White elephants and bluetooth earpieces.

This Christmas, I was introduced to an interesting way of exchanging presents known as the "White Elephant" game. Why it is called that, I have no idea. I know the "white horse" supposedly refers to cocaine, which would lead me to believe that a "white elephant" would be a SHITLOAD of cocaine... Though wouldn't be very Christmassy unless you were Columbian or an 80's yuppie stockbroker. Anyway, the premise is that everyone brings a gift, and then draws numbers. The person with the lowest number picks a gift and opens it. Then the person with the next number picks a gift, and so on and so forth. Here's the deal though. If you don't like what you have just opened, then you can steal a person's gift. After having the rules explained to me, I said "This doesn't seem very Christian, I mean... with all this stealing going down" to which everybody kind of gave me a look. Then I turned to one of Aimee's cousins and said "Well, I'm going to go and rob a Walgreen's then." He smiled and said, "Of course you can do that. Just explain to them that its the white elephant game."
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Hey, you there. Mr Bluetooth Earpiece Man. I don't mean to interrupt what is probably a very important conversation for an obviously super important man like yourself. It's just that you look like a fucking idiot with that thing on your head. Is it that hard to actually hold the phone to your ear? I mean, you don't necessarilly look like a day trader or a CEO or anything. You don't look like you NEED to have a bluetooth device. Instead you want to stand next to me in line at a bank and yell into the air about how yo baby mama don't need to be disrespektin' yo ass... In all fairness, I bought a bluetooth earpiece to wear when I'm driving. Even then I'll put it on the side of my head NOT facing the window because I feel like a douche. But I'm not going to wear it in a really loud club standing next to a subwoofer acting like I can hear ANYTHING coming out of an earpiece.

Regarding Han-ry Solo

Regarding Henry, a 1991 motion picture starring Harrison Ford and Annette Bening, is on my television. In it, Harrison Ford's character plays this super asshole lawyer who gets shot in the head during a convenience store robbery, survives, goes through an extensive and grueling physical therapy, and makes a miraculous recovery. The only problem is that he's been stricken with amnesia and understandably kind of retarded.
It's kind of stupid, because probably in reality, Henry would probably remain in a vegetative state ala Terri Schiavo, or maybe just a total whackjob running around all berserk and knocking over lamps or breaking car windows. I guess that could kind of be a comedy, but being shot in a convenience store would likely kick it off in a darker light. Still, I think I'd like to see that film.
I think it would be a particularly awesome turn if Henry goes back to work at the firm, starts rambling and screaming, and eventually has to be subdued by a taser after punching out his secretary. No matter where he goes, he could just break out in these insane bursts of total freakoutdom, squealing and slapping people. Like, Henry goes to the grocery store and then breaks out into a sprint and ends up molesting a police horse and throwing some baby strollers in a dumpster. That would be great. Harrison Ford would have probably passed on that version after reading the script, but I would definitely jump on the role.
Perhaps we could keep the film the exact same way, but just switch Annette Bening's character with the one she played in American Beauty. Always berating and screaming at Henry for doing something stupid. That would probably be pretty cruel. If you in turn put her character in this film into American Beauty, it would probably have made Kevin Spacey's life just forever average. Why would he ever want to rise up against Henry's wife. She's just so nice.
Speaking of character swaps, what if we put Henry in as Han Solo in the Star Wars movies. He'd be flying the Millenium Falcon along, just erratically and with no particular path. Eventually, Luke would probably get concerned and ask where the fuck he was going. But if he was anything like Bening's character in Regarding Henry, he'd feel bad and try to coach him along and offer an inspirational hand...

Eventually I changed the channel.

Various Thoughts

1. Fuck it. Let's quit.
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2. Don't you just love it when you go into a gas station, convenience store, Target, Wal-Mart, or anywhere else that allows you to pay with a debit/credit card? Here's the scenario... You're standing at the counter ready to complete your purchase. You produce your debit/credit card, and you hear the question: "Is that Creddick or Debit?". First of all, what is "creddick"? Did you mean to say "CREDIT?" Or is "creddick" like a slick gel that you can smear on your body and travel though time. If so, then yes... I'll take the Creddick. Does it cost extra?
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3. Sometime while shopping this holiday season, you're going to encounter a strange situation, act like it's not there, and get the Everything-About-This-Situation-Is-Completely-Normal look on your face. You'll be at the mall or at Best Buy and suddenly somebody is going to be walking in front of you with a gimp retard leg and you're just gonna stare straight ahead... like everything is totally fine. Maybe you'll see some white trash lady beating the absolute shit out of her ADHD riddled kids in front of like the Nature's Wonders store, or waiting for a cashier while a retarded person who's with the people in front of you stares at your crotch. I don't know. Just wait, it's gonna happen at some point. And it's going to be fucking awesome!
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Meth, Retail Rewards, Garbage cans, and even more Rachel Ray!

Take a look at these pictures...

(Picture of Glen Cambell, Rip Torn, and Nick Nolte)


Now, what do these people have in common? Well, they're all celebrities for one. But more notably these people ARE FUCKING SCARY LOOKING. I mean, I know they're a little bit older, but when me or the people I know get absolutely wasted, we look a hell of a lot better than this. These people look like Livingston Parish meth fiends.
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Today I noticed something I subconsiously do that I found kind of interesting. When I buy things at the convenience store and I have exact change, I'll quickly hand them the dollars and coins and wait to see if they're impressed that I could count it out so fast. I feel like I've beaten them at their own game and they should tell me something like "You know, you combined 2 dollar bills, a dime, a nickle, and three pennies to arrive at $2.18 faster than anyone else did today...". I deserve a treat. I feel like if I can put 60 cents in the Coke machine fast enough, I should get not only 1 coke, but another little can just to reward me for my quick counting lower tiered retail prowess....
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In fast food restaurants, the term "Thank You" on the garbage can is being a little presumptious. What if that person did something horrible in the restaurant and didn't deserve thanks? What if he went and pissed all over the bathroom or worse yet, robbed the place? Granted, he probably wouldn't use the trash can at that point. Wouldn't make much sense, really. Still, I guess it's better than the trashcan reading "Fuck You!". Actually, now that I think about it... that would be the coolest trash can in the world. I know what I want for Christmas!
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The other day during lunch, me and my brother were over at my parents house and we got on the topic of Rachel Ray. I was like "Man, isn't Rachel Ray everywhere?" and he was like "I hate that fucking bitch...". Then we somehow came up with other shows she could host playing off the Everyday With Rachel Ray guise. We came up with "Eating Hay with Rachel Ray", we had "Sculpting Clay with Rachel Ray"... but my favorite was "Let Us Pray to Rachel Ray" in which she grabs people out of the television audience to come down on the studio and worship her. Then my brother said Rachel's husband was paying some whore like $2000 a month to spit on him. It kind of made me feel bad for all the stuff I said about her, but then I got over it.
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"You should seeeeee.... what's on HGTV (you should see...)."

