Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Man I hate acne. And she hates me in return.

I sure do wish snow was made from vodka flakes. I'd eat a lot more of it than I currently do. I'd like winter a lot better too. In fact I hate winter and I blame Jesus for making it go on as long as it does. Sorry, Jesus but you already knew that cause you read minds.


Vodka snow.

I'd eat it up.

I'd charge people to scoop my walks, in fact.

Even if my mom said, "Don't eat snow, it's dirty." And she would say that because that's what she says about eating anything. It's dirty.

I would say that I wouldn't eat snow but you know I would. I'd eat snow and rub my nipples afterward from the joy.

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

this was yesterday but work has thwarted me infinite

I wish you'd tell me all of your dreams of what you'd like to do when you're rich because I'm making a list of things that people dream about for when I get rich.

Phase 2 of the plan of mine is to get rich. Maybe I'll do like Rainman and get me an undiscovered retard brother who can play blackjack very well. This phase is basically undefined. But it's an important part of the plan because phase 3 is where things begin to take flight.

Phase 3 after I somehow gets rich as shits is when I start living your dreams and sending you postcards about how good I have it and how you were right that it really is fun to backpack across England, even though we both know that it's a shit idea and it always rains in England even southern England. Even there.

So get me your lists, please.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

bastards forced me. didn't want to but they pushed and pushed.

A lot of people like to think of the Southeastern US of A as a man who's sitting down with his back propped up against the Atlantic ocean and his long legs stretching down through Texas and he rubs his feet on Mexico's head and says, "Hola, pardner, you mind if I rub my feets on your head?"

And Mexico does not mind one bit. In fact, they smile and rub their fat bellies.

Yes, they say but what's Florida? Is that the giant USA dong which hangs down out of the crack of the shorts to dangle in the cool river of the Southern Seas?

Well, obviously the dong is currently in Iraq spraying our good will into the cupped hands and mouths of the Iraqi people and also at insurgents (may they drown in our good will).

So what is it...that's the question.

And the answer is that it's a poop log which the southern man has expelled and really is in the process of expelling for it surely is not all the way out when you gauge the circumference of the top of the log.

So the question Florida has to answer is not, "Am I a piece of poop hanging from a man rubbing his feet on Mexico."

The question Florida must answer is this: How do I want to behave as a poop log?

Do you want to be a pincher or do you want to lay back and let it go and plosh with a gentle slide and take your place with the other logs in the sea down there (Cuba and Haiti and the other little ones).

I say lay back Florida. Give us a nice slide show.

Plus pinching is very uncomfortable and messy.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Into the blue again

Loud people should be cast asunder. Seriously. Total asunder. Like in the A.


Several people assume that being a single dad is the best thing and it is because the babes are all, he is so sensitive and raising those kids like Saint Andrew.

But there's a downside, too.

You have to keep them clean or the people assume you will eat them and I bet they do taste pretty good.

Like veal.

I try not to eat veal but it's so tender and delicious, ya know? And in a way, they kind of deserve it. Little fuckers. Taunting us with supple flesh.

It kinda ruins the meal, though, when I think of that little cow getting its head chopped off and cow blood flying everywhere and covering the Mexican's boots and the little cow tears of terror that bawl out of the little cow eyes (a single ear before it rushes off to tell Jesus about its small, unhappy life) but it's usually well offset by ketchup and Parmesans. Sometimes I get the runs but I don't think it's related to the baby cow food. I think that's from drinking.

So, don't eat your kids or the chicks won't dig you so well.

But eat veal.

Cause fuck cows, ya know?

Monday, January 22, 2007

culturally insignificant

I have made a very important discovery for science. Girls are just like boys but with vaginas and feelings and the desire to do the same work as a man but for less money.

The combination of all of these five fine features make me assure you that if you don't have one, already, you should go out and pick one up (can be found at the mall, fyi).

WORD of WARNING: don't keep them too long because like most good things, after some time, they begin to rot and turn evil.

Friday, January 19, 2007

So I guess Art Buchwald died, whoever he was.

Jesus Christ ... enough with Pat Tillman. The douchebag quit the NFL to join the marines and he got shot. Sometimes when you join the marines and go to war you get shot--an odd fucking correlation, right there. People shooting at you...sometimes you get shot. Enough already about how he's dead. We know. I know for sure.

