Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Actual Country-Ass Phrases I have Heard With My Own Two Ears
"Son, you cain't make chicken salad outta chicken shit."
"That's like tryin' to fish a wet noodle up a wildcat's ass."
"I ain't got nothin' agin ya, I just wanta get up in ya." the person considered this a smooth pick-up line
"They gone put Stone Cold in the jailhouse if he don't stop all that."
"He hain't got a damn licka sense."
"Don't I know you from the penitentiary?" said to me by a guy running one of the rides at the county fair
"I cain't have nothin'." said in a mournful tone
"Well, I swanee." I assume this means "Well, I swear."
"I despise them Nab-eatin' sonsabitches." in reference to the sheriff's department
"I have no apparent idea."
"Them tarcos got beside me." in reference to a bad Mexican lunch buffet
"You ever seen any of them Hawaiian women? Them's some perty sonsabitches." well, this was actually passed along to me second-hand, but I do know the guy who said it
"That's like tryin' to fish a wet noodle up a wildcat's ass."
"I ain't got nothin' agin ya, I just wanta get up in ya." the person considered this a smooth pick-up line
"They gone put Stone Cold in the jailhouse if he don't stop all that."
"He hain't got a damn licka sense."
"Don't I know you from the penitentiary?" said to me by a guy running one of the rides at the county fair
"I cain't have nothin'." said in a mournful tone
"Well, I swanee." I assume this means "Well, I swear."
"I despise them Nab-eatin' sonsabitches." in reference to the sheriff's department
"I have no apparent idea."
"Them tarcos got beside me." in reference to a bad Mexican lunch buffet
"You ever seen any of them Hawaiian women? Them's some perty sonsabitches." well, this was actually passed along to me second-hand, but I do know the guy who said it
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
What was that all about?
I dreamed last night that I was a Los Angeles County Sheriff's Deputy. My partner was a man who used to live next door who I haven't seen in years. Our assignment? To arrest Rosie O'Donnell and her lesbian lover, who was a midget. For some reason, I didn't wake up screaming. Go figure.
Prizes That Should Be Offered for the Next Caption Contest
Because you deserve the best.
See also: Potential consolation prizes!
UPDATE: I forgot the not-safe-for-work warning, didn't I? Well, screw you, nine-to-fivers. Also do not click this, because they don't mean this Everest, okay? Trust me. They don't.
See also: Potential consolation prizes!
UPDATE: I forgot the not-safe-for-work warning, didn't I? Well, screw you, nine-to-fivers. Also do not click this, because they don't mean this Everest, okay? Trust me. They don't.
Just slap a "Get Free Brains Here" sign on my head and call it good
40%
I was tempted to answer this with the "right" responses (the opposite of the ones the idiots in zombie movies do), but I went all real life with it. I'm so lame.
Mingle2 - Free Online Dating
I was tempted to answer this with the "right" responses (the opposite of the ones the idiots in zombie movies do), but I went all real life with it. I'm so lame.
Things I Swear Were Deliberately Calculated To Drive Me Batshit
Referring to Han Solo, throughout the entire running time of Return of the Jedi as “Hans.”
Visiting Relative(s) (VR) who ask me, “What are you looking for?” How would you know? You don’t live here, so even if I tell you that I am looking for, say, the dog’s butt paste, you won’t be able to tell me where it is.
Running Narrative Conversation. “Oh, look, there’s a cloud, wow, that’s a really gray cloud, think it’ll rain? Oh, there’s another one, look at that. Well, they’re pretty gray, so I guess it might rain.”
Announcements of the Obvious. “The A/C just came on!” “The porch light is on!” “The dryer just buzzed, I guess it’s done.” “You just got an email.”
Long Stories About Non-Events That Aren’t Interesting. “You know those Tide sticks for stains? They have them up by us, do they have them here? Yeah? Wow, those things are great, I work with this woman, well, she’s a younger woman, about your age, her name is like yours but we call her something different, you know, but I tell her she has the same name as my daughter-in-law, well, the other day she wore the cutest outfit, you know, a white blouse and slacks and, ” -gasp- “you know, the sort of slacks you wear for work, real nice, and I told her, wow, she looked really good for herself! So, after lunch I see her and she’s wearing something else, and she says yeah, she spilled her lunch on her blouse and I said really spilled or spilled just a little and she says REALLY SPILLED so I said, do you have any of those Tide sticks and she says, no, she doesn’t and I said well give that blouse to me, Missy, and I’ll take it home,” -gasp- “and I’ll work on it and I did, see, and I couldn’t get all the spots out, you know, time constraints and what all, but I tell you what, that blouse looked brand new!”
