HIAPRSWALS Day

Uncle Eddie has an assignment for you kids.

Ready?

Go get a baseball bat. Wooden preferably. We don’t want anyone getting killed here or losing an eye. Unless you simply have to hear that satisfying little “ting.”

Got it? Nice.

Now take that bat and hide out in a local public restroom. Check the stall after each person does their business.

Not to worry, I don’t want you doing anything sick. I’m not here to have you compromise your morals- you don’t even have to look into the bowl.

We’re hunting here. Hunting down the OCD nutjobs who leave behind their nasty toilet paper nests on public toilet seats. Apparently their asses are far too valuble to touch a public toilet, but it’s a privelage for us to have to remove it when they’re done? Ohhhh I long for the day when we will exact sweet, sweet vengance.

Simply: they. must. be. stopped.

And I envision a day- A glorious day when the people rise up to rid the land of their scourge.

“Hide In a Public Restroom Stall With a Louisville Slugger Day.”

Do you hear it? Do you hear the countless generations who came before us calling out for us to avenge them? Do you hear the hum of our collective anger finally reaching critical mass? It can all end with a flush and a thud- or a ting, of course, if you insist.

I’m thinking if we all go to our bosses with the idea we could get it off with pay.

Who’s with me?

Open Letter To Tom Green: Please Stop Sucking

That’s it. I’ve been avoiding this for too long. I can’t believe that someone who (1) cracked me up on many occasions (2) basically started the jackass craze and (3) looks remarkably like me has one of the all time worst blogs on the web.

You ramble on about boring mundane everyday crap like it’s interesting. You video taped your instant coffee ritual. You whine about criticism.

It’s amazing. You have no kids and yet somehow you qualify as a mommyblogger.

At first I just thought it was another joke. Like, “ha ha look at me- you’d expect my blog to be whacky crazy insane but I’m pretending to be boring! wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

No such luck.

Most of the time it’s “so, yesterday I took a train. the sun is really yellow today kids. I’m enjoying a great cup of instant coffee. sorry I didn’t post yesterday, lemme catch you up. i woke up, took a shower, ate food and skated with Tony Hawk. Then after I pooped I went to bed. See you tomorrow!”

Ugh.

Come on Tom, you owe us better. You owe me better- people always point at me and yell your name. And my blog kicks ass sometimes.

The first time I was going to sound off about the horrible awfulness of your site was when you were getting people to promote it by wearing homemade tom green t-shirts. Man, if you want promotion write well. Make us laugh. then you’ll get all kinds of traffic, and not just blurry pictures of soccer moms and star wars kids wearing crappy puffy paint t-shirts.

Now you’re getting all pissy about Martin Short, since he recently let everyone know you walked off that show where he was supposed to be a fat talk show host- because he hurt your feelings. You say you were upset because you thought martin went too far talking about your bout with testicular cancer- WHICH YOU DID A TV SPECIAL ABOUT.

This is coming from the guy who mimicked fellatio on a cow in a grocery store?

Who fashioned lawn ornaments of his parents engaging in various sex acts?

Who is ONLY KNOWN for doing the most ridiculous crap and making total fools out of people who never asked for it?

Comedian, make fun of thy self.

I’m sorry tom, but the joke is most certainly on you. The sad thing is you’re the one telling it. I can’t believe you could say the following :

The sad truth is. Martin Short hasn’t done anything funny since Ed Grimley. (he used to be on SNL) I find it sad, that someone who admittedly was once very funny, can become so mediocre and lame. I used to love the guy, cause he made funny faces and did some cool stuff thirty years ago. But now I just feel kinda sorry for him.

Tom. Tommyboy. Tom Ticky Tom tom. You know of course that with a couple minor changes that paragraph also describes you?

Then you have the nerve to attempt inciting some sad home-made t-shirt campaign against him? Come on- any real man in this day and age knows you settle a feud one way- through the medium of rap. Of course, its still unbelievable you’re even upset about someone MAKING A JOKE. What next? Anna Nicole Smith walks off the set of Stern because he didn’t treat her classy enough?

If you’re going to pollute the web with your thoughts, please shape up. Provide us something substantial. Give us some ha-has. Give us some insight. I had high hopes for your site. But in reality it’s comedic level lies somewhere between Campbell’s tomato soup ingredients and a watchtower article. Quit your pathetic juvenile boring crap and give us some pathetic juvenile funny crap before you’re completely forgotten.

