Mind of Laziejim

All the Single Ladies!

2010-02-08T16:31:00.001-08:00

I'm not posting this because I think women should refrain from using my rear view mirror to fix their makeup. I'm also not posting because I think women should not talk while dancing with me. Additionally, I'm not posting this because I think woman should not have saggy stockings and should avoid tugging at their girdle while a man is watching. Lastly, I'm not posting this because I feel as though open displays of affection are in bad taste. Rather, I'm posting this link because I think it's a good signal of how far we have come, as a society.

http://www.sadanduseless.com/2009/10/tips-for-single-ladies-1938/

Posted via email from Jimmy's posterous

Making fun of the iPad some more...

2010-02-03T10:24:00.001-08:00

Two things I really enjoy: 1) video games 2) making fun of Apple products. Let's hope that when combined, they create visual happiness! Let's find out:

Outstanding. Couldn't have asked for a better turn out!

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Couldn't have said it better myself

2010-02-01T09:52:00.001-08:00

I'll let the pictures explain my position on the iPad.

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Raddest F**king Dude...Possibly Ever!

2010-01-27T15:35:00.001-08:00

For those of you who have not heard the news, <a href="http://burritochallenge.weebly.com/"> some awesome guy</a> is attempting to eat nothing but Chipotle burritos for an entire week. Yes, you read that correctly...a Chipotle burrito for every single meal of the day for SEVEN straight days. That's at 21 burritos in a week! The guy says that he is doing it for charity, but I don't buy it. He's just being humble. I'm sure he's just doing because he's awesome and wants everyone else to know the extent of his awesomeness.

As far as I'm concerned, this guy is, basically, a man among boys as I'm not certain there are very many people who could put their bowels through the delicious torture he is about to attempt. Ohh and let us not forget that he is basically doubling his caloric intake for a weeks time period.

How this guy is going to finish is beyond me, as I'm perfectly happy not eating for a week having only consumed one Chipotle burrito.

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Watch out Ebay

2010-01-26T13:57:00.001-08:00

Lately, there has been a relative influx of websites which seem to be the ultimate in deals and act as though they are going to threaten ebay's dominance in the online auction site industry. A good example of such a webesite is:

http://bigdeal.com/

Go ahead...click on it...it won't bite you. Now look around. Pretty good deal huh? Seems too good to be true, though, right?

The reason I'm posting this site is that I wanted to express my love for this idea. I promise these deals are real. For example: at the time of writing, someone had just won a brand new Xbox 360 Elite for $88.38...which retail for $300.

The way this site makes it's money is through the bids. Bid, typically, increase by $.01 per bid and have a cost. If bought individually, they are about $1 per bid. While you can buy bids in bulk, at a reduced cost (like 200 for $150)...it's easier to just assume $1 per bid. So on BigDeal's end, they were just paid $8,838 in bids plus the $88.38 the final winner paid for the box, brining them to a grand total of $8,900+ for a $300 toy. As far as I'm concerned, this is an absolutely brilliant business move. Sure it's just legalized gambling, but people can certainly get outstanding deals, as the person who won the Xbox saved, probably $200 (assuming they bid about 20 times)

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Downloading

2010-01-26T09:43:00.001-08:00

Thanks to the wonderful gift from the internet Gods, I am able to lazily click a button in my browser and be magically taken to a random website that suites my interests. For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, go to www.stubleupon.com, download the plugin, sign up for an account and prepare to have your free time and your time normally dedicated to productivity wash away in a never ending bliss of websites. That being said, this morning my stumble button took me to a picture that I found to be rather interesting:

Good ad...but I feel as though it completely misses it's point as my response would be: hell yes I would.

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100 Cupcakes Game

2010-01-20T11:45:00.001-08:00

Robin Dahlberg, who is apparently awesome, decided that greatest and best use of her time was to make and decorate 100 cupcakes. However, these are not just any ordinary cupcake decorations, nay, these cupcakes are all game related (card, video and board). Thankfully, when she made the website, dedicated to these 100 cupcakes, she left the names of all the game hidden so people could try to guess each game. Despite my dismay at her use of a few truly obscure games, I still thoroughly enjoyed having to think back to my childhood to come up with the games' names.

Try it out for yourself: http://www.steelheadstudio.com/100cupcakes/

By the way, I got 88 correct.

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Want to make your eyes hurt? Just add Tetris!

2010-01-19T09:43:00.001-08:00

A friend of mine, knowing my affection for Tetris, sent me a link for an online game. The game is called First Person Tetris, and it is very very fun...but it also will make your eyes hurt...a lot. With out ruining much, the game looks like regular Tetris (the one from the NES for you gamers out there) however, the 'first person' aspect means that you are basically the different shapes. When you attempt to 'rotate' your piece, to fit that line piece nicely in the corner for a Tetris, the entire game board will rotate around the piece.

After having re-read the last line, I realized that the description I just gave did not do the game justice, you can try it out for yourself.

Ohh...and I'm not a doctor or anything...but I'm pretty certain that prolonged exposure to this game could cause long term damages. So consider this your warning.

http://firstpersontetris.com/

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Why I love the Internet

2010-01-15T15:40:00.001-08:00

I love the internet because of pictures like this. Congratulations internet you have once again won over my heart.

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Big Carl vs. Big Mac

2010-01-13T16:44:00.001-08:00

For what seems like a years, Carls Jr. has been advertising their Big Carl hamburger. In case you live in a cave, the advertisements are pretty consistently direct comparisons with McDonalds' Big Mac. There is, obviously, the subjective words thrown around, "...it's tastier too," and the like, but those are to be expected. There is also, the obligatory shot of the burger, looking way better than one that will ever be served to you. However, where the Big Carl seems to be putting a lot of focus is how it looks compared to the Big Mac. Again...for you people who live in a cave:

Well, some dude from Rancho Cordova, decided to set out and see if there is any truth in advertising.

The final figures:

Big Carl: $2.50 - 10.4oz
Big Mac: $3.39 - 7.2oz

From the top..the Big Carl certainly seems to hold up it's end of the bargain. However...

The most interesting thing about this is that the Big Mac's third slice of bread (the one the middle) doesn't even matter. The Big Mac would still be taller than the Big Carl with out it!

Anyway, I'm not a fast food fan (except for In 'n Out) so I doubt I'll ever get around to doing a side by side taste test...but still, what the hell CJ's?

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Y Chromosome Wins Again!

2010-01-13T15:52:00.007-08:00

A friend of mine sent me this article about how two scientists (male and female) have found that the Y chromosome is evolving faster than any other part of the human genetic code.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34843925/ns/health-mens_health

This is apparently a big shock to the science community (or to no one). Supposedly, previous research suggested that the Y chromosome was shrinking and would die off in 50,000 years. One particular quote that struck me as odd, however, was, "It's kind of fun to say that men are going to die out, but the science is proving — now that we've got data — that that's not true at all." This was spoken by Dr. Hughes (the female scientist) and was said right before she made out with a female colleague.*

Since when is it fun to suggest that men might die out? It is posteriors to suggest that a world might be better off with out men. All food would have to be hunted/picked the day it was used because without men, who is going to open the jars of food? The technology industry would die out in less than 10 years. With no guys around there would be no one to hook up a new TV or plug in a new computer. In this 'fun' world of Dr. Hughes, who is going to make sure that awesome things like football, arm wrestling and scotch drinking continues? I posit that a world with out men is a dark, depressing world.

*The article doesn't exactly say that she made out with her female colleague but I one of those people who can read between the lines

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Word Choices

2010-01-13T15:52:00.005-08:00

As someone who has a history of writing for the public (my time at The Phat Phree as well as my blog) I know what writers go through to make sure that the correct words are used to properly convey a message. The usage of the wrong word and you risk losing some of your audience...it's part of the reason that proper grammar is still necessary, even though AIM users might argue otherwise. That being said, I came across a very interesting article this afternoon about faults with in human thought:

http://listverse.com/2010/01/07/top-10-common-faults-in-human-thought/

The reason of my posting this is not to induce thought provoking discussion, but rather because I thought #8 was amazingly hilarious. On the surface, #8 talks about Pareidolia, an occurance of seeing something significant in a random item or place...think of the people who see Jesus' face in toast and think it's divine intervention (much like the picture from the website).

Now the author, Nikki, could have left her (I'm assuming it's a her) relatively well written segment about pareidolia alone; however, she felt the need to introduce a brief synopsis of the Rorschach Test...further referring to those who take the test as 'testees.' Now, I am fully aware that 'testees' is the correct nomenclature for referring to a test taker, however, I am certainly not above laughing at the name. Additionally, I am not above laughing at the last line of the section: "Responses are analyzed to discover the testee’s hidden thoughts." To which I thought to myself: I'm fairly certain my 'testees' have only one thought, and my guess is that it is not a secret.

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How Tough are NES Games?

2010-01-13T15:52:00.003-08:00

I'm going to let you all in on a little secret...I'm a big fan of video games. Beyond that I'm a big of the NES as I belive it to be the greatest gaming console of all time. When I came across this video, I thought it would be a perfect time to see how Posterous deals with video...specifically, Youtube videos. Ideally, when this is posted, it will have the video nice and neatly embedded at the bottom of my post.

Regardless of how Posterous deals with this video, I thought it interesting none the less. Sure, marvelous advances in the way games are played (or more specifically, stored) have been made possible through the change over from cartridges to discs. However, that change over comes at the cost of longevity. There is certainly something to be said about the fact that my original copy of Battletoads (for the NES) still works (20 years later) and my copy of Halo 3 (2+ years old), sometimes freezes in the middle of the game.

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Cloudy with a Chance of Bacon!

2010-01-13T15:52:00.001-08:00

So last night I was forced to watch Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. Without sugarcoating it...the movie was far from good. It was barely verging on unwatchable. Granted, I'm sure kids would love the movie, but most kids are dumb. They can't even drink or drive or do basic algebra. So who cares what they think? Anyway, my dislike for the movie was not purely one-sided; rather, there were a couple of saving graces.

Going into the movie I understood the basic foundation of the movie: some dude invents a way to make it rain food...specifically meatballs. However, never, in my wildest dreams, did I envision that said dude would make it rain the most wondrous of all foods, bacon! When I saw the first slice of perfectly formed, well cooked, bacon fall from the sky and land into the mouth of some lucky resident of Swallow Falls, I felt a tear drop from the corner of my right eye. That tear of joy came from the thought of me frolicking in a land where the meat of kings would simply fall from the sky and right into my mouth. Imagining a world were I had to do nothing more than tilt my head back to receive bacon filled my heart with joy like you couldn't imagine. But wait...it gets better! I know what you are thinking, "Jimmy, there is no way this world you've created for me can be any more enjoyable." To which I would say, "Dude! It totally can! Just wait and see!"

So to make this magical world of bacon way better, I offer this caveat, it also includes a monkey...who can talk...and throw it's own feces at other people. Ok...I'll stop for a moment and let you attempt to wrap your mind around the idea of not only having an unending supply of the most magical of meats BUT you also get a monkey, who not only can simply talk, but states what he is doing at all times, AS WELL AS throws his own feces at OTHER people! Yeah I know! It's unfathomable. Had there been Dinosaurs to ride around on as well, I'm pretty sure my head would have exploded....and by pretty sure, I mean there is no other plausible outcome.

Which brings me back to my original point...the movie was dumb. "But Jimmy, you described the most wonderful, glorious and downright delicious land there ever was...what did you not like about the movie?" I'll tell you! The reason I didn't like the movie is because I'm a rational person. As a rational person, I expect others to be rational as well. There were two people involved in the movie who were wildly irrational...and that pisses me off.

First person: The person who named the movie/book (probably the writer). So let me get this straight, you write a script about food falling from the sky (namely bacon) and choose to name it after a sub-par use for beer. Regardless of the fact that Cloudy with a Chance of Bacon is the correct name, clearly if you were going the bovine route, you could have named it something along the lines of: Cloudy with a Chance of Prime Rib or Cloudy with a Chance of Filet Mignon even Cloudy with a Chance of Steak would have been better than Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.

Second person: Flint Lockwood (the inventor). Flint makes this incredible machine that can make it rain food. Not only that, but it can rain any food product he chooses. What I don't understand why would you ever change it off the bacon setting? Once again I know what you are thinking, "but Jimmy, you'd have to drink something eventually." Well duh! Idiot. I already thought of that! See Flint has the ability to make it rain solids and liquids (as Orange Juice came down with the bacon). Which means that he SHOULD have made it only bacon and scotch.

In the words of my friend Mike, "If pigs didn't want to get eaten, they should have thought of that before they became so delicious.”

Posted via email from Jimmy's posterous

Posterous for Serious?

2010-01-13T15:48:00.001-08:00

So a friend of mine was recently talking to me about a blog site that didn't need to be up-kept like a typical blog. That is, there is no signing in, no manipulating HTML (let's be honest, those 'formats' that Blogger et al use are horrendously imperfect), no wasted time sending out the new blog to everyone you etc. But rather, apparently, you simply type an email and they create a blog based only on those email. Those blogs are then magically sent through the intertubes to your facebook and twitter accounts. Apparently this blog site is called Posterous...and I'm trying out it out for the first time right now!

If this little experiment works out to my liking...I may just update this regularly. So here's hoping for the best!

Posted via email from Jimmy's posterous

Things I Now Know

2006-10-19T07:57:00.000-07:00

Being a super genius can be hard at times. Sure hot women throw themselves at you just by the thought of possibly gaining some obscure knowledge via osmosis. But it isn’t all just sushi and sake bombs being a super genius, you have a lot of responsibilities that come with the territory. These responsibilities include, but are not limited to: having to fend off all the hot women, needing to always be in the know and dutifully correcting incorrect people. This list, however, did not include the most important responsibility, being able to admit when you did not know something.

Now, this doesn’t happen all that often, but I was recently asked a question to which I, admittedly, did not know the answer. (Damn that dogs name!) This reminded me of a few of the other things I’ve recently learned and as such…now know.

Gym Showers

I spend a good amount of time in the gym every week. Seeing as a least half of these trips are in the middle of the work day, I am forced to spend time in the men’s locker room and showers. Now for any guy who has ever had to change in a gym locker room, you know that it is a very unpleasant place. First off there are naked dudes everywhere, which is bad enough, but 90% of said people are either extremely old or extremely fat. This is not to say that I want to see any guy naked (besides myself), but I’d especially rather not look at old man balls or someone’s back that waves like a lava lamp every time they move.

Now, fortunately for me, and all other straight guys out there, the men’s showers are almost always sectioned off. That is you get your own shower space where you aren’t exposed to the rest of the locker room. Ever since the first time I set foot in a gym shower, I’ve been under the assumption that the female locker room showers were similar…

Enter pornography.

I’ve since learned that the woman’s showers are just basically one giant gigantic shower with multiple shower heads (many of which have detachable heads) around the room. Also, I’ve learned that woman really do care about making sure that they are 100% clean. Thus, they request the help of other women to help scrub them, especially for those hard to reach spots, like the small of your back. If there are more than 2 women who need to shower, they all just kind of wash each other off. This has basically become an unspoken rule of the showers for women. It’s very sporting of women to help each other out like that, because that shit would NOT fly in a men’s shower…cause that would be just gross.

Lesson learned? I need to start showering in the woman’s locker room

Alcohol

Almost everyone I know has gone through a D.A.R.E. program of some sort or another as a kid. For those of you who do not know, D.A.R.E. is a program where a police officer comes into your classroom and talks to you, for about an hour, about the evils of drugs and alcohol. Even if you have not been through a D.A.R.E. program, I’m sure you’ve heard the following quote at some point in your life:

“Alcohol doesn’t fix your problems.”

This was always a saying in which I held a lot of stock. However, in a moment of clarity I realized just how dumb of a quote that really is. Saying that, ‘alcohol doesn’t fix your problems,’ is like saying ‘a great white shark can kill you.’ It’s just a blanket statement that brings nothing to the table. Sure alcohol can’t fix my problems but then again neither can grape juice. I can’t remember the last time Dr. Pepper ever fixed anything for me.

To prove my point, I decided to hold a little experiment. A friend of mine was going through a rough time trying to get over his recent break-up. So I asked him if he would help me with my experiment. He obliged. So on Friday night I blind folded him and fed him 8 glasses of jack & coke. Then on Saturday night I, once again, blind folded him but this time fed him 8 glasses of milk. On Monday I asked him to explain how he felt after each one. Well the long and the short of it was that he had a great time on Friday night…was in the bathroom vomiting all night on Saturday…and felt awful all day on Sunday. I said that I had all the evidence that I needed, he said something about lactose-intolerance or some other long word that I didn’t really care to ask the meaning of…

Lesson learned? Alcohol solves all problems better than milk.

Babies

Life is sexually transmitted. With this in mind, it is important to remember that those who are ‘transmitting’ life are not always the most aesthetically pleasing people. This leads to the astonishing conclusion…not all babies are cute. I was always under the impression that not all babies are cute, so this conclusion is not news to me. However, I would guess that it is news to most women.

