Lady Friend - "This 3D is incredible! Everything is more awesome in 3D."
Me - "I know!"
Lady Friend - "It makes me wish real life was in 3D!"
Me - "..."
Lady Friend - "You are going to blog about this, aren't you?"
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Give Me A Breakfast
I have set a world record.
Laaaaaaaaaaaaaadies.
Every morning I sit at my desk and think to myself, "DAMN how much longer until I get to eat lunch." Then I get up and look at my packed lunch to see if there is any way I can just get a nibble - like a lion picking off a baby wildebeest as an appetizer.
This used to happen around 11.
Then 10:45
It continued to move up until I was famished at 10:15.
But now?
It is 9:22 and I am starving. That cold meat sub sitting on my book shelf is about to be chewed into submission before taking a pummeling from my stomach. I won't even tell you where it goes from there (poop).
I am fairly certain I am a fat kid trapped in a skinny-kids body. Which can't be very comfortable for the fat kid. I imagine it feels a lot like wearing whitey-tighties - you need a shoe horn to get everything crammed in there.
So now I am left to scour the office for leftover niblets of breakfasts' past.
Maybe I can scrap the wrapper of a muffin.
Or steal the last few bites of an apple core.
Say, are you going to eat the rest of that wildebeest?
Laaaaaaaaaaaaaadies.
Every morning I sit at my desk and think to myself, "DAMN how much longer until I get to eat lunch." Then I get up and look at my packed lunch to see if there is any way I can just get a nibble - like a lion picking off a baby wildebeest as an appetizer.
This used to happen around 11.
Then 10:45
It continued to move up until I was famished at 10:15.
But now?
It is 9:22 and I am starving. That cold meat sub sitting on my book shelf is about to be chewed into submission before taking a pummeling from my stomach. I won't even tell you where it goes from there (poop).
I am fairly certain I am a fat kid trapped in a skinny-kids body. Which can't be very comfortable for the fat kid. I imagine it feels a lot like wearing whitey-tighties - you need a shoe horn to get everything crammed in there.
So now I am left to scour the office for leftover niblets of breakfasts' past.
Maybe I can scrap the wrapper of a muffin.
Or steal the last few bites of an apple core.
Say, are you going to eat the rest of that wildebeest?
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Avatard
I went and saw Avatar this past weekend - or as it should be called, "Alien Pocahontas". But I could hardly concentrate, and not just because I was strangely aroused by the blue alien girl.
No, there was a guy sitting next to me who had to comment on every scene.
"Oh, there is NO WAY that would happen! That is so unrealistic!"
Hey.
Buddy.
You are watching a movie about humans traveling to a far off planet and creating some cloned alien body they control with virtual reality and then they go live with an alien colony and do the sex.
After ALL that - the fact that he just jumped out of a TREE is the part that you find unbelievable?
Because the part I find unbelievable is that I didn't murder your face dead with the back end of my 3-D glasses.
Pandora, my ass - you're fucking with Narmnia now.
No, there was a guy sitting next to me who had to comment on every scene.
"Oh, there is NO WAY that would happen! That is so unrealistic!"
Hey.
Buddy.
You are watching a movie about humans traveling to a far off planet and creating some cloned alien body they control with virtual reality and then they go live with an alien colony and do the sex.
After ALL that - the fact that he just jumped out of a TREE is the part that you find unbelievable?
Because the part I find unbelievable is that I didn't murder your face dead with the back end of my 3-D glasses.
Pandora, my ass - you're fucking with Narmnia now.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Roommating Rituals
My roommate of 3.5 years moved out this past weekend.
You may remember him from such debates as "Would you do Queen Latifah?" and "Serena Williams is hot".
But he is most famous in these parts for Curious George.
For those of you who are too lazy to click that link - I feel you. I barely had the energy to put it up there. But I don't want you to be lost so here is a synopsis.
The roommate and I somehow became owners of a small Curious George doll about 2.5 years ago. We took it upon ourselves to start hiding it in various places throughout our apartment trying to surprise the other one. One day it would be hanging from the shower head, the next it would be stuffed inside a guitar and, one of my personal favorites, strategically hung inside the toilet bowl with some sort of wire contraption (his work, not mine).
The height of Curious George's reign came when he committed suicide at the apartment.