Plus he was apparently a world class douchebag. Everyone's all, he got shot cause he was a prick. Let this be a lesson to young aspiring douchebags: Don't join the marines or your friends will cap you "on mistake." Then we'll have to hear about it forever if you're famous enough. Join Celebrity Fit Club, instead. Far less dangerous.

And enough about Princess Di.

She got in the car with an Arab and it blew up--it happens all the time, that scenario.

Just because she was a princess we have to hear about it every day. I am over it. Sure, I cried like a girl when I heard about it. But I'm now 100% over it.

Can't we move on?

Thursday, January 18, 2007

qotsa and arrested development

I hope I get lung cancer so that I can use up all these loufas I have laying around my house, it's crazy I have so many.

I don't even know how I got them all, it's almost like that episode in star trek w/ the tribbles but this is loufas and they don't do anything but clog my cupboards.

Anyway, can't you just picture me with the lung cancer doing great big coughs and having a loufa cupped in my hand (but hidden like a magician) and then after the cough I would hand it to my friends or the nurse and say, "Here's some tumors. Freeze them for future research, maybe you can save someone from the hell I'm going through." But it's really a loufa!

Joke on them.

Score one afterlife point.

And maybe I'll dip the loufa in fecal blood or plum sauce, first.

I have a lot of plum sauce laying around that I have to get used up before Tet.

How does all this stuff build up so fast?

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

I lied, yesterday and it's my plan to do so, today

I was on the best conference call, today, probably the best that's ever been. There was an actual fight between the D&D geek and the Texican with his dick hanging out of his Wranglers (and he was bow legged and danced back and forth like the lollypop guild).

The Texican wanted his way so damn bad and the D&D geek was holding his ground so good.

The Texican was thrusting and justing his way into the D&D geek's points and priorities and he kept pointing down to his penis and saying, "What about this fine point, can you address this particular fine point that I'm showing you, right now?"

The geek held his ground so good (he had such a wonderful calm condesention). He was always parrying with quips and logic like, "I cannot address that particular issue (because I'm a Sea Elf) but I can refer you to some specific documentations and charts that I have filed in my database and if you know SQL query language you can drill down to all of the salients."

I sure didn't know which way to fly. At first I wanted to hang MY wang out and show that I supported Texico but then I almost made a saving throw against detailed documenation and SQL.

In the end I ate my yougurt with a fork because SOMEBODY DIDN'T PACK ME A SPOON.

Then the fighting stopped and I lost focus.

And dreamed of roll playing games and boobs.

In that order.

Monday, January 15, 2007

I don't have the strength to piss your fire out

The most compelling reason to think that Canada is a pack of race hating sluggards is that they do NOT celebrate Martin Luther King Day.

Let me repeat that so it sinks in.

Canada does NOT celebrate Martin Luther King day. Instead they celebrate Boxing Day which I would explain to you but you wouldn't understand because it doesn't make any sense unless you're a racist, which you're not.

I chose not to celebrate it, as well but I have two very good reasons.

Reason one:

My work made me work. It's that simple. They pay me for a solid 8, I lay down a solid 8. Every day. Sometimes 9. Sometimes 7 when I have to go to the dentist but that's very rare because I have superior hygiene.

Reason two:

Omaha has no race problem.

We're all white here.

No races, no friction.

Except those fucking Catholics.


Friday, January 12, 2007

Some decisions must be made

You're going to die in 8 years from this very day. I had a vision that it would be from cancer but it could be by me making sure the prophecy comes through. Please email me with your address in case I need it. If you die before that...kinda let me know so I can manage my lists...

Now I know you just got some bad news so I need you to shake that off and really focus on this next part which is more important than the first part. Always the second is better than the first, it has been said.

The Stargate program, as you know, is real and the documentary appears on sci-fi. This is not news as I've told you before and you reacted with open arms and protestations and requests of tell me more, which I did not give because it's top secret.

What I can now tell you that you didn't know before is that I program "the gate" and also go on some of the lesser adventures like to world PK421B and the small ones.

I have a minor crush on general Hammond as i feel he does on me but we don't share it or reveal it (but I've seen him looking at me (and I don't say platonical (full-on carnal))).

If anything does happen between us, of course, I'll prefer to be the masculine force in the top secret relationship because he is always giving orders and just wants to feel pretty sometime.