I don’t understand where the trend came from, or why, but for whatever reason women believe that ALL kids are incredibly cute…and feel the need to vocalize this with a high pitched, “AWWWW!” whenever they see one. I understand that a girl will always tell a mom that their kid is cute, but that is to make the mom feel better about her offspring. It works kind of like when girls tell other girls how cute they look in their new outfit (even if the outfit is a moo-moo). However, what does not make any sense is why girls must lie about the ‘cuteness’ of a kid whose mom/dad is not even within earshot.

Lesson Learned? Girls can’t see well.

Sleep-Overs

One of the best ways for any kid to spend his/her weekend is to have a sleep over at their friend’s house or have their friend sleep over at their house. I used to have these all the time and they normally ended up the same way. We would stay up real late playing Nintendo or some board game. The games would end up getting really competitive and one person would blame the other person for cheating. Then we would start wrestling, which turned into us fighting, which turned into someone getting hurt, which turned into us finding something else to do. Rinse and repeat until the parents woke up and told us to stop fighting and go to bed.

Having a twin sister provided me with great opportunities to see, first hand, what girls do at sleep-overs. However, they were no where near as interesting. Normally the girls would start off the night doing each others make-up…followed by a feeble attempt convince me to let them ‘do my makeup.’ They would then retreat to my sister’s room, where the girls would just gossip and giggle, until they were tired and went to sleep. Lame.

Well as grown ups (or at least feigning as much) things have changed a bit. Guy’s don’t really plan sleep-overs any more. A sleep-over is, more so, determined by one person saying, “yes,” to the following question: “Dude can I crash at your place tonight?” 99% of the time this is said in expectation of going out and getting really drunk that night. Once guys get back from a night of drinking (and the sleep-over part begins), they do one or more of the following: 1) drink more (usually the case); 2) watch TV; 3) call girls for a booty call (also a regular) 4) drink more.

I regret to say that I have not had the opportunity to observe what it is that grown up girls do when they have sleep-overs. Sure I’ve tried once before, but that ended in me figuring out how loud girls can actually scream, when they find someone in their closet, and a restraining order…but we won’t get into that. Despite my failure on that front, I had back up!

Once again, porn to the rescue.

The answer was so simple. I can’t believe I didn’t figure this out for myself. Clearly, the only logical thing for two or more girls to do together at night while at home is to undress down to their bra and panties and have a massive pillow fight. Eventually, someone ends up getting hurt and that’s when all the girls stop the fight and start tending to the injured. This process can possibly contain any of the following (possibly more): hugging, massaging, kissing the injured spot or holding one another.

Lesson Learned? Girls are mean for not video taping their sleep-overs.

Homework

Class isn’t too bad. I don’t know many people who actually mind going to class while in college. The biggest gripe about going to school is the massive amount of homework that students must complete. However, little do students realize, all of the homework is a blessing in disguise. Having a lot of work to do helps to teach the greatest lesson of college: time management. That is to say, when do I need to stop having fun and get down to business?

Throughout grade school and high school, I always thought that any mistakes made in time management were my fault. Boy was I wrong. The question of when it’s time to start homework is answered by one person alone, and that person will change depending on the circumstances. The decision maker is the person, in your group of friends, who is the most fucked. If your friend has more work to do than you do and still is going to do something other than study, then you, too, still have time before you must start working. Still don’t understand, perhaps an example will help guide you to enlightenment:

Guy 1: “Yo dude, you gonna drink tonight?”

Guy 2: “Naw I’ve got to write this 5 page paper, then do 20 calculus problems and read a 15 page chapter in my history book.”

Guy 1: “What?! That’s not even that much, I’ve got a 10 pager due tomorrow, plus I need to read the entire book of Fahrenheit 451. After that I need to put together a full power point for my group project in ISQM. Then I have to do our History reading and I’m still gonna go out! Look we’ll only go out till like 1 or 2 then we’ll come back and get this shit taken care of.”

Guy 2: “Wow I never thought of it that way, so what’re we drinkin’ tonight?”

Lesson Learned: I hate my friends.

The Waiting Game

2006-10-03T18:34:00.000-07:00

I am not a very patient person. That is not to say that I am unable to be patient, but I just don’t idle well. I always need to be doing something. I need to be actively using some part of my body (whether it is physically or mentally). I can’t just sit. As such, I’m about as good at waiting as Paris Hilton is at practicing abstinence

This impatientness (is that even a word, if it isn’t…I just made it one) is not a new thing. For as long as I can remember, I’ve not been able to just sit around. For Gods sake, I didn’t even listen to 95% of my college graduation. What did I do instead? Save the world from evil on my Game Boy. That’s right I played a video game during my college graduation. In my defense I may have actually listened to the commencement speech had LMU not gotten THE icon for modern education, Goldie Hawn. During my high school award ceremony, the one where they give out scholarships and honor those who are graduating cum laude (that’s right, cum laude, I’m a fucking genius), I had to be called twice to go up because I was listening to a basketball game on my cell phone, while not paying attention. Yes it is what you think; I had my friend put his phone by the TV so I could hear what going on during a Lakers Game...ohh come on, give me a break, it was the playoffs.

I don’t say all this in an effort to get you to think that I don’t pay attention to important things. That is from the truth. Rather, it is portray my dislike for waiting around. As such, I’d like to take you on a tour of my least favorite places I find myself miserably wasting away as I wait.

Traffic

I’m a good driver. This is a fact. Some people may consider the predictable speeding and quick lane changes to be hazardous, but what do they know. It is very unfortunate that I rarely get to utilize my driving abilities. Los Angeles has some of the worst traffic I’ve ever seen in my life. If you are driving any where in LA between the hours of…ohh I don’t know I’ll just take a guess…5AM and 10 PM, you can pretty well take it to the bank that you are going to be sitting in bumper to bumper traffic. Not like bumper to bumper where you are going 10 MPH while riding the car in front of you the whole way. We are talking bumper to bumper like a 3rd party parking lot out side of a major sporting event. Cars pulled so close to you, it would be impossible to get out of your car…if, for whatever reason, you so desired to do so. Cars pointed the wrong way. People eerily standing right by your car.

Sitting in LA traffic is like sitting at cubicle but crappier. You are in a confined space, with people on all sides of you, making noise, and the smell of the air is less than pleasant. However, at least in a cubicle you can do pretty much what you please. In a cubicle I could read up about the history of Bahrain if I so desired, I could play video games on my cell phone, I could do a crossword puzzle, I could STAND UP. Pretty much, it boils down to being able to doing anything but just sitting. Can you do all this while driving? Well I’m sure you could, but then you would be that asshole who is causing all the traffic for me.

Airport

Let me just clarify, when I say airport I mean anything that has to do with airports, including, but not limited to: airport security lines, airplanes and airport terminals. Although, I have always disliked airports it was just recently that I was reminded of this fact. A friend of mine was sitting at a JFK terminal because her flight was delayed. This reminded me of what I hate most about flying…

Planes are never fucking on time. I don’t understand how it’s possible that such a developed industry can be so disorganized. We can pin point the exact cell, of the millions in the body, that is making someone sick; we can build weapons that can decimate an entire city; we can create computers that can think like a human; but for some reason we can’t figure out, with any kind of precision or accuracy, when an airplane is going to arrive at point B after leaving point A and when it will be leaving point B to go to point C. Perhaps a prerequisite to being a flight coordinator is failing a math test composed solely of, ‘If a train leaves New York at 5:30 and is traveling at 65 miles per hour…’ questions.

It would be great to have a pilot’s job. You can be late to work everyday and it is thought to be normal or expected. You can do you job slowly and be behind schedule for everything you do, and it is perfectly fine with your employer. You get to make lame jokes and they will be heard because people are forced to listen. Man I wish I could charge 200 people $150/hour, just to do a crappy job and then KNOW that they’ll come back to my company. Where do I sign up?

It wouldn’t be so bad waiting in the terminal for your plane to arrive if there were anything worth doing in an airport. Sure, you could always go to the bar at the terminal; however, if a Big Mac costs $6.50, at the airport, guess how much a Jack and Coke is going to cost. So even if I were to spend my time in the airport bar, I would end up spending more on my bar tab than I would a set of hip, platinum teeth.

This brings me to actually waiting in the terminal. I’m not sure whose idea it was, but someone that works for the airport decided that sheet metal bent into the shape of a chair would be a comfortable substitute for a cushioned seat. Those things couldn’t possibly be more uncomfortable. Well I suppose they could hire someone to stand behind you and poke you in the head with a stick…that might be more uncomfortable…but I digress. The chairs in the airport terminal look and feel like they were designed during a blackout. The armrests are either way to high or way to low. All the chairs touch so when one person moves in their seat, everyone moves with them. Ohh yeah, did I mention they are as hard as bedrock.

Ok so you’ve made it out of the terminal, I hope you are prepared for the best part of flying...actually flying in a plane. There is nothing better than being packed into seats that have about as much wiggle room as the back seat of a Porsche Boxter, while being forced to listen to idiotic jokes made by the pilot all while you are completely unable to do anything about your situation for the duration of your flight. Sitting in a plane seat, is a lot like being stuck with a hot iron. Both…umm…suck.

Ohh the memories I have of a stiff neck, empty stomach, blood shot eyes and popped ears. I can’t wait for the next time I hop on a plane!

DMV

Waiting at the DMV wouldn’t be so bad, if you didn’t spend most of the time wondering why it is you are waiting there in the first place. How is it that the rest of the world is online, and the DMV isn’t? Last time I was there, I had to get a replacement I.D. Am I crazy for thinking that this is something I should be able to do online? Jump to DMV.com, click on order new license, fill in my name, address, social security number etc., click the box that says use same picture as before, click the box that says I agree to their terms of service, fill out a form for my credit card number and click Send. Seems simple enough. But no. They force me to enter the gates of Hades instead.

Ok, fine I can deal with having to actually go into the DMV, but for God’s sake, why does it take so long to do anything there. If you don’t have an appointment (lets face it…who really makes an appointment for the DMV), you are in for, at least, a 45 minute wait. I understand that work has to be done, but I can only assume that people are there for similar reasons as I. I have NEVER spent more than 5 minutes at the same window at the DMV. Yet, somehow everyone else there needs 30 minutes worth of attention, as if they don’t get enough at home.

The DMV does have one upside though…people watching. The trends in the DMV are very unique. For instance, no one smiles, ever. I’m not certain why, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one smile cracked, whether looking at a worker or a patron. It probably has something to do with how unpleasant the place is…but that’s just a shot in the dark.

There is always at least one person, normally bearing very thick glasses, who is sitting in the seat closest to the eye exam (you know, where you have to read off the letters from 5 feet away), trying to memorize each line. This always provides at least 5 minutes of entertainment. If you are close enough to them you should be able to see them look up, mouth the letters of a line to themselves, then look back down with eyes closed as they try to recite the correct order to themselves. This is the perfect time to flip open your phone and pretend to talk on it, just loud enough so the memorizer can you hear you. When he lowers his head and begins to recite the letters, quickly throw a letter, that is up on the board, into your ‘conversation,’ then watch as he mouths the letter you mentioned, realizes his mistake, opens his eyes and swears at himself for messing up.

After my most recent birthday, I had to renew my license (something that should be able to be done online damnit), part of this process was taking the aforementioned eye exam. That day I learned that the employees, of the DMV, are not found of jokes and take this test very seriously. Normally, you would read off the letters as you saw them. Instead of listing them, “F-L-P-R-E,” I responded by saying it phonetically, “flip-re.” The lady who was conducting the test gave me a look similar to the look your girlfriend gives you when you just said something to piss her off. She then told me that I would fail the test if I didn’t do it correctly…what you can’t take a joke?

Something else I can’t quite put my finger on is why, whenever I go to the DMV, I am the only customer there who speaks English. Makes me wonder why the workers there are mostly English speakers. I’ve heard Spanish, French, Asian (Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese etc. they all sound the exact same), German, Swahili, something that sounded like a person with Downs Syndrome trying speak Russian, and something that sounded like a mix between Arabic and Hawaiian. Yet, I’ve never heard English…ever. It’s as if the DMV is the meeting place for all of the surrounding cities ethnic groups.

I'm FUCKING Rich

2006-05-24T16:40:00.000-07:00

HA HA! I’m fucking outta here. Boy this must be my lucky day. You all can start being jealous now. I’M FUCKING RICH! I’m getting the hell out of my house buying a place on some tropical island. Now that I think about it maybe I’ll just buy the tropical island, can do that now that I’m stinking fucking rich….

Well I’m going to be stinking rich…I’m not yet. But I’m going to be very very soon. Holy crap I can’t believe how lucky I got. Let me tell you why I’m about to come into A LOT of money.

It all started this morning when I was checking my email and I saw this message from Dr. Clement Okon. Now this man is someone I’ve never met, but I look forward to the day I get to shake his hand because he’s going to make me really rich. Anyway, in his email he outlined how he made a fortune while in Nigeria (who knew there was actually money in the country?!?). He is a top official in Nigeria for some panel. I figured that being a top official in Nigeria he probably doesn’t have time to get into details about the panel. Due to some civil uprising Dr. Okon must get out of Nigeria.

Ohh man I’m gonna be sooo rich.

However, in order to claim his fortune while in America, he must transfer the funds to an account not in his name…that’s where I come in…he simply transfers the money to my account, then when he gets into America, I transfer it back.

His net worth is, “US$213,362,00.” He told me if he could use my account to get his money into America he would grant me 20% of the transfer! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY THAT IS!?!?!

You must be wondering, “well how are you going to get the 20%?” He, being very thorough, made sure to include that in the email as well! Get this…all I have to do is send him my name, address, phone number and bank account information (ya know, name of the bank, account number, routing number etc.) so he can transfer it into my account!

I know, this sounds too good to be true, there has to be something else I have to do. Nope nothing, just give him all my bank information then wait for his call. Dr. Okon seems to be a very trustworthy guy as he ended his email with, “Please note: this transaction is 100% safe and we look forward to wrapping this transaction up in 7 business days.”

See a guarantee of safety! Dr. Okon is a saint. You’ll see…in just a few days I’ll be bustin’ a Scrooge McDuck with a full back flip into my new fortune.

I’m gonna be so rich.

Cinco De Mayo: The Story

2006-05-05T17:59:00.000-07:00

Cinco de Mayo. The Mexican St. Patricks Day. A perfectly good holiday for a certain group to celebrate a historic event…however it was popularized by the great Caucasians of America. Like St. Patrick’s Day, Everyone knows there is a reason to celebrate, but 90% of these people have no clue why they are celebrating. Some people would say it’s to celebrate the Mexico’s independence, but then again, some people would be wrong. I fucking love America. Instead of trying to figure out the historical accuracy, they take the holiday at face value…another reason to stereotype the shit out of another group of people and drink till we can’t see straight.

So I bet you want to know what happened. Well I’m gonna tell ya…and as always, I will be giving you helpful hints so that your enjoyment of Cinco de Mayo is maximized.

Well, about a month and half after the first St. Patrick's Day celebration a bunch of Mexicans got really pissed off that everyone drank to the Irish, but never to the Mexicans. So, they all got drunk and rowdy and demanded that a day be dedicated to them. Being the creative ones that they are they named the new found holiday after...well...the date the holiday fell on, the 5^th (or cinco in Spanish) of May…..

Ok. So that’s not really what happened…but that story is a lot better than the real. The real story is that during the American Civil War, very out-numbered Mexico held off a French (and by ‘a’ I mean three) invasion of the city of Pueblo. Best part of this story is that France got its ass kicked…which always makes me smile, hey at least they actually followed through on a war and didn’t surrender, that has to count for something right?

So now that you know why you are partying…I want to make sure that you understand the rules of Cinco de Mayo. Yes, there are rules. Follow them, and I GUARANTEE will be blessed with good looks, lots of money and 17 virgins to do with as you please*

*I do not guarantee any of this will happen

The Do’s and Do Not’s of Celebrating Cinco de Mayo

DO NOT let any one catch you saying Cinco de Drinko.

This goes for any alteration of the name of the holiday. Understand this here and now, the holiday is called Cinco de Mayo. Not Cinco de Drinko. Not Drinko de Mayo. Not Quatro de Cinco…what?...anyway…a holiday’s name is a sacred thing. Respect the holiday and it will respect you. We don’t mess with other holiday names, Cinco de Mayo should be no different. The 4^th of July (a.k.a. Independence Day) is always known as The 4^th of July, never ‘The 4^th of drink ourselves silly.’ Look we aren’t in college any more. It isn’t clever, it never was. Get over it. If you must say it, say it to yourself in your room, because no one else wants to hear it.