The Ad Council: Caring Enough To Keep You Afraid

Question: Are you terrified enough to make sure your family is protected? The Ad Council wants to know.

In an effort to further justify the need for homeland security, the Ad Council has sacrificed a rotation of their popular Arbor Day commercials to air a campaign that had i not just gotten a DVR could have possibly convinced me to stop watching television completely.

I know I’m not the only one who gets pissed when these things air.

You’ve seen it. There’s the little girl eating cereal, asking you, “what do I do mommy? do you have a plan for when the Shiites send a car bomb to my elementary school?” It would serve better as an anti-choking campaign since it’s induced vomiting in more than one occasion at my house.

Now, I’m all for preparedness, serious. I (this is no exaggeration) have at least one zombie attack dream a week. And 9 out of 10 times when my mind goes idle I begin strengthening my escape plan for when the undead rise. But, dammit, I know the difference between a PSA and a scare tactic.

Just how many Americans die each year from terrorist attacks? Granted, 9/11 is not to be discounted, but it was an incident- not a trend. And I know that the threat is still out there, BUT this girl is evil. She’s not there to get me prepared, she’s there to keep the fear of terrorism alive because the frickin RAINBOW of DEATH isn’t doing the trick anymore.

Lots of people die of smoking. Lots of people die of crib death. Lots of people die in car accidents and heart attacks. Do that many attacks happen each year that it would seriously make a difference if my family had an escape plan? LOTS of people have been dying in an unpopular, poorly planned, possibly illegal war- if only there was a way to prepare for THAT.

If I had the time I’d root around and find out if there’s an explanation for this. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out the whole campaign was actually being funded by the manufacturers of duct tape and canned goods.

Of course now that I’ve said all this we all know what’s going to happen. Al Qaeda is totally going to blow up a dirty bomb right on my porch- and I have no plan. How embarrassing will that be?

SKRU GRAMR

I don’t get paid for this.
I’m not a stay-at-home-mom.

I’m just a warped young man with a few minutes here and there and a pathetically huge need for attention.

I’m not writing this blog for Mrs’ Manion my 7th grade English Teacher. I’m writing this for my friends, fans and the faceless cold abyss of the internet.

So don’t piss me off and correct/laugh at my grammar and syntax.

I’ve seen all kinds of fools (1) who judge people’s sites by their grammar and (2) people who actually apologize for poor grammar. Apologize? I put this crap out to entertain, baby- I don’t expect to get my posts back with a bunch of red circles. Judging blogs by grammar makes about as much sense as judging them by smell.

Grammar has no business here. I’m sorry if the soaps weren’t very engaging today and the kids are at school- find some other hobby than spell checking people’s entries.

Judge textbooks by grammar.
Judge Term Papers by grammar.
Judge my blog by the way your mouse hand gets all tingly and sweaty in anticipation of clicking my bookmark. Judge it by how many snorts I illicit, or how much liquid you spit on your screen.

Better yet, screw judging anyway. Either you come back or you don’t. That’s it.

Phhhhhhhtttt.

WHY, I NEVER!

“People who get offended by humor can feel free to roll around in barbed wire with Magic Johnson.”
- Jim Norton

I’ve always been a bit of a, shall we say, idiot. In high school I was a class clown. The same proved for most of my undergrad college classes, and sadly also my MBA. If there was one type of person I couldn’t help but pick on mercilessly in high school it was people whose buttons were easily pushed.

I see funny things constantly. It’s like a constant cartoon in my head. A grossly perverted cartoon with nightmarish scenes of gore, and some butterflies and daisies.

What I’ve never respected though are people who walk around with a big HUGE glaring button on their foreheads labeled “please push so i can get offended.” I abuse people like that every chance I get. I understand if your sensitivity comes from serous baggage like daddy left when you were 4 and you spent years fending off constant advances from your uncle. Fine, you get a free pass. It’s the people who act like “oohhh my word! I never think thoughts like that!” that I just want to trip into a steaming pile of rabies.

Give up the act, relax, and admit that you thought it was funny when the kid with downs fell off the swing. You bastard.

Shecky posted an article a while back about some lady who wrote a letter to her local paper b/c she got offended at comedy show.

A comedy show.

When you go to a comedy show, that button should be disconnected, resting in your purse between your prozac and your stungun. If you can’t do that you shouldn’t expose yourself to humor. Or me.