That's the little bumper song segment that HGTV plays between commercials. The only thing is that it doesn't make sense. If you're seeing and hearing that bumper, then you're obviously already seeing what's on HGTV. You're watching HGTV at the time. The song should go like this: "You should seeeeee.... what's on HGTV... in addition to now, also later today, and maybe tomorrow too". I guess that would be a little too long but i don't know. Just a thought really.

Rachel Ray's Weird Mouth

Who is Rachel Ray? Where did she come from? Why all of a sudden is she on every channel of my televsion? Why is she on my box of Wheat Thins? Did she have a childhood, or was she just created to help housewives get creative decorating tips? If so, her creator (or should I say cre-Ray-tor) only messed up one thing... her weird little joker like mouth.
I can't stop looking at it. Oh sure, I can hear her talking, and I can see she's showing me how to make an easter basket out of an egg carton, but all I can concentrate on are those little 90 degree angled creases next to her mouth. See here...

(Image from Myspace Blog)

Notice how angled those things are. I mean, they are super mighty pointy. I think that guy sitting next to her wearing his keychain around his neck almost cut himself on Rachel's mouth apparatus. Now that I look a little harder, he has some too, though not nearly as defined. Maybe he was trying to out point her. Maybe he was mocking her. Maybe this was taken at the "Everyone Who Has Rigid Pointy Mouth Creases" Convention 2006, featuring super celeb Rachel Ray.
Personally, i think it may be time to fire up the bat signal. Get a big spotlight and shine it out to the sky. We all might be in grave danger, because I think this guy might be back, though dresses in a very clever disquise:

If she starts adversing Smilex (remember the product the Joker came out with in 1991's Batman that killed everybody), then I'm gonna start freaking.
Now everytime you see her on TV, you're going to think about this. I'm not trying to take anything away from Rachel Ray. I just think there's some reason she's everywhere. It's that mouth. It's intriguing. It's static. It just opens and closes while the rest of her bounces all around it.

I don't know. It's just sort of weird.

Pee, Bumper Stickers, and Being Scared of Ants

There's a few things you notice when drinking energy drinks, most notably Diet Rockstar. For one, it doesn't really taste good and you can literally feel it burning your esophagus. Still, the greatest thing about it is that it turns your pee to the color of a yellow highlighter, which is frightening almost as it is funny. Try it out and let me know what you think about that...
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I have most recently seen the 2 greatest bumper stickers ever. The first one was on a pickup that pulled out in front of me on Cedercrest coming out of the Home Despot. It read "Vegetarian: Old Indian Word for 'Bad Hunter'". I thought that was pretty funny, and I wasn't even mad at him anymore for pulling out in front of me. The other funny one I saw when me and Mikey were on our way to a Knuckledusta show. It was on the back of an El Camino and it read "Abortion is Mean". We were just busting out in laughter. I don't know if that's a political statement or not, I guess it just is what it is. Man, oh man...
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One thing I can't stand is when I'm standing at a urinal and peeing, and another guy walks up to the urinal directly next to me. It's no problem if that's all you have available, but if there's anywhere else you can go - please do so. That's unnerving. I almost want to stop peeing. Or maybe keep peeing but nonchelantly scoot to the next urinal while peeing on the wall between them. What the fuck? Get away from me, you freak. Wait for a stall. Either that or go in the sink. Regardless, I don't need you all next to me and shit, you motherfucker.
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I'm gonna hit you with a theory of mine. Ready? Here it is: Roaches are only scary because they run fast. This is a theory I've had for a while. If they were slow, you wouldn't flip out when you saw them. You'd just be like "Oh, look. How did THIS get in here?". It's like ants. They're not so scary because they're a lot slower. I don't know anyone who is scared of ants. You're scared of what they COULD do to you, but not immediately afraid of them. It's not like you see an antpile in the back yard and go "Fuck! We have Ants!" and just lose your mind. You just make a mental note to not happen upon them and blankly stand there, right? So there it is. Speed is scary. Write that down.

Myspace Ads are Dumb.

Ok, i'm really getting tired of accidentally moving the mouse cursor over that window up there, and hearing a girls voice say, "Helll-OHHHHHH". I'm also tired of all the TRUE dating service chicks staring at me, the smiley faces that say (in no particular order):
"Oh my Gosh. NO WAAAAY!"
"You make me blush"
"Bite me!"
"What?"
and so on...

I also don't care for the "I Graduated In:" windows with the yearbook photos of people in the 80's, the "SHE MARRIED HIM?" ads, or where you have to choose who's "grill this is", have to pick out which obvious MC this was as a baby, have to say whether Prsident Bush is doing a good or bad job, have anything to do with Nick Lachey, etc..

The ones with the really easy games where you either:
-as President Bush, you either scale a wall or peddle a bike faster than Arnold Swartzenegger,
-Shave the sheep
-try to outrun the sludge in the sewer,
-have to outdance Paris Hilton in some form,
-have to cross the street as a turkey,
-have to out-dig the other guy to get to the oil,
-have to out-weightlift Swartzenegger,
-have to mine for rocks,
-have to blow a rock through a tube,
-have to hookup a cholsotomy bag,
-have to pass kidney stones,
-have to starve Terri Shaivo,
-have to suffocate Tony Danza,
-have to get a colonoscopy,
-have to call the 1964 World Series, drunk
-have to curse out Kevin Spacey,
-have to burn yourself with the curling iron,
-have to put salve on grandma,
-have to unload the 18 wheeler full of livers and shit,
-have to spy on your weird uncle,
-have to write a screenplay about crossdressing and pork bellies,
-have to lick that old chicken mcnugget that Eric found under the fryer,
-have to shop for good deals on spreads and butter,
-have to eat the garnish,
-have to stop that little girl from tap dancing,
-have to fuck the Eifel Tower,
-have to cure lupus,
-have to make fun of that crying man...over there, see him?
-have to dodge the issue,
-have to load the meat cannon,
-have to pick up Arnie from the retarded school,
-have to burn a CD full of animal noises,
-have to watch A&E and count how many times the say "hitler",
-have to become the endorser of endorfins,
-have to give out your fingernails,
-have to fry up the afternoon smell,
-have to slap the absolute SHIT out of a midget,
-have to communicate with the dead,
-have to shit out that missing scrabble piece... i think it was an "R",
-have to give that pig a tattoo of a bucket full of chickenlegs,
-have to beat that idiot savant to the "Worlds Of Wonder" store,
-have to eat all the gel,
-have to render that thing obsolete,
-have to hollar out at the HollerHoot family down the fucking way,
-have to make the berber hard,
-have to eyeball your addict cousin until they get back on the sauce,
and
-have to drink the used antiseptic.

Anyways, I wish they'd come up with some better shit. That's all I'm saying...

Various Random Thoughts

Why does "bad news have to come in threes"? What's up with that. Why can't one bad thing happen and then it be done with. Isn't it pretty bleak to consider that once a single bad event has occured, you're still in for 2 more unfortunate things coming to you?

Why is there an "easter bunny" and not an "easter gazzelle", "easter ocelot", or "easter meerkat"? Why does it have to be a rabbit? After all, I've recently in the news about how a deer got into somebody's house and eventually knocked out a pit bull. More recently, a mountain lion was discovered in some guy's house. Perhaps these people were a little quick to judge. These animals were probably trying to deliver a little candy and/or treats to children while being discovered in their magical acts. After that, they had to defend themselves. I bet the Easter Deer kicked the shit out that pit bull. Could you imagine how the Easter Bunny would have faired?