DO Eat LOTS of Mexican food

Have a Burrito. Have a Taco. Have a Flauta. Have a Taquito. Doesn’t matter, just make sure if you are eating it, it’s food and it’s Mexican. Take the Hamburger off the grill, put the chop sticks down, refrain from eating at KFC for one day in your life. Today is basically Mexico Day in America. So eat Mexican food. If anything, Mexican food is really greasy and will soak up all that booze you should be drinking

DO NOT Take a Shot of Tequila

Yes you read that correctly! DO NOT take that tequila shot. I don’t care if someone is buying you a shot Louis XIV brand Tequila…well actually if someone gets you that, you can have that…let me rephrase…I don’t care if they buy you a shot of Patron or Jose Cuervo…don’t take the shot. Taking shots of Tequila will lead to a night of hoggin’. Which is fine if you are into that sort of thing, I suppose. Tequila has an uncanny ability to really fuck you up when taken in shot form. It leads to blacking out, a loss of control over ones bladder and an over all state of uncoolness. Walk into a bar tonight and you will immediately be able to tell the jackass who has had too many Tequila shots…you don’t want to be that person. Sure one shot won’t kill ya, but we are a people who learn from our mistakes, and when we realize that one shot wasn’t a mistake, we will continue to take them…and take them…and take them…then the next thing you know you are waking up with a sea mammal in bed with you.

Just.

Don’t.

Do.

It.

DO Drink Lots of Cervesa

Ok seriously…there are only two choices here…ok…maybe three…but the third isn’t really a drink….I am going to lay out what it implies to others around you when you are drinking one of the following

Corona

Male- If you are a male drinking a Corona it will be assumed that you are not a beer drinker. To guys, Corona is a chick drink. If you are caught by a guy with a Corona you will immediately be assumed to be homosexual.* If you are caught by a girl with a Corona, you will be assumed to be only trying to impress girls or came to the bar with a bunch of girls who bought your broke ass your beer for you.

*editors note – there is nothing wrong with homosexuality

Female- Good Job…you are fucking awesome. You are drinking the beer you should be drinking. A girl drinking a Corona says, “I’m not going to stick to the girly stereotype of drinking blended margarita’s that taste more like a melted pop-tart than it does booze.”

Pacifico

Male- Here is where you should be on the beer scale. Happily drinking the beer of men…as far as cervesa goes. White guys, tonight, Pacifico is your Coors Light. Black guys, tonight, Pacifico is your Night Train. Asian guys, tonight, Pacifico is your Asahi. Spanish guys, tonight, Pacifico is your…well…Pacifico. Guys everywhere, tonight, Pacifico is your safe haven. Drink Pacifico. This ad has been paid for in part by Grupo Modelo.

Female- A girl drinkin’ a Pacifico is very volatile territory. Guys, approach a girl drinking a Pacifico very cautiously. She is either the best girl (personality wise) at the bar, or your worst nightmare. Girls who drink Pacifico are either: 1) A girl down to kick with the guys…she probably knows all the rules of football and basketball (maybe even baseball)…she probably will laugh at fart jokes…she probably will challenge you to a drinking contest (which you CAN NOT under any circumstances, deny her challenge); 2) The female equivalent of the guy who is drinking a Corona….she is trying to be down with the guys…trying to find that ‘in’ with the guys…girls like this are normally pretty clingy and as such should be avoided like a rhinoceros with a shark on its back, just stampeding all over the place eating everything in sight.

Tequiza

Male- Definitely gay…no ifs, ands or buts about it. Guy + Tequiza = gay sauce

Female- Hates having fun. Girls who drink Tequiza are afraid that tequila, whether in a margarita or shot form will get them ‘too’ drunk and they “hate the taste of beer.” Just better avoid these people. Make your life easier

DO NOT Speak in Spanish if You Don’t Know the Language

People, listen up. Adding an “O” or “A” at the end of an English word to make it sound like you are talking in Es-pan-yole makes you sound fucking retardo. You don’t have to speak Spanish to enjoy a Mexican holiday. Also, don’t randomly drop Spanish words you know in the middle of an English sentence for example, if you were to say to a waitress/bartender, “Can I please have un Pacifico por favor,” she has the right to refuse you service and slap you for being an idiot. Also, if you are going to actually speak in Spanish, have a normal Spanish accent. Don’t talk like a retarded white kid from the south when you enunciate Spanish words. Also, don’t over emphasize your accent, there is a happy medium. Find it.

DO Have at Least One Margarita

Have a margarita. Here is how it goes. If you are a guy, you will get your margarita on the rocks with salt. No other way is acceptable. None of this blended bullshit. Girls, you want to be awesome? Have your marg on the rocks with salt. But understand it is acceptable that you get yours blended. The thing is guys expect girls to have fruity blended drinks so it’s a refreshing change when they see one drinking a margarita on the rocks.

DO Buy Me a Beer if You See Me

Cinco de Mayo is no different than St. Patricks Day, in that if you see me at the bar, buy me a fucking drink. I like Coro….Pacifico and margarita’s on the rocks…no shots of Tequila please. Thanks.

Well there ya have it. Once again, I have come through huge in the clutch and prepared you for a night of proper celebration for a very drunken holiday. Hope you all have as much fun as I know I will!

Sickness the Learning Experience

2006-05-02T16:41:00.000-07:00

For those of you who didn’t know, I spent the entire week last week being as close as humanly possible to feeling like death, without actually dying. I can’t remember the last time I felt that awful. Well, I’m happy to report that I made it out alive! (well almost, I’m still not quite better) Now I am not writing this in hopes of gaining sympathy from those who have not already offered it. I am here to inform you that I’ve learned a few things during my time in bed and I wanted to share this insight with you.

1. Home Remedies Suck

Everyone has one. There isn’t a person, I know, that doesn’t have some ‘remedy’ their mom taught them. Every single one of these ALWAYS works when that person has the flu (which I had). Well I learned they fucking suck balls.

“Jimmy you should eat plenty of Chicken Soup.”

Perhaps my body was in a generous mood when I followed this little tidbit of help because no more than one hour after struggling through a bowl of luke warm soup my body decided to offer it back up to the earth. I hope my toilet bowel appreciated that gift, because I know my stomach didn’t.

“A hot shower will help that headache”

Ok I wish I could remember who offered this advice to me. I really do. That way the next time they have a headache, I can go over to their house and beat them on their head with a pair of drum sticks, because that’s what the shower felt like. It did a great job of making my full body ache go away, but that’s probably because that shower made my head hurt so badly that I couldn’t feel anything else on my body.

“Just run your hands under hot water to ease your headache.”

I shit you not…this is a remedy someone suggested to me. Well, it worked. I ran my hands under scalding hot water and (much like my full body ache described above) the headache just went away. This, however, was at the cost of me burning the shit out of my hands and thus, having a new problem on my hands (no pun intended). Who knew that your tolerance for temperature goes down when you’re really sick?

2. I Prefer to Remove OJ from my System Via Urination

Sounds silly, but it’s true. OJ is the worst thing you could EVER drink while you are sick with the flu. It tastes WAY better going in the ‘in’ door than it does going out the ‘in’ door. Must be the acid from the OJ, but whatever it is, it fucking burns and it doesn’t end. I am still curious as to how I managed to vomit up MORE orange juice than was actually consumed. I drank probably half a cup and threw up probably half a gallon. Perhaps my body has been saving it up for an occasion just like this. Well played stomach

3. Techno Music Makes it Hard to Sleep

I really wish I hadn’t learned this lesson, but alas, I did. For all you out there with roommates, I’ll send you this suggestion…if you are sick…and want to go to sleep, kindly ask your roommate to keep the blaring techno music to a minimum as it becomes very difficult to drift off into a sleepy comatose with the back beat of Sandstorm thumping through every wall of the house. It is better to ask before, because who knows if you’ll have the energy to stand up and bitch slap the idiot for putting on in the first place, while you are still sick.

4. Daytime TV Sucks Monkey Balls

Normally, being home sick from work is like a godsend for me. If I stay home from work it means I’m really sick…but rarely too sick to play video games. So my days home from work are normally filled with lots of sleeping and playing video games, joy! Well, this time I was so sick that I would get dizzy playing the simplest of video games, so no Nintendo for me. So I turned to my arch villain, cable TV, for a safe haven from boredom.

For some reason I remember daytime TV being a lot better than it is. I can remember sick days of never ending game shows leading right in to a healthy four hour dose of ‘after school’ cartoons (that started at 1:00 for some reason, I wish I had gone to that school). Today, TV fucking sucks during the day. No cartoons (worth watching), no game shows, no sports…fucking nothing but vapid soap operas and bullshit QVC programming. I am very upset about this.

The no sports thing, is fucking bullshit, there should ALWAYS be something good on ESPN. ESPN was created based on the acronym: Entertainment and Sports Programming Network. I’m not sure which executive at ESPN decided this, but let me be the first to tell them…FISHING IS NOT A SPORT…NOR IS IT FUCKING ENTERTAINING. In fact, its god awful to watch on TV. I don’t know what idiots actually do watch that, but I feel bad for them. There is no way anyone’s time could be spent doing anything dumber. I’d rather watch my fingernails grow.

5. It’s More Fun Watching the NBA Playoffs with my Friends

Now for those of you who live in a cave, Game 2 of the Lakers vs. Suns occurred on Wednesday April 26. I was so sick at that point that I can’t even remember exactly what happened…that’s right it was as if I drunkenly blacked out…that’s how sick I was. However, because I have such great friends, instead of going out, on Friday night, to a bar crowded with Laker fans, happily drinking themselves into oblivion, all my friends decided to come over and watch game 3 with me while I was still bed-ridden. HA! Yeah right. My friends are assholes and left me for dead. But I’m sure cheering to myself was just as much fun as they all had while out at a sports bar...what with their high fiving strangers every time the Lakers did something amazing or their darts during half time or post game round or two of pool. I bet they were jealous of my white rice and Theraflu dinner I had while they were stuff their faces with hot wings, nachos, beer and Jaeger shots…Yeah I bet I had just as much fun as they did.

So I can only hope that you will heed that which I have mentioned here…as only a fool would want to experience the week I just had.

Ignorance is Bliss

2006-04-21T13:18:00.000-07:00

If you have been reading my blog since its creation, you will know that it has gradually evolved into what it is today. New readers find my writing style to be basically generalizing recent events in the news and my life and making fun of them (poorly I might add). Older readers know that my blog started out recounting what happened (recently) in the news and then expanding on that in one way or another. Well I thought I might revisit that style and bring the old and the new together to make everyone happy.

Debra LaFave. Ring any bells? Probably not, as the meat of this, popular, news story is old news (like 18 months old) and thus not worth anyone’s time to remember. What if I were to say…Tampa Bay? Would that help? No? How about teacher?!?! I bet you can assume what story I am talking about if you still don’t know for sure. Anyway about a week ago the trial against Debra LaFave was ended and she was set free. Some people are in uproars that she is not serving any jail time for having sex with her 14 year old student. This story really gets under my skin…remember that article I wrote about people who should be nixed from the gene pool? Here is a perfect example of someone who does not deserve to procreate!

Unfortunately for me, the media did not do its job and has not been able to release the name of the kid Debra had sex with. This makes things hard for me (no not like that). So to make things easier…I’m going to call this kid ‘Tim’.

Tim has got to be the stupidest fourteen year-old I’ve ever met or heard about. What straight male, that is in the middle of puberty, would ever rat out a girl (be it an adult or his age) he is sleeping with? When I was fourteen I would have stuck my penis between two slabs of raw steak just to try to emulate what sex must feel like. At fourteen, 90% of all male kids are still trying to figure out how to even masturbate properly, let alone actually have sex with someone.

What the fuck was this kid thinking? Have you seen pictures of this woman? Sure she is no Jessica Alba, but hell, she’s hotter than 100% of the women I had slept with by the time I turned 18 and probably 80% of the women I have EVER slept with period; and this kid had sex with her at 14…FOUR-FUCKING-TEEN! Tim should have just kept his mouth shut and gotten the best sex of his life for the rest of the school year. Then maybe brag about it to his friends when summer hits.

Now, to get back on to what is going on in the news, if you Google Debra’s name, you’ll here Tim referred to as: “The Victim.” Excuse me! The what?! The victim? The only thing this kid has become a victim of is the fact that EVERY guy he goes to school with will call him a pussy for ‘telling on the woman he was sleeping with.’ He is no victim…he WAS a hero. At fourteen if you manage to pork your teacher, especially if she is hot, you are a god damn legend on the playground! You can never lose an argument again to one of your peers. It’s like when you grow up and you manage to have sex with the mom of a friend. You just can’t ever lose again:

My Friend: “Jimmy what are you talking about, 2 + 2 isn’t 5?”
Me: “Ohh yeah well I fucked your mom!”
My Friend: “What? That doesn’t even make any sense!”
Me: “Your mom doesn’t make any sense!”
My Friend: *head bowed in defeat*

Now, fortunately for Tim, he has gotten zero publicity…So very few people actually know which kid to make fun of. His mom on the other has had a few words to say…and, of course, as it true to typical Jimmy style, these quotes will not go without commentary from me!

Tim’s Mom: “And that would have happened every day during the trial and just debating every moment, every word that came out of his mouth, every detail that was presented that would have been terrible for him."

This quote was in response to the commentary about the fact that trail was dismissed before Tim had to testify. I agree with Tim’s mom here, it would have been terrible for him! However, I wish I had seen his statements on the recount of what happened. I would have just sat back waiting for the exact moment that he gets that look of realization on his face of: “What the fuck have I done? After this fiasco I won’t get a chance to sleep with her again! Fuck me!” Then I would laugh as he dismisses everything that he just said, hoped up and out of his seat, over his little podium, ran over to her seat and started humping her leg. But alas, that opportunity was not provided to me.

Tim’s Mom: “I'm just appalled by his actions appalled that he took so little consideration about the well-being of my son."

She gave this response aimed at the Judge and the fact that he would not allow a plea agreement for Debra. Well being of your son?! Lady the only thing that happened here is your son got laid by a hot older woman. I understand the fact that you probably didn’t lose your virginity until you were 35 but that is no reason to rain on your son’s parade…which, in retrospect, would probably have been nice for him because he has already shit all over it.

Tim’s Mom: “18 months have now passed and I've yet to see any true remorse and she continues to paint herself as the victim. And that she is not taking responsibility in my opinion for her actions." [sic]

This quote is to Debra and her apparent lack of apathy toward Tim and the situation. Hey Tim’s Mom, come here real quick. Ok let me tell you something, Debra is in her 30’s and is sleeping with 14 year olds…I think she just might be the victim of her bi-polarity. Also, I never knew that pleading guilty was not taking responsibility (which she has done and why the case is, now, closed)…sometimes I wonder if people really do think before they speak.

Tim’s Mom: “He's doing well so in the long run, I believe he's going to be absolutely fine and already talking about going to college.”

You believe he’s going to be fine? The kid got laid. He didn’t have a gun put to his head being told that if he didn’t kick his cat into a wood chipper he would be shot. This wasn’t some life altering situation that will leave him permanently fucked in the head and involve hours of therapy. If anything he should be doing better than everyone else. He no longer has to worry about getting that first time out of the way. Plus he did it with a mature woman, who hopefully showed him the ropes. On top of that, if this kid needs this much counseling from his mom every time he gets laid, I have some words of wisdom for him…drop those plans to go to college. In case he doesn’t know this already, guys normally end up sleeping with lots of women in college.

This all just go to show how one small incident can lead to a person finding themselves on: Jimmy’s List of People Who Should Not Reproduce. I am very confident in mankind and its ability to create more people who will, inevitably do stupid things that will force me to include them on this list, so please look out for future articles about new additions to the list!

It's Funny Because it's You!

2006-03-29T16:31:00.000-08:00

One little statement has gotten me into a lot of trouble recently. That statement is…

What you can’t take a joke? Fuck you.

There are things in my life that I would redo if given the chance (not necessarily regret though). One of those incidences occurred last weekend on Saturday night. To make a long story short, I ended up at a college party with a friend of mine talking to a group of girls. Seeing as I was drunk and surrounded by good looking college women who seemed half interested in my light hearted banter, I went into ‘attention getting mode.’

At one point a young lady who apparently didn’t like me very much commented on the stain on the right half of my white shirt. I informed her that while playing a game of flip cup a guy on my team bumped into a guy looking over his shoulder and spilled an entire cup of beer on me. I laughed about the situation, my audience laughed about the situation; however she didn’t seem find it as funny and I’m not sure why. Seeing as it was her party she said, “well I don’t want people looking trashy at my party.”

Ok hold the phone. Your friend spilled beer on me and you want me to leave because of it? No way is this happening without me getting a word or two in!

Having decided that I would actually leave, and still with my crowd around me I utilized the opportunity to amuse myself one last time and informed her of her ‘trashy’ condition:

“Wait a minute, you are asking me to leave your party for looking trashy? Isn’t that kind of like the pot calling the kettle ‘black’? Your make-up looks like you applied it with a shotgun.”

Needless to say she didn’t like that comment very much…and by ‘didn’t like it very much’ I mean she didn’t like it at all…and she started yelling at me.