Here’s a thought: Maybe- just maybe- something you find knee-slapping hilarious is totally offensive to someone else. Actually, it’s a given. So please dismount from your lofty steed.

Some of my favorite comics are horrible, horrible, black-hearted miserable wretches of human beings. In a nice way tho.

For instance, I think Murph is the funniest, hardest working guy in Hollywood today. I seriously cry each time I read his blog.

Anyway, there’s my philosophy on getting all flustered over humor. All I ever wanted was for you to admit that funny is funny no matter how it’s presented. Sorry I made you cry in Mrs. Klausen’s class tho.

Wait scratch that. I still crack up thinking about it you pretentious twit.

Desperate Network Executives

Why is it that media sources- usually the official gate-keepers and transmitters of the latest trends, coolness and hippitude are so ancient in their thinking.

They believe that they can dick consumers around forever with no repercussions. Then, when consumers fight back they push for legislation to beat them down.

I see media now like the last Russian Czar. Clueless about the power of the people.

They’re old dusty white men wearing masks that say MTV and HBO. But stuff like last night is where their oldmanness starts to show bigtime.

I watched Desperate Housewives last night to see what all the hubbub was about, but mostly b/c I needed to fill the void between Battlestar Galactica and Huff. It wasn’t too bad. Until the end. The extended two minute end. That was L A M E.

Two aggravating extra minutes. Don’t think we don’t know why you’re doing this.

Then I read this story where NBC tries to say, “oh, that’s just, um, a new thing for ad revenue.”

Yeah, it’s just a coincidence that PVRs are sorta on the rise. Then TIVO chimes in with “ABC is our friend. NBC wouldn’t lie to us.”

Since when is TIVO ABC’s bitch? And at what benefit?

I don’t know about you, but when as soon as I get the feeling that I’m getting played I split. I don’t care about your show, I don’t care about your words, I care about my power as a consumer. Quit making it hard to access your subpar CRAP. Quit pretending that you don’t need to be consumer-focused.

I hear you loud and clear, Mr. Network Excutive.

“It’s not my job to make it easy for people to leave our network,” -ABC scheduling chief Jeff Bader

= “It’s not my job to meet consumer needs”

= “It’s not my job to pull my head out of my butt in time to see the market taken over by a competitor/substitute who will.”

And it’s not our job to watch your crappy show.

Plus they’re so not hot. Isn’t Terry Hatcher like 52 or something?

A Silver Hammer Day

sarcasomatic: I’m going to learn how to play an instrument

sarcasomatic: and how to sing.

sarcasomatic: and I’ll start a band and we’re going to do a cover of “Maxwell’s silver hammer” by the Beatles.

jasonadrian: uh?

sarcasomatic: ive just been getting annoyed with people

[EDitor's note: the following lines explaining your average 9-5 frustration we're deleted to protect my financial future. Just place your own in to supplement the storyline.]

jasonadrian: why the Beatles comment

sarcasomatic: oh b/c that song makes me feel better when i want to kill everyone.

sarcasomatic: i just picture myself popping their heads open with the gentle “whack” from a silver tack hammer.

sarcasomatic: and i smile

jasonadrian: psychotic

sarcasomatic: its worked since middle school
(more…)

SCREW THAT FAT BASTARD

Screw Santa.

Not because I’m all “we need to get rid of all the commercialism” (weenie voice). I’ve got a whole other reason.

Riddle me this batman:

If I have endure the mall,
if I have to brave the tidal wave of retards and jerkholes in the parking lot,
if I have to fight that red-eyed living-dead grandma for the last tickle-me-spongebob,
if I have to hit seven different stores for the right color Barbie H2,

if I have to find, purchase, hide, find again, wrap and place each present under the tree at 3AM,

Then why on earth should some imaginary fat troll get the credit?

Screw that crap. He does nothing. He just sits at some imaginary polar wonderland enjoying his elf-slave-labor and not dieting.

My kid is never hearing that crap from me. No way, no sir no how. We’re claiming the credit for each and every present under that frickin tree. Not him.

Why, every year do so many parents just throw away all the points they could score with their kids by claiming some strange man in red mysteriously decided to buy them gifts? Why set your kid up like that? Then later they get all bitter when they realize that 1. you lied and 2. The only way they can ever enjoy that magic again is to get on welfare.

So screw Santa and his pompous list
and the elves
and the reindeer
and the easter bunny
and the toothfairy
and the abominable snowman and the misfit toys.

