Monday, July 27, 2009

Birth Control

I think maybe it's time for this blog to become a multimedia extravanganza because guess what? I'm too lazy to think of something to write on my own and by "lazy" I mean "lazy". No wait. By "lazy" I mean "attempting to have a social life and better care for my darling children assuming they are still around here somewhere and alive". With that in mind I present this video which might totally be fake , but I think we can all agree that if it isn't, having kids is a rare and special gift until you cancel their World of Warcraft account. Then they become furious demons.



I don't know if it's ever the right revenge technique to stick a remote control up your ass, but I'm no master of anger management. Maybe when you have fury like this it's best to unleash it, even if it is with a shoe on your face. The point is, look how handsome I am, and also eat your veggies, and also kids having temper tantrums are funny, even if it isn't real. Bonus points to the brother for being a super-dick and recording it. The internet thanks you, d-bag.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

I Have A Ryan Seacrest

I think I'm finally an Advanced Post Writer because now when I don't write anything for a while* and people think I've fallen down a hole or been caught red-handed in a jewel heist or maybe arrested for public nudity,which is totally a crime of passion incidentally and will get you persecuted even if you ARE carrying a sign that says "Free Wang!", I actually gain followers. This can only mean that the best way for me to build an audience is to stop writing, and I think we can all agree that is an Advanced Post Writing concept.

I mean I always had an inkling that this was the case, because whenever I talk about silly things that don't mean anything I gain readers and maybe some of you were wondering where the other side of that observation is like "and when I write about serious topics I lose readers" but there isn't another side to that observation because like I said the less smart I am the more people read me, so I'm pretty much stuck being illogical. Lucky for me that is where my true talents lie. That and building walls out of pillows to barricade the door and keep my nosy landlord from coming in and collecting the rent. That's my other talent. The secret is to use Smuckers© Allfruit© as mortar. I think strawberry works best but I'm no jelly-mortar expert so don't quote me on that. Also when I wrote "secret" just then, I mis-typed and wrote "seacrest" and maybe some of you think that was a gay Freudian© slip, but I think everyone who is beautiful knows that it wasn't. So go ahead and call me names, you very unattractive person who is racist against gay people, you're probably just jealous. I would be if I wasn't me.

I just tried to go off on a Yoda-type rant there about how hating gays leads to fear and fear leads to suffering but it came out all wrong and it was all "Hate leads to eels and eels lead to mimes and mimes lead to gross potato salad that your Aunt with all the pets makes and tastes too strongly of cat hair and celery...but I cut that rant out because now that I am using all my talents as an Advanced Post Writer© I am more capable of picking and choosing what brilliant content I provide you.


I can also do card tricks. But that's not a talent that translates well over the internet and if you don't believe me check it out. Pick a card, any card....

Right. Now when I ....NO! Don't show it to me!

Ugh. You fucked up my trick. I hate working with Amateur Blog Readers.



* The story of where I have been is forthcoming (TWSS!) and it is a beautiful story of an epic love affair that crosses oceans and continents to reunite me with my lost beloved. Either that or my girlfriend says I can write about us now as long as I'm sure to mention how she is funny, and beautiful and brilliant and totally not made up. Well maybe parts of her are made up. Like the "her name" part and also the "everything about her that is real" part. I'm going to try and think of a cool blog name for her. Is "Laser Boobs" taken? She'd like that I bet.


PS: I've been informed that I'll have to do better than "Laser Boobs"

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

A Treatise on Sexy

So as part of my latest research project to benefit all of mankind, I've been asking my girlfriend, the crime-solving nymphomaniac gymnast, what is sexy. And the best way I know to ask these delicate questions is with a hand puppet because that way none of the embarrassing emotions get in the way and if she answers "No! That isn't sexy!" then the puppet bites her on the boob and I make muffled talking noises like the teacher on Charlie Brown and we all laugh! Except the puppet, because he is all boob-mouth. And my girlfriend because she thinks I'm a jackass. Okay...I'm the only one who laughs, but I think we can all agree that I totally count extra because of how handsome I am.