[Alternate Interpretation: Those Tide sticks work really well.]
People Who Don’t Look Back To Make Sure Everything They Put Into The Toilet Went Away.
Visiting Relative(s) (VR) who ask me, “What are you looking for?” How would you know? You don’t live here, so even if I tell you that I am looking for, say, the dog’s butt paste, you won’t be able to tell me where it is.
Running Narrative Conversation. “Oh, look, there’s a cloud, wow, that’s a really gray cloud, think it’ll rain? Oh, there’s another one, look at that. Well, they’re pretty gray, so I guess it might rain.”
Announcements of the Obvious. “The A/C just came on!” “The porch light is on!” “The dryer just buzzed, I guess it’s done.” “You just got an email.”
Long Stories About Non-Events That Aren’t Interesting. “You know those Tide sticks for stains? They have them up by us, do they have them here? Yeah? Wow, those things are great, I work with this woman, well, she’s a younger woman, about your age, her name is like yours but we call her something different, you know, but I tell her she has the same name as my daughter-in-law, well, the other day she wore the cutest outfit, you know, a white blouse and slacks and, ” -gasp- “you know, the sort of slacks you wear for work, real nice, and I told her, wow, she looked really good for herself! So, after lunch I see her and she’s wearing something else, and she says yeah, she spilled her lunch on her blouse and I said really spilled or spilled just a little and she says REALLY SPILLED so I said, do you have any of those Tide sticks and she says, no, she doesn’t and I said well give that blouse to me, Missy, and I’ll take it home,” -gasp- “and I’ll work on it and I did, see, and I couldn’t get all the spots out, you know, time constraints and what all, but I tell you what, that blouse looked brand new!”
[Alternate Interpretation: Those Tide sticks work really well.]
People Who Don’t Look Back To Make Sure Everything They Put Into The Toilet Went Away.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Filthy Friday Contest Winner
Did I say "later today?" By that I meant "Sometime tomorrow."
Anyway, the Filthy Friday contest thing is probably my fault. I jumped the gun. We'd only been running for three days. We didn't have the traffic for it, yet.
BUT
All anyone had to do was paste their favorite dirty joke in the comments. Only one person entered in time for the deadline, so I dropped the poll idea. The only person who entered was our very own gennimcmahon.
HERE'S WHAT YOU MIGHT HAVE WON HAD YOU ENTERED
Genni, please go to Amazon and pick out something on your wish list (or whatever, really) for $20. I'll buy it and have it sent to you. That's what anyone had the chance to win had they entered. A $20 free ride on Amazon, with not much effort required. I said it was a small prize, but I didn't say how small, and $20 IS pretty small when you think about it.
Like I said, bet you guys enter next time, huh?
Anyway, the Filthy Friday contest thing is probably my fault. I jumped the gun. We'd only been running for three days. We didn't have the traffic for it, yet.
BUT
All anyone had to do was paste their favorite dirty joke in the comments. Only one person entered in time for the deadline, so I dropped the poll idea. The only person who entered was our very own gennimcmahon.
HERE'S WHAT YOU MIGHT HAVE WON HAD YOU ENTERED
Genni, please go to Amazon and pick out something on your wish list (or whatever, really) for $20. I'll buy it and have it sent to you. That's what anyone had the chance to win had they entered. A $20 free ride on Amazon, with not much effort required. I said it was a small prize, but I didn't say how small, and $20 IS pretty small when you think about it.
Like I said, bet you guys enter next time, huh?
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Howdy, foax
I guess I'm the new guy around here. I've got to say that it's an honor to be among some of the funniest bloggers on the internets.
Anyway, now that I'm done sucking up, I'd like to tell you a true story about crazy people.
For several years, I lived in the hive of scum and villainy known as Berkeley, California. I had a good excuse, though. I was going to school there. Well, actually, I was drinking and doing recreational drugs there, and occasionally attending classes, but you get the idea.
Now, there's an area of campus there at the University known as Sproul Plaza. You've probably seen it in old footage of protests from the sixties. Heck, they still have protests there, Berkeley being Berkeley. But most of the time, it's just a place where you can sit and people-watch, which is what I was doing with some friends one warm Spring day.
Sproul Plaza also attracts its fair share of nutters who like to wander around yelling about this or that cause or preaching about various questionable religious ideas. We happened to be watching a sort of argument between two of the regular preachers, an old black guy in an Oakland A's cap known as Eddie and a crazy white-haired guy known as Y'shua. Now, I don't know if that was really his name, but that's what everyone called him, since he was convinced that Jesus's real name was Y'shua and that Jesus was a perversion of Zeus, or some such nutty thing.