Ok I admit it, it wasn’t the nicest thing I could have said in that situation or the most diplomatic, but to be fair…that’s what she looked like…either that or that she did her make-up during a black-out (God I hope she reads this!). The next minute or so was comprised of her spitting out a bunch of profanity, which I paid no real attention to. At the end of the discourse I simply said to her that magic line…

What you can’t take a joke? Fuck you.

I then made my exit. The chick who took me to the party got pissed at me. I’ve since heard back that the party chick doesn’t like me very much…big surprise. My friend, again got made at me and said I should have dropped it, blah blah blah. Now I’m normally I pretty nice guy. However, I become infuriated when I learn that people can not laugh at themselves, at times.

So I would now like to visit some times in my life when, I made the right choice and kept my mouth shut.

More than a year and half ago I started working for the company I currently work for. Everyone in the office was really nice. It took very little time for me to get in tight with the ‘in crowd*’ of the office. This meant I was included on group emails where some of the office regulars would send jokes around the office. A lot of jokes really blew and occasionally I’d receive those awful emails that said how great of a friend I am, yet if I don’t send it out to at least a kajillion people then I will die in 36 seconds of a horrible death. However, every so often I would get a little gem that would brighten my day. The good ones, as most good jokes normally are, were either racist, sexist, religious or political.

*The in crowd is mostly comprised of females under the age of 27

All was well in my happy little land of jokes-at-the-workplace-ville until one fateful day. The ‘in crowd’ has a lady that is (or at least appears to be) well into her 40’s [we’ll call her Sue]. Sue would periodically send out an email about why husbands/men suck, or why Republicans are stupid or why other races are useless…you know all jokes that fall into the whole realm of: “wow you would be a bigot if I didn’t think you were kidding,” which is fine, I tell jokes like that and expect people to know that I am joking. However, I saw a rather good joke about Democrats and decided that political humor was acceptable. So as per usual, I sent it out to the in crowd, with the attention toward Sue, as she was the biggest proponent for anti-republican jokes.

Hey Sue…thought you might like this one! =)

Jimmy

*Notice the smiley face…please pay special attention to the fucking smiley face…in case you are as thick as Sue…that means I’m not serious.*

I was expecting a friendly email saying how the joke was actually kind of funny (which it was!) instead I get this message that had a tone that suggested I had killed her first born child and was threatening to eat it in front of her. I thought that she might come over to my desk and stab me in the neck with her ball point pen. Now, was this email anti-Democrat? Yes. Was it so anti-Democrat to warrant taking offense? Not a fucking chance. It’s retarded political views like these that help make our politics a joke. Sue officially ruined any and all chances we had at being able to speak on any level beyond work by this move, only because I would have to watch what I say around her…which I am not good at. If I were good at watching what I say then I probably wouldn’t be writing this!

Seeing as I never really had the heart to say this to her at the time…I’ll say it now…

Hey Sue! You can’t take a joke? Fuck You!

Now, there isn’t anything wrong with supporting your religion (hell I’m Catholic, but I still find aspects of the Catholic religion bizarre). However, two notable Scientologists have now gotten in the way of me having a good time, and who are they to stand in the way of Jimmy Corvan having a good time. Those of you who are awesome and watch South Park, with any regularity, know that the show takes no prisoners, if you are a known group of people, you will be ridiculed.

The show recently lost its voice for the character Chef, played by Isaac Hayes (yes, the singer). Recently, South Park created an episode dedicated to the satire of Scientology…yup you guessed it…Isaac Hayes is a Scientologist. Now let me remind you that Hayes has been on the show for all 9 seasons the show has been around; which means he was there when the makers ridiculed Christianity. And Judaism. And Hinduism. And Buddhism. And Mormonism. And Islam. But then when they do Scientology, what does he say?

"There is a place in this world for satire, but there is a time when satire ends and intolerance and bigotry towards religious beliefs of others begins"

Give me a fucking break. I don’t understand how someone can honestly be offended by a bunch of fucking 4th graders whose whole existence is to mock EVERYTHING under sun. But…this didn’t stop there. Instead of pulling the show (in hopes of keeping Isaac’s baritone voice for the show) Matt Stone and Trey Parker decided to tell Isaac to shove it and wanted to run the show anyway.

Hey Isaac Hayes! You can’t take a joke? Fuck you!

Enter, super psycho crazy Scientologist and all around creepy person Tom Cruise. As you might know, Tom just finished filming Mission Impossible III. Wonderful, they made a sequel to that shit ball they called MI:2. Long story made short, the company who made MI:3 (Paramount) is owned by Viacom who also owns Comedy Central. Cruise thought he would be cute and tell Viacom that he would not promote MI:3 if they allowed Comedy Central to run the Scientology episode of South Park. So at the last second, Viacom pulled the episode.

You know what Tom, you can’t take a joke? Fuck you.

It’s idiots like these people that make this world less enjoyable for me. I expect people to make fun of me and the things I do…I expect other people to allow me to make fun of them and things they do…I expect this to be a happy synergy.

For those of you interested in this episode…here is a link to it…I HIGHLY recommend you watch it…they nail Scientology to the fucking wall and its hilarious

Scientology Episode of South Park

St. Patricks Day Special

2006-03-16T16:43:00.000-08:00

Welcome everyone to Jimmy’s Super Special St. Patrick’s Day Blog. As you should know, today is St. Patrick’s Day; and like any great, ethnic/religious, holiday is ONLY observed by the most devout followers. Its celebration of Saint Patrick has the most holy of rituals which include (but are not limited to): pinching people who are, foolishly, not wearing green, dressing up like a leprechaun and consuming massive amounts of Irish beer and Irish whiskey, which is conveniently tinted green. Basically, it is another holiday ruined by the American mentality of, “let’s find a reason to get fucked up and drink till we can’t see straight.” Ohh and by ruined, I meant to say enhanced.

Here’s a brief history lesson on the subject. Back in the 5th century some bro named Patrick was born in Britain and was kidnapped by a bunch of drunken Irish (yes, redundant, I know). When he escaped he claimed that god spoke to him and started a dual-mission of ministering Irish-Catholics as well as convert heathens into good natured Catholics. He eventually died and people celebrated his life by going to Church. Lame.

Fast forward about 1,500 years when the potato famine hit and the Catholic-Irish poured in to the US. Blah blah blah…they had funny accents…blah blah blah…were portrayed in cartoons as drunken monkeys…blah blah blah…used St. Patrick’s Day parade to rally all the Irish Americans to gain political prowess…blah blah blah…in the end, St. Patty’s Day, ended up being about: being green, getting drunk and speaking with a funny accent.

Basically, now that America has had its say…St. Patrick’s Day rocks! It’s way better now than it was. Just think, thanks to the powers of the American spirit to drink, a once religious holiday has now turned into a time when I can go to my local watering hole and order ten Irish Car Bombs and be laughed at because I am not drinking enough. If you leave a pub on St. Patrick’s Day able to remember your own name, you have disgraced the holy name of good ole what’s his name.

In light of this most holy of holy day’s I have, so kindly, prepared a list of St. Patty’s day tips for those who are unfamiliar with the proper way to celebrate. This list is mostly for those who are over the age of 21 (or with a fake ID) as it will include lost of references to alcohol and bars:

Jimmy's Dos and Do Nots of Celebrating St. Patrick’s Day

DO NOT forget your green
“I don’t have a green shirt!” No excuse, go out and buy some green cloth and bobby pin it to your head if you have to. Do no be caught amongst avid St. Patrick’s Day celebrators without wearing green. Sure in school you would get pinched for not wearing green. Normally by the girl or boy who had a crush on you. Or perhaps among your friends you might find yourself getting wedgied or punched for not wearing green. However, when you are out with Irish bar patrons, bad things happen to those who do not sport the ninja turtle green. If you are lucky you will simply not be served by the bartender. Although worse, a still rather fortunate fate would be to just be kicked out of the pub. A more likely outcome? You get beaten up by a gang of drunken and rowdy Irishmen. Irish people take their green VERY seriously. Remember back in 1919 when the Anglo-Irish War broke out…yeah? It’s one of the best cover-ups by the English government. People think it started when Irish guerillas (not the apes) mounted against English suppression. It ACTUALLY started when Michael Collinsworth foolishly didn’t wear green while he was in a pub in Ireland, on St. Patrick’s Day. When questioned by Marty O’Laughlin he simply said, “Silly peasant, green is a color of the meek!” The war on Britain was declared that night.

DO remember this is an IRISH holiday so order IRISH booze
One of the quickest ways to be ostracized from a drinking social group on this day is to not follow the #1 rule…you are here to drink like the Irish. I don’t care if you prefer your own ethnically acceptable booze or not. If you are Mexican, put down the Corona and Tequila and pick up a Harp and Powers. If you are Black let go of the 40 of Old English and bottle of Cristal and order a cup Murphy’s with a Bushmill’s back. If you are Asian forget the shot of Saki and Sapporo and drop a shot of Jameson into a Guinness. If you are White take the Budweiser out of the beer bong and leave the Jack Daniels at home and venture out and drink an Erin’s Rock and take shots of Lockes.

DO NOT challenge a pasty white guy with red hair to a drinking contest
I know you think you have balls the size of Texas. I’m sure you can pound a beer faster than any other guy in your fraternity. It’s wonderful that you have finished two 30 packs of Bud light by yourself in one night and still didn’t get drunk. Most Irish people are identified by their fair complexion and blatantly contrasting red hair, 99% of them WILL drink you under the table then pee in your ear, because it’s funny to them…and me…and your friends.

DO eat before going out
As is true with any good drinking binge…make sure you eat before, during and after the festivities. Might I recommend a delicious meal of corned beef and hash for breakfast? Perhaps you might enjoy washing down breakfast with a nice cold Guinness? For lunch prepare a tasty meal of corned beef and cabbage (with potatoes of course!)? This meal goes very nicely with a nice Harp brew. For Dinner? Irish Nacho’s! By the time dinner rolls around you should already be at least 7 drinks deep at a pub. So dinner will most likely be bar food and what better meal than one you can steal from your friends. When they order food encourage them to get the Irish Nacho’s. Irish Nacho’s are basically potato wedges with cheese on them. They are fucking delicious. They are even better when you can steal 2 or 3 off your friends’ plate and not have to buy them yourself!

DO NOT wear a “Kiss me I’m Irish” shirt if you are a guy
Much like wearing a pink shirt with a ‘popped collar’ being a guy and wearing a shirt that says, “Kiss me I’m Irish” you will immediately be labeled as a douche bag. Which is fine, I suppose, if that is what you are going for; but most people who would wear a shirt like that are normally people who ACTUALLY think it is going to get them kisses from chicks. You can wear any other shirt as long as it is green and pro-Irish, Ireland, drinking or potatoes. Creativity earns you points for those of you with art skills beyond that of a fourth grader. If you want to come up with some creative catch-phrase and paint in green on a white shirt, go for it!

Example of acceptable phrases:

- Irish today! Hung-over Tomorrow!
- 10% Irish. 90% Drunk.
- Patrick Was A Saint. I Ain’t!

Examples of unacceptable phrases:

- Ireland sucks. Go Canada!
- Everyone Loves an Irish Girl
- Instant Irishman. Just add alcohol.

DO buy me a beer if you see me
It is important that if you happen to see me out at a bar that you buy me at least a beer if not an Irish Car bomb. It’s part of the tradition that you buy a beer for the guy who helped you get through your night; and after reading this comprehensive guide as to how to survive St. Patrick’s Day, you should consider yourself helped! So I’ll be waiting at the bar for that shot of Bushmill’s to be dropped into a chilled glass of Guinness.

There you have it. My complete guide as to how to survive your St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Follow my guide and I ensure a problem free celebration of all the stuff that P. did for us.

Just Change My Damn Oil

2006-02-22T13:25:00.000-08:00

Like death, taxes and Paris Hilton sleeping with someone new tonight, it is inevitable. Every three months it happens. I get that little card in the mail that says:

Dear Jimmy,

Our records indicate that your ~~1995 Chevy Camero~~ 2005 Ferrari F50 is due for an oil change. Your local service provider is located at 123 Somewhere Lane.

We appreciate your business,

EZ/Jiffy/(Pick any word that means fast) Lube

Oil change companies, such as Jiffy Lube or EZ Lube, are basically the DMV of the auto repair industry. You never end up getting out of there in a timely manner and you end up having to do more shit than is told to you up front. It doesn’t matter how recently you had a tune-up the people who change your oil WILL find something wrong.

Hey guy with the greasy Dickies and filthy fingernails, just change my god damn oil. My car worked just fine when I drove it up the ramp over there. Why is it that everything is broken now that you’ve touched it?

Look, I know my air filter has a little dirt on it, that’s what it does, it filters air. So no, I don’t want a new one. The one I have works perfectly fine. Ohh so you think my rear differential fluid is almost low? Perfect, well then I will almost pay you if you decide to put any more in. You’ll give $45 off a tire rotation? Unless you mean you are going to pay me to rotate my tires I think I’ll pass. You see, I couldn’t drive my car if my tires didn’t rotate and I can tell you that they rotate just fine, as I was able to pull into this black hole for my money. So let me assure you, my tires rotate.

No, I’m not trying to be an asshole. All I’m sayin is I just want my oil changed, that’s it. When I pulled into this place what did you ask me? Let me refresh your memory…you said, “here for an oil change?” I responded happily with, “yes, please.” You took down my information and told me my car would be done in 20 minutes and the quote at the bottom of the page said $25…A perfect synergy between agent and client. Now let’s look at your proposition...45 minute wait and my bill suddenly adopted an extra 0 at the end of it. I can’t be sitting around here all day waiting for all this stuff. So please, just change my oil.

Ok, I get it; you work on more cars than me. Yes, I understand you looked under the hood. No, I don’t want people telling me how to do my job, either. Can I ask you something? When you walk into Supercuts what do you do? Right, just like me...walk in ask for a hair cut and then expect to leave after having paid the, predetermined, bill. Do they barrage you with questions like, “would you like a $50 hair coloring, I saw one grey hair while I was back there?” or “perhaps you prefer a deep conditioning treatment you look like you ALMOST have split ends?” No. They don’t. Why? Because they understand their, specialized, job. If you want all that crap done, to your hair, you go to a professional hair salon, just like if I want all this stuff done to my car I go to a full service car mechanic.

Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings…but please, I’m begging you, just change my fucking oil. You will? Really? Wonderful, I’ll just wait here. Here’s your 25 bucks. Thanks, I appreciate it. Ok, take care! *sniff sniff* What’s that? Smells like something’s over heating…meh…looks like it’s time for a new air filter, that’s ok I’ve got time to kill.

Valentines Day - The Day Women Won

2006-02-14T16:52:00.000-08:00

Ok I’ll say it. Every girl expects every (straight) guy to say it. So I’m going to fucking say it…Valentines Day blows ass. It is a crappy ‘holiday’…actually…it isn’t a holiday so I’m not going to call it as such. Valentines Day isn’t even based on any historical event; no one ACTUALLY knows what its roots are…that is, no one except for me. There are theories that St. Valentine was martyred for not giving up his Christian religion and died on Feb. 14, thus a celebration of his death. There are also stories of this, so called, Valentine person falling for a jailers daughter and would write her letters and sign them “From your Valentine.” All those are nothing more than legends and hogwash (note: I tried really hard to use that word and not come back and bring it up, but it’s too funny a word to not point out). The way Valentines Day really came to be was on a fateful evening in February back in the 2nd century.

There was this guy, we’ll call him Ted Valentine, courting a young lass, we’ll call her Bitchotress Valentine (or B for short), for whom he was particularly fond. Ted spent hours trying to gain B’s love and when he finally did, they consummated their love…regularly. Ted was happy as a clam; meanwhile, B seemed like she was happy while they were together. What more could this happy couple need? They regularly spent time together. They had plenty of sex…umm…rather…they made love often (or at least that’s what Ted told B that’s what they were doing…with a straight face too!!). They rarely fought and when they did, it was only minor. Then IT happened, the worst thing to happen to MANkind. On February, 14th 2nd century, as Ted was prepping his partner for another rampant sex sess…night sharing each others love, B decided she didn’t want anything to do with it.

No booty for Ted that night. Ted was sad. Ted wanted to know what the deal was. B filled him on her ‘dilemma.’ She sat him down and explained to him, “Ted you know how I feel about you, and I think I know how you feel about me. Spending every night with you is fantastic, I couldn’t be happier. Actually, that’s a lie*, I could be happier.” Ted interjects with, “ohh my dear what could it be? I tend to your needs just about every day of the year. I take you out to eat. I even buy you gifts and pick flowers for you every now and then.” Bithotress feels it is now her time to say something, “See that’s just it, you are great to be with but you never do ALL that stuff in the same day. You should be willing to take me out to a restaurant that’s $50** a plate then go out on the town for a while, where we can view a $40 show at the theater. You should wake me up with a gift of jewelry, and by jewelry, I mean Tiffany’s. Not any of crappy Kay Jewelers shit. I should be showered with flowers all day; roses are only $60 for a dozen. I should be given candy till I can no longer eat that $50 plate we are GOING to have. When all that happens, I will make love to you again.”