How come everytime you end up on the phone with some business or corporation, their "menu has changed"? When the fuck was the original menu up... because every time I have ever called one, it has apparantly deviated from the last menu in some way. Is this some type of corporate decision? I can just see a CEO pacing in front of some huge table with other executives sitting around saying, "... oh, and by the way... Could somebody please get that damned menu changed?! We've had the same one for at least 2 weeks now!"
Also, I'd like to know when this change occured. Why can't you tell me that? Why can't you tell me that the "menu has not changed in the last 8 months" so I can have a point of reference. When should I start paying attention to the new menu? Will the menu be changing in the future? If so, when will it be changing? I need to mark my calendar.

The Stinger

Here's something I wrote in Spring 2001:

I wish I had a stinger. Bees have them. Wasps have them. Ants kind of have them. Why can't I? If I had one, then I'd sting people and then run away. Wouldn't that be hilarious? Not a really powerful one, but a kind of powerful one. One that would hurt, but not kill. Just maim...injure, etc..
Right at this instant, I'm sitting on a bench at LSU. There's some people sitting on this other bench next to mine. See, if I had a stinger I would run over there, sting them, and then run away screaming like a little girl. Of course, I would keep turning around to see their reactions. They'd be writhing around on the ground in pain. Then I would run around a tree and hide, just waiting for my next victim.
Hmmm... where would my stinger be located? I guess I would like it mounted on my head like a unicorn. It would spring out whenever I got mad, and I would run up to someone and head butt hem on the arm, then run away. Perfect. Kick ASS. I'd probably need some kind of uniform as well. I could be a super villian. Not a really evil one, because I wouldn't rob banks or anything. Just an annoying one. Superman would certainly have his hands full with me. He'd always get calls and be like, "Stinger Man? What...again?! Dammit. I don't have time to deal with this shit. Just put some meat tenderizer and some aloe on it, and you'll be fine."
Ah yes...a stinger. Then the world would be mine. It would be so great. Say there's two chicks just standing there... chatting it up. You know. Typical chick chatter. "So, are you going to the mall today, cuz if you are, I wanna go. Tabitha bought the cutest little shirt at like, Lerner the other day. It has, like, these little black stripes on it... and, you know how stripes make you look slimmer, and...(STING!) FUCK! OH FUCK! My fucking arm. It hurts! Shit. Something just stung the piss out of me. Hey! It was that guy... running away. That one over there, screaming and, like, flailing his arms around..."
Awwww yeah. Stinger man strikes again.

More Various Thoughts!

1. Don't you hate it when you're speeding on the interstate, and you spot a police car ahead of you or behind you. You slam on the brakes hoping this policeman didn't totally just see you breaking all kinds of laws. You think you're in the clear until you finally come into view with the driver and notice it's an old fucking man in a white Ford Crown Vic. What the hell are you in that kind of car for? You should be in a maroon caddy or like a gray Buick. But no, you wanted to get the vehicle that looks exactly like a police cruiser. Every city, every parish, every STATE uses the crown victoria or the Chevy Caprice. We need to start a movement to get old folks out of these cars before they give me a heart attack. Seriously.

2. I went to Subway today. There making my sandwich was a so called "sandwich artist". I guess she was just a bad artist. Who could possibly want THAT MUCH lettuce? When I say I want pickles, how about 2 or 3. I don't need 44 pickles on a 6 inch sandwich. They consistantly put a ridiculous amount of the additions you'd like to see made to your food. You say you want some tomatoes. They put 400 tomatoes on there. You want "lite mayonaise"? How about 1/3 of this bottle of mayonaise. Then they wedge it closed with a knife and wrap it up in 6 square feet of paper. Hey, I know everybody! Let's celebrate wastefulness! Then they take the football sized ball of paper they've turned your sandwich into, and put it into another bag. Maybe next you can put it into a box, then into a ball of rubber, and then wrap it in tin foil. Then put into a car and drive it to my house.

3. All over Baton Rouge, they're installing cameras to catch people speeding. Did you know this? On every other traffic signal, there's a little camera on the wire between the traffic lights. Then there's another one like on a lightpole around there to get a snapshot of the other side of your car. They're supposedly going to mail you a ticket everytime you run it by photgraphing your license plate. Enclosed with the ticket will be a picture of you running the light. I was reading on a message board the other day that someone in another state who'd already seen this implemented got themselves a ticket and photo in the mail. He decided to write them a check for the fine, but then take a picture of it and mail them the photo only. The cops must have had a sense of humor, because a few days later he recieved another letter. This time inside was a picture of handcuffs. Ohhhhh burn. That's some kinda funny shit right there.

Peace!

Various Thoughts

1. The Pilot Precise V7 Fine Point is the finest pen in the world. I've used a lot of pens, and in all honesty I have NEVER had a problem with the Precise series. I mean that. Pilot should sponsor me.

2. Isn't it great when you're at a family function and the dog has a hard on? I can't think of a funnier way to incite an awkward moment than when a dog walks into a room full of aunts and uncles and has an erection. Maybe if it's humping someone. That makes for an uncomfortable situation and I love it. It's along the lines of going to a zoo on a first date and seeing some sort of primate playing with himself or watching some animal take a shit. Well, isn't that fantastic? People act like they don't see it but believe me - everybody knows what's going on.

3. How come at night, every fast food shake machine on earth breaks? What's up with that? Shakes are the kind of thing you eat at night. Nobody has a large milkshake at lunch. They eat them as late night snacks. But it never fails for me to hear that MOTHERFUCKER on the intercom tell me "Our shake machine is out of order...". I hate that person now. See what you did? You have driven me to hate you. I almost know they're gonna say that every time. Sometimes I don't even want one but I'll order it anyway just for them to tell me I can't have it. I want to say "Can I have 900 large strawberry shakes please" just for them to grasp how terribly bad I want a shake. The shake machine is out of order. Fine. But you wanna know what else is out of order? Your fucking face. Fuck you, you fucking bitch. Fuck! I wanted a shake! I literally have no other recourse. You were my last chance at a shake tonight and you have failed me. I don't have shakes at home. I don't have a shake machine. If I did, it would work. I can't go to a 24 hour Circle K and get a shake. A Frozen Coke is the closest I'll get. But I don't want that. I wanted a shake, you mothefucker you.

4. This morning while taking a shower, i noticed the bar of soap I had left had pretty much neared the end of it's short life. I had a full bar sitting next to it, but I wanted to use all of this soap before I made the switch. I didn't want to be wasteful, so I cleansed myself with a tiny sliver of soap, which is not the easiest thing to do in the world. It's like showering with a marble, or maybe a vitamin. Regardless, when I was done I started to think of what happens to all those little soap shards people throw out. Man, if we could get our hands on all of them, that would be a huge amount of soap. We could make a lot of regular bars out of that.