Eddie, who was a nice, not too crazy guy, didn't think this was true, and he argued the case for Jesus being, well, just plain Jesus. Y'shua disagreed, saying that people who didn't pray to Y'shua (not him, but the one who lived and died some 2,000 years ago) were sinners and would have all sorts of problems in life and would eventually go to hell.
Well, Eddie said something like, "I've been calling on Jesus for sixty years, and I've lead a blessed spiritual life," and smiled beatifically.
Y'shua wasn't impressed. He said, "Oh, sure he's called on Jesus all his life, but you know what his problem is? He can't stop masturbating." Then, he turned and looked directly at my friends and me, and said, in a low, accusatory voice, "Just like you."
We were all stunned, but one of my friends had the presence of mind to reply, "Hey, I only masturbate socially. I can quit any time!" That broke the tension, and we all had a good laugh. I don't remember what we did after that, but it probably involved beer and/or marijuana.
That's probably why I don't remember.
Anyway, now that I'm done sucking up, I'd like to tell you a true story about crazy people.
For several years, I lived in the hive of scum and villainy known as Berkeley, California. I had a good excuse, though. I was going to school there. Well, actually, I was drinking and doing recreational drugs there, and occasionally attending classes, but you get the idea.
Now, there's an area of campus there at the University known as Sproul Plaza. You've probably seen it in old footage of protests from the sixties. Heck, they still have protests there, Berkeley being Berkeley. But most of the time, it's just a place where you can sit and people-watch, which is what I was doing with some friends one warm Spring day.
Sproul Plaza also attracts its fair share of nutters who like to wander around yelling about this or that cause or preaching about various questionable religious ideas. We happened to be watching a sort of argument between two of the regular preachers, an old black guy in an Oakland A's cap known as Eddie and a crazy white-haired guy known as Y'shua. Now, I don't know if that was really his name, but that's what everyone called him, since he was convinced that Jesus's real name was Y'shua and that Jesus was a perversion of Zeus, or some such nutty thing.
Eddie, who was a nice, not too crazy guy, didn't think this was true, and he argued the case for Jesus being, well, just plain Jesus. Y'shua disagreed, saying that people who didn't pray to Y'shua (not him, but the one who lived and died some 2,000 years ago) were sinners and would have all sorts of problems in life and would eventually go to hell.
Well, Eddie said something like, "I've been calling on Jesus for sixty years, and I've lead a blessed spiritual life," and smiled beatifically.
Y'shua wasn't impressed. He said, "Oh, sure he's called on Jesus all his life, but you know what his problem is? He can't stop masturbating." Then, he turned and looked directly at my friends and me, and said, in a low, accusatory voice, "Just like you."
We were all stunned, but one of my friends had the presence of mind to reply, "Hey, I only masturbate socially. I can quit any time!" That broke the tension, and we all had a good laugh. I don't remember what we did after that, but it probably involved beer and/or marijuana.
That's probably why I don't remember.
Truthful Song Titles
You Shook Me Three Minutes Long
I Won American Idol, I Won American Idol, Hey Did You Know I Won American Idol?
They Sell Cowboy Hats And Boots Just About Anywhere These Days
I Wanna Rock And Roll Til Nine, And Then I'm Taking A Nap
My Manager Said Sales Are Falling And This Single Needs More Publicity, So I'm Probably Going To Shoplift Something After I Record This
I Am Overly Fond of America
This Girl Broke My Heart Until I Realized I Have Enough Money That I Could Pretty Much F*ck the First Lady If I Wanted
I Wrote This As I Was Doing Drugs Off The Floor of A Public Restroom, So It's Extra Deep
They're Going To Name A Stupid Dance Move After This, I Just Know It
I Am Now Going To Lie to You About How Hard It Is Being A Rock Star on the Road
*I will return later today to give away the first prize for our first contest, and tell you what you could have won if you had just cut and pasted a dirty joke. I bet you'll enter the next contest, if there is one.*
I Won American Idol, I Won American Idol, Hey Did You Know I Won American Idol?
They Sell Cowboy Hats And Boots Just About Anywhere These Days
I Wanna Rock And Roll Til Nine, And Then I'm Taking A Nap
My Manager Said Sales Are Falling And This Single Needs More Publicity, So I'm Probably Going To Shoplift Something After I Record This
I Am Overly Fond of America
This Girl Broke My Heart Until I Realized I Have Enough Money That I Could Pretty Much F*ck the First Lady If I Wanted
I Wrote This As I Was Doing Drugs Off The Floor of A Public Restroom, So It's Extra Deep
They're Going To Name A Stupid Dance Move After This, I Just Know It
I Am Now Going To Lie to You About How Hard It Is Being A Rock Star on the Road
*I will return later today to give away the first prize for our first contest, and tell you what you could have won if you had just cut and pasted a dirty joke. I bet you'll enter the next contest, if there is one.*
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
What? It's good family entertainment.