But, like any super creepy doll, he made his comeback - this time at my new house when he was placed inside a lamp. Fortunately this reign was ended when I failed to notice George placed inside of said lamp and his ass melted to the lamp. The entire upstairs smelled like monkey ass and melted plastic for a week. Made me rethink getting my own monkey as a pet.
So as the roommate came over to get his last few things left at the house last night, he told me a little surprise. Curious George is back - somewhere in my house - waiting to be found.
The tradition continues.
But I still wouldn't do Queen Latifah.
You may remember him from such debates as "Would you do Queen Latifah?" and "Serena Williams is hot".
But he is most famous in these parts for Curious George.
For those of you who are too lazy to click that link - I feel you. I barely had the energy to put it up there. But I don't want you to be lost so here is a synopsis.
The roommate and I somehow became owners of a small Curious George doll about 2.5 years ago. We took it upon ourselves to start hiding it in various places throughout our apartment trying to surprise the other one. One day it would be hanging from the shower head, the next it would be stuffed inside a guitar and, one of my personal favorites, strategically hung inside the toilet bowl with some sort of wire contraption (his work, not mine).
The height of Curious George's reign came when he committed suicide at the apartment.
But, like any super creepy doll, he made his comeback - this time at my new house when he was placed inside a lamp. Fortunately this reign was ended when I failed to notice George placed inside of said lamp and his ass melted to the lamp. The entire upstairs smelled like monkey ass and melted plastic for a week. Made me rethink getting my own monkey as a pet.
So as the roommate came over to get his last few things left at the house last night, he told me a little surprise. Curious George is back - somewhere in my house - waiting to be found.
The tradition continues.
But I still wouldn't do Queen Latifah.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Aw, Crap
There are several (hundred) things that annoy me about owning a home, but perhaps none more than people shitting in my yard.
Ok, so maybe it is their dog shitting in my yard, but does that change the fact that there is shit in my yard?
Who decided it was ok to drop a grumpy in my lawn as long as it belonged to an animal? IT IS STILL POOP. Stumpy's shit doesn't smell like roses, no matter what kind of stupid sweater you put on him.
So now when I mow my lawn, I either A) step in dog shit which I will undoubtedly track through the house or B) hit it with the mower and "make it rain" on my yard with Spot's dung.
How is this not against the law? You are literally leaving shit in my yard as you walk by. Real poop. It is perfectly legal to poop in my lawn. My lawn is your dog's bathroom. For poop. It is vandalism to break someone's stupid lawn gnome, but POOPING IN THEIR LAWN is legal.
If I am beginning to sound redundant I apologize, but people are shitting in my lawn.
If you aren't a big enough grown up to pick up after your dog, not only do you not deserve to be a pet owner, but you should also be shot. And then I should get to poop on you.
I'd love to follow these people home and then drop my trousers and release the beast, but I have stage fright. And collecting my own poop at home is one notch TOO crazy. Even for me.
I think my only defense is to get my OWN dog and then let him shit all over these peoples' lawn. Is there a breed that produces more crap than other breeds? I want my dog to more or less be a poop factory - like a baby but with fur.
What's this?
A Shitzu?
Sounds perfect.
Ok, so maybe it is their dog shitting in my yard, but does that change the fact that there is shit in my yard?
Who decided it was ok to drop a grumpy in my lawn as long as it belonged to an animal? IT IS STILL POOP. Stumpy's shit doesn't smell like roses, no matter what kind of stupid sweater you put on him.
So now when I mow my lawn, I either A) step in dog shit which I will undoubtedly track through the house or B) hit it with the mower and "make it rain" on my yard with Spot's dung.
How is this not against the law? You are literally leaving shit in my yard as you walk by. Real poop. It is perfectly legal to poop in my lawn. My lawn is your dog's bathroom. For poop. It is vandalism to break someone's stupid lawn gnome, but POOPING IN THEIR LAWN is legal.
If I am beginning to sound redundant I apologize, but people are shitting in my lawn.
If you aren't a big enough grown up to pick up after your dog, not only do you not deserve to be a pet owner, but you should also be shot. And then I should get to poop on you.
I'd love to follow these people home and then drop my trousers and release the beast, but I have stage fright. And collecting my own poop at home is one notch TOO crazy. Even for me.
