my wife jokingly says I have a small penis -- I hate to break it to you Tiny Tim, but she's probably not joking. Women in general and wives in particular don't usually joke about that. I suppose it's always possible that your wife has a freakishly large vagina and an extremely limited sexual history. Otherwise, you probably have a little wiener.

I can do it for a minute girl - Unless you're talking about the Iron Cross, I would suggest that you do not include that small detail in your e-Harmony profile or Craigslist personal ad because contrary to what you may think -- 60 seconds of frantic, rabbit-like humping is not the way to set the bar high, my friend.

your ass is like school in the summer time -- I'm not sure if this is supposed to be an insult or a compliment. I had to make up a portion of a class in summer school once, and let me tell you, it sucked. And unless you count the smell of sweaty teenagers there was nothing ass-like about it. School during the summer was oppressive, dusty and half empty, and I've never seen an ass with that description. On the other hand, just thinking about going there made me want to kill myself and gouge my eyes out, and I HAVE seen asses like that, so I think maybe it's a wash.

pictures of hot girls in hot bathing sutes with such big boobs there bursting out of there swim sutes -- I am not exactly sure which terms in this sentence landed you on my blog, but I have advice for you anyway. Stop searching for online porn and try searching for online English classes. You will be much better served in the long run. Sure, you'll temporarily have fewer boobs in your life, but eventually you will gain the spelling skills necessary to surf porn like a true expert.

picture of the worlds biggest butt wearing all clothing -- Thank you, anonymous Google searcher, for another odd and disturbing image I didn't need rolling around in my head. Theoretically, how big would a butt actually have to be to wear all the clothing there is? I'm guessing pretty big. I won't even dispute your theory that it would probably have to be the biggest butt in the world. I'm just thinking out loud here, but even if you located the butt, I'm willing to bet you'd have a hard time convincing everyone else in the world to donate all their clothes to your cause.

how big the penis should be at age 13 for a black kid -- Using my amazing powers of deduction, I will go out on a limb here and say this was typed by an insecure 13 year old black male. Unfortunately, I'm neither 13 years old nor black, so I am somewhat unqualified to answer your question. I am fairly certain, however, that any answer I could give you would include the phrase "bigger than mine."

granny porn without tongs -- Good luck with your search, my friend. Right now, you're probably out there on the internet up to your ass in vast amounts of easily obtainable granny porn WITH tongs. I know it's not quite the same thing, but the newest version of Photoshop has a tong-removal filter. Don't ask me how I know.

are girls actually unintelligent? -- Oooooooh, I can't believe you typed that directly into the internet. In fact, I can't believe you even thought that. Even as we speak, there are tens of thousands of female IT experts tracking down your ip address and then driving directly to your house because you are clearly a man who is looking for a serious ass-whooping.

how to know if you husband is gay -- I think I can help you with this one. Just take this short quiz:

1. Does your husband like penises? (Yes) (No)

If the answer is Yes, then in my limited experience, your husband is most likely gay.

That's all I have from Google this week. Right now I'm working on a story about when my mother took The Snitch, Houdini and me to a disgusting place called The Catskill Game farm. It wasn't pretty, but it was pretty funny.


Scientific American Pie = Brane Damage.

If you're anything like me, (and you know you are) you have a pile of magazines in the bathroom reading bucket. Recently, my father has been giving me his copies of Scientific American and Popular Science when he's done with them. After about 6 months of this, I have received enough copies of each to come to the following conclusion:

I am too stupid to read Scientific American.

Here's an example -- Thursday night, I was getting ready for bed and had a Scientific American open on the bathroom counter. (Yes, I read magazines and books while I'm washing my face and brushing my teeth. I know. It's a sickness.) Suddenly, I realized I had been standing in front of the bathroom sink for about 30 minutes with the water running, reading (and trying to understand) an article on pseudotyped viral-vector gene therapy used in conjunction with synthetic oligonucleotides or some shit. Believe it or not, I managed to get the gist of it even though I had inconveniently left my PHD in microbiology in the other room. Unfortunately, that tiny glimmer of understanding still meant that I went to bed too late and overslept the next morning. Stupid oligonucleotides.

Yesterday, in another restroom-related visit, I realized that both my legs had gone numb because I was sitting there for 20 minutes reading an article on String Theory and Multi-verses for the 4th time, trying desperately to get my head around it. Apparently these multiple layered universes are like membranes, or Branes for short, and can exist at the tip of a spike in a Calabi-Yau Manifold. Let me just say that there was no rest in that room yesterday. My head hurt. I felt like I was back in my college physics class, except with my pants down.

I've decided that the Scientific American magazines must go.

They are not conducive to quick and efficient bathroom visits, unless of course you have a brain like Stephen Hawking, in which case reading Scientific American is probably like me reading the back of a Lucky Charms box.

Unfortunately, my brain is not Stephen Hawking-esque in the slightest, and therefore these magazines have simply taken one unpleasant task and added another unpleasant task to it. I see no benefit to that, and since one of these tasks is optional and one is not, logic dictates that the optional one must go. Therefore, Scientific American will no longer co-habitate with Performance Muscle Cars and the Victoria's Secret catalog in our bathroom reading bucket.

The Popular Science magazines can stay though. From what I've seen, they are more my speed.

For those of you who have never read either magazine, I took the liberty of scanning the illustration that accompanied an article in each in order to show you why I believe this to be true:

Scientific American

Popular Science

In other news, I'm hoping to finish wiring up my new bathroom tree-fan tomorrow.

Also, just in case it ever comes up in casual conversation, you heard it here first. Soldering with your pants down: Not for beginners.


I wish they all could be California.

With my new DirecTV installation, I get free HBO and Showtime for 3 months. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I've been busily recording anything and everything that looks even remotely interesting. I've seen more bad B-movies in the last month than I have in the previous two years. As an aside, I'm also apparently addicted to the show Californication.

Anyway, somewhere along the line, I recorded a movie called "The Beach Girls" -- which has to be the most horrible piece of shit ever released direct to video. I attempted to watch it tonight, since I was in the mood for a light comedy, but I couldn't do it. It was seriously that bad.

I got about 10 minutes into it and had the following conversation with my wife:

"You know what amazes me most about this movie?" I asked her.

"What? That it's so horrible?"

"No, it's the fact that it actually came into being. Think about it -- Someone, somewhere, wrote a screenplay with this ridiculous dialogue in it. Then someone else read it and somehow thought it was good enough to option for a movie. Then someone with money read it and decided that it should definitely become a movie -- and so they financed it. And then....then....a bunch of someone else's auditioned for the various roles -- characters with names like 'Ginger' and 'Ducky' -- because they wanted to be in it, and finally, someone else directed it and as a result this piece of shit actually made it to film."

"And then someone else went out of his way to record it just because he thought it might have lots of naked boobies in it."


click it or ticket, as the cops 'round these parts are fond of saying. Sometimes if you show them your boobies, they let you go.


Guitar hero.

My friend Greg is going off to start his own business and become a famous guitar maker, and this afternoon he brought a couple of his newest babies up so we could snap a few pictures:

They are truly amazing when you see them in person. If anyone wants to place an order, or maybe just wants to rub up against these guitars in an obscene manner, I will only charge a 10% commission to make either of those things happen.

His e-mail address is info at fealeyguitars.com. Drop him a line if you have any questions about pricing or humbuckers or any other crazy guitar thing.

Now pardon me while I go into my shop and throw away all my woodworking tools. They are obviously wasted on me.

Talented effer.