In the course of my studies I have come across a few things that are definitely not sexy and I thought I would share them because if nothing else I am a giver:

1) It is NOT sexy to compare a woman's body to any type of transport vehicle even if it is something awesome like an aircraft carrier or a tank. Even a race car...NOT sexy. They get totally stuck up because those are BIG things and it doesn't matter that you are just trying to say her new bikini wax makes her vagina look fast. Totally irrelevant. You can even say "Baby, your hooters* look like two magnificent zeppelins!" and you'll get mixed results. Also don't try to show her a picture of the Hindenburg on fire and be all "Look! Hot!" She'll probably realize your just trying to cover your ass and I guess the couch is an okay place to sleep.. HAHAHAHAHA! Get it? I'm sleeping on the couch like in a sitcom! Hysterical! That way I'm far away from her vagina! She's punishing me! (*slide whistle*)

2) Another thing that is not sexy is trying to squeeze into a corset if you are a man for hilarious effect when you get naked for the first time with a women you just met because all that does is give you a muffin-top AND and a muffin bottom and it looks like two stress reliever squish balls in a Chinese finger trap and even though it makes your breasts look big, watch out! Because Men aren't supposed to even have boobs and also there is nothing sexy about whole hams. I know that seems like it came out of nowhere...that ham part, I mean...but in the original writing of this post I had said "...two whole hams in a Chinese finger trap..." so it totally made sense and then I went on to say "...there is nothing sexy about whole hams. That's why the Jews don't eat them. It's in the Bible under "Things that aren't sexy." I think that's in chapter Beebowiticus or something." I'm a laff riot.

3) Another non-sexy thing is if you are making love to someone...in my case a beautiful siren from beyond the sea...or in your case a potato or someone drunk or your mom... it is best to not yell out "Wait for it....!" when you are getting close to the end part because it builds up too much sexy anticipation and maybe that sexy siren from beyond the sea doesn't appreciate you hollering like that in her broom closet before the bell releasing the students for the day sounds. And also maybe she is racist against orgasms or something because she totally ruined the moment by clapping an eraser in my face and whispering "Who's the teacher's pet now?" But don't worry about me because I was only kidding. That never happened. (*looks around*)

4) Slide whistles when you prematurely ejaculate, while funnier then I can even express based on my research of other people and not me because I can go for like a week, are not sexy. Same goes for "Aaa-ooga!" horns or throwing a handful of Poprocks© in or around the vaginal© area and screaming "Fourth of July! Fourth of July!"

Funny and sexy are tricky to match up is the moral of this story.



*I'm trying to bring back "hooters" as a way to say "boobs" because it's classier and doesn't carry around any of the stigma of "breasts" which sounds stuck-up and like something a refined English butler would say. I'm just keeping it real, yo.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Viva La Revolution


So A friend of mine invited me to the Facebook group "I Bet I Can Find 1,000,000 People Who Hate Cancer" and that is pretty much the best name for anything I've ever heard. Who gets an invite to that group and is all "Nope! I love cancer! Cancer and I grew up together in the rough and tumble neighborhoods of West Philly, where you had to show that you weren't scared-a nothin'!" And then that person would tell the story about the time he and cancer got pinched for filching penny candy at the five and ten or something, and I don't know why I just made cancer a newsboy, but I think that would be a good job for him. That or killing people. I'm sure he has an inclination toward one or the other.

You might as well have a group called "I Bet I Can Find 1,000,000 People Who Don't Think They're Assholes" because that's another easy group to join. In fact , that is such a good idea that I just made up that very group on Facebook. You should go here and join unless you are an asshole. Then you totally shouldn't. Because no one likes a liar and if just one asshole joins my group of people who don't think they are assholes then this whole humanitarian effort of mine is for naught and guess who loses? That's right...HUMANITY! It's like my mom used to say "One rotten asshole will spoil the pie" or maybe it was "Don't put all your assholes in one basket" or maybe it was "Don't count your assholes before they've popped." And I don't even know what a popped asshole is, but it sounds painful and like you would need a special cast that involved some type of internal wire mesh structure and you're life would pretty much be like a David Lynch movie all the time.

I totally made sure there were no eels in my group because as I've discussed several times before all eels are assholes and I know that's totally racist against eels, but they are live lives of treachery and deception and always trick people into thinking they are nice because they look smiley and then Pow! They're eating your face. I hope you're happy now. I totally was planning on using this face later for picking up chicks but now it's all eel bit and effed up and the only girls who will date me are ones I lie to on the internet.*




*HAHAHAHAA!! I never lie on the internet. There are too many rules and regulations to prevent me from engaging in such behavior. If we can't be honest on the internet, then where CAN we be honest? -Signed, The Most Handsome Man in the World.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Sorry Kids! I'm Kidding! Here. Have Some Golden Grahams.