A few weeks back, me and Aimee had to go to this thing called Pre-Cana. It's basically a forum provided by the Catholic Church to tell you everything you've done is wrong, that your marriage is probably going to fail, and that the only form of birth control you can practice which will NOT result in you burning in hellfire is Natural Family Planning. NFP is also what you use to accidentally have 15 children that you won't be able to properly provide for. I'm fairly certain that the people on Little House On The Prarie, The Waltons, Eight Is Enough, and Step By Step used it - thus they've properly earned their spot in Haites.
We were yelled at by a Deacon, listened to cute little anecdotes from a recently married couple, and watched a video that more-or-less drove home the point that "85% of couples who live together before marriage end up in divorce". In fact, I believe that was the title of the film. How awesome is that? Just 15% make it out. After it was all over, I think we were convinced to just keep living together instead of get married. I'd think that more than 15% of the hillbillies I see on Fox's COPS TV program are probably "common-law married" (which I believe takes 7 years... quite a commitment our toothless neighbors have made).
So then they get up and start talking about some sort of other business. We'd stopped and bought some little notebooks on our way because they said to bring writing materials. Sometime during somebody's rant, I drew the following:


(NOTE: Copy and Pasted from my Myspace Blog. Remind me when you read this, and I'll take the time to go and find the files and put them up here.)




I think "Mr. Sun" is my favorite. Either way, we broke for lunch and when we got back - all the seats in the back were taken. We had to sit in the front which meant the lector would be able to see me making art. Instead I had to think up little scenes in my head, like what would happen if I started choking or just stood up and fell on the ground convulsing. I'm sure an ambulance would be called. Then I'd stand up and go "Oh man, I was just kidding! Awwww Damn! I SOOOO got you guys... weeee!" I'd probably be cursed for starting a scene in the Catholic Life Center.
I'm gonna just go and crash the next one they have. Who's with me?

Tattoos, 10 years, and a cup of cranberry juice.

Just so you know, there's nothing more exhilarating than asking your fiancé where the fingernail polish remover is and then using it to remove permanent marker from your fingernails under her less than excited glare. I also had fun stripping down to get in the shower Sunday morning and seeing all my new faux tattoos drawn on with blue highlighter, especially the "I heart dick" on my arm. This is in addition to the huge ejaculating penis drawn on my inner left thigh, the upside down cross on my right thigh complete with "666" and "SATAN!" next to it, respectively... and several illegible things written throughout my body. Holy shit. Looks like Saturday night was a doozy!!
It all started out at my 10-year high school reunion. You know, there's nothing more polarizing than walking into a packed room with people you haven't seen in a decade. Especially getting there late and everyone already being there. I had a fucking blast though. I'm one of those people who loved high school. I hated middle school and everyone in it, but I loved my senior year and mostly my entire class. If I could go back in time, that's what I'd set my flex capacitor for. Either way, it was so great talking to everyone and just getting generally shitty with old friends. The one question I got tired of hearing was "So how have you been" and I eventually tried to work things in like "Oh man, my life is awful. Ok. Just kidding" and things of that nature.
Regardless, eventually the 4 hour time limit we'd rented Roux House for was up, which means its time for the North Gate Tavern after party. Now here's where things get a wee out of hand. There's nothing worse than a drunk person having control of an entire bar and seeing everyone from his high school ask for liquor. Because that drunk person is going to give everyone he sees as much liquor as he can. And yes, that's what I did. I was running back there and completely invading my bartenders' space, grabbing outrageously expensive bottles of shit and pouring like a 6 year old with a jug of Kool Aid. After my 10th shot (at least it seemed like that), someone should have taken me out with a tranquilizer dart. I'm going to start ordering the doorguys to put me in a sleeper hold once I pass a certain threshold. Do you think you could do that, Danny? Aren't you into wrestling?
Well, then I decided to try and dye my dick red. Yes, really. I asked for a 16oz cup of cranberry juice and submerged my junk in it. Then I just walked all over the place with a cup of red, sticky liquid on my wee-wee. As luck would have it, the bar was closed at this point. While most of us were ordered to get out, I decided to walk around in the back parking lot and assault the other NGT employees off the clock with a plastic cup and a lack of all respect for myself. I'm trying to largely block most of this out, because I'm not the type to engage in exhibitionism. I have heard people drink cran to treat urinary tract infections. Perhaps I got this backwards and tried to go from the outside in. I just remember people recoiling in horror as I was running around.
The next morning as I'm walking to my car, I saw Nicole outside the back door. "You were pretty naked last night. We expect that kind of behavior out of Joe, but we thought you were better than that." I showed her all of my new tats. I asked why nobody drew on my face, and she told me that luckily Joe told everyone not to because I "had stuff to do today". Thanks, Joe. So there is what happens at my 10-year reunion. It's time to bring some humility back to the table though. I've been out of control the last couple of weekends. I think I have some pretty good reason. How fucked up is it to have your little brother's bachelor party, his wedding, and a high school reunion in 3 consecutive weekends? I mean, come on. Thats the kind of stuff you should stretch over years. At least months. I'm dealing with weeks, people. So cut me some slack.

Anyways, now I guess I'll have to top it at my 15-year reunion. And in case you're wondering, cranberry red is only temporary. You'll have to go with something stronger for a longer effect but my guinea pig days are over. Why doesn't somebody else do something stupid soon? It's my turn to make fun of you!

Linens and Things.

The other day Joe called me to find out where my brother is registered at for his wedding. I told him Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I thought that was where it was. I mean.. doesn't that seem right? Apparantly it was not. Here is a transcript of the conversation we had about it:

JoJoD272 [9:34 AM]: How do?
CPT2117 [9:36 AM]: well haloo!
JoJoD272 [9:36 AM]: You lied to me.
JoJoD272 [9:36 AM]: Patrick is not registered at Bed Bath and Beyond...
JoJoD272 [9:37 AM]: LIAR!
CPT2117 [9:37 AM]: i know. i'm sorry. my mother said you called.
JoJoD272 [9:37 AM]: I did...
JoJoD272 [9:37 AM]: I talked dirty to her for a while.
CPT2117 [9:37 AM]: perhaps i meant a little BEYOND Bed, Bath, and Beyond...
JoJoD272 [9:39 AM]: Ahh, it was like a Da Vinci Code riddle that I had to unravel...
JoJoD272 [9:41 AM]: Bed, Bath, and Beyond.... Hmmm... three B's
JoJoD272 [9:41 AM]: Bluebonnet begins with a B'
JoJoD272 [9:41 AM]: But there is no Bed Bath and Beyond on Bluebonnet!
JoJoD272 [9:42 AM]: Bleah...
JoJoD272 [9:43 AM]: Did you know that the "things" in Linens and Things are sex toys and illicit drugs?
JoJoD272 [9:44 AM]: Patrick will be receiving a set of anal beads and 1/8 of an ounce of crystal meth for his wedding.
CPT2117 [10:04 AM]: that is fantastic.
CPT2117 [10:04 AM]: i guess "Linens and Illicit Drugs and Sex Toys" was a little too long of a title.
JoJoD272 [10:05 AM]: exactly...
JoJoD272 [10:05 AM]: My mom used to always call tampons "things"
JoJoD272 [10:05 AM]: What if they only sold linens and tampons?
CPT2117 [10:05 AM]: then they'd be "Linens and Tampons".
CPT2117 [10:06 AM]: I think that would be wildly succesful.
JoJoD272 [10:06 AM]: How about a store called "Used Linens and Tampons"
JoJoD272 [10:07 AM]: How would that one fare?
CPT2117 [10:07 AM]: Hmmm... Maybe "Linens Used For Tampons"
JoJoD272 [10:07 AM]: Or tampons used for linens
CPT2117 [10:08 AM]: That would look good spread out on your bed. Your Used Tampon douvee.
JoJoD272 [10:09 AM]: They would be all the rage in Paris.
CPT2117 [10:10 AM]: For all we know, it already IS all the rage.
CPT2117 [10:10 AM]: What's up with that phrase. "All the rage".
JoJoD272 [10:11 AM]: It sounds like it wouldn't be a very good thing...