*please note: That line was not ever said…that line I had to add in on my own. Women never admit when they lie. Everything else is totally what she said!
**Despite what you might be thinking…American Dollars did exist in the 2nd century…that’s how awesome America is…

Although, he did not know it at the time, the fate of men everywhere rested in Ted’s hands, this night. He could have just walked away from such a demand. He could have written history in favor of men everywhere. The world was in Ted Valentine’s hands at this very moment. What did he do? He fucking blew it. He got on the horn and started making reservations and ordering expensive gifts. The next day B, told all of her friends. From that moment on February 14th would, forever, be known as the day that all female companions would expect lavish gifts and extraordinary treatment, or else no sex. For a long time. With lots of arguments. No cooking either. Or fun.

So as I’m sure you can see…there is no reason to call this day a holiday. It’s a tragedy. This day only signifies the day the women beat us men. So to all you not so single guys out there, I sincerely hope you have a little blue box with white string, a dozen red roses, 15 pounds of chocolate (ohh but I can’t, chocolate goes straight to my hips) and reservations at Flemings, because otherwise, you are in for a VERY painful reminder of February.

January is the Crappiest Month Ever

2006-02-08T15:14:00.000-08:00

Ahh...the new year...a time for rebirth, a new beginning, a chance to set all that went wrong, in the previous year, right, we all try to set our, recently detoured, lives back on the road. This revival of spirit to do what know we should have been doing is reinforced by every other person around us. We all simply make a laundry list of New Years Resolutions. Fortunately, for me, I’ve made it all way the way to February. Let me tell you, the hardest month of the year, for me, is definitely January.

January always sucks for me because everyone is so gung-ho on their ‘New Years Resolutions’ that they end up making my life suck. Fuck that! February rocks because I notice a HUGE decrease in people actively working toward their goals. Ok let me first say that, overall, I really don’t want to see people fail in their goals, unless of course they happen to be a really hot chick and their goal is to have less sex with me this year, then yes, I encourage their failure. However, when other peoples goals get in the way of my attempt to maintain a sane existence in this world of, seemly never ending, annoyances, that’s just not cool, because, ya know, the world revolves around me.

I thought I would take some time out to explain just how much better my life has become since Wednesday, February 01, 2006.

The Goal: Exercise More/Get in Shape

I am all for people who want to get in shape. I believe that we all could stand to trim a few pounds around the waist line. Whether or not it is for a goal or not, I frequent the gym year round. However, starting January 3rd, this year my local gym turned into fucking Disneyland. During January, I would have sweet dreams of the times I could walk up to the front desk, show them my pass, and walk right in. Does this happen in real life, during January? Hell no. You have to wait in a long line just to show to your membership card. Then, God help you, hope they are, “not to full,” and have to wait for someone to leave. When did the gym become a bar? The only thing it was missing was the 300 pound meat head bouncer whose only identifiable quality is the ability to keep people less famous than him out of the gym. Instead all those useless meat heads are inside the gym grunting away as they squeeze out, “just one more rep,” and admire themselves in the mirror. Once you finally get in, good fucking luck getting on any kind of gym equipment. During this time, the lines in the gym are longer than the lines for Space Mountain on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

So, needless to say, I am elated when all these 11 month-out-of-the-year-slackers finally drop their last bead of sweat on January 31st. So to reiterate, it’s not that I don’t want people to work out and get in shape, it’s just, don’t all do it at my gym. Thank you.

*Side note – I didn’t really want to mention this when I first wrote this blog, but I found it so funny at the time, I just couldn’t resist. So I learned the easiest way to NOT achieve your goal of loosing weight, and I thought I would share that with you, because I’m such a nice guy! If you are big fan of cakes, pies, pastries and other delicious dessert type foods, try to keep those influences away from you while at the gym. Let me just give a completely fabricated, 100% untrue, I swear I didn’t see this with my own eyes example…if you happen to be an overweight female working away those thighs on a bike at the gym, do not, I repeat, DO NOT bring Betty Crocker’s dessert issue with you as reading material. Never in my life have I seen…I mean not seen…such an inexplicable act of self torture. I mean come on, when I want to start masturbating less (yeah fucking right) you aren’t going to find me naked in bed with a Big-Uns Magazine in one hand.

**Side note to the side note: Wow…that was a really long side note.

The Goal: Start Drinking Less Coffee/Soda/Caffeine

Ok I’ll admit I am not the biggest fan of coffee or soda. Granted I thoroughly enjoy both, however I just don’t drink them that often. I might drink either one, once a month. (Unless the soda is mixed with alcohol, then it doesn’t count…because I said so…which makes it truth…because I said so) So you might be thinking, “Well then Jimmy, what the hell do you have to complain about if no one is drinking the stuff that you don’t drink anyway?” Well if you would have just calmed down I was about to tell you…now I don’t know that I feel like telling you anymore because you were so impatient…ohh you don’t care anymore? Liar. You care so much. Wait, Don’t leave. Damnit come back...Ok. Ok. Ok. I’ll tell you. Freaking jerk! Anyway, if you have been a regular reader of my blog, you’d know that I know everything, well as of January 3, I learned that I only know, just about everything. The one bad thing about being really really smart is that you stop learning; however, I’ve recently learned that people are incredibly irritable when they stop drinking caffeine.

Nothing is worse than trying to talk to a coffee drinker who didn’t get 9 hours of sleep and hasn’t had their cup of java for the day. They mumble, they don’t process information very quickly and they skulk around like they had just found out their cat was set on fire and is now dead. It’s impossible to get anything accomplished. They say, “I don’t need coffee, I’ll be fine, so long as I make it to lunch, I’ll be good after that.” Ohh…excellent…so you are going to hold me hostage from being productive, until lunch time?!? Perfect. Then what happens? They go out to lunch, and eat way too much and are in a food coma until 4:30. 4:30 rolls around and they realize the work day is almost over, so they mentally check out. “Ohh that thing you needed, yeah I’ll take care of it tomorrow morning.” Ohh ok, thanks…*punch in the face*

In short, I’m glad people are back to the gluttonous helpings of caffeine. It allows me to be more productive and keeps my sanity level steadily at one notch below psychotic.

The Goal: Spend Less Time Doing _____ and More Time Reading

Ahh reading…what a novel concept. (Get it, yup it’s still funny to me to point out my own clever humor) I think it’s great when people spend more time reading, especially if the ______ in the goal is TV. Reading will expand your vocabulary, educate you on proper grammar and maybe, JUST MAYBE, teach ya a thing or two about the world. However, it too has become a nuisance to my life. Now, this time I know what you are thinking, “ohh he’s gonna rant and rave about how all his friends read now and don’t spend as much time hanging out with him. Also, I bet Jimmy has a huge wiener.” Let me affirm for you that I do indeed have a huge wiener but that is neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is that ‘other people reading’ has not become a burden to me because it means they spend less time with me (I mean hey, that’s their loss).

What bothers me is that I have to hear about everything they read. In the middle of a discussion someone will chime in with something that has NOTHING to do with the conversation but they wanted to let you know they are reading, “No that can’t be true. I’m reading this book right now that says…” God Damnit, you are reading a fucking fiction novel, what the hell are talking about real proof that there are UFO’s; we are talking about Hamas getting elected by the Palestinian parliament. Jackass.

Then there is the worst of them all, the person who wants you to know that they are, currently reading a book, and will remind you constantly. OK I get it…you know how to read congratulations. When did reading a book become praiseworthy and why do people think they deserve something because they are reading a book? I’ve read plenty of books and I’m not an A-List Celebrity. Yet.

Lastly, people new to the world of reading, will recommend anything they read to you. It doesn’t matter if the book is meant for men, women, adults or kids. They just read a book and want the rest of the world to know how good this book is, despite, the fact that they have absolutely NOTHING to compare it to. Then remind you a few days down the line that they will still lend you the book because, “You just have to read it.” No thanks, I think I will skip He’s Just Not that into You.

Thank god, people who say they ‘want to read more’ read one book then realize that watching TV is much simpler, and go back to their lazy ways.

I’m incredibly happy that February has come. I can now go back to living the life that I have grown to love, 11 months out of the year.

ITunes Randoblog

2006-01-13T13:32:00.000-08:00

Ok, I’ve been busy as shit the past couple weeks. Normally, I have a pretty slow Monday, really busy Tuesday thru Thursday and a WIDE open Friday. Hence the reason I normally post blogs on Friday or the following Monday. Since the New Year, I’ve been busy 8 days a week. It fucking sucks. Sure it may mean I’m getting busier at work which equals money and for those of you who don’t know, I heart money. But the fact is, I like utilizing the creative juices I’ve got flowin inside me, every now and then. Well I think that well has run dry, for now. I have become uninspired and can not think of anything relevant to write about. No that doesn’t mean you can stop reading now, you got yourself into this and now you will have to ride it out.

So about 6 months ago, I read a very helpful blog written by a friend of mine…well kind of a friend…ok so I don’t really like him that much but either way, I got the idea from him. The blog basically laid out a way to get the creativity rollin again. It’s called the ITunes Randoblog. I don’t much feel like typing out the rules for you, so if you are interested in the rules…find them here. Alright, I’ll wait for you to go read them

Ok let’s get this monkey started. So I don’t have ITunes on my computer, I have Windows Media Player. My company won’t allow me to download any unnecessary programs, and despite my best efforts, my corporate office didn’t buy my argument that I need ITunes to function as a mortgage broker. Jackasses. So yeah I may be breaking a rule, but Mike can bite it if he thinks I care. WMP will suffice. I’m a little disappointed to be starting right now. My current song is Riders on the Storm by The Doors, probably my favorite song by them. Ok now on to the dice…that’s going to be a problem. I don’t keep gambling devices around my office, often. There has to be a program on line that could simulate two random numbers between 1 and 6. YAY, I found one. Ok let’s set this up: 6 sides, 2 dice. Off we go. Ok, this thing is retarded, I rolled a 13. How the hell do you roll a 13 with 2 six sided dice? Anyway, lets try it again, wonderful, a number that actually lies between 2 and 12. I rolled an 11. Now we’re cookin’ with fire.

Song: Friends by Bone Thugs~N~Harmony

Hmm...well that’s crappy. I’ve already written a blog on Bone Thugs~N~Harmony. Fuck man, this whole game sucks. Ok ok ok I’ll try to make the best of this. No I won’t, I’m not writing another blog on them. Lets try again.

Ok, outstanding the dice roller worked on the first try this time – I rolled a 5.

Song: Somnombulance by Strung Out

Yay, my favorite song by Strung Out. I just recently, and by recently I mean 6 months ago, started listening to punk. Punk never really made any sense to me. I grew up listening to classic rock and moved on to rap around 6th grade or so. Punk was always just awful yelling to me. More often than not when I heard punk I would just hear retarded lyrics screamed. Still at face value the lyrics are a bit off for some punk songs. Take this song for example; it’s all about how this guy can’t go to sleep. Neat. A group with a name Strung Out would make a song about not being able to sleep, rather apropos. But the song is outstanding. I recommend you get the album, Suburban Teenage Wasteland and listen to it. A lot. Ok I’m done with the whole walking billboard for Strung Out schpeal.

Speaking of which, I haven’t been sleeping well lately. Not certain why. It could have something to do with all the supermodels in my house constantly waking me up to have sex with them, but I’m not sure. Seems like everyday I wake up feeling worse and worse about my decision to open my eyes. Damn my alarm clock. Damn my job. Damn my logic to put it on the other end of the room so I have to actually get up to turn it off. Let me tell you it’s a lot of fun trying to get to work while you are still blurry eyed, makes for a fun filled car ride. Hmm…this doesn’t have anything to do with music…ok back I go. Ohh ,and no, I’m not going to even pretend to segue back into music.

You might be thinking, “if you thought it was just yelling, why did you get into it?” Well basically 90% of my friends listen to it. We used to get in arguments over music all the time. Let me tell you its very hard to defend to a genre that is, in recent times, lead by idiots like Nelly and Lil’ Jon. For every great rapper there are at least ten other rappers doing their best to make rap as Ludacris (do you like how I did that, I’m so funny) as possible.

How do these people become famous? Let me rephrase that, because plenty of people become famous for their stupidity. Take Jessica Simpson, Kevin Federline, Paris Hilton etc. for example. How do these people become musical stars? Who sits behind a desk and listens to a guy incorrectly say “there, here or any other word that ends with -ere.” in every song he writes and says, “that’s gonna redefine music!” When did yelling “Yeah” and “Ok” behind a synthesized beat become musical genius? Most importantly WHY do people keep buying their music?

Also, rappers need to start coming up with better names. A very good indicator of lack of creativity from a rapper is shown if they put ‘Big’ or ‘Lil’ in front of their name. I mean come on…who do you think you are foolin’ making your stage name lil jon, lil bow wow, lil kim, lil scrappy, lil romeo, lil flip…I can go on for days. Ok we get it, you are not large. Why do they even want to associate themselves with being so little, isn’t rap all about how big you are. Ohh don’t think you are getting off easy Mr. I put big infront of my name. You are no better, Big Pun, Big Mike, Big Stan, Big L…and so on. You aren’t small; you need to hit the gym a few more times, got it. Would you all please just take the adjectives out of your name? Come up with a creative name or something? Eminem…creative. His name is Marshall Mathers…put the m and m together and spell it phonetically and BAM! great stage name.

So In case you haven’t figured it out yet, the song Somnombulace is long since over. I’ve probably listened to 3 songs since that ended, I cheated. Cheating or not, the magic of the ITunes Randoblog (ITR) worked again. I’m not certain how the ITR got me to go from Strung Out promotion to my sleeping habits to an in depth analysis of the hip hop community, but it did. God Bless you ITunes Randoblog.

*As a disclaimer I will warn you, I did not reread this nor change any content after writing it. It is purely stream of thought. Any grammatical errors I may have made were not actually errors, but more so to see if you are up speed on your grammar, enough so to catch the errors I included. Purposely. To test you.

It's a Wonder I'm Not a Gabillionaire

2005-12-22T15:52:00.000-08:00

As you probably already know I am a business genius. Sure, I used to be a scientist but I realized, early on, that it wasn’t fair all the cool stuff I would invent, so I decided, being the great guy I am, that I would let other people have the glory. Luckily enough, I became so successful at being a business genius that I was made head of the police department. Don’t worry about which police department, because I am now head of all of them. Also, don’t bother worrying about if that makes any sense or not. So now that I am officially a business genius police officer, I will have a look at some famous and not so famous companies and fining them for stupidity. Those of you who are lucky enough to live near me will know some of the not so famous places. Let us embark on this journey through the world of business decisions made by imbeciles.

Business Name: Parfums de Coeur

Product: Bod – Male Body Spray

What Does It Do? Bod is yet another body spray, for men, that is supposed to make them smell like they are good at sex. The whole idea is that they copy exactly what Axe created and try to sell it as something of their own.

The Offense: Marketing. Let us examine how Parfums de Coeur markets their Bod line of male body sprays. Every commercial features a group of, at least, ten, ripped, guys with their shirts off playing some sort of sport. The commercial is focused on showing their chest and how in shape they are. For a total of two seconds (in sum, not sequentially) they show a chick or two, always fully clothed. Then end the commercial with a guy flipping his hair back as he flexes his entire upper body.

What’s Wrong With This Picture? For those of us not cursed with TiVo or Moxi (or whatever other offshoot of TiVo is out there) you have been subjected to Bod’s awful commercials. For those of us who read male magazines with any sort of regularity, and by regularity I mean ever in the past two years, you have been subjected to Bod’s awful advertisements. As far as advertising to men goes, there is a very simple formal (and believe me, I know a thing or two about formulas) that 99% of businesses have caught onto: Good Looking Girls + Less Clothing + Few Guys as Possible = High Revenues. That is the most basic outline for how to market to a guy. Sure there exist a few products that require a different approach such as: lots of guys beating each other up (sporting goods) or doing something extreme/rugged (selling trucks).

I’m curious to know who decided that: one girl + fully clothed + lots of guys – clothing = Good Idea. Contrary to popular belief, guys are not retarded (well…most of the time). No guy is going to watch that commercial and think to him self “wow, if I put that stuff on I’m going to magically turn from this human form of Staypuft the Marshmallow man into this super ripped dude.” What marketing guy at Parfums overlooked the Axe/Tag benchmark of – show a guy, who looks relatively normal, putting on their product then have flocks of chicks surround him?

The Fine: Immediate removal of the head of marketing and $364.77 to me, for wasted time being subjected to the garbage they call marketing. I figure that’s a fair fine as they have already paid enough money on their commercials which earned them zero sales.

Business Name: OB’s

Product: Bar/Restaurant

What Do They Do? OB’s is a business located in beautiful Manhattan Beach, CA which advertises itself to offer great food, well mixed drinks and cold beers all with friendly service. For those of you who are not from around here, OB’s is a definitive local’s hangout. The only people who have ever heard of it are people who live in or extremely close to Manhattan Beach.