ME: Hey, we're gonna watch Bourne, you wanna join us?
DAUGHTER: What???
ME: We're watching Bourne.
DAUGHTER: Oh! I thought you said "porn"!
DAUGHTER: What???
ME: We're watching Bourne.
DAUGHTER: Oh! I thought you said "porn"!
Monday, July 23, 2007
On a Carmine Unaware
My sister and I used to make a drunken parlor game out of making up words to this song. Looks like we weren't the only ones.
Game Shows That Should Be Made, But Won't Be Because My Mom Says TV Executives Are Just Jealous
Who Wants to Roll Around Naked With Evangeline Lilly?
The Price is Free
The $100,001 Isosceles Triangle
Press Your Junk
West Virginia Family Feud (it's just one team)
Tic Tac Drunk
The Weakest Dink
Win, Lose, or Be Harmed In Some Way
Wheel of Forlorn
To Tell The Cops
Let's Make a Big Deal Out of Nothing
The Price is Free
The $100,001 Isosceles Triangle
Press Your Junk
West Virginia Family Feud (it's just one team)
Tic Tac Drunk
The Weakest Dink
Win, Lose, or Be Harmed In Some Way
Wheel of Forlorn
To Tell The Cops
Let's Make a Big Deal Out of Nothing
Actual Conversations With Visiting Relatives*
"I told him as soon as I saw that toy not to buy it!"
"Why not?"
"It uses water, I told him, and you guys don't have any water here!"
"Huh?"
"It's NEW MEXICO! You guys don't have any water, and what water you have is expensive!"
"Oh. Yeah. Right. You better put that thing away or someone will call the water police."
"Water police?"
"Oh, yeah, very hefty fines for using water. Oh, and, when you're done with that glass, just pour what's left back in the pitcher in the 'fridge. Codes will be by in the morning to measure for waste."
"?"
"WE HAVE FUCKING WATER HERE, JESUS CHRIST! Look at the lawn, the trees, WE GO SWIMMING FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!"
"Well, water's more expensive here than back by us."
Must. Start. Drinking. Now.
*Okay, it's all an actual conversation until the part where I get really clever. That part happens in my head.
"Why not?"
"It uses water, I told him, and you guys don't have any water here!"
"Huh?"
"It's NEW MEXICO! You guys don't have any water, and what water you have is expensive!"
"Oh. Yeah. Right. You better put that thing away or someone will call the water police."
"Water police?"
"Oh, yeah, very hefty fines for using water. Oh, and, when you're done with that glass, just pour what's left back in the pitcher in the 'fridge. Codes will be by in the morning to measure for waste."
"?"
"WE HAVE FUCKING WATER HERE, JESUS CHRIST! Look at the lawn, the trees, WE GO SWIMMING FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!"
"Well, water's more expensive here than back by us."
Must. Start. Drinking. Now.
*Okay, it's all an actual conversation until the part where I get really clever. That part happens in my head.
how to start your day pissed off
Clocky gives you one chance to get up. But if you snooze, Clocky will jump off of your nightstand and wheel around your room looking for a place to hide.
That would work for me. For one day. Because after the first time it hid on me, I'd find it and kick it until it lay dead in pieces on my bedroom floor.
Besides, I find it a little creepy that my alarm clock could fuck with me like that. Maybe it wouldn't be satisfied with just waking me up and then hiding on me. Maybe one day it would get bored and try fucking my cat. I don't need that. The cat sure as hell doesn't.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Your thought for the weekend
The best thing about being stupid is that you always have an excuse not to do anything.
Inappropriate!
It's probably a bummer being Jesus. Everyone treats you like Santa Claus, only talking to you about once a year, and that's only because they want something.
Friday, July 20, 2007
sonic, unsullied
Just to get that last post out of my head. And remember Sonic the way he was given to us.
A little Hedgehog romance never killed anyone
A shadow saw her crying her heart out and watched in silence. Long sobs were heard all over the garden as the small female cried non-stop. The shadow picked up a rose and walked towards her. Her emerald orbs spotted him from the corner of her eyes and she turned to see him. The shadow turned out to be a young hedgehog of an ebony color with red stripes.
You
Will
Never
Be
The
Same
Again
Kill It! No, You Kill It!