I think my only defense is to get my OWN dog and then let him shit all over these peoples' lawn. Is there a breed that produces more crap than other breeds? I want my dog to more or less be a poop factory - like a baby but with fur.
What's this?
A Shitzu?
Sounds perfect.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Who's Bad?
I had my Saturday all planned.
House crap all day, a dinner at Poo and then? And then! And then -
Who's Bad - the World's Greatest Michael Jackson Tribute Band.
I've seen them twice. I know their moves. I even know their set list. I am...kind of creepy after rereading this line.
But I was ready.
I had an extra hop in my step as I cleaned and hammered and fixed things all over the house. I chewed my dinner to the beat of "The Way You Make Me Feel". I watched every weird YouTube version of "Man In The Mirror" that some pervert uploaded and dedicated to someone in their lives.
I had that damn crotch grab perfected.
The Lady Friend and I left Poo to head home and prep ourselves for the faKing of Pop - I sat down on the couch to watch TV for a few minutes and...
...woke up right as the show started. But the show was 25 minutes away and I still had residue of Orange Chicken stuck in my beard.
It was over. No Moonwalk. No sparkly glove. I tried to justify throwing on some clothes and speeding downtown for the last few songs (Man In The Mirror IS the encore, after all) but the answer was Black and White.
I missed it.
After all that excitement I had no one to blame but myself.
Who's Bad?
My bad.
House crap all day, a dinner at Poo and then? And then! And then -
Who's Bad - the World's Greatest Michael Jackson Tribute Band.
I've seen them twice. I know their moves. I even know their set list. I am...kind of creepy after rereading this line.
But I was ready.
I had an extra hop in my step as I cleaned and hammered and fixed things all over the house. I chewed my dinner to the beat of "The Way You Make Me Feel". I watched every weird YouTube version of "Man In The Mirror" that some pervert uploaded and dedicated to someone in their lives.
I had that damn crotch grab perfected.
The Lady Friend and I left Poo to head home and prep ourselves for the faKing of Pop - I sat down on the couch to watch TV for a few minutes and...
...woke up right as the show started. But the show was 25 minutes away and I still had residue of Orange Chicken stuck in my beard.
It was over. No Moonwalk. No sparkly glove. I tried to justify throwing on some clothes and speeding downtown for the last few songs (Man In The Mirror IS the encore, after all) but the answer was Black and White.
I missed it.
After all that excitement I had no one to blame but myself.
Who's Bad?
My bad.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
State of the Moonion Address
Alright, America - it's time to take this relationship to the next level.
In this big game of Risk that is the World, it is time for the U.S. claim the moon as the 51st state.
That's how this works, right? Whoever shows up to a country first wins - like "Finder's Keeper's".
So lets get back up to the moon and claim that bitch. We've been there once, our flag is there - time to slap a McDonalds and a Wal-Mart and make it truly American.
Just think of all the power we could have if we owned the moon. Screw treaties - we'd have a missile launching station there and the world would be F'd. Missile defense? Bitch, we'll shoot your ass from outer space.
Plus we'd probably get to meet up with Aliens before anyone else. We could spread all kinds of rumors about France and get ET on our side. Imagine an army of aliens and U.S. soldiers coming down on China - right before battle we'd make them all watch Rudy just to get some extra juice flowing.
So, Obama, if you are reading this (and I assume you are) - it's time to claim the moon as the 51st state. With your leadership and influence, we could be only a few decades away from MTV's Real World - The Moon.
In this big game of Risk that is the World, it is time for the U.S. claim the moon as the 51st state.
That's how this works, right? Whoever shows up to a country first wins - like "Finder's Keeper's".
So lets get back up to the moon and claim that bitch. We've been there once, our flag is there - time to slap a McDonalds and a Wal-Mart and make it truly American.
Just think of all the power we could have if we owned the moon. Screw treaties - we'd have a missile launching station there and the world would be F'd. Missile defense? Bitch, we'll shoot your ass from outer space.
Plus we'd probably get to meet up with Aliens before anyone else. We could spread all kinds of rumors about France and get ET on our side. Imagine an army of aliens and U.S. soldiers coming down on China - right before battle we'd make them all watch Rudy just to get some extra juice flowing.
So, Obama, if you are reading this (and I assume you are) - it's time to claim the moon as the 51st state. With your leadership and influence, we could be only a few decades away from MTV's Real World - The Moon.
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