The Offense: False advertising. A better look at the way the business is run will yield results showing rude waitresses and an incompetent manager/owner. Upon my last two visits to said restaurant, my friends and I, who, used to, give them plenty of business, were treated like a second rate customer and person in general.

What’s Wrong With This Picture? It has always been my understanding that when the majority of your income is directly proportional to your kindness due to the fact that you work in the service industry, that you would, in theory, always be kind, especially to customers. I used to bartend and I am currently a mortgage broker; two jobs which have a prerequisite that you are at least somewhat pleasant. Perhaps I missed out on the part of training that suggested you openly disrespect someone who has come in and is willing to tip you. It has also been my understanding that, as the owner of a restaurant, you would want to hire people who were relatively nice, but I’ve been wrong before*.

The Fine: Immediate change of ownership of the property over to Vin Diesel. I hear when he drinks his own pee his asparagus smells funny.

Business Name: Zeppy’s Pizza

Product: Pizza Parlor

What Do They Do? Zeppy’s is long time loved by Hermosa Beach visitors for their Sicilian style pizza at very cheap prices. They are most notably (and wisely) known for their location and store hours. Zeppy’s is dead in the center of the Hermosa pier, which, for those of you out of towners, is known for its long row of late night bars. Zeppy’s motto is to stay open late to grab all the inebriated hungry bar hoppers, aka serve drunk food.

The Offense: Messing with my stomach. On multiple occasions I have stumbled into Zeppy’s to grab myself a slice of warm, delicious, steaming, Sicilian pizza between the hours of 1:30-2:00AM. During such occasions it is not all that rare that they have announced “Sorry we are out of pizza!”

What Is Wrong With This Picture? Wait a minute, let me get this straight…you are pizza parlor that makes 75% of your money between the hours of midnight and 2:30 and you are out of fucking pizza? Well, maybe the bread guy didn’t show up that day and they were out of dough. Then they should have walked their asses down to the liquor store (which is also on the pier) bought a loaf of bread, slapped some tomato sauce on it, covered it with cheese, taken my two dollars and fifty cents and I would have been none the wiser. It might…MIGHT…be ok if this only happened once, but it has happened countless times. I hope they can sleep at night with that on their conscience…asking me to go home still starving. I bet waking nightmares keep them up all night.

The Fine: One pan of Hawaiian pizza, three slices of pepperoni, a small coke…make that diet coke, I’m not trying to get all fat here and eight quarters, so I can play their Tetris and Ms. Pacman machines.

Business Name: Aladdin Gaming L.L.C.

Product: The Aladdin

What Does it Do? The Aladdin is a casino/hotel that lies in heart of the Las Vegas Strip. Although hotels are profitable, the casino is what makes the majority of their money, much like EVERY casino/hotel in Las Vegas.

The Offense: Sucking at being a casino in Vegas. The layout of the Aladdin, although very aesthetically pleasing, is atrocious. The Aladdin’s casino is virtually non existent. If you have never been there before, good luck actually finding the casino. Should you be unfortunate enough to be staying there, I recommend bringing your mattress with you, as the beds are far from soft. Finally, should you stumble into the Aladdin because you are walking past it and nature happens to call at that moment, I wish you the best of luck finding a bathroom.

What Is Wrong With This Picture? Casinos have one purpose in Vegas…just one…make money. A long time ago some dude figured out how to make money in the middle of, an otherwise, very unpleasant plot of land. He decided it would be best to have people piss away their money gambling. So how do you do that in today’s world? Make it so that the people who are willing to piss away their money can find a good place to do that. I recommend placing gambling areas right by ALL doors. Make it harder to find your way out of a gambling spot than into one. I understand that people like to shop (which is all you can do for the first 5-10 min. in The Aladdin) but shopping costs you money, gambling does not. You buy the machines and people continuously give you money. It really is simple.

What’s the other thing you should probably do as a casino owner? Keep people in your gambling area by catering to their comfort needs. I guess the owner has different sleeping habits than I, but personally, sleeping on a concrete slate, like the Flintstones, is not relaxing. In retrospect, I suppose, in the case of The Aladdin, making the bathrooms scarcer than National Championships by the San Francisco Giants in the past 50 years would be a good thing. By the time someone has finally found one they are too emotionally defeated to leave and thus venture further into the black hole in search of a casino.

The Fine: Although it may seem harsh, Jack Sommer, (owner of Aladdin Gaming L.L.C.) should be put to death. Any human being who can manage to have a major Las Vegas casino operate in the red does not need to pollute the gene pool.

*Note: I’ve never been wrong before.

The Art of Women

2005-12-16T15:13:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I do things for my readers that I just wouldn't do for anyone else. Honestly. No I swear. To give as authentic a feel to the material that follows, I read, cover to cover, two completely vapid women's magazines. (Disclaimer time! I’m sure not all magazines women read are vapid. Women who read magazines can easily be brilliant. "Women's magazines" is a generally accepted publishing term that pertains to a specific set of magazines profitably geared toward issues that happen to interest, no one…umm…I mean…a large number of women, unlike my blog which most of my readers are still men or boys...who may or may not shower regularly.)

As a result of this absolutely objective research, I learned at least three things:

1.Women have no business being smarter than men. I don't know how they do it, but they can read stuff like this on a regular basis and still manage to outsmart us guys every now and then. Granted, Maxim or Stuff isn't exactly the high water mark of intellectually satisfying literature – but at least they're smart enough to put less clothes on the models. Here's a disturbing thought: Maybe women are way smarter than us, so much so that they could not possibly relate to us without dumbing themselves down, and they use these magazines as a sort of handicapping tool. Very sporting of them. Very sporting indeed.

2.None of these people know anything about things I care about. I'd love one of these four items to be something like, "Women get a high level of insight on how to plug in their own electronics from the regular ‘ask a midget’ feature." But no dice. Just advice on how to get "revenge hair.” Although, I think revenge hair would make a pretty sweet horror movie, I’d be willing to bet, the editor had other ideas.

3.Matthew McConaughey is surprisingly attractive. According to one of these magazines, Mr. McConaughey is "so hot, we had to hose down the girl who interviewed him." This got me thumbing through the magazine, looking for the picture of the young woman with a wet t-shirt. But on the way, I met up with the thoughtful, gray gaze of America's most eligible bachelor. Then my receptionist, who had acquired this magazine on a special mission (as if I'd be caught dead buying it), walked by, caught sight of the article over my shoulder, tripped over her own feet, and called out "Matthew, save me!" on her way down. Monster.com here she comes.

Women have always been a subject of wonder to me. It’s easy for any guy to say “girls just don’t make any sense.” That statement flows off the tongue so freely because it’s, pretty much, 100% accurate. They have more emotions than Pamela Andersen has STDs and these emotions will go from high to low quicker than Gary Coleman’s career. They can be sweet as an M&M and the next minute scream and yell at you until you feel as useful as a midget in a ‘reach things high up’ contest. But women are certainly not all bad. If they were all bad then you’d see a lot more dude on dude relationships. Fortunately, for all of us, girls smell a whole lot better than guys do. Not that it’s terribly hard to smell better than a combination of sweat, pizza and beer, but never the less, most females have a delectable odor.

The way woman pick out their fragrances will never make sense to me. Why is it that girls seem to be into smelling like food? It’s not just that they want to smell like food, they buy products to make them smell like 47 different food products. I mean not that food doesn’t smell good, especially the food products that females choose to smell like, but it just doesn’t make sense to me. I love food. I probably like a fat steak more than any chick likes, say, strawberries. Does that mean I want to smell like a freshly grilled steak? Well, maybe. But that is beyond the point. Point is everything I like to eat I don’t necessarily want to smell like. Guys wear cologne and body spray that smells like cologne and body spray, no real distinguishable scent.

Whilst, Christmas shopping, this year, I made my way into a Bath and Body Works store, partly lead by my panging stomach desperate for sustenance. Most of my time was spent, I mean, wasted, trying to figure what half of the crap in that store actually does. Once I came to the realization that my efforts would be in vein, I decided to ask for help. The lady, who might I add was very kind, asked me if I knew what I was looking for. I instantly became tempted to blurt out “Lady, if I knew I what I was looking for, would I have just spent the last 10 minutes looking around the store with a puzzled look on my face,” but being the angel I am, decided against such a course of action. I instead responded with, “if I hand you 30 dollars will you just put something in my hand that would make a good present for a 45 year old woman, you don’t even have to give me a receipt.” At this point, if she were to have given me a $5 bar of soap and a hair brush and said it was 30 bucks I’d have complimented her for her kindness and been on my way. Well needless to say, that didn’t happen. This is when the questions started coming: “Well what does she like?” “What kind of scents does she wear?” “What are her colors?” Again, I fought temptation to ask why she would inquire with such pointless banter, but managed to muster out a very measly and weak, “I have no idea.” Here is where the confusion really set in. She proceeded to tell me about a new basket of stuff which included a bar of soap, shampoo, this lotion that felt like it had sand in it and (for some reason) a rock. She ended her, astoundingly accurate, description of the item with “Ohh and it comes in our new, popular, scent: Peach strawberry cucumber lemon.” Ok, I admit, that wasn’t the actual scent, but it had so many different flavors of food in it, I think, even a pneumonic device for it would be hard to remember.

Female body products are very cleverly disguised. I live with a girl. My roommate’s girlfriend lives at my house. No, I am not going to start ranting about how much of a drag it is to live with a girl, cause it really isn’t, I happen to like her and she is just fine as a livingmate. This, simply, means I get a first hand account of all the crap that chicks use. Doesn’t mean that I understand them or why they have them, but still I get to see a lot of the little items.
I definitely consider myself more of a morning person than most other people. I wake up everyday before 9:00 regardless of what time I went to bed the night before or how much partying I did. I do not need a cup of coffee in the morning to get going. I don’t even need to stand in the shower for 10 minutes before I start to wake up. Still, I am not exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when my alarm goes off on the weekdays.

The first thing I do when I wake up is shower. Now, in my sleepy haze the last thing I need is to be thrown into sensory overload. I found this out about a month ago. I learned that at that hour of the morning, I can’t distinguish the overly redolent, pearl white bar of coconut scented soap as something I shouldn’t eat. Once that smell of coconut hits my nose I simply think, wow someone was nice enough to leave a piece of coconut for me to eat in the shower. Once I realize that said item is, indeed, a bar of soap, and not a kind gesture from my roommate or his ball and chain, I then have to go through the cognitive process of weighing my options as to whether or not to ‘sample’ this delicious looking morsel. I mean come on, one little bit isn’t going to kill me, and she’ll never even know I did it.

After I talk myself out of tasting the soap, I look up at the little shower hanging thingy, and see a plastic case that says “Whoosh” on the outside. Peering into its contents I notice it to be a blue gelatin. I poke my fingers in it, whirl them around a bit and give it a good smell. “Well,” I think to myself, “if it looks like Jell-O, feels like Jell-O and smells like Jell-O…” Again, the thought of “Ohh someone was kind enough to leave me some Jell-O to eat in the morning when I shower,” crossed my mind. After further examination, I saw that this stuff ran about $25 a pound. That snapped me out of it. No way am I eating someone else’s 25 dollar Jell-O. It must taste amazing, but still, I’m not paying 25 bucks for Jell-O. Later I found out that stuff was indeed a type of soap. I still say it’s Jell-O.

My guess is that she wanted the Jell-O all for herself. Well, I’ll teach her! We’ll see how she feels about being greedy after I eat all of her Jell-O!

Oh What a Wonderful Morning...

2005-11-18T14:11:00.000-08:00

Now I am not one to write blogs about what goes in my life, mainly because I can not stand to read other peoples daily update on their life. But I’d bet dollars to doughnuts (mmmm doughnuts) that you are wondering what I am doing. Well, seeing as I am just all around awesome guy, I’ll fill you in. Right now, as I type this, I am absolutely miserable. I’d rather be watching Hilary Clinton finish off Newt Gingrich while listening to Ashlee Simpson sing the background music than be where I am right now. That’s how bad this is. I am currently involved in one of the worst things ever invented, a conference call. Conference calls are just awful. Granted, I hate meetings. A lot. But conference calls are 13 times worse; perhaps verging on 14, but as of right now, suggesting 14 times worse would be just plain silly. See, in a meeting, much like being in a class, I have visual stimulation in the form of the female physique. The most sexually stimulating thing I have to look at in my office, is my bobble head of 2004 Golden Glove recipient, Cesar Izturis. On this conference call I have to listen to some dimwit speak about a subject that I couldn’t care less about, while staring at my fucking phone. As interesting as that sounds, let me tell you, it isn’t.

I apologize for the slight tangent; let me get back to how miserable I am right now. It doesn’t help that I absolutely hate conference calls, but this is one that I can’t leave in the middle. My manager is, dutifully, paroling the office to make sure everyone is in on the call. Which bothers me. Cause right now, I really need to poop. Sure, I could have heeded her suggestion of utilizing the little boys room previous to the call, but I didn’t need to poop then. I need to poop now. And I can’t. And I am very upset about this. My buttcheeks are quite taut. If you placed a piece a coal in my butt right now I’d be willing to bet that, once I am relieved from this malediction my company has hexed me with, I will be shitting diamonds. Which, doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, cause I like money almost as much as Kevin Federline likes being a plague to society. As if this wasn’t bad enough, I can only imagine how painful it is going to be to walk to the bathroom. I guarantee I am going to look a college chick the morning following the first time she let a black dude (or me, cause, ya know, I’m fuckin huge) explore numero dos.

So those two facts alone are enough to make me go crazy, but that isn’t it. Ohh no, that couldn’t possibly be all. If you don’t know me very well, let me fill you in on an attribute of my body. I have the highest body temperature of anyone I know. This is a ridiculously double-edged sword. On one hand, shorts and a t-shirt work any hour of the day, any season of the year. On the other hand, I am always hot. I sleep naked with one blanket, more often than not I end up just kicking off that blanket, pretty good use of that 200-thread count, isn’t it. You might be thinking to yourself, “why are you telling me this?” Hey buddy, just fucking relax, I’m getting there. The suite that I work in is divided into eight smaller individual offices. When our manager was divvying up who got which office, I definitely should have purchased some KY before hand because I got fucked pretty hard. I work in the ONLY office that does not have a thermostat. Even the building manager cannot find it. Which means, that my office is hot 100% of the time. Go ahead and guess if I have to wear pants to work. Normally, at work, I have to take time out to just sit and think about not sweating from the heat alone. We have to have our door closed during this call, so my office is hotter than normal. Which means that I have to try to concentrate on not sweating, while keeping my ass as clenched as if I were worried about a homosexual male creeping up behind me.

I feel awful right now…I wish I were drunk right now….So, I hope that all of you have just a fucking wonderful day.

Warning: Do Us a Favor,Do Not Heed Warning

2005-11-17T13:01:00.000-08:00

Life…it’s such a precious thing, ‘tis it not? Life and the magic of procreation, to me, is like a quiet forest pool, one that needs a direct hit from a big rock half-buried in the ground. You pull and you pull, but you can't get the rock out of the ground. So you give it a good kick, but you lose your balance and go skidding down the hill toward the pool. Then out comes a big Hawaiian dude who was screwing his wife beside the pool because they thought it was real pretty. He tells you to get out of there, but you start faking it, like you're talking Hawaiian, and then he gets mad and chases you…I think I can safely assume you agree with me.

For those of you who are not from the South Bay area, you may need a little educating before I proceed with this blog. Probably the busiest street in Southern California is called Pacific Coast Highway (PCH). At some points it can reach as large as 9 lanes across. That being said, one of the busiest times, as I’m sure you can guess, is in the morning during rush hour, which lasts from about 4:30AM till 9:00PM…give or take 5 minutes.

This morning I was impatiently stopped dead in traffic when I noticed a very attractive female taking, what looked like, her morning jog. She happened to be jogging down a hill that is perpendicular to PCH. Once she reached the bottom of the hill, I figured she would do what most, normal, of sound mind, humans beings would do, stop. Once she reached PCH, to my amazement, she didn’t even hesitate. She just darted out into the middle of the street without even faking a look in either direction. Fortunately for her, there was no traffic at the time. Unfortunately for the rest of mankind there was no traffic at that time, as, unless she already has, it is very probable that she will, one day, reproduce.

Now don’t get me wrong I’m not a terribly malevolent person, I wish no one ill will, let alone death. Except for that one time last year that little girl stole my cookie and I tried to run her over with my car, but that is neither here nor there. However, there are some people that I believe need’nt plague the gene pool with a donation.

I am a firm believer that companies should remove all warning labels from the products we buy. If you don’t know what it does or where to put it, don’t buy it. If you choose to ingest some of that hemorrhoid cream, perhaps life in a convent wouldn’t be such a bad idea. If you choose to blow dry your hair in the shower, I’ve one word of advice and it rhymes with: schmasectomy.