Various Thoughts

You know that little decorative added weed in a bouquet they call "Baby's Breath"? Why do they call that baby's breath? What in the fuck does that have to do with a baby, and more importantly... its breath? That makes no sense to me at all. If your baby is exhaling that shit, it is not a beautiful thing. Something is very wrong.

This weekend while staying in a hotel room, I was wondering why it's an industry standard to not be in the room when housekeeping comes in and cleans. I just want to stay in there one day. When they come in, see me laying on the bed and say "Oh, I come back soon...", I just want to go "No. I want you to clean it with me in here. I want to see what you do." Then I will ask for their autograph.

In our old bandroom, located in a garage behind Paul, Adam, and Talley's house, we'd get the cops called on us every time we practiced. But why is it that if a car alarm is going off in your apt complex at 4 in the morning, nobody does shit? It can just go off all night. Over and over. I think I'm going to test this theory by starting a band that sounds just like a car alarm. We'll play 45 minute sets in various apt complex parking lots. I'm working on our myspace profile now.

The Bachelor Party. Part One

There's nothing that says "congratulations on getting mairred" better than a 2 day bender in New Orleans, and this past weekend has become the newest testement to that. My brother is getting hitched this weekend, so last weekend we serenaded him with a drunken send off that classically asks Where-Am-I-and-what-the-fuck-am-I-doing...and it was better than ever. Two days in the French Quarter always equates to a lot happening and never being able to remember much, but there was certainly enough that I do remember to get down on paper to make for a fairly interesting blog.
First of all, let me give you a little background. It was a joint bachelor party combining my little bro's wedding party with Jeremy O's court as well. He's getting mairred in July sometime, and since most of the particpants know each other, we got 4 hotel rooms and invited around 20 people. Everyone was arriving at different times, so we were bouncing from room to room just bullshitting about what we were gonna do while waiting for other people to get there. All of a sudden, the room bursts into excitement upon arrival of a most animated member of the party. I don't want to name the person directly because of possible destruction to his professional career, but for all intentional purposes of this story, we'll call him Bobby.
Bobby is related to someone in the party, so although he doesn't know many of the people well (because they're mostly friends of the two grooms), he has become fairly acquainted with them over the course of the 4 trillion parties we've attended in the last few months. So he gets there, walks into the room with beers in hand screaming, "LET'S PARTY, MOTHERFUCKERS!" and going on and on. So everyone is sort of looking at him blankly while he's going "WOOOOOOO HOOOOO. Shit. Let's go get fuuuuuucked up. You ready? Huh?" and so forth. So we're making our way down the hallway to the elevators and Jeremy has to fill out this sheet of paper with all the cars on it to get some sort of comped deal on parking, to which Bobby responded with "I drive a Mercedes. A fine one...". Then he broke into a sprint to the elevator. We're all looking at each other with worried expressions. This was going to be a long night and we didn't know what the hell was up with him. Was he going to get us beat up, kicked out of places, arrested...
As our elevator is making it's way down to the lobby, there was a woman who was already on it who was standing as far away from us as she could get. Bobby looked at her and called her a whore or something before we finally got to the bottom floor and he ran through the lobby and out the door. We were all gathering up and looking at him outside the glass doors when this fat guy and his wife walked up trying to walk into the hotel. Bobby started dancing on the back of the woman, to which her husband looked at him and said "What the fuck are you doing, asshole...". When they finally were able to get inside, the man told us "You better watch out for your friend there because he's about to get some fucking stitches"
We were walking down Royal looking for a restaurant while Bobby was leading the way with his arms extended above his head in a Y, taking long strides and swinging his arms around. He then ran back to me, pointed at a pile of trash and said "Wouldn't it be cool if you ran up that ramp?"
I answered back, "Um, that's not a ramp. That's a pile of trash."
"Oh. Well... Wouldn't it be cool if it was a ramp?"
"Yes. It would be great."
We ended up at a pizza place. Bobby sat at the head of the table while everyone else tried to get to chairs the farthest away. Unfortunately Brandon, Jeremy, and Chris were the slowest to sit down and were stuck next to him. We were all talking about various things while he was knocking everything in front of him onto the floor. When the waiter came to take drink orders, Bobby looked at him impatiently and shouted "Whiskey!" Then he started telling everyone at the table that they sucked and everything was bullshit. Once he was given his whiskey and the waiter was taking food orders, he again tried to order whiskey. The waiter told him he had his whiskey to which he continued to ask for more whiskey before he finally gave up on him and started taking other orders.
I told the waiter to bring him some breadsticks. Once they'd came, he started devouring them and making a huge mess. When he'd finished his breadsticks, the waiter came to clean up the table. Bobby looked at him and said "Queer...". The waiter was like "What did you say" to which Bobby replied "Nothing." Knowing we were all doomed, Rhett called down to the waiter and said "Man, look. We're sorry about thim. He's been drinking all day and just not in real good shape." The waiter went and got a much larger waiter who started baitingly asking "IS EVERYONE ENJOYING THE FOOD? IS THERE A PROBLEM?" while glaring at Bobby. We finally managed to make it out on our own conditions while Bobby apologized for his actions. Over and over. And over. And over...
Then we made it back to the hotel to meet Joe, Adam, and Blain who had finally made it down. About half of us decided our next stop would be the hotel bar. Bobby decided he'd join us. He ordered a round of tequilla shots for us all. It was still a little early to start with shots, but we thankfully accepted, and raised to a toast of the two grooms. We all leaned our heads back and took the shot, while Bobby ackwardly dumped his all over his face. He wiped it off with his hand, sat and stared into space for about 2 minutes and then left. Although I suppose it was the thought that counted, Joe reluctanly paid his $45 tab as we eventually left the bar to take on the night.