Okay, you know what? I'm sorry. I thought I had something funny to say about this ENORMOUS GODDAMN COCKROACH that emerged from the hemorrhoidal anus of dear, sweet Mother Nature last night in order to skitter onto my patio . . . and I thought I had something funny to say about how the dude I live with up and grew a pussy at the sight of it, all with his little Y chromosomes frantically drawing an extra leg on themselves with Sharpies just to look the part . . . and then I thought, I thought maybe the part where he refused to stomp it out of fear of the horrid CRUNCH sound a monster like this makes when you crush its revolting exoskeleton beneath your cruel, cruel feet, that part I thought maybe I could make funny . . . but you know what the truth is? The truth is that that's a 3-1/2 inch-long cockroach that could have crawled into our bed (our suddenly very, very lesbian bed) and that's not even a little bit funny, it's just horrible! and because I can't quit thinking about how horrible that would be, like imagine, you're half asleep and you feel a little tickle, and you look down and THERE IT FUCKING IS OH MY GOD anyway I haven't slept all night, you guys, and I'm so fucking tired, but would you LOOK at it? JUST LOOK AT IT! And I--okay, Kevin, you're right. No, you're right. I'm really sorry. I'll just--no, no, it's my fault. I kind of let myself get--yeah, maybe I'll try to post something later? Okay. Okay. I'm okay! Everything's going to be just fine.
Filthy Friday (our first)
This is our first Filthy Friday here at TBSF. Leave your best dirty joke or image link or whatever in the comments. It has to be funny, and NO ACTUAL PORN. Later today I will make a post and poll for voting, and on Monday, a winner will be declared. I will mail a small (oh dude, it's small) prize to the winner. There may not be prizes every Filthy Friday, but since this is the first one I thought I'd go all out (and by all out, I mean partially out). Don't be shy, and remember to leave an actual email address I can contact you with, or your entry will be disqualified.
This will probably not end well, like the time I decided I was going to kick an oyster rock with my bare foot.
This will probably not end well, like the time I decided I was going to kick an oyster rock with my bare foot.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Because I went tonight
At the risk of turning this into a pure Youtube blog (Tay Zonday, we get 10% of all booking fees)...
Brush Your Teeth, Yo
I love this so much.
I'm sure you all saw this a year ago. I'm way behind the times sometimes.
I'm sure you all saw this a year ago. I'm way behind the times sometimes.
Mandy Patinkin: Kind of a Dick
He just quit his show and didn't tell anyone, apparently.
You know, I quit a job once without telling anyone. But that was a pizza delivery job, and it was only my first day, and when they sent me out to train with this guy his car engine started smoking at a stoplight, and when I asked him if his engine smoked before he started delivering pizzas he said no, so I figured f*ck delivering pizzas. I didn't even go back to get my check for that one day.
You know, I quit a job once without telling anyone. But that was a pizza delivery job, and it was only my first day, and when they sent me out to train with this guy his car engine started smoking at a stoplight, and when I asked him if his engine smoked before he started delivering pizzas he said no, so I figured f*ck delivering pizzas. I didn't even go back to get my check for that one day.
You'd think a dude with a testosterone-laced name like Mandy wouldn't be so sensitive about things like creative differences.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Deviating From The Pee Theme
Original Found Object art piece by my then 3 year old son:
Yes, this is certainly what caused the extinction of the dinosaurs.
They all died of shame.
another pee story from the vault
If Kevin started this thing off with an old post about peeing, I guess I should just follow his lead:
Day one of Exercise Plan V.75.2. I'm going to make this one work.
The day's supposed to start off with a long morning walk. Not one of those power walks, where a person walks so awkwardly they look like a crazed puppet. No, just a regular, albeit brisk, walk through the neighborhood. Two miles tops.
5:30 a.m. and I head outside. I'm surprised by both the warmth in the air and that it's not as dark as I anticipated at this hour. The birds are chattering, the squirrels are fighting over something dead in the road and there's a light rain falling, which is fine with me. I walk.
This is so nice, I think to myself. Peaceful. Relaxing. I become excited at the thought of doing this every morning. Getting in touch with nature and my thoughts and the world around me. I used to do this, many years ago. I try to remember why I stopped.
About a mile from home I remember. I have to pee. Not a big surprise, as I can't go more than half an hour without having to pee as a rule, and I've already had two cups of coffee and a quart of water. I am the owner of the world's smallest bladder. So now I am a mile from home at six in the morning, and I have to take a piss. Badly.
I stand on the corner and resist doing the pee-pee dance. I go over my options. There are none. It's not like I can knock on someone's door and ask to use the bathroom. There are no stores open yet. I stand there and contemplate my fate. I think the birds are laughing at me.