Your mother and I got you that red rider b-b-gun sweetie. Because we love giving you stuff and we hope you love to do the same. And if you ever, EVER ever see some huge old tub O lard with a bunch of midgets trying to break in at 3AM on Christmas- you know how to use it.

Go 50, its Election Day

Who didn’t see this one coming? Allegedly, Paris Hilton, Ludicris and 50 Cent- all of whom participated in the VOTE OR DIE campaign- did not vote. That’s so perfect.

Now I bet they’re wishing they could re-negotiate that deal, huh?

What now? Do they get a call from Puffy, “you know the deal, yo. It was Vote or Die… I’ll be seeing you… *click*”

Gee. I wonder why you failed to get out the youth vote, Puffy. Hmmmmm… Could it be that we need a little more than some lame, half-hearted, paper-thin hype campaign? Paris Hilton is good for a download or two, she’s NOT the spokesperson for civic duty. Perhaps the world is waking up to the fact that the youth need more than bling as a call to action.

Enough. Me Want Smart Talkie.

This is a great example of something I’ve been meaning to bring back up. Earlier I expressed how I feel about the opinions I usually see plastered up around this internets thingy.

Mac and Oliver Willis are both talking about some nasty words flying across the internet right now.

John Edwards’ wife has cancer… AND, there’s idiots saying horribly insensitive stuff about it over at Free Republic.

Now, to be fair, it’s Free Republic. They’re crack heads. Most of them represent what Rush Limbaugh would have been like had he not gotten ahold of some good drugs. They’re insane, angry, ignorant doody heads.

AND if you venture over to the actual thread, the ones saying that stuff are in the minority- even at crackhead central. That means the majority of the whacko Freepers are being cool about it. Any day of the week you can find people over there spitting the most ignorant vile crap- just as you can if you do a random sample of their counterparts, the Democratic Underground.

Both of those sites exist primarily to incubate that bile. THATS what keeps people coming back. So dipping into FR or DU to find garbage like that seems lazy to me. It’s like cops pulling people over at speed traps at the end of the month. It’s the 26 year old trolling the frat party for freshmen. Come on guys. You’re not going to surprise me with stuff like that.

I agree. That stuff is ig-nant. But so was the stuff I read at DU when the first waves of hostages were killed in Iraq. It’s always there. And it does not- I repeat not- discredit the political groups to which they belong. I like reading Mac. The stuff she says pisses me off at least once a day- but that’s why I read her. Most people who lean left or right are too emotional for me. Her stuff is intelligent and funny. I may not agree but I’m always interested. Plus those Women’s Lib gals are so cute. (that was purely to push buttons- laugh. ha ha.)

Serious tho. Go for the meatier stuff people. Or else next up I’ll expect to see, “look what I found over at the diet blog- they HATE CARBS!”

To: America

Cheap

Well America, it looks decided. Yesterday, you got your coat, packed up your crackpipe and headed to the polls to vote us up another 4 years. Now that the exit polls have been revealed you voted on moral issues.

Heh. Thanks. I can mine that one for my stand-up routine for a long, long time. I suppose I agree- if by “moral” you mean overly-simplified and distorted. Then by all means, you sure have a death-grip on moral issues. Always have.

Well, no matter who wins you never quit amazing me. You silly goose you. Well, strap in and enjoy another 4 years. I hope you’re happy, you’ve screwed us all- and by that I mean you can that Fahrenheit 911 is sure to become a trilogy. Thanks.

Down With Injustice

You know, the poor don’t have much. Serious. Doesn’t that make you feel bad? They are really, really poor. Well, then- how come we let them get robbed RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR FACES?

That’s right. And who is robbing them? THE RICH. Yup. That disgusts me.

The rich have cribs. They have cars for each holiday- including minor ones like Arbor Day. They gargle with Crystal and use priceless paintings to towel off after they shower. So WHY do they go and take what little the poor have?

It’s sick. It’s barbaric. I can’t live in a world like this.

Why Britney? Why Christina and for the love of all that’s good and holy, WHY Paris?

Why, when you have all those riches, do you have to go and STEAL WHITE TRASH?

Those are good, hard working, decent folks. It used to be they could count on you celebs to wear stuff they could never hope to afford. Award shows, premiers- everything you went to you celebs would wear the richest looking stuff imaginable. Weird crap too. Anything to look rich.