High School Era Summer Construction Days Of Yore

The other day I was fondly remembering the days when me and my pals' immaturity blatantly reared its head at the working mans' expense. Yes, there was indeed a time where I behaved inappropriate at work. Kind of like now, but probably a little more obvious. There was no computer screens to hide behind then. There was no air conditioning. Who could forget... High School Era Summer Construction Days Of Yore.
One day, me and Joe were pinning walls for soundboard around one of the air handlers at a job called Norplant in Hammond. It was a really tough spot to get in, and we would take turns snaking ourselves around the units while the other would apply an extremely toxic glue with the most powerful fumes I have ever smelled to the base of a nail impaled through a perforated aluminum square. There he would pass the gluey pin to whomever was on application duty. Eventually the fumes would get to you and things would stop making sense while your head was spinning out of control. One day Joe began talking like Yoda while trying to get out from behind the unit. "Mmmmm... Stuck back here I am, Yes?". I would laugh uncontrollably. Then he would switch to Aggravated Yoda. "MMMMMMM!! ( in high pitched Yoda voice). Sigh...
Once while renovating a school, I was on a ladder and stripping some old insulation off a pipe running down a hallway. Out of anger of the insulation's persistance, I took a razor knife and while screaming "MOTHER FUCKER SHIT FUCK", gouged a portion of ceiling tile into bits. There were a few teachers in the building preparing for the upcoming school year, and I hadn't noticed one of them walk out of a classroom. She looked up at me and said "Well, that's nice". I then saw my buddy Dustin standing behind her laughing uncontrolably.

what are you looking at?

Don't you hate going into restaurant bathrooms with mirrors all over the place? Sure as shit, there's got to be some sort of angle that someone can see my pecker. And I'm not real happy about that.

the nasonex bee

Is this bee high?

It's the Nasonex bee. He's usually flying around flowers and just acting what I would assume would be bee-like, although he has some odd hispanic undertones. In the commercials, he says things like, "I have returned, a changed bee."

He's always smiling and get's great enjoyment when the giant nasonex bottle sprays allergy inhalents all about. Maybe I'm wrong. It's just an observation.

But what a weird ass motherfucking logo, huh?

Damn my Tri-holed keys!

Why does every key on earth look like this now?

I literally have about 15 keys on my keychain that look exactly like this. In fact, I would bet that you do as well. Like me, you probably only remember what each of them is for in sheer relation to what order thay're in on the rings... and this, my friends, can no longer stand.
I want to know why this design is so great. I mean, is it that you have 3 holes in which to choose to add painfully to your keyrings? That said, you're likely going to go for the middle hole because it has greater depth and allows the key to be seperated from the ring a little farther. Well, if all keys produced on earth will now look like this, I'm going to rebel and start putting the rings through one of the holes to the left or right.
When somebody goes to give me a key to something, I'm already betting in my head (before I even see the key) that it's going to look like that. I'm already agonizing on how the fuck I'm going to remember that particular key for whatever function it might be for. The simple fact that it might say "Wal-Mart" or "kwikset" is not enough for me to keep it seperate. I need more.
And why that design? Really... In your decision to have a key made, what made you decide to go for that one? You might like unifomity on your keyring, but I do not. I want variety. I don't like putting 17 keys in a lock before I finally pick the right one. I also don't like the little rubber things to add to the top of the key in order to differentiate. No, you should have thought about that when you had this key made. Isn't there another design, like a skeleton key, or a key with fur on it, or something like that?

Man. Fuck that key design. I've about had enough. I already find enough things to waste time on and unlocking the door should not be one of them.
I won't be happy until I get a key that looks like this:


My new Bozo key. Hopefully carried at Wal-Mart by 2007. One can only hope.

One of these days

As many of you know, I'm getting mairred sometime this year. While it is probably a long ways off, once can't help but bring to mind the popular old saying: "First comes love, then comes mairrage, then comes Fucko with the baby cairrage" or something like that. With that in mind, it's never to early to start planning. So here's a few names I have possibly reserved for my future children:

General Louis Godfried Terito
Needle Van Terito
Terito Terito Terito
Lord Stackhouse Terito II
The boy
The girl
Whtever that is Terito
Hairless Waxy Terito
the Flying Terito Bros.
Sperm that met Egg
Air
Ezekial Legend Terito
Apple Terito
the Pope
Smartie McSmartie Smart Smarr!
Garnish Plate Terito
Taco
Virtual Terito
2-D
Lonnie Terito
Little Laughing Lawrence Limping Last to Los Verdonas
Topher Patton Terito
!
Smiley
Roar Teritostein
Zeston 2000 PVC Insulated Fitting Cover
April Tuesday December Terito
Sandra.Walking.Fast.Ter.Ito
Sony Presents My First Baby
Turn The Channel, Son
President George Washington Terito
Johnny Superman Terito
Next
Samuel Corey Terito 4: The Revenge
Turbo Terito
SHUT UP! Terito
The New Terito, Made Possible With a generous grant from the good people at Exxon
The Better Me
Doctor Linda Terito
Running Wolf Terito
Running Water Terito
Sam Terutti (I actually got mail addressed this way once.)
MJH-6895
The 2009 Ford Terito
Flash Terito
First Pick of the 2033 NFL Draft Terito
Teri To Terito
Bambi Candie Terito
Frank Sinatra Terito
Nailbomb Terito
Matsui Yamiko Terito
Sodium Citrate + Boric Acid
The Big Letdown Terito
Grizzly Toughman Terito
Ponyboy
You Better Be A Doctor or Lawyer Terito



That's all I could come up with for now. Any other suggestions out there?

Welcome to Moderately-priced Commercial Foodville!

Don't you hate it when you go to a restaurant during the lunch rush, and the waitress is immediately all over you. Like, the hostess has just set your menus down, your pulling out your chair and the waitress is already saying "what can i get you to drink?"... Suddenly, i know how this lunch is going to be. They want you to hurry the fuck up, they wanna get your $24.95, and get the next fat asses in those chairs. A perfect world for these over ambitious servers would be you saying "Um, I'll take a water with lemon, a tortilla chip, and the check!" and then they sprint to the POS register to key-in your bill.

Calm down. Please. I'm going to choke to death on my chili con queso and make a scene. Then I'll be in my chair for a considerable amount longer, prompting you to forgo all of the dough you'd have made on table 13 today. You thought it was going to be great because you're working with Christi the hostess today and she hooks you up. "Have you guys decided yet?". NO!

I'm a good customer too. If there's a wait, and I have to go get a drink at the bar, I will always close the tab so the bartender doesn't get fucked. I'm not the type who when my table is ready, would say "Can you transfer that to my table?". That's not fair, and I don't do that. Therefore, I'd like a millisecond to decide what I'm going to eat.

I also get annoyed by those servers who are asking you every 2 minutes if you need anything. It's not like everything has gone awry in 90 seconds. I don't foresee the following happening. "Is everything ok?". "Yes, it's fine. Thank you." Waitress walks away, and the burger falls apart and into your lap. Your date spills a glass and knocks your plate over while packets of Splenda explode and you stab yourself in the eye with your fork. Not too likely. I've devised a way to thwart this. Just ask for something everytime they come over. "Can I get some ketchup?" "Can I get some mustard?" "Can I get some more napkins?" "Can I get some bread covered with powdered soap flakes, toasted, with somebody to help me chew it up because i have bad teeth, with a little Gheghis Kahn trading card and VHS version of the film 'Witness' starring Harrison Ford and Lucas Hass...?"

"Can I get the check?"