So I've started like 3 different posts and they were mostly about the hilarious hijinks of kittens and how hard it is to clean the house and WHEW! are these kids difficult over summer vacation!, but I wasn't really into them too much and I had to break up with them by telling them "It's not you... it's me." and I think we all know how ridiculous that is. It's never me. It's always you. But anyway(s) right in the middle of all these genius posts I keep getting asked to make people breakfast and that makes creativity difficult and I'm just wondering how long I have to keep feeding these kids because I'm pretty sure they could survive in the wild on their own. They are crafty and cute which are always the best kind of street urchin and I totally think at least one of them will excel at crime, so why are they still even hanging around? Even in March of the Penguins the Dad Penguins were like "Okay! Time to get the fuck off my feet!"

Actually, I feel so guilty even writing that as a joke that I feel like I should apologize on the off-chance my kids read it. I'm kidding. I love you, guys. Go back to eating me out of house and home now and arguing about who touched who first and bickering about why America's Next Top Model is a good show and punching each other because we've been confined in this goddamn house for a thousand years now and the only way to get us out is to steal our treasure which is totally cursed and then we can hunt you to the ends of the Earth because we're really mummies.

Seriously. If God or Krishna or The Flying Spaghetti Monster or whoever makes it rain for one more consecutive day, I am totally going to Hell out of spite. St Peter will be all "The kingdom of Heaven is yours because you are so virtuous and handsome." and I'll be all "Get bent, Pete! I'm going down there because at least down there it never Effing* rains!" and then he'll be all "Dude. Seriously. It's an eternity of suffering and plus you get to have sex with angels up here and that's just awesome!" and I'll be all "Well, you make a good point...okay. But I'm still not forgiving Him for all those summer days in 2009 when the kids became like gerbils and tried to eat each other because they were trapped in the house all the time." and then St. Peter will be all "Agreed." and then we will fist-bump and I'll go have sex with a religious metaphoric literary construct. and we'll totally do it somewhere cool like on a cloud or on stage at Carnegie Hall. And people watching the show will be all "Did you see that! There was an angel humping a very handsome ghost on center stage just now!" and the other person with the hold-up-to-your-eyes-with-a-stick binoculars will be all "Shut Up! 'It's a Hard Knock Life' is about to start." So I totally just humped an angel in the middle of the matinee showing of Annie! Top That!


*In Heaven, I would always say "Effing" instead of "fucking" because if don't show God respect he feeds you lions or makes a whale eat you or something else awful. It's all in his brochure.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

What I Did With My Summer Vacation

So I have been in absentia for the weekend, and that's Spanish for "Have a nice day" I think, because I am super-friendly and also because I really do want you to have a nice day. Stop looking at me like I'm being sarcastic! I'm totally not. Okay, I am...but still.

The reason I haven't been around is I've been on an amazing adventure filled with romance, and swashbuckling* and box-jellyfish which can totally kill you. I think death by jellyfish is about the dumbest way to die there is. It's not like they can grab you or anything. Just don't...you know...go near them. And Voila! You've escaped with your life. It would be way harder if they had arms or could get out of the water or had brains. My point is, jellyfish are an asshole but you should be able to thwart their plans because their plans are usually like "Float."

That's not very diabolical.

I didn't actually encounter any of these terrible animals but saw a documentary on them on the History Channel, so...same thing. And also, as part of my adventure I had to eat a lot of room service food and I don't know about you but eating a $12 bowl of Frosted Flakes© made me feel super-fancy and like I needed a monocle and a top hat and they should have been served to me by some english butler who looks like Anthony Hopkins, instead of the startlingly white-sounding latino gentleman who brought it to our door. I don't know if the flakes were covered in invisible gold or what, but they totally tasted normal.

I have a real issue with Frosted Flakes because they used to be a delicious kid cereal, but some ad executive decided "Hey! These don't have a TON of sugar in them! That's PRACTICALLY healthy!" so now instead of a friendly tiger bursting into my kitchenette** and telling me "They're GREAT!" All the commercials look like a Gatorade© spot and the kids are running around and Tony the Tiger is their coach and it's all about how Frosted Flakes© are a great and healthy way to start your day and no, never mind that they're FROSTED...totally healthy and the logo even looks like a sports drink logo so... Case closed! They're the new Wheaties© !Well I'm not buying in and if Archibald the Whitest Mexican had come back to collect the tray I would have told him so.

They're Grrrreat!


*"swashbuckling" in this case means not putting a towel down on the bathroom floor making it a serious slip-and-fall hazard and also jumping on the bed whilst shouting "Freedom!" like in Braveheart and "I'd fuck me!" like Jame Gumb from Silence of the Lambs.