“Oh this dress? Isn’t it gorgeous? Calvin Klein hand-dipped 12 minks in solid gold and then linked them together using spotted owl feathers. They’re very in this year.”

But now you sport tractor hats and neon tube tops and always look like you woke up in the arms of a trucker named Jimbo and stumbled right out of his cab onto the pages of US. How dare you. Is nothing sacred?

Lay off, sisters. White Trash belongs to the poor. They don’t have much, but let them keep tight capris with high heels and huge hoop earrings. Go back to your lavishly expensive designer styles and leave them some dignity.

WITHOUT A DOUBT

Without a Doubt- New York Times article by Ron Suskind.
Link for those who don’t want to subscribe to NYT.

I’m voting for Kerry.

True, I would rather just vote for my unborn child and Sean’s dog, but even they don’t seem to have their act together yet. I have struggled for four years to support the President. I voted for him. Initially, I was drawn to what I had read was his collaborative style of leadership; he was said to trust the judgment of the people who aided him. He was said to be a man who had strong principles, but sound judgment.

I have watched, and I have been moved to try and understand his policy decisions. It was hard. Both his economic policy (or lack thereof) and his actions regarding foreign relations have been laughable. And “well, Bush works in mysterious ways” only goes so far. I have learned though, that most of the time the simplest of answers is usually correct. If he looks like an idiot, walks like and idiot and quacks like an idiot, he probably is one.

This article outlines the basic problem with Bush’s presidency, and the reason why at a time of crisis he looked like the right fit. He spits out answers. Of course they may seem stupid or misinformed or lacking basic deductive skills, but they come out relatively fast. Most- now this excludes you, gentle readers- people want someone else to think for them. That’s why opinions and issues become so polarized.

With the internet, file sharing, idea sharing, blogs and the like unleashing information and ideas, it’s going to become harder and harder to maintain control like that- but it’s still possible. You have to work hard to make sure that decisions are made by a small group. You make sure that questioning leadership is seen as disloyalty, and you make damn sure that decisions, attitudes, and ideas flow down and the only thing that flows upward is good news. Sure, people will crack the veneer and spread the word that this is how you do business, but you still have a chance of maintaining control- at least long enough to secure another 4 years.

I hate that. That’s what bugged me most when I wanted to be a minister. I wanted to help people and make a difference in the world. When it came down to it, though, it was obvious: most people would think what you told them to. They wanted to believe stuff. Now, the content or the logic weren’t much of a concern, just the image that you had answers.

“Faith heals the heart and the spirit, but it doesn’t do much for analytical skills.” – Suskind

The image of infallibility is the basis of the Bush Presidency. Now, that is very reassuring in a time of great crisis like 911. Not so great once people have the time, the freedom and the balls to start questioning stuff.

Now here’s the tricky part. When you look to have the answers, and you have managed to capture a relatively large amount of the unthinking masses you have it made. All of this is assured by your opposition. Because, even though you have an opposition, it’s still got a large amount of these same unthinking masses- people who leave it up to someone else to do the thinking. And who actually does raise their voice to oppose you? Your first and loudest opposition is the fringe. And these voices work to discredit their movement, because they don’t mind resorting to emotional, loony and untrue arguments. They’re the fringe, what do they have to lose.

Now, I believe that enough people are moving over to the Kerry camp to give him a chance, but he still may lose. At a time when so much information is so free, it’s scary that most people still get their opinions from mass emails, but my guess is it’s true. Those who are the majority online are not the majority of the nation.

It’s taken me a while to finally decide on this- I try not to make decisions like this quickly. I’m not a fan of Kerry but at least he doesn’t freak me the hell out like Bush does. I’m not looking for someone I agree with, I’m just looking for someone I can put a reasonable amount of trust in.

KRS-ONE: COMMUNITY OF 1

OK, this is the last link this week to something Sean brought up.

KRS-ONE is an idiot.

He said some pretty ignorant crap. Sure, he writes thought-provoking lyrics and can give a good “I’m so deep” stare. That doesn’t mean he can’t be an idiot. His statements can’t be dismissed with a simple “I’m a poet”.

So guards wouldn’t let him in the World Trade Center because of his clothing… hmm. And that’s bad because… why? Really? Come on, man. I would rather not dress in business attire, but I work in an office so I do it. I don’t call a press conference and stage a march. Deal.

Also, I love it how people take on the whole “I speak for all of hip hop” stance. Who gave him the conch? Apparantly Lil’ Kim had the same authority bestowed upon her recently when she stated the case against her was a witch hunt aimed at the entire community.