And then it's like a bolt of lightening to the register. She's thinking "Oh holy fucking shit! Table 13 has FINALLY finished their meal. I mean, it only took like 12 minutes!!! Don't they know this is Chili's, where lunchtime minutes are like flakes of gold and money...Don't they?"

I'm always tempted to sit there after the little book has been brought out for me to sign. Just chew some ice cubes. Stretch. Look around for the waitress seething with anger. I don't really do it. And I always still tip well. Still, if i'm taking 30 seconds to say goodbye to my ailing greandmother, just chill. Don't come take the check folder thing away, thus completing our little lunch interaction. I want to be out of there when you see the tip. When you see the little present I left. It's always at least 20%. But don't look before I leave. It's like opening your birthday presents before the party.

But anyways. I was good today too. Where's my tip?

everything is blah.

my creativity has hit the wall at 65 miles an hour.

boom. bam. whatever.

I've never been on lithium. never. but one of the things i've heard about it is that it completely stifles all of your creative being. you don't feel like reading, writing, playing guitar, skateboarding. nothing. you just feel like sitting there. well, i think i've got a natural taste of it. i don't understand. a lot of times i'll sit there in a coffee shop with my laptop and try and write a story or lyrics, or anything. just get something on a page. then i drink so much coffee that i've energized myself past my own imagination. not that i'm really deep or anything because i'm not. i'm not the type who writes poems or spoken word, or keeps a leatherbound composition book or anything. no... i write songs about getting a bee in your car, or songs about meat, or songs about falling off your bike. then i record them and never play them again.

by the way, to all the ladies with the betty page haircut. that's so original. nobody has ever had that cut, ever.

i'm turning 28 this week. perhaps you can buy me a new sweater so that i can be responsible. i used to have a sweater that i called "the responsibility sweater" because at 24 it made me look like i was 30. not that i didn't already look 30 when i was 24.

i run in my neighborhood in the mornings. often, i'm running into the direction of the sun so i close my eyes. people drive down the street and see some maniac running with his eyes closed. still, that's better than people who run with sticks or golf clubs because they're afraid of being jumped. maybe tomorrow i'll run with something impractical, like a lawnmower or a garbage can. maybe a stereo so people will call the cops because they think i'm a thief. when i get stopped, i'll just tell the police "well, this is my stereo. but that lady over there stole my golf club."

the other morning, i was sitting in a hotel room with mac, joe, brennan, matt walsh, daniel, and danny moore. we were watching duke play in whatever round they were in before they got beat by lsu. we were talking about Fun Fair Park. somehow we got onto the topic of "Fun Unfair Park", which would probably be anything but fun. it would cost the person in front of you $5, and then it would cost you $10. when you complained, they'd just say "Life's not fair, kid. Welcome to Fun UNFAIR Park". then as you walked from ride to ride, people would sporadically punch you in the stomach.

anyways. i'm out. i'm going to work on that song i was writing about a bee getting in the car while you're driving.

shit keeps hitting me in the head

Man, I keep fucking myself up. For some reason, my face and head have become a target lately and if I don't watch out, something really bad might happen. One thing is for sure... if you get hit in the face or head with something, it really fucking hurts. In the last 3 weeks, I've encountered 2 sure fire incidents that had the potential to be far worse than they ended up being. Though that doesn't mean they were painless. I could have lost eyes, nose, lips. I'm just saying... be careful around me!
The first one happened on Super Bowl Sunday. This weekend always plans to be a severely drunken blur that usually results in me doing something stupid, and this year was no exception. We were all out at Mike's to watch the game, and afterwards to watch the let's-get-drunk-and-play-with-explosives display. Kegs, Football, and Firecrackers. See, Gonzales has a variety of hillbilly firecracker stands where you can find something moderately priced to blow your hands off with. I didn't have much interest in them because I was fucked up out of my mind, so I opted to stand in the front yard and discuss some sort of mindless bullshit that probably had little to no meaning whatsoever. (Actually, I think I was asking Julie why Ascension Parish didn't use street names. Instead they opt for numbers. Getting directions in Prarieville/Dutchtown/Sorrento is like a math problem: "Take a right on 61, go down to 22, and when you get to the light at 16, turn left at 14 and then 17 98 = 115, carry the one...".. ahem.)
So as I'm saying this, a flaming ember flies out of the sky and hits me in the mouth. I'm in the middle of a rant and just POW!.. right in the face. I remember people looking at me, then seeing this happen, then erupting in laughter. I was like "Mother FUCKER!", immediatly grabbing my upper lip and testing for blood. It was like God was getting me back for talking trash about the numbered streets. I couldn't shave for about 3 days because of this burn under my right nostril. To add to the embarassment, the scab sort of looked like a booger. How convenient. Later on in the evening, Mike burned his hand pretty bad and eventually Ashley shut down the show. Although lack of alcohol might have thwarted these incidents, it's presence certainly helped numb the pain. It healed about 4 days later for the scab to fall off, but for the rest of my life people will be able to say "Hey, Sam. Remember when you got hit in the face with that firecracker?".
So then last night, we go to Star 80 at the Moon to dance our little butts away. Again, a few drinks after we got there and I was working it like Janet Jackson. Now, if you're familiar with the Spanish Moon, you know there's a huge upstairs loft area with a railing overlooking the downstairs, stage, etc.. I think i was in the middle of singing "Always Something There To Remind Me" when I felt a painful POP on the top of my head. This was immediatly followed by the splattering of liquid, and glass... and then by a warm trickle of blood from my forehead to my cheek. Some asshole had dropped a beer bottle from the second story, probably about 20 feet up and it came to rest on my forehead.
This hurt considerably more than the firecracker, and i was handed fistfulls of bar napkins to stop the tremendous bleeding. Aimee, Joe, and Mac were on a tear up the stairs to find the culprits while I ended up in the kitchen with a migraine and some saturated bloody napkins. This REALLY pissed me off. The firecracker was funny. I mean, that seems like a fair retaliation for talking smack about Gonzales, but getting hit in the skull with a bottle while your dancing to 80's pop songs is extremely inappropriate. I mean, I already look stupid dancing to this. Severe bleeding from the forehead while "I Don't Wanna Lose Your Love Tonight" is playing is too much. I would have much rathered the firecracker.
Joe kept saying "SAM! YOU NEED STITCHES! TRUST ME, I KNOW A LOT ABOUT NEEDING STITCHES!" while I tried to pull the hair on my receding hairline over the gash. In the end, my attackers escaped. I at first wanted to keep this all under the rug, and I told Mac and Joe both as I was dropping them off back at the NGT to keep it quiet. Before I could get out of the parking lot, people were running out to the truck to see my new head wound. I ended up using the neosporin and peroxide healing method, but i'm sure that as I continue to lose my hair, the iminent scar will be visible. It just goes to show you that God will punish me for a variety of reasons. People have often said to me "Sam, this could only happen to you..." and it just goes to show that they're probably right.

So, anywhoo. Make sure you keep your shields up around me.
Peace on earth,
Sam

Conversations I will have today...