Most of these people have a ludicrously oblivious outlook on life. Everything is so happy in their world. For example, you might find a message they leave for the their voicemail box that goes something like this “Hi, thanks for calling! Sorry I missed your call but it is a positively gorgeous day and I’m out enjoying it right now! Hopefully you will have the same opportunity. Thought for the day is ‘Share The Love!’. BBBBEEEEPPPP.” When I hear things like that it makes me curse my phone for not being able to switch to ‘restricted’ for the caller ID. “Uhh…hi there. This is Tom from the VD clinic. Speaking of positive, your tests results are back. Stop sharing the love. CLICK.”

American Idiot

2005-10-07T13:00:00.000-07:00

I don’t normally talk much about television, because I’m trying to break into the scientist business, and you look smarter if you brag about how you don’t like TV. Want to really impress people, boast about your lack of a TV. Hell, sometimes I’m so smart I don’t even know what a TV is. To me, the words "Perfect Strangers" might as well be "Tingle Dingle Banana Man" because I don’t know what you are talking about. That’s how smart I am. But for the purpose of this article, I put down my scientific calculator, pack away my pocket protector and picked up a remote control.

Much like most kids, when I was in grade school, I happened to love staying home from school. It was great! No class, no teachers, no work, no swirlies, no 6th graders deride me…. the list goes on. But those things do not even hold a candle to the best part of staying home, Game Shows.

You know damn well that when you stayed home, you watched TV all fucking day. If you were lucky enough to wake up in time, you might be able to catch the end of that show that you never get to finish cause you had to leave for school. But after around 9:30AM, the cartoons began to dissipate. Although, TV without Ninja Turtles, Thundercats, He-man, Gi-Joe etc. is just another household gimcrack, there was hope to bed ridden children in daytime programming.

Normal daytime television is be polluted with a farrago of crappy soap operas (yeah that’s redundant, get over it), shitty talk shows, awful movies and dozens of home shopping programs that sold absolutely useless things. However, a decent knowledge of your local channels and a solid memory of programming would prove mighty useful in battling boredom. During the day, the keen surfer could navigate the channels in a way to find a new game show every half hour (except for Price is Right, god bless them, that was an hour).

Now, back then, I could watch game shows for hours and be entranced by the contests, contestants and prizes. But times have changed. Now when I try to watch a game show, I get that taste of vomit in my mouth. Who finds these contestants?!?! Also, who knew that such a large population of America is partially retarded or completely oblivious to the world around them. Yeah, lady, good job guessing that $2.78 gallon of milk is $7.93, you really do deserve that extra 15 seconds for your final shopping spree. $12.61 per pound for chicken? Someone give that guy a Plinko chip. He deserves another shot at the $5,000 slot. Luckily for him, Bob Barker gives out a free one at the beginning of the game. Ohh excellent, you agreed with Louie Anderson that the capital of Brazil is, in fact, Paris, I think you should get your X on that middle square.

As a kid I remember celebrating with those who won. I would relish in their victories. However, I stopped watching game shows after I left grade school. Then when I came back to watch them recently, there was this shift. Now there are only two logical reasons for this: 1) me got more smarter 2) a good part of America became dumber, on the whole. Now we all know that the first scenario could not possibly have happened. Thus, through conclusive evidence and infallible logic America has fallen victim to its own ridicule of the ignorance of other countries...except for Canada and France, they still suck…Ohh yeah they smell too, spread the word.

As long as I am on the topic of crappy TV, when the hell did cartoons start to suck so badly? If you are long time reader of my blog I’m sure you are aware of my affinity toward the awesome foursome the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Now, I am not suggesting that contemporary cartoons could even strive to be as divine, but come on, why do they have to make cartoon characters such fucking pussies. Cartoons were at their best when you had Donatello whack a member of the foot clan and have it blow up, Lion-O bitch slap Mumrah and laugh as he ran away or you have the Joes jumping into the Sea of Ice to get a radio active crystal from Cobras. In the 80’s cartoon characters were people everyone wanted to be. If you were a boy and didn’t want to grow up to be a Gi-Joe or a Ninja Turtle you were either gay or blind.

What do kids today learn from cartoons? Be a coward and let other people fight for you. The two biggest cartoons on TV now are Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh. Both have ‘hero’s’ that let other things fight for them. When did it become ok for kids to determine who is tougher based on what animal you have on you at the time? When did it become ok for kids to mimic hero figures that essentially talk with card or ball they have?

Fuck these new cartoons. If I am going to watch a show about fighting, I want to see people get their asses kicked and hate each other. You never saw He-man hug Skeletor after a fight and say " you did really well I bet you will become a good duelist one day." Fuck that son! You never saw that. You would see Questar take Krulos’ gigantic T-Rex and say "Get the fuck outta here, before I have Mr. Bigger-Than-You tear your ass to shreds."

It’s a sad fate for cartoons, but maybe the sudden pussifying of modern cartoons helps to explain the recent decline of intelligence in Americans.

Top 10 Hand Gestures of All Time!

2005-07-27T16:05:00.000-07:00

So here it is folks, the complete and undisputed top 10 hand gestures of all time.

10) The Hardcore- The Hardcore is mostly used by fans of heavy metal and Bevis and Butthead. Today, people use it synonymously with saying “Rock On.” It has been argued that Texans came up with this popular gesture, to signify “Hook’em horns,” for their beloved school mascot, the University of Texas Longhorns, but thats what they get for thinking. Texans don’t count as people, they don’t have feelings either.

9) The Dub- Started and spread by the late Tupac Amaru Shakur for the coast he repped, this W is now, internationally, recognized as the only way white high school kids portray the word ‘Westside.’ (Pronounced: west-sigh-yeed) This hand gesture gained such a fantastic following that it spawned the East, South and North to make up a ‘sign’ for their respective coasts. This is obviously foolish because: A) No one would rep the east over the West; B) The south doesn’t know the directions of the compass and C) America doesn’t have a north side, they lost their rights to a name when they decided to touch Canada.

8) The Rock–The Rock is to hand gestures as Kwanza is to Holidays. It was created and popularize by the…uhh…urban population just to be different. The Rock was made because ‘The High Five’ (see below) became too ‘white,’ and since then has become somewhat of an ersatz to it. Sure when you think of The Rock you think of this generations greatest athlete and actor extraordinaire, but, unfortunately, the gesture does not measure up to said legend.

7) The Thumbs Up – These days, the only people who use the thumbs up, with regular consistency are dorks, plumbers and groundhogs. It is quite a sad fate for such an iconic hand gesture. The Thumbs Up used to have such prestige and stature. It was immortalized by the likes of Maverick and Iceman. Nevertheless, with the exception of VERY few instances, use of The Thumbs Up, in a serious setting, has since lead to an immediate admittance of homosexuality.

6) The Crossed Fingers – The Crossed fingers is one of the few gestures that skip a phase in every human’s life. It’s cool to cross your fingers for good luck in grade school. You know, fingers crossed on both hands, eyes clenched shut muttering “Come on, come on, come on!” Then it kind of dies off in high school through college and makes a come back post undergrad. The Crossed Fingers’ best use has always been to suggest that what you are saying is in fact the opposite of what you mean. Example: I cross my fingers and say, “Monkeys, Midgets, Pirates or Ninjas will not improve any situation!” Most notably the crossed fingers grant pardons to the obvious lie of “Yeah sure I’ll tap your head/tell you when I’m gonna go.” I swear it does…try it out for yourself*.

*Note: I cannot be held responsible for any repercussions your favorer might inflict on you as a result, unless she laughs and says “you’re right, I should have known better” and proceeds to blow you again; you can blame the latter on me.

5) The Shocker – The Shocker. Two in the pink, one in the stink! Hilarious to guys, appalling to girls. Most females squirm at the sight of the shocker as it insinuates the probing of a, normally, non-probable area. Any girl seen showing the shocker should, immediately, be given ‘The Rock,’ (see #8). However, I cannot overstate the comedic value the shocker has amongst guys. This is especially true if he can pull it off to a female. Although, I will note that attempting to use the shocker, without prior consent, may result in the lack of accessibility to the nether regions of the recipient for weeks to come.

4) The Kirk Gibson- Had The Kirk Gibson not been canonized by sports greatest moment, since the boycott of the Moscow Olympics, (yeah they had it comming) it would have retained its more common name, the fist pump. The fist pump was always an under valued hand gesture. It never really got its just due until 1988. The Kirk Gibson is probably the easiest hand gesture to butcher. Plenty of people really fuck this one up, just ask Phil Helmuth; read: he’s a douche bag.

3) The Asian Tourist- Sure, tree hugging, hippies brought the peace sign ages before Asians were given a portable camera to take to Disneyland; but seeing as we are verging on four decades post 1970’s and the hippie movement has, fortunately, all but died off, the name sticks with its most contemporary user. The Asian Tourist can be found in 20 out of the 24 pictures on roll of film of any...asian tourist*.

*Note this hand gesture is normally accompanied with an obscenely large smile and fingers spread as far apart as humanly possible.

2) The High Five – The High Five is the second gesture that has the prerequisite that another person be present. Originally created to signify “good job,” The High Five has become somewhat of a risk in social groups. When you ‘request’ The High Five you put yourself out on the line for immediate humiliation should you request be denied (especially if it is verbally). More often than not, a person who thinks someone else deserves one should offer The High Five. You also run the risk of getting psyched out. Should someone offer a High Five, they have every right to move their hand before the recipeint makes contact and yells "PSYCHE!!"* Its hilarious...always. Should someone verbally request a high five, you have every right (lest I suggest obligation) to not only deny/make fun of him or her but also wish pox upon them...and their family.

*Note: normally is followed by a punch in the stomach

1) The Bird – The most immortal of all hand gestures. Regardless of previously mentioned internationality, there is not a person alive that does not understand the pretensions behind flippin the bird. No matter the situation, it will always be more versatile than any other on this list. Its uses include but are not limited to: answering questions, responding to comments, ruining otherwise aesthetically pleasing pictures, express emotion, as well as repel a charging rhinoceros.

-Please note: does not actually repel a charging rhinoceros

MySpace MyLife!

2005-05-09T23:00:00.000-07:00

MySpace. A Place for Friends. Well that’s good to know...I have a lot of friends. A LOT OF FRIENDS. People just tend to like me. I mean, who could blame them. Who wouldn't want to be friends with someone with a picture as hot as mine? I mean look at it! Damn I look hot in that picture. I know everyone else thinks so too. Best part about that picture? No one knows I put it up to just in an attempt to ameliorate my outlook on my own lonesome existence. But what the hell, I look hot in it.

Speaking of pictures, I have some great pictures up in my MySpace account (hahahaha how funny is that? MY MySpace). I like putting them up with very carefully chosen 'headings' or as I like to call them 'descriptions.' I tend to go about them in a two fold manner (but SHHHH don't tell anyone):

1) Just barely grab interest- give them just enough information to peak curiosity, while still enticing them ask what was going on.

2) Force jealousy- People see my pictures and are jealous of all the fun I have. I think my descriptions catalyze these responses. Kudos to me.

People look at my pictures/comments and are really impressed by what I do. I mean, with shots like the one of me and my red solo cup at a party or smiling really big with a bunch of chicks, who wouldn't want to be around me. I have so much fun.

In case I didn't mention it before, I have a lot of friends. Doesn't matter that I don't know half of them and only actively keep in touch with a sixteenth of the other half. Either way, they are my MySpace (giggle) friends. And I have a lot of them. I have a lot of model friends. I guess I just have that aura about me. Almost daily I get friend requests from aspiring models. They must think I look sexy in my picture. I don't blame them, I do. They always leave me comments like: "Thanks for the add sweetie," or "Thanks cutie! *Kiss Kiss*."I wonder why none of them respond to my messages?

I love having full conversations via comments. I’m willing to bet that everyone wants to know what my friends and I have to talk about. I suppose I COULD use the message feature provided within MySpace. But honestly, if you go that route, no one knows what’s going on in your life. And trust me, people are interested. The best comments, though, are the ones that plan what my, real life, friends and I are going to do. That way everyone knows where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing. They get so jealous. People feel left out when people put up inside jokes and let the world know that it is an inside joke by ending with something like, “only you would get that!!! Lololololololol.” They’re just avaricious they don’t get comments like that.

My profile page looks staggeringly awesome. It’s almost not fair how cool it looks. In fact, it isn’t fair. I have this cool website that helps me with this, its called Pimp My MySpace. But I don’t let people know that, I want them to think I’m creative enough to come up with my own customizations. My background is a bright gaudy color with equally lubricious text coloring. The ugly black text is so gay. It doesn’t stop there; I have it setup so when you come to my profile your cursor changes into a bear. How cool is that. Also all the pictures on my profile page are dimmed. Once you mouse over the picture they go to normal shade. It’s a ridiculously neat effect. The models love that about my page.

My profile has all sorts of useful information about me. It lists EVERY SINGLE movie I’ve ever seen and musical act I’ve ever heard. I know how often people search for other people with similar tastes in movies and music, so I don’t want to miss an open opportunity to make a new MySpace friend. Wanna know the coolest thing about my music section? Get this. I have a music video PLAYING, on the page, while you are reading. I figure anyone cool enough to read my profile would enjoy the euphonious rhythm of Poison.

The other useful information I provide is how I relate to popular media. At any given time I have between 5-10 ‘You Are…’s” on my page. Everyone’s heard of Family guy, That 70’s show, Friends, Sex in the City etc. so there is no reason not to let my friends (whether current or soon to be) which character I would be if I were on the show. They all give a nifty little explanation of characteristics of the character. Sure most of them contradict the one another; but that’s OK, it still gives people more insight into my complex, yet simple minded, psyche.

MySpace is the best thing to happen to my life. Hell who needs real friends and a real social life when I have MySpace to play on all day!!! I love you MySpace. You really are a place for 'kinda' friends.

Thank God For AIM

2005-05-09T22:11:00.000-07:00

Man, I love AOL Instant Messenger. I love everything about it. Nothing makes me happier than seeing that little yellow man sitting in my taskbar. It totally looks like he is running. I fucking love AIM.

Best part about today is I get out of class at 12 so I can go see who IMed me. I bet there are at least 10 messages just waiting for me 2 respond. Damn, I can’t wait. I can’t fucking wait anymore. I love AIM. Maybe I should just ditch class. I love reading my IM’s. The sooner I get out of here the sooner I can read the funny conversations I saved from last night. CaliBchChik4U was so hot last night. I can’t wait to meet her. Just thinking about IMing her is making me hard. I bet she is fucking gorgeous.

Class is finally over? Fuck ya! Time to get my IM on.

Damn this parking lot, its too fucking big & crowded, don’t they know I need to see who IMed me. I’m so popular; I bet I have 15 IMs by now. I wonder who they are from.

Goddamn I love AIM so much.

Finally, I can check my AIM. What? No messages? Fuck it everyone must still be in class. Losers. Ohh well, at least I’m kewl enough to be on AIM now.

Away messages are so great. They are so funny. When I’m not talking on IM I like to think of funny away messages to post. People love my away messages. I could sit here checking away messages all day. Look at that SofaKingCoolGrl (that name is so fucking funny) has an away message up. I haven’t talked to her in a long time. No matter. I love reading her away messages.

“I am currently away from my computer.”

HAHAH, what an idiot, how uncreative is that. I’ll let her know just how lame it is to use the default away messages. Loser. I’m gonna check everyone’s away messages until someone IMs me. Won’t matter how long it takes, my buddy list is so long I could sit here for an hour checking away messages and not get to the end.

Man I’m popular.

I’m so popular I can’t fit any more people on my buddy list. I’m that popular. My name is at the top of my buddy list. That way I can make sure no one warns me. It looks so rad with alternating capital and lower-case letters. People tell me how cool that is. Damn that looks awesome. Girls love the way my name shows up on their buddy list.

Most of the people on my buddy list are hot chicks. Hot chicks love talking to me. One day I’m going to meet up with CaliBchChik4U. She says she is going to visit me soon. She’s so good at cybering. Lets she what she is up to.

“It’s a bit cool outside, went for a jog, I’ll be right back”

OMFG! WTF! Doesn’t she know anything? Cool = kewl. Be right back = brb. ROFL. Doesn’t matter I bet she is so hot.

Hot chicks love talking to me.

mmm....Patchouli and Grease

2005-04-20T16:34:00.000-07:00

Societies 2nd most pervasive phenomenon, in my most humble opinion, is Eric Cartman. Eric Cartman, is an outspoken kid who says what he feels. One of his more noteworthy statements is "I hate Hippies." Eric, my son, I could not agree with you more. If there is one thing I hate more than Hippies, its hippies (yes I've decided to stop granting the respect of capitalizing that word, deal with it) with money. Its not so much the prominent stereotypes such as, dreadlocks (although I do believe this looks dumber than the current trend of faux-hawks), pot smoking or the non-shaving woman, that get to me! Its their goddamn au natural crap. Everything has to be natural or organic. I swear to God (see, He deserves the capitalization), the next person to ask me if my *enter food product here* is organic, is going to get my foot stuck through their ulna.