He hasn't said such things but you can tell when he sighs that he just feels it, ya know?



It can be so hard when you're always bossing around and when you get home you just want to strip down to the thong and let people tell you how nice you look.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Je suis pomme fruit

Here are some things you can do for me today:

1.) Please shut up for a minute so I can get a thought through. Please. This is a nice way and I have some mean ways but hopefully the nice way will suffice.

2.) Stop cooking tuna casserole in the work microwaves at my work. This is a serious breach of omg how dum am I and you breached it big time. With a big breach bastard sword did you bust that hill with. I hope you get the fish disease that makes you go paralyzed.

3.) Go out and get me something nice like a blow job but not from the crack store where you like to shop, from a real nice store that has silver plated things.

4.) Stop staring at my crotch. You know I hate it when you do that but you keep doing it.

5.) Please make some acronyms and send them to me at work without explaining what they mean. I love that. It makes my teeth break from gritting glee.

6.) Give me a thousand dollars and keep it coming. I don't need it, but I want it so that I can be idle and gay and free like you have it.

7.) Teach me Latin but don't make it boring like you usually do.

8.) Travel back in time and kill Milton so I don't almost fail college.

9.) Translate the bible into arabic especially the new testy so the arabs go to hell for sure when they die.

10.) Fuck ten.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Bad moods abound

I can't understand why Jesus didn't beam off the cross and lay hand and foot to chin and maw and hairy jaw as I would have done if I had powers.

I'd have particle transmitted down and shot death rays at everyone in a furious rage.

"I'm so goddamned mad at you -- take this death ray and put it in your eye," I'd say in English (the best language).

Then I'd have created Israel (Jewish for lol, I killed Jesus) and made the Jews live there for trying to jack my ass and I'd surround them by crazy Arabs kind of like their current situation but two thousand years ago.

Then I'd fly over on reindeer and found America and invent television and vodka.

Most think he done it wrong and for once, most is right.

He done it all wrong.

Friday, January 05, 2007

I'm going to migrate soon

The best thing about not being drunk or hungover at work is the noticeable decrease of running to the bathroom to vomit.

The worst thing is the stultifying ennui that persists between the time you last threw up at work and your next drink.

I want to invade Iowa. I might, this weekend. Guess what they did.


Remember when I forged a library card for Iowa and took all their copies of the Da Vinci Code so that I could start a new church founded on the belief that Jesus had an active sex life with a whore?

Well, they're dunning me now, of all things.

I realize I should not have used my real address but that doesn't make me any less mad at them.

I'd like to invade them and that's where the plan ends because Iowa is a wasteland of wandering cattle and corn and winter wheat.

Unlike Nebraska.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Put it right there on my tongue

If we, you and me, were racing on two different horses, mine a rhone, yours a palamino or arabian I would let you win because of how much you want to win all the time.

After we'd get off and sit around the stables and breathe in the musty horse air and make awkward conversation about how fast you were and I promise I won't tell you I let you win even though I'm the better equestrian and have nicer boots and a whip.

Then we'll go to dinner and I'll pull out all the stops and get us both a beer from on tap instead of Coors light which is what I usually do.

We'll have a nice meal of meatloaf sandwiches and you'll make a joke about how you hope there isn't horse in the loaf and we'll giggle at the thought.

Later I'll steal your things and leave you alone at the resort for making me lose like your bitch.

You know I hate losing.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Move your car. It's blocking.

So I understand Saddam got the long neck of justice.

It's about time, you ask me.

I hear all these left wingers crying about it.

Boo hoo, they say.

Boo hoo death penalty, yadda yadda.

Why don't we hook him up to babysit your kids, liberals? How would that be? Old Uncle Saddam here to push Nickey in the swing? Change Lou-Lou's diaper? Read Johnny a bedtime story? How's that sound? How does it sound that we bring in his good friend Adolf Hitler to come along and keep him company while he watches your kids? Sound OK, Lefty?

No, it sounds like a shit idea. Because it is. Because he was a monster and you're a sad sick weirdo who thinks that our rights should be sublimated by the rights of people like insane maniacs.

This is what I want you to do. I want you to reach out and feel my flexing certainty.

Touch it.

See how good it feels? See how right it feels? Because it is right. I'm sure it's right.

Now rub it a little.



Nevermind. You ruined it.

Leave it to a liberal to deliver a buzzkill.