It starts to pour. Out of nowhere, the sky opens up and drops a few buckets of liquid on me. The sound of the heavy drops hitting the pavement makes my bladder long to be emptied. Drip. Drip. Drip. Bladder water torture.
I start to walk east, even though my house is west, because I am stuck on one of those winding streets with no outlet and now I have to go the opposite way and all around before I can head back home. The downpour thins out to a steady drizzle. . Drip. Drip. I curse the skies. I look up and I swear that one mocking cloud is shaped like a toilet bowl. I cringe. My bladder screams. I walk.
I find that if I walk fast, it exacerbates the situation and the urge to pee right there on the sidewalk gets stronger. But if I slow down, I will never get home. I eye the huge hedges surrounding the house to my right. No. No. I cannot resort to that high school antic of peeing in someone's yard. I'm not a drunk teenager. I am a sane, sober adult. I. Will. Not. Pee. In. Someone's. Bush. Drip, drip, drip goes the rain. My resolve is shrinking.
The sun is starting to break through. Bright pinks and reds make their way through the line of clouds and behind the shades of sunrise is a brilliant blue sky. Vanish blue. The kind of blue that the toilet water in your mother's house is. That kind of blue. I cross my legs.
I go north one block and then turn west and I am headed in the right direction at least. I try not to think about toilet bowls. The wind kicks up and an empty Poland Springs water bottle flies by and hits me in the shin. Water. Liquid. Pee. I step in a small puddle and the sound of my foot hitting the water is amplified in my head. Someone's automatic sprinkler goes on. Water, water everywhere and not a toilet in sight.
I can finally see the side street I have to turn down. I'm close to home. My teeth are floating at this point. I remember how my mother used to say "I have to piss like a race horse" and I start wondering just how much a race horse pisses. This makes me walk faster, almost break out into a trot and my bladder jiggles and wiggles and begs for mercy. My eyes are watering.
Finally, my house is in sight. I chant out loud "please don't let anyone be in the bathroom, please don't let anyone be in the bathroom" and I sprint the last few steps, over the porch, down the stairs, into the house where, thankfully, my bathroom door stands wide open, waiting for me. I don't bother closing the door. I just pee, sighing orgasmically.
I go to the safety of my living room, cross "morning walk" off of my exercise list and start shopping for a treadmill. And entertain thoughts of a catheter.
Day one of Exercise Plan V.75.2. I'm going to make this one work.
The day's supposed to start off with a long morning walk. Not one of those power walks, where a person walks so awkwardly they look like a crazed puppet. No, just a regular, albeit brisk, walk through the neighborhood. Two miles tops.
5:30 a.m. and I head outside. I'm surprised by both the warmth in the air and that it's not as dark as I anticipated at this hour. The birds are chattering, the squirrels are fighting over something dead in the road and there's a light rain falling, which is fine with me. I walk.
This is so nice, I think to myself. Peaceful. Relaxing. I become excited at the thought of doing this every morning. Getting in touch with nature and my thoughts and the world around me. I used to do this, many years ago. I try to remember why I stopped.
About a mile from home I remember. I have to pee. Not a big surprise, as I can't go more than half an hour without having to pee as a rule, and I've already had two cups of coffee and a quart of water. I am the owner of the world's smallest bladder. So now I am a mile from home at six in the morning, and I have to take a piss. Badly.
I stand on the corner and resist doing the pee-pee dance. I go over my options. There are none. It's not like I can knock on someone's door and ask to use the bathroom. There are no stores open yet. I stand there and contemplate my fate. I think the birds are laughing at me.
It starts to pour. Out of nowhere, the sky opens up and drops a few buckets of liquid on me. The sound of the heavy drops hitting the pavement makes my bladder long to be emptied. Drip. Drip. Drip. Bladder water torture.
I start to walk east, even though my house is west, because I am stuck on one of those winding streets with no outlet and now I have to go the opposite way and all around before I can head back home. The downpour thins out to a steady drizzle. . Drip. Drip. I curse the skies. I look up and I swear that one mocking cloud is shaped like a toilet bowl. I cringe. My bladder screams. I walk.
I find that if I walk fast, it exacerbates the situation and the urge to pee right there on the sidewalk gets stronger. But if I slow down, I will never get home. I eye the huge hedges surrounding the house to my right. No. No. I cannot resort to that high school antic of peeing in someone's yard. I'm not a drunk teenager. I am a sane, sober adult. I. Will. Not. Pee. In. Someone's. Bush. Drip, drip, drip goes the rain. My resolve is shrinking.
The sun is starting to break through. Bright pinks and reds make their way through the line of clouds and behind the shades of sunrise is a brilliant blue sky. Vanish blue. The kind of blue that the toilet water in your mother's house is. That kind of blue. I cross my legs.
