Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Sometimes I say to myself: FOCUS! But it never works.

I wish dogs could read.

I'd leave this note on my counter for my dog:

"Stay off the counter, bitch.

lol.

There's extra dog food in the cupboard if you eat what's left in your bowl.

Oh, wait!

No hands, only paws!

Guess you'll have to wait for me to get home and feed you or somehow get out of the house and go kill a caribou.

XOXO

Ho."

I would, too.

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Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Dogs are nice. You should get one.

Several things.

One.

I wish Hawaii would die, I hate it so bad. It's just out there mocking me with sun and cheap drugs. Fuck you, Hawaii.

Two.

Thanks for the aids virus, Africa, we're really digging that over here. Nice job.

Three.

I didn't like the movie Deathtrap. It reminded me of how my father left us for another man and then killed him in a trite and confusing way. Another bad movie was Seven but a lot of people are all...i loved seven so much...but they're wrong.

Four.

I'm differentiated in the marketplace. Big time.

Five.

It seems that the odds of getting killed by a jaguar go up quite a bit when you work at a zoo. I'm not saying this to scare you but...goes up about a million.

Six.

I used to want to fuck Janet Jackson. I still do but it's a lot less of a want. Now it's more like fucking an eskimo. When will that opportunity come around again? (even if you're not that into it).

Seven.

Sorry, eskimos.

Eight.

I was there when Anna Nicole's baby was born (the baby one) and I may tell you about that one day.

Nine.

Pimp my ride is a good show. I'll fight anyone to the death who disagrees.

Ten.

I'll bet floppy disk salesmen have less and less to laugh about when they get home from work. Even the 3.5" salesmen.

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Monday, February 26, 2007

You should eat more ribs. I'm a doctor and that's official medical advice.

I suspect if you had gay neighbors you could refer to them (in your brain) as g-neighbors but you would pronounce the g like in gravy which is one thing I sure do love so much.

Word of warning: you must make the g silent when in polite company so that it become gneighbors like gnu and ... other silent g words and you must use the term g-neighbors only around established heteros or very closeted men and women because it will hurt so many feelings.

Also, if you get gneighbors don't feel compelled to tell them about the gays in the park (they already know), even if you feel like you're just making regular conversation (it's not). Also not required is to talk about how you have a friend who has a gay brother. Totally not required. At all. It will sound reasonable in your brain when you think about saying it but as soon as it crawls out your maw you'll know that you've said the wrong thing.

Also, program 911 into the speed dialer. You'll need it at some point. Not at first but at some point (when you least suspect it) one (or both) of the gneighbors will offer you a taste of ambrosia. Don't eat it. It might even look pretty good and it will probably be a hot day and you'll be sweaty and so will they and plus you've been drinking beer and the wife is out of town, etc. Speed dial immediately.

And too:

Guess what helps the shakes from a hangover.

Yep.

More alcohol!

Helps so much.

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Tuesday, February 20, 2007

I better have a hangover tomorrow. If you know what's good for you.

I have an acne on my face that's so big I'm going to start charging it rent.

It can only pay in pus but I think that's fair and I'll buy nice things at the pus store.

Who do you think would win in a fight between me and Lou Gehrig?

Pre-Lou-Gehrig's disease, probably him. Afterwards, I like my chances.

Same thing for that other cripple, but the smart one. Hawking.

I'd be all, come on Einstein, bring it.

He'd be all, IT HURTS WHEN YOU CALL ME NAMES...but in his robot voice.

Of course you know my back hurts.

Happy Fat Tuesday, Jews!

For Lent I'm giving up racial slurs.

Most of them, anyway.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Push me up push me down push me push me fucking clown (my dad paid good money for this you better get your shit straight)

So...I guess Anna Nicole Smith died...in...in case you hadn't heard.

In a way, I've just realized one of your dreams for you--that of inventing an idea which will fire the imagination of the entire US of A and the significant parts of Eurasia.

The idea is not so much an invention, per se, but a revolution of perspective which is this:

Why don't we all start calling the vagina the penis-warmer?

If you think about it, the term penis warmer has a much broader appeal than vagina and it also has the side-effect of luring the gays in, as well.

What man in his right mind could resist a penis-warmer? I would order three if I didn't want to get the aids again!

LOL!

Plus it will keep the lesbians away because they'll be all...ewwww, penis, NO THANK YOU! We choose a different lifestyle from now on!

So there you go. Take my idea and eat of it like the flesh of Christ and become rich and fat and happy.

Or at least fat (which is easier than rich and/or happy).