There are many things about the whole 'organic' food fad that piss me off. For starters, the name itself, as it is commonly used, is misleading. The food that most of those 'people' call organic is food that was once living: animals and plants (for those of you whom are not quite up-to-speed on 1st grade Science). Organic beings simply belong to the class of chemical compounds having a carbon basis. Thus all plants and animals, whether grown/raised with additives or not, are organic. Pick a new name. Its not so much that I care that these people have to be 'different,' as I am a firm believer in multifariousness, it's more so that most of them try to make me feel bad, that I don't care. Look pal, you want to eat your soy-based organic chicken shitakke soup which tastes like three day old milk combined with a scintilla of cardboard flavoring, be my guest, but don't push your hog feed on me. Organic foods...Retarded fad!

Speaking of retarded fads, Atkins...Go to hell. This whole no carbs thing has been blown WAY outta proportion. The way Atkins gets passed around in casual conversation, people believe that they can eat the nefarious 96 oz. steak (grizzle and fat included of course) from the great outdoors for 3 meals a day sans exercise and still loose weight. Atkins (along with such other greats as the South Beach Diet) just kinda popped on the scene one day. What happened? Did they invent carbohydrates? Everyone was just fine before this whole thing hit. Yes people were over weight but most of them are not the elderly...how did they survive eating all those carbs? I'll tell you how, A LITTLE DAMN MODERATION. Newsflash parents, your kid having a potato for dinner didn't put those excess pounds on your little angel, it was the two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Fruit Roll-up, Rice Krispie treat, a baggy of Oreos and chocolate milk you made him for lunch. Again, I don't care if people want to avoid carbs like the plague, its fine by me. but for the love all things holy, quit badgering me about it.

That has me thinking... Badgers are pretty sweet.

Proceed with Caution: Female Drivers Ahead!

2005-03-04T14:16:00.000-08:00

On March 3rd, millionaire aviator Steve Fossett became the first person in history to fly solo around the world without stopping or refueling his airplane. Of course, your ordinary 747 wouldn't have made it; Fossett flew the specially-designed "GlobalFlyer". Fossett's 67-hour sojourn had a happy ending. Now, even if he hadn't done it a la carte, I'd be willing to bet that the other person with him would NOT have been a woman. Why? Not because I am sexist (nor is he to my knowledge), but because woman are the worst passengers you can have. They try to invoke their style of driving upon the driver. This includes, but is not limited to: route, changing lanes and of course speed.

If there is one thing I can't stand to hear, while driving, its "Why are you racing to get to the red light?" I can't deal with that comment. It is being suggested to me, that I slow down light years before the stop must occur. I mean, yes, red lights suck and I don't want to hurry to get to something that sucks. What they don't get is that red lights are on a semi time based trigger system. When there is a red light, if a car pulls up to the red light, the little trigger (under the pavement) tells the light that someone is waiting. This in turn makes the red light last a shorter amount of time. Therefore, the sooner I get to that red, the sooner I get a green. Not to mention there is nothing wrong with rushing to get to a stop, because the again...Sooner I get to that stop sign/red light sooner I get to move on from that stop. I think the reason girls do this, often, is that they enjoy things that suck.

Probably the suckiest thing there is John Edward. John Edward, psychic superstar of Crossing Over, is the suckiest of all suckiness. He takes people up on stage, tells them that he can talk to their dead Aunt Edna and Uncle Charles, and basically lies to them that everything is honkey dorey in heaven. Bullshit. Fortunately, I'm not the only one who thinks this. The greatest minds in contemporary comedy are in agreement with me. South park believe that, not only does he suck, but he is the biggest douche in the universe:

John Edward: But I'm a psychic.
Stan: No dude, your a douche.
John Edward: I'm not a douche! What if I really believe dead people talk to me?
Stan: Then your a stupid douche.

Proof enough for me...So in closing, John Edward is a sucky douche, Woman make bad passengers and I freaking kick ass!

Speed Talkin

2005-02-23T13:08:00.000-08:00

Ok so for my birthday (which has yet to occur) the members of my favorite group gave me a few presents. Although both early, they were much appreciated and I love them dearly for their thoughtfulness. Back on February 8, Krayzie Bone released a new album called Gemini: Good vs. Evil. The album is amazing. Excellent beats mixed with contemporary styles, well thought out lyrics, brilliant production, features all of Bone Thugs and of course, lightning quick delivery. From there, I was given another gift yesterday. Layzie Bone and Bizzy Bone created an album together called Bone Brothers. Guess who is featured all over it. If you have half a brain...you probably guessed Bone, and you would have been correct. Now what makes these 4 so appealing to the masses? Definitely the speed at which they rap. Speed talking is a definitive way of being cool. Yes I stated before that being a ninja made you cool...which it does...however, talking/rapping/rhyming/mumbling ridiculously fast is an instant in to the awesome club.

A perfect example of this is everyone’s favorite spokesman from the 80's: John Moschitta. You all know this guy from the Micro Machines commercials back in the 80's. He would come on screen and just talking obscenely fast, then at the end say the only intelligible thing which was the name of the product...mmmmmmmMicro Machines. This guy was freaking sweet...If you were to try to tell me that you didn't mimic him on the playground with your friends at recess, I'd probably kick you in the teeth for lying to me. The best part about this guy is only totally rad people know him for his true artwork. Being the voice of Blurr on the Transformers.

Vehicles, Planes and Dinosaurs (for those who really stuck with the show) that turn into robots is almost as good an idea as reptile ninjas. Transformers are the best forms of transportation one could hope to have. Assuming the automobile form, you could totally take a nap or play game boy or something other than drive cause they drive for you. If its the plane type...you are in a Jet, you'll be anywhere in like 10 min. If by Dinosaur, you'd be the coolest kid on the block. I mean I'd pledge my loyalty if I saw some dude riding around on a dinosaur (unless of course I saw another kid who was a ninja AND had a dinosaur).

The Transformers had it goin on, unless of course you were Megatron, who turned into a stupid gun...wow way to go...you turned into an inanimate object that requires someone else to be alive to be used, I hope you are proud of yourself. He couldn't even talk fast...pft...what a loser!

Driver Carries No Cash...He's Married

2005-02-07T15:55:00.000-08:00

Gearing up for Valentine's Day? Don't let it make you sick. A weekend report in The Psychologist magazine argues that mental health professionals should treat "love sickness" as a real, and potentially serious, psychological disorder. Its symptoms include mania, depression, and obsessive-compulsive behavior.

Love is a many splendored thing. It can also be downright creepy. Pretty much its just weird...but what is the reason for love? Copulation is my guess. That 5-20 seconds (yeah 20 if you're Peter North)of bliss is enough to drive most guys to love.

But not all creatures believe in love just for sex. Lets check out some of these wacky animals.

Lesbienism: For the whiptail lizard, there's a good reason why a good man is hard to find: there aren't any. All of their eggs are genetic duplicates, clones of the female. The lady lizards still have some romance, though. Two females will court to induce egg laying, taking turns playing "the male." What a cool animal. But then again, probably one of the most difficult species to deal with. On one hand...ya got two chicks doin each other, AWESOME. But then there are SOOO many women around that are just achin to complain about something.

Prostitution: Love isn't in the air in an Adelie penguin colony; it's on the ground. That's because Adelie penguins build stone platforms during courtship to protect their eggs. But some penguin females have a different strategy: they're hookers. After settling down with a mate, these females will approach other males and trade sex for stones. Sometimes the female even leaves with her stone before the male gets to hit that majestic moment. Either way, she picks up a stone from the male's nest and moves it back to her mate's. What a great idea, legalized prostitution for the protection of your youth. Clearly these penguins are not from California, otherwise they'd be hauled off to jail and had their sexual fun there via a 250 lb black guy named Tiny.

S&M:After weeks of searching, a male mantis finally gets lucky. Yet just when the magic moment occurs, his lover reaches around and rips his head off for a snack. Yeah we've all heard about this little practice. The dumb broad kills the dude because she needs nourishment for her young. Not going to far into this one, except the fact that I'm glad I'm not having sex with any mantis'

Oral Sex:Living in the pitch black of the ocean deep, anglerfish don't have much use for good looks. And because finding a mate is so difficult in the abyss, mating pairs bond for life, literally. The male, only a fraction of the size of the female, hooks onto her belly with his teeth and never lets go. His body joins with hers, slowly losing internal organs until he becomes little more than a sperm-producing parasite that she carries around for life. If I had to be stuck swimmin around with a female for the rest of my life, I would probably just bitch and moan about it because there would be nothing I could do, although, come to think of, I probably couldn't even bitch and moan seeing as my mouth is attached to her fat stomach.
Fuck!

Cartoons Vs. Parents, Round 1, FIGHT!

2005-01-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

Just about everyone grows up. Perhaps not in the sense that you grow up AND mature; but everyone does go through a series developmental stages (unless of course there are made dead before). If you ask most people, who raised you? They will, almost, invariably say my parents. If you ask a bunch of really smart people, that thrive on quoting popular quips, they might mention, the o' so cliche, it takes a village to raise a child. EENNHH!!! Wrong. Both answers are unacceptable and completely foolish. Children are raised on the media they consume; and no, I do not believe that if a kid grows up playing Mortal Kombat that he will go out and kill someone. People get their values from said parental units or proverbial village. That which they consume only dictates their awesomeness and personality.

My parents think they raised me. Can ya blame em? They just fall victim to that disillusioned view which most other parents believe. Little do they know that I was raised by a quintuplet of animals: 4 turtles and a rat. This 'awesome foursome,' as they called themselves, we more commonly known as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TMNT). They are one of the best things to be raised by, not to mention the coolest reptiles you know. You want to talk about an all around good group of dudes to learn from? TMNT epitomize the best aspects of life.

Lets first talk about personalities. We are going to work in order of radness, starting at the top of the spectrum. Donatello, bearer of the purple bands and the strongest Bo you have ever felt against your cranium (assuming of course that you are part of the foot clan). Don, as he is know, is the smart one. He emphasizes learning, science, math and problem solving. Next up ya got, Michelangelo, wearer of the Orange Bands and can do more with nunchakus than Ron Jeremy can do with his penis. Mike is the, self proclaimed, party dude, which, might I add, is a VERY vital part of life. Leonardo, harnesser of the blue bands and Katana blades so sharp they cut through bricks (don't believe me? Watch the intro). Leo promotes a balanced life style: one of honor and doing the right thing. Finally there is Raphael, donner of the Red band and a pair of sais that are completely useless in most situations, unless trying to jam a door. Raph loves to be a dick, and sometimes in life ya gotta be dick. He also is a tough guy (or turtle if you like) he may not have much of a weapon but he still kicks ass.

You may be wondering now...Well what about their eating habits??? Aren't most turtle's herbivores, with only a hand full being carnivorous or omnivores? Well I'm glad you asked...They have perfect eating habits. They feast primarily on pizza. That's right god's most well rounded meal. You got your fruits/veggies in the tomato sauce (go ahead argue it isn't a fruit) and in the toppings, which include but are not limited too: Peppers, Mushrooms and diced tomatoes. You got your grains in the crust...Yeah they don't eat any of that girlie thin crust stuff so they are getting their daily allotment of carbs. Finally, protein...They never just get cheese. They are all about getting pizza with tons of shit, especially meat based: Pepperoni, Sausage and anchovies.

Finally, not only do they know how to make you a good, well rounded, person and teach you how to eat properly BUT, most importantly, they teach you how to be a NINJA. If you want to be ridiculously sweet you will become a ninja. Its a proven fact...Don't believe me? Look it up! Ninjas are prolly the sweet thing there is. They scale concrete building sides like its nothing, they can run across a wall (contrary to the laws of gravity), no one ever sees them cause they are crazy stealth, and finally they know 230237404098 ways to kill you. Ninjas are THE coolest. However, if you ever happen upon one in public (or private for that matter) don't bother running most can telepathically teleport themselves.

So now, next time some one asks you how you were raised you better have a better response than parents or else a ninja will end you.

Cancerchu...I choose you!!!

2005-01-24T13:30:00.000-08:00

So some really smart dudes got together for a dudes night out. They all put on these SMOKIN hot white coats, slacks and nice dress shoes (except the guy who put on penny loafers, he was sent home to think about what he had done). Before they could start their fun...they had one last obligatory action, getting a cooler full of cold ones. The dudes then went to town. They decided they would go straight to the 'lab'.

While there all the cold blood that was in their cooler was examined. Eventually they discovered a new oncogene in cancer strains. The gene happens to be necessary for cancer to turn normal cells into, well, cancerous ones. So what, you might ask, is this little gene called? Well it technically is POK Erythroid Myeloid Ontogenic factor (Which I'm sure means a lot to you). Its nickname, or what I think is its pronounceable name, is the Pokemon Gene. I bet you can figure out how it got that name.

Real? Yes. Coincidence? Perhaps. Ironic? Nope. I believe this is gods way of telling us something. That cute little yellow guy is bad for you and will kill you. Yes, if we (as a race) keep watching Pikachu and Squirtle, they will eventually into our blood stream and attack all of our awesomely healthy cells. They will probably start by trying to lightning those cells. I must hand it to pikachu, I mean lightning is a pretty cool ability to have. Although Pikachu does have a cool little trick to kill of our cells, he totally ripped the idea off.

Right now, if I were Raiden, I'd be pretty pissed off. If I saw some little yellow shit try to take the ability I coined and claim it for himself, please believe their would be some hell to pay. I would evince him that if he doesn't cut the crap and lose the whole lightning thing, that there will be a seriatim of painful acts commin his way.

Actually, that sounds kinda fun...I wouldn't mind kicking a little yellow guy right now...think about how far he would fly. The Cheat would be perfect for this. Kicking the cheat would definitely slake my thirst for kicking a little yellow guy. But ya know, there is already someone to do that, so I guess I'll have to just find something else to do. Crap.

Victor in Viktor vs. Viktor

2005-01-21T13:24:00.000-08:00

Ukrainians went to the polls in November to cast their ballots in a presidential run-off between would-be reformer Viktor Yushchenko (a favorite in western Europe) and current prime minister Viktor Yanukovich (a favorite in Moscow). At stake: the future of the biggest nation between the EU and Russia. According to the official tally, Prime Minister Yanukovich has won. BUT WAIT...THERES MORE!!! But many Ukrainians, and some international election observers, are now claiming the run-off was rigged.

You might be asking your self...How was it rigged? Well now that's an excellent question, Yushchenko was poisoned 2 months previous, boy does that suck for him. Fortunately ALL was righted when they revoted in December and Yushchenko arose victor.

Random acts of poisoning? Bad bad bad form...Everyone knows if you want to rig something you don't 'accidentally' poison your opponent before the election. That just screams guilty. Granted they (whoever poisoned Viktor) were discrete about it, but their plots were foiled. I mean when was the last time you heard about a REALLY good poisoning? My vote goes to Rasputin. I mean you wanna talk about a good poisoning, Rasputin got it pretty badly. He suffered through poison, a few gun shots and a few beatings.

Comming back to reality, there are much worse ways to die. I mean I don't know that I'd much enjoy the whole skinning trend in modern executions. Also, I bet you'd be hard pressed to find someone who has the testicular fortitude to request that their head be sawed off, like a common branch, instead off placed in a guillotine.

So the next time you get food poisoning, quit yer bitchin'...it could be worse

What does it take to be number 1?

2005-01-19T13:50:00.000-08:00

GET IT GET IT...WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO BE NUMBER 1...Like number one as in best or number one as in the first to come in a series...HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?!?!? Am I being pompous or just asking why this for the first??!?!? Who knows...Anyway

Yes as you might realize the title of my first post is a line by one of history's worst musical (if you chose to call him musical) acts of all time...Nelly (yes, that description of him was stated with such greats as Styx and Cindy Lauper in mind). Unfortunately for me, he made a half way decent song that actually can be taken out of context and used as a very motivational statement. Too bad he didn't intend it to help out other, but rather, to brag about his self proclaimed greatness (or in my opinion lack there of); But I needn't digress on a rant about someone I don't like.

The point of this initial post is pretty much set the stage for the terror that is to ensue through out this blog, journal, opinion page...Whatever you want to call it.

For starters, I enjoy the daily newspaper. In fact, I happen to believe it can be a very valuable source of information as to what is going on in the world. However, I do not like how the current media delivers the news. In any article they will tell you what, where, when and if you are lucky how...Which is cool...I guess if you only like four of the sides of a pentagon. Whatever happened to the why and, although not placed in the 5 w's of media, possibly the more important HOW?

I mean all things considered this will not be just some idiots rant on news and the like. I will probably throw in a few solid notes on what I happen to like at the current time (note: more often than that they will stem from a video game). I will being taking you on paths through my own eldritch psyche to create these posts, so just bear with me.

And so I toast to the opening of my first post.....