"Hello. My name is Sam Terito. You have a great restaurant here. It's very nice... I like.. no, I love the atmosphere. Looking at the menu, I see you have a very good selection, and it's very reasonably priced. The table cloths look very clean, (::smiling::) Almost starched, they're so white. I like the lighting. Very mellow. Listen, I'm going to order a rediculous amount of food, but I don't want to pay for any of it. Would that be ok? I mean.. would that work for you?"

"Um, no sir. I don't think we can do that..."

***************************************************************

"Hello Dr. Johnson. It's Sam. Sam Terito. Look, I'm so sorry to call you this late. I just have a quick question. I was going to eat this entire jar of mustard but I wanted to check with you to see if it was safe. Can I do that? I mean, would that kill me?"

"Well, Sam... It's.. What time is it? Jesus, it's 3 oclock in the morning... Ok, now what? A jar of mustard? I don't think that would be wise. It could probably make you sick..."

"Well... it's actually the squeezy bottle kind. Does that make a difference? I mean, is that ok?"

"Oh, the squeezy kind. Yes that's fine. Go ahead. (Click)"

****************************************************************

"I like this car. I mean, this-is-a-fine car. How much is it? Like, how much would I have to give you to walk off with this car right now?"

"Hmm.. Let's see.. TT and L, everything.. Around $35, 250..."

"What? Shit. I thought that was yen. I like thought that was 35,000 yen, you know... Fuck. Could I just give you yen?"

"No. No you can't, you fucking idiot..."

****************************************************************

"Dr. Johnson. It's Sam again. Look, I know we went over the mustard thing already. I guess I learned my lesson. I literally vomited for what seemed like forever. I have another question. Don't answer too quickly now. Think this over...."

"Sam..."

"Ok.. ok. Here it is. If my arm is physically detached, is there anyway it will grow back? I saw this show about lizards on tv, and their tails will grow back. Like, would that happen with humans too"

"No, Sam. Now please..."

"Uh oh. I think we might have a problem then..."

I had a dream...

Last night I had a dream. I don't remember much of it, but part of it stands out. I was looking at a tarantula on the wall, and his face was burnt... like, physically marred. He was in pain and I felt sorry for him. So I picked him up and set him on one of the ceiling fan blades in my room. There he turned into a hawk. A medium sized one, and he began cleaning his wings with his beak. After he had completely groomed himself, he turned into a humongous bald eagle. Like, he was massive and was bending the fan blades down. Then I woke up.

If I only had a dollar every time i heard...

You know how people say "man, if i only had a dollar everytime i heard that..." right after something often repeated is mentioned? Here are some things would likely result in few dollars: "Hey, is this delicious coffee or deadly hot lava?" "Oh Shit! That was my sister on the phone. Apparantly my grandma was just shot to death in a Taco Bell." "Ok. Really... Am I the only one that's been shitting blood or is it a national phenomena?" "Hey! Watch how fast I can eat this entire bag of Ole' Roy dog food!" "Herpes? AGAIN?!" "...and if it's a girl, we're going to name her Dickballs." "Does anyone have a problem if I eat these refrigerator magnets?" "Get Willie Nelson, Lou Rawls, and Tom Selleck on the phone NOW! Fucking do it. See if I care!" "Oh dear. Our vacation home burned to the ground and I was in it!" "Has anyone seen my $5,000,000 worth of animal crackers? It would seem I've misplaced them..." "I was widdled nearly to death." "Yeah, I ran a marathon once. It wasn't like one of those super long ones but motherfucker it was long enough. When I finished, my legs looked like pantyhose stuffed with cans of peas and corn flecked with concrete chips and an egg..." "WOAH NOW! WOOOOOOAH... Ok, The horseplay with the calf is getting out of hand!" "Hey Bitch! The bellboy stole our deli-sliced ham! This shit is NOT cool, so you better get off the fucking couch, lest I lay the smack down." "Wrestle that pit bull." "GRIBBLESHITS! GRIBBLESHITS! YAAAAAAAAAAY HORNGNEDBAUM!" "Who forgot to lay the tarp down? Now Uncle Peachtree's white linens are ruined and there's a green stain on the wall. Let's break out the Vegetable Oil and get to work... This could literally take all night..." "We broke the legs off the couch and ate them." "Get out of the tree, please. We don't even know you." "Ok, let's just calm down here. You can be the pirate but this is the last time. Everyone knows thats not how real life works..." "I don't have a cell phone. I do however have cellophane, invented by Jacques E. Brandenberger in 1908, a Swiss textile engineer who first thought of the idea for a clear, protective, packaging layer in 1900." "My new puppy's paws are made of latex, and everywhere he goes he leaves a pretty pink paw print." "Ok, boys. The name of the game is Numbers. First one to count to 406 wins. Ready? BEGIN! 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13..." "Let's insulate the house with white chocolate!" "The phone is ringing, will you please answer it? Yes, the phone. Yes. Ok, also - could you put that Jack Russell terrier in the oven? Thank you, you're an angel." "As a child, our mother told us to never wish on stars. She said it could result in the Wizard of Death coming into our rooms and quizzing us. She also said that if we got a question wrong, we would probably be drafted as a supplemental pick to the Montreal Expos baseball team." and finally "That's not a bow, it's a knot. And it's Knot Funny... HE HI HO HO HE HE HEEEEEEYAH!"

World's Wildest Police Videos.

Ok.

Have you ever seen that Fox show World's Wildest Police Videos? It's the one hosted by this guy:


His name is Sheriff John Bunell and he is a bad ass. He will seriously fuck you up. He will come to your house and arrest you, while saying things like "I guess it doesn't pay to run from the long arm of the law" or "This perp is getting a joyride... STRAIGHT TO JAIL" or something like that. And the thing is that I honestly believe him. It's like the total opposite of when William Shattner hosted Rescue 911. I didn't believe Shattner could have anything to do with emergency response, but I DO believe Sheriff John Bunnell could engage in some serious police brutality on somebody's ass.

This show is like a car accident. While flipping through channels, everyone has to stop on it for a second. It could be consdensed into about 5 minutes. They literally show every part of every clip about 15 times. Over and over again. All the while, Sheriff Bunnell is saying some idiotic shit. I'd love to see bios of the people who write his retarded dialogue. They are probably people who have been arrested on this show and their sentence is that they have to write incredibly stupid shit for this show.

Also, I love the dubbed in crashes and police sirens. Especially when the camera filming is in a helicopter thousands of feet above. I'm sure it would be a boring show if there was no sound, but do you believe that they could honestly record the soundtrack of what is actually happening. Like there's a superpowerful microphone on the helicopter or something?

I'm waiting for John Bunnell to jump out of the police car and arm tackle someone who's running away. Or ram someone with his "unit" (what he calls EVERY police car) and physically take them into custody. Or even better yet, arrive to the scene of an accident riding a lion and commanding a herd of wild beasts... calling on thousands of hawks and eagles to attack everyone standing around. Beastmaster John Bunnell screaming for the slaughter of hundreds of people.

Now that would be a good show.

Anyways, I'm headed to Orlando this weekend for yet another wedding. Please pray for me that I don't die in a horrible ball of flames and death. I hope John Bunnell is on my plane.