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Thursday, February 15, 2007

Can you believe how busy it gets?

A lot of people think that Pit Bulls are dangerous and should be outlawed and in a way, you're right.

But let me ask you this question, "Who's going to have a Pit Bull when they're illegal?"

That's right.

The criminals will and we honest citizens will be left frequently under attack from Pit Bull attacks.

I'll imagine you didn't consider that, mr. yellow dog liberal.

Picture this picture with me, if you will. You're in church praying for peace and the death to greater (and lesser) Arabia when all of a sudden a criminal busts out with a Pit Bull attack.

Witness through my eyes the congregation down to the smallest baby opening fire on that sick, son of a bitch and letting fly a thousand rounds of Pit Bulls.

Picture it.

It's a glorious sight.

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Monday, February 12, 2007

Here, take this. It will calm you down while I fight this dragon.

I'll bet a toenail shield would be pretty cool.  Not like the homemade prototype one that I have in my lab but one that via voice command would construct a perfect orb of toenails in a shield.

I'm thinking it could block things.

Not heavy things like a bullet but maybe a fork or macaroni.  

But imagine if you're in a theater and some guy sits right next to you even though the whole theater is vacant.  You could whisper into your lapel (where the toenail transponder rests), "raise shields--full toenail power, activate."

Then BAM.

Protected from touching elbows on the arm-rest.

Which I sure do hate touching strange hairy arms.

Sure do hate that.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

She of Heartbreak

I've renamed my boy dog with a girl's name; I call her Martha Stewart. I walk him in the park all the time and he's a fun, fun dog (he doesn't come when I call him, though, dumb dog--LOL!!!!). You'd like him, he looks like your mom.

People stop me and say, "oh, cute dog" and I say, "thanks, it's Martha Stewart" and we share a little laugh.

Then we make the requisite weather chit-chat and then they say, "so how old she?" and then I get a look of rage and say, "it's a he, not a she and I resent the implication that I have a gay dog."

Then I pause for three seconds and say, "just kidding." and I laugh so hard and wipe tears. "It's a boy dog. Didn't you see his massive cock? His prick is big for his breed. Which is why I adopted him."

Then we generally part ways at this point but sometimes I follow them around. Sometimes I don't. Depends on my mood, I guess.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Gravity is getting to me

I'll bet that back in the D&D days the only dwarves who lived with humans were the outcasts and the ones who wanted to be in the Terri Gilliam movies.

And you just know that when they get interviewed on the television they all brag about sleeping with tall, attractive human women even though the sad fact is that every night they go home and lay dwarf dick into Little Debbie Latex delights. And then you know they don't wash Debbie after the deed but let the rotting seed congeal into a paste. Which makes the next night even sadder and sadder. 54% sadder.

But Time Bandits sure was good.

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Monday, February 05, 2007

Warn, warn, I'm missing porn how will I masturbate?

I wish I worked for the UNITED STATES FEDERAL GOVERNMENT so that I could build on the strength of our great nation (long may she stand (and not she in a pussy/girl way but in a mighty battleship way)) ... build on the strength of OUR GREAT NATION from the inside out.

Instead of going to Al Jazeera web sites and posting the taunts (the slurs) like I normally do, I could get in with the DOD and raise money for more bombs and iron gorgets and also get a very nice vacation package and a near foolproof tenure.

But especially the bombs and blood and President's day off from work.

Peep peep I'm counting sheep
the cable man is late.

Friday, February 02, 2007

BLOGGER BUZZ!!! LOL! SO FUN!

I'm sorry if this comes as disjointed but it's been 3 hours since my last drink and I feel the solid substance of sobriety leering at me.

In any case, I must say that I have an envy relationship with Australia and it's all about Australian African Americans (AAAs) versus American MTV African Americans.

The MTV African American is a dangerous rapper with guns and bling and a strong penchant for booty (so called booootay) while the Australian version goes on walkabouts, rids the country of evil goannas and protects white poachers from dangerous Mexican gangs.

Plus Australian African Americans have boomerangs, so don't sell them short on the danger scale. Dey got game, yo (they have a significant amount of potential so don't underestimate them).

American African Americans offer no such protection against dangerous Mexican gangs. Just Hasidim Jew gangs. Which is good, in a way, but Jews don't hunt white poachers and so I'm in no real Jew-danger.

How cool to have a boomerang?

In my red leather pants.

RIDING WITH THE ROAD WARRIOR.

God when will red leather come back into fashion?

I'd be dead in Logan's run.

Carousel, baby.