I go north one block and then turn west and I am headed in the right direction at least. I try not to think about toilet bowls. The wind kicks up and an empty Poland Springs water bottle flies by and hits me in the shin. Water. Liquid. Pee. I step in a small puddle and the sound of my foot hitting the water is amplified in my head. Someone's automatic sprinkler goes on. Water, water everywhere and not a toilet in sight.
I can finally see the side street I have to turn down. I'm close to home. My teeth are floating at this point. I remember how my mother used to say "I have to piss like a race horse" and I start wondering just how much a race horse pisses. This makes me walk faster, almost break out into a trot and my bladder jiggles and wiggles and begs for mercy. My eyes are watering.
Finally, my house is in sight. I chant out loud "please don't let anyone be in the bathroom, please don't let anyone be in the bathroom" and I sprint the last few steps, over the porch, down the stairs, into the house where, thankfully, my bathroom door stands wide open, waiting for me. I don't bother closing the door. I just pee, sighing orgasmically.
I go to the safety of my living room, cross "morning walk" off of my exercise list and start shopping for a treadmill. And entertain thoughts of a catheter.
Because there has to be a first post sometime
On a Scale of One to Ten, Urinate
This is the story about how I once peed in a Wesson Oil bottle over a video game.
A long time ago, when I first started contracting out to the apartment complex, all of the maintenance guys used to play video games at lunch. We were particularly taken with WWE RAW on Playstation. In WWE RAW, you could create custom characters and play with up to three of your friends or enemies. For a Playstation game, the creation portion was fairly deep. You could pick your body type and adjust the size/shape, both male or female; you could pick a hairstyle; you could customize your outfit with various accessories; you could pick your own ring entrance and move set; and you could adjust the color or pattern on every single part - with almost endless variations.
Everyone else created reasonably realistic depictions of "normal" wrestlers. I made Lex Luthor and The Incredible Hulk. I also made a female wrestler called Crack Ho, who was skeletal thin with grey ashy skin, wearing a bra and panties with dollar signs all over them. I used to like watching wrestling when it was big stupid dudes wearing outlandish outfits and the whole thing was like a live-action comic book. I haven't watched in years, because now the characters are too "realistic," and it's just no fun. Too much thug life leather, not enough feather boas.
Every day at lunch, for months, we would have tournaments in our friend Chuck's apartment. Tag Team, Singles Matches, etc. We even wrote down the match lists, and bet sodas on the outcome. The object of the game, as in life, was to talk as much sh!t as possible while simultaneously destroying your opponent. I'm kidding, of course. It did really get heated from time to time, with screaming and cursing and threats of violence.
"Dude, I swear to GOD if you don't tag in I'm gonna beat your ass for real."
"If you stop what you're doing and help me cheat, right now, I will buy your lunch tomorrow, anywhere you want to eat. Even the steakhouse. I mean it."
When Chuck "betrayed" our old boss Jack by turning his back on him during a tag team match, Jack looked over at Chuck and said, with all sincerity, "I hope you die."
Me, I once swung a controller around and into the floor like William Wallace swung the mace around in Braveheart. I also once jumped up from the couch and kicked a whole game system into the air (that'll teach it), but that was over another game we'd played. I was on a RAW losing streak for nearly two months when, out of frustration, I created a character I named "F*ckin Loser," who was pretty much just a depiction of me in a T-shirt and jeans. Ironically, "F*ckin Loser" was unstoppable for weeks afterward.
Anyway, this stuff just became an obsession with all of us (this is back when my work was fun). We talked about it during the day, needling each other, lying about secret plans, plotting shocking backstabbing heel turns during Tag Team matches. We ended up staying after work to play, sometimes for a couple of hours.
I had recently lost a "Bra and Panties" match. What this meant is that the loser of the match had to go to the creation part and change the outfit of his MALE character to just a bra and panties, and he had to play with that character EXCLUSIVELY until he won another match.
So I was playing with the Incredible Hulk wearing a pink bra and panties.
After work one day, I could stand it no longer, and challenged someone to a match. I had to get the Hulk out of those pink panties, man. HAD TO. It was of the utmost importance that my imaginary superhero wrestler maintain his quiet dignity.
We were right in the middle of the match when Chuck's friend knocked on the door. I forget his name, so we'll call him Rob.
Rob burst through the door wearing a fast food uniform. Game was paused. I was winning when it was paused.
"I got to have some pee, Charles," he said, a frantic look on his face. We all started laughing.
Rob explained further. "They about to test me, and I been smokin up. I need that pee."