Also, am I to understand that no one in the towers was a part of the hip hop community? That’s how he puts it. At best he says they had friends and family members in there. So only sell-outs died. Oooohhh, ok. In order to be hip-hop you have to be just like KRS-One. Funny, that sounds suspiciously like the same attitude he doenst want imposed on him.

You messed up Kris. Now say sorry. Proove that you really are enlightened and not just enamored with the sound of your own voice.

PocketBikes Need to Fall Down a Well

Pocketbikes are good for one thing: Natural Selection.

They help those of us in far less ridiculous transportation take an active part in weeding out the species with little more than a slight jerk of the wheel. Thank you, pocketbike maker.

As for the kid who rides past my house 30 times a day, driving his insanely loud clown bike with the most hard-core, aspiring criminal “check-out-how-badass-this-15-year-old-is” look on his face, you suck. You’re the punch line in a 15 mph joke. Put the engine back in the lawnmower and make yourself useful.

Which begs the question: Just why would someone make such an obviously bad choice with their disposable income?

Fotunately, I stumbled upon the answer.

The following direct quotes from actual purchasers of Pocketbikes, overheard at an actual Pocketbike dealership (really just a guy selling them out of a Uhaul in the Best Buy parking lot) answer my very quesiton…

Why are you buying this Pocketbike?

  • I need something to keep away the chicks. They have cooties.

  • Honestly, I would ride an ostrich if it were trendy.
  • Regular sized bikes are for cool people.
  • I had to find some way to spend the money I got from winning the POG tournament.
  • I am a midget. (ok, that’s cool)
  • I had to give up my Vespa when I stopped listening to EMO.
  • I’ve always loved the feel of my knees against my cheeks.

That’s for you, loyal readers- an EDADKINS.com exclusive. I hope it helped you as much as it did me.

Open Letter To All Famous People

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Celebrity:

We don’t love you. You are not at all-important to us. Your opinions, your heartaches, your hobbies and your drama have absolutely no value to us outside of entertainment.

What we love is what we pay you for. Nothing more.

There are people who love you. That group includes your family, friends and stalkers.

When you get up on a stage and do what we pay to see we are happy. When you are in an entertaining movie we are happy. Even your infamous videos usually contain something people are willing to pay for.

But when you get up on stage and say the stuff we don’t pay you for- well, welcome back to Earth. People will respond to you almost as if it was me up there. All the sudden you’re not captain celebrity, you are another loudmouth out of their element.

Hey, I know you- you’re that actress, that singer, that comedian- not that politician.

If we want you to sing, then sing. If we want you to dance- then dance. Don’t use the moment that people are fixated on your talent to start spurting your beliefs and pet projects.

We don’t care what you think- we care about how much money we paid to see you entertain us. People whose vote could be swayed by a mediocre sitcom star would probably be just as likely to vote for a cartoon rabbit.

Do me a personal favor. When you do become so enamored by yourself that you think we actually want to hear your political beliefs, please graciously take whatever you get in return.

Then go home and practice whatever it is that did actually get you famous- because unless you’re diving full-fledged into politics, we’d really like you to focus on the day job.

Nobody Can Eat Fifty Eggs- Unless It’s The Latest Fad Diet

Overheard a moment ago…

“Still on Atkins?”
“No.”
“Then why are you still stayin away from bread?”
“I heard once you go back on carbs you blow up like a baloon.”

Dang man. I can’t imagine walking past muffins, bread, croissants, biscottis, cookies, cake, rolls and the like- only to want what you can’t have. It would be like living with a freshly baked, buttery, flaky monkey on your back. Not me, brother.

He’s not even doing because he chooses to now- he’s a captive to Dr. Atkins. The good Dr. may be dead, but still his chain gang grows. They get snared with the idea of losing a few quick & easy pounds, and before they know it they’re lined up in striped jumpsuits listening to the Captain’s speech:

“Any man who lays a hand on a petit four, get the box. Any man caught nibblin’ dinner roll, gets the box. Any man losin all control after starvin himself of carbs for six months and tears into a whole loaf of bread like its the gosh dern secret of everlasin’ life- makin all kinds of snortin’ noises whatnot- you can bet yer bottom dollar- that man gets the box. Am I clear?”