** If a real tiger ever burst into my kitchenette, I would have to exact my revenge on it by just making sure I was hard to digest.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Sound Advice

I know it seems glamorous to be me, and I don't even blame you for being jealous because you know who isn't jealous of me? Fools, that's who. I just accidentally typed "foals" but I fixed it because I am all about accuracy and I have no idea how baby horses feel about me. Anyway(s), I thought I would share some money tips with you, because financial advice that you read on the Internet is always awesome and never untrustworthy and if you don't want to believe me than it's your loss. And that loss will probably only be one of pride and not of money, but I think we can all agree that's way worse.

The first thing I learned is that when a stock broker says "Expand your portfolio" he doesn't mean buy a new red folder for your Trapper Keeper©, even if you do use one of those cool ones that are all plasticy and have an awesome ruler on the inside of the spine, and maybe you fill it with pictures you drew of spaceship battles and boobies, but that's not what he meant so you've disappointed him. And then you shouldn't scream "Don't talk to me like that Assface, I don't work for you YET!" and then throw all the papers up in the air and then run around the desk really fast to avoid security because they haven't even showed up yet and it'll just look a little crazy. Am I losing you with all this technical talk? Bear with me.

The other thing I learned is that con where you go to the grocery store and try to confuse the cashier into you giving you an extra twenty by asking for change in a tricky manner is really difficult and in the end, most of the time you end up with the correct change and shouting "NO! You were supposed to give me a TWENTY!" doesn't make it better and neither does freaking out and reaching back into the gum display and stuffing a whole package of Fruit Stripe© into your mouth, wrappers and all and then trying to run away. They'll catch you and probably prosecute you to the full extent of the law and when you go in front of the judge he'll be all "Where did you even FIND Fruit Stripe© Gum in 2009?" and then you'll be all "Inside your Mom." but that's not funny because his Mom JUST died like last week, so on top of the judge being super-sensitive about it, it's a little gross because guess what? You just confessed to eating gum that was stored in a dead lady. The FDA probably doesn't approve of that method of preservation is my point. You should never eff with the FDA.

The final piece of financial advice I have for you is that if you are going to get involved in a pyramid scheme it's best to remember that there are not actually any mummies or ancient curses involved to act as insurance against fraud because that's what I thought and when the guy said "Sorry, Buddy." and sorta snickered I yelled " I invoke the powers of the sleeping ancient evil to rise from the crypt and hunt you to the ends of the Earth!" and then I bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt and blew it in his face. That's when he shot me.

Don't do that.

Moral: I look awesome in these new pants I found at the Salvation Army and even though the bell bottoms make my ankles look fat, check out how they flutter when I walk!

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Old People Are Cyborgs Sometimes

So I'm totally going to see my Mom in the nursing home where she is recovering from having a cyborg knee put in and maybe an electric eye and hopefully some kind of weapons system because if I'm going to be taken out by a Terminator I want it to laser me in the face or shoot a missile into my back or something. I don't want it crushing my head between its thigh and its calf using a robotic knee like a nutcracker. That's lame. Also this Terminator is my Mom...so that's extra gross because...well, you've seen her thighs. And maybe she isn't getting any weapons at all but just some physical therapy and I don't even know if "electric eye" is even something they still have, because it kinda sounds like bad 60s science fiction like Logan's Run where the future is just everyone dressed in white.

The kids are not as excited about going to the nursing home as I am but that's because they are racist against old people and I don't really blame them because have you even ever seen old people? Totally gross. I think maybe I'm racist against them too because whenever I have to go see them I hide under my stairs and pretend I'm not home, but then my brother, the great detective, calls my cell phone and listens for where the ringing is and he finds me, and also the kids usually point at the crawlspace, I bet. Never count on your kids not to rat you out is the lesson here. And I'm all "You guys are Nazi sympathizers!" because in my mind my brother is the Gestapo hauling me away to a death camp instead of just being my brother taking me to go see our infirm, possibly cybertronic, mother in the nursing home.

The kids don't like being called Nazis though so they'll probably tell their Mom we were playing another Concentration Camp game*, which is totally not allowed according to the divorce agreement, so it looks like another trip in front of the judge where I'll get carried away and start doing "A Few Good Men" again, but I always forget what comes after the "You can't handle the truth!!" part so I'll throw in lines from "Ghostbusters" or "Meatballs" or some other Bill Murray movie because he is HILARIOUS and then it's contempt of court again and if I get my card gets punched one more time at the jailhouse I get a free coffee!

So Win/Win.


*We don't really have any Concentration Camp games. I just thought I'd clarify, because sometimes my readers are brilliant genius detectives and other times they forget that pretty much everything I write is bullshit in one form or another. Except the bikini supermodel nympho gymnasts who fly around the world with me on the weekends solving crimes and giving out blow-jays... They are totally real