Chuck laughed and said no. We laughed because none of us had ever seen anyone beg for urine before.
"PLEASE CHARLES," Rob wailed, and produced a small balloon from his pocket. "All you got to do is p!ss in this balloon, and I can sneak it up in there some way, but I got to have it. I can't lose this job, man."
Chuck again laughed and said no. We laughed again because, well, pee in a balloon.
"Now Charles," Rob said, leaning forward and getting serious. "You know you can fit your little d!ck in this balloon hole and get a brother out of a tight. I got bills to pay, Charles. You'd put that jimmy in there if some chickenhead rolled through the door."
We were on the floor. Well, some of us were. I was beginning to get irritated. I was WINNING a few minutes ago. I needed to get back to WINNING, so I could strip the bra and panties off the Hulk. IT WAS VERY VERY IMPORTANT THAT I GET THE BRA AND PANTIES OFF THE HULK.
After several more minutes of PLEASE CHARLES I could take it no longer. I turned to Rob and said, "Hey man, if I pee for you, will you leave and let us finish this match?"
"Dog, I'm out the door soon as you finish." He looked so grateful.
"I'm not peeing in a balloon. I'll pee all over myself trying to get it in there. Find something else to put it in. You can put it in the balloon later."
Rob looked over at Chuck. "Let me get one of your cups, Charles."
"Hell no you can't have one of my cups! I got to drink out of those!"
Rob started looking around Chuck's kitchen area. "What else you got? You got a soda bottle?"
"No."
"What about this?" Rob had fished a Wesson Oil bottle out of a cabinet. It looked like it was empty.
"Fine."
Rob ran a little water in the bottle, sloshed it around, and poured it into the sink. He handed it over to me.
I took it into the bathroom and did the deed, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all because I didn't want to splash my leg with pee. When I finished, I held it up and looked at the results.
There, floating in my drug-free pee, were great globules of Wesson Oil.
I took it back into the living room. "When they test this," I said to Rob as I put the bottle in his hand, "they're gonna take you straight to the hospital."
Rob gave me a confused look and left, carrying a complete stranger's urine in a bottle of cooking oil. I lost the match. Another week passed before I was finally able to peel the bra and panties off The Incredible Hulk.
republished from my other blog - it was just so empty here, like my black little soul!
Monday, July 16, 2007
"Cage goes in the water, you go in the water. Shark's in the water."
So I bought myself a little something as a reward for not smoking. I was going to wait until a week had passed, but it was only on sale until Sunday. For $18 I got the Discovery Channel Shark Week 20th Anniversary Collection boxed set. At Best Buy you get a bonus disc, "Dirty Jobs: Jobs That Bite."
I can completely relate to the title of this Discovery Channel program.
I hadn't been inside Best Buy for a month or so. They have all their flat-screen televisions mounted on the walls now, so there's this impressive line of HDTV running almost the entire length of the store, but they still insist on splitting the HD signal 1287 times so the picture quality still looks like sh!t on every single television. I don't get that. I never have. I mean, for a television, isn't the way the picture looks the single most important aspect? Over and above being mounted to the wall? "Man, you can't see sh!t and everything's all jittery, but it sure does look good on that wall. Like a Jackson Pollock painting, only not on purpose."
Anyway, Shark Week. You can find this 4-disc boxed set for around $20 retail just abot anywhere, and it's well worth it for the most part. There are 14 different shows spanning the 20 years that Discovery Channel has been showing Shark Week, around 12 hours worth of material. You get a lot of bang for your $20.
I have only watched a couple of the shows so far (my TV time has been curtailed through the Summer), but I have already come to the decision that I really only like watching animals eat people in crappy 1970s movies starring Bradford Dillman. Stephanie Star Smith, I wish to marry you.
I just can't really get into real-life-animals-on-humans snackery. The narrator always makes a point to say the sharks are misunderstood creatures, but that doesn't stop the rest of the film crew from using horror movie music and quick "Psycho" camera cuts during the recreations. It gives off a number of conflicting vibes: Am I supposed to be enjoying this? Why can't they pick actors who vaguely resemble the people they are supposed to be portraying? Do I need to understand the shark's motivation in this scene? Are the shark actors paid scale? Is that unintentional pun one of the worst jokes I have ever posted on this blog?
Yes. Yes, it is.
One of the expert dudes they talked to was this guy from South Africa who was a pretty straight shooter. They were giving all this advice on how to avoid shark attacks, talking about breaking up your profile and junk, and he was all like "Once that shark sets his sight on you, there's nothing you can do about it except get bitten."
So, I didn't get into the shark attack programs too much. I did like the other shows I watched, though, so I'll get into them later on today. With pictures!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