No. No you’re not clear, Cap. I know where I got this gut. I got it sitting at me deskjob 8 hours a day gulping down soda and shoveling double quarterpounders. I got it from beer. Delicious, frothy carb-infested bottles of malted hoppsy goodness. I got it at 5 bucks a dozen for Krispy Kreme and I got it from thick-crust pizzas I ate all by my self while flipping channels on my huge TV.

But I will never ask your help to get rid of it. I need to go for a freakin jog. I need to ride the bike thats sitting in my stinkin garage since i graduated college and lost all that free time. So screw your plan and your anti-carb prison, and that insanely stoic guy with the mirror sun-glasses and the shotgun- he could use a bran muffin. Might make him regular.

Check Out Lady From Hell V.1

You all know her. She’s the bane of my existence. Check-Out Lady From Hell.

Somehow I lose myself about 20 seconds from finishing every single trip to the grocery store by my house. I’m all done picking stuff out and start towards the checkers when I forget that unspeakable horror lurks in aisle 6… the COLFH.

And without thinking I go right for her. I’m not clued in at first cause she has her back to me- plus I’ve already become engrossed in the latest Benn/Jenn/Brad/Ashton/Demi/Paris crap- or perhaps wondering how the Batboy’s face showed up in a cloud over Waco. But wait- what was that?

The Cackle.

Oh this is great. Craptabulous. I’m in the line of the all-time most annoying check-out lady. The type that opens and reads your greeting cards to you. “Ha. yeah, that’s a good one.” A good one? No a good one would be a card that said “Just run the friggin card across the red beam, genius, before the lady behind me beats you with a sack of potatoes.” That would be a good one.

She’s got the hint of a mullet and the most distracting perpetual cold sore in history. She can turn anything into a full-fledged conversation. ANY thing. “Ooooh. A man who knows how to shop. Way to get those savings.” Kindly shut your face-pit COLFH.

Now I looooove to talk. No surprise there. BUT there is a time and place. Yesterday I was in line with 40 pounds of ice. There was one woman in front of me with ONE item- a case of water. Here’s the scene:

COLFH: Hey there- got some water, eh? Well, let’s see if I can find the bar code.
Lady: Umm. yeah.
COLFH: Mmmmm. Got it.
COLFH: Have you seen our extreme special of the day? Bottles of sprite just 69 cents. (stares at bottle) 69 cents. that’s good.
Lady: Nah.

(COLFH stops the transaction to talk to the check out person next to her)

COLFH: (Mindless banter)
Lady: Um I thought the case was $2.99
COLFH: Nope, $3.99
Lady: But I read a circular
COLFH: Naw, Hon, it must’ve ended or something
Lady: It was for today
COLFH: Naw, it’s $3.99
Lady: Hmmmm… You know a dollar is real important to some people. In some countries it means life or death. Now I guess that kid I sponsor in Ethiopia will have to go without for a month.
COLFH: I could show you the circular-
Lady: No, he’ll manage somehow…
COLFH: Here. Let’s go through it together

(They combine their wits in order to finally answer the question nagging us all- can COLFH read?)

COLFH: Well I’ll be- it’s right there. Lemme spend a minute staring at the barcode…
COLFH: It’s definitely the one.
COLFH: Oh wait- the sale starts tomorrow…. ha. wow. that was great.

(I kick down the potato chip display and skewer the COLFH with a flagpole from the Fourth of July display- no wait- I just stand there and fume.)

Lady: I guess I’m just a hair away from retarded.
COLFH: Same here. I can’t for the life of me figure out why I’m still breathing. Ha ha ha. Whew. Have a great day.

COLFH: Hello sir, wow- that’s a lot of ice. Pretty cold, huh?
Me: (cold stare of a psychopath)
COLFH: Alrighty, is that gonna be it?
Me: You have no idea.
COLFH: Have you seen our ext-
Me: (interrupting with stare of doom) not now.

COLFH: Well all set- you have a great day sir, blah blah blah lot of ice blah blaah hah inane musings blah blah….

Dear Micah Wright…

… I think there’s an opening in Milli Vanilli.

(story, info)

Why Do You Do That To Yourself

Over at Buddah’s Den they’re talking about, um, “super-sized” people wearing tight clothing. It reminded me of a wee little phrase I coined the other day while talking to Heidi about that very subject.

Regarding the phenomenon of McWomen who wear the tiny tiny halter tops with tight low rise jeans and the accompanying bulge it creates which overlaps said low risers:

It is… are you ready for it?
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