Vague Comprehension

The Vikings did not discover America

2011-04-21T21:22:00.002-02:00

Last night my daughter and I were watching TV when a commercial for Thor came on. I asked her if she knew who Thor was and she said "yeah, he's a super hero." She had no concept of the mythology so I tried to explain it to her by asking if she knew who the Vikings were. She said "Yes, they lived a long time ago and spoke funny."

So then I explained how they would pillage and sail and how they discovered America a long time before anyone else. But she said "That's not true dad. The Vikings didn't discover America... Johnny Appleseed discovered America.

I told her to make sure she studied a lot in school.

Charcoal to Gas

2011-04-17T17:06:00.002-02:00

Today my wife said "I want to get a gas grill this summer. I know we always say that we prefer the taste of the charcoal, but do you know what charcoal is made of these days? Burned wood and gas."

"What did you think charcoal was made of before?" I asked her.

"The stuff that takes millions of years to form in the earth."

"You thought we were cooking with coal?"

I'm gonna talk her into woodchips instead of gas.

2010-08-11T22:52:00.001-02:00

All of my teeth are gone. A 45 minute procedure that lasted 2 1/2 hours. I was awake for the whole thing while they yanked at my mouth, heard the teeth crack and break. Still sore more than a week later.

Urgent Update.

2010-07-18T15:06:00.002-02:00

I just took the biggest poop ever.

It was really satisfying.

Happy Earth Day / Rnd 1 of NFL Draft Day

2010-04-23T01:33:00.002-02:00

In order to celebrate both events I drove a fuel efficient vehicle for a few hours today; it was electric powered and it took me all around a very peaceful golf course. Then I cooked some food, using some of mother earth's resources; like seasoned chicken breasts stuffed with an apple/cranberry/orange/bacon/cinnamon/mozerella salsa and accompanied by a side of mashed potatoes.

Fuck yeah Earth day. Fuck yeah.

wieght loss

2010-02-24T17:32:00.001-02:00

In an effort to be less fat I decided to pull out the wii fit tonight only to find that I have in fact lost 2.28 lbs since the last time I stepped on it some six months ago. Therefor I am satisfied with my current progression of weight loss and expect to be fifty pounds lighter in approximately 14 years.

I know it's immature, but...

2009-09-28T05:17:00.001-02:00

While on facebook I searched out the name "tits" and came upon a man whose name is Willy Tits.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

holy shit

hahahahahahahahahahaha

Tickets and Footsteps

2009-09-24T03:08:00.001-02:00

Ran a stop sign on my way home from work. Kind of pissed myself off. When I got home I found out that my son took his first steps today. I fucking missed it. Damn it. I never should have gone to work today. Would have seen my baby walk for the first time and I would have avoided a ticket.

She may have meant "influence" now that I think about it.

2009-08-14T04:35:00.001-02:00

Tonight, while talking about the more domesticated nature of my friend Tom, my wife said to me; "maybe you should let Tom rub off on you." I have to admit it, I freaked out. "That's disgusting! Has he approached you about this? Do...es he find me attractive?" Sorry honey, but I'm not the kind of person that just lets guys rub off on him. Gross.

beer review

2009-07-25T05:31:00.001-02:00

Hazy pail golden color, the kind that scary mosters crawl out of before attacking an entire town for its own nefarious purposes. Little bit of white head that clings desperately at the edge of the glass.

Banana and grapefruit, yeast and grain hit the nose as if two specific fruits and... some grain and yeast.

Quite acidic and sharp, like a cheddar lined with razors. A vague underlying dryness and the lingering taste of sweet decay remind me of the last hooker I had in my trunk... kind of a funny story really; I was so drunk that I had lost count and after I buried the two in the backseat and I ended up forgetting the one I left tied up in the trunk.

Anyway, everyonce in a while when I hear a knocking sound that I had THOUGHT was the engine. Haha, turns out there was a third hooker back there, but I didn't realize it at the time.

I didn't really have money to pay for anything to get fixed so I just kept on driving. Eventually everything quieted down and I forgot all about it.

So one day I have some groceries that a bagboy brings out to my car and when open the trunk: BAM! There's the dead hooker. Terrible wafting scent comes up and blasts us in the face, the bagboy is throwing up on the ground and I am just laughing my ass off.

I hit him on the head and threw him in next to the corpse in the short skirt and buried them both in the desert.

That was a close one.

Anyway...

Yeah...

But this decay smell in the beer was more the yeasty smell than that of corpses. Hope it didn't come across like that.

Great beer, the tastes improve and become more pronounces as the bottle warms up... Wheats are lovely at room temperature.

I'd definately bring this funky little wheat places with me. Solid wheat.

(Troegs: Dream Waver Wheat)

Upcoming Event

2009-06-10T03:32:00.003-02:00

I turn 30 on the 27th of this month. I'm not feeling like 30 is very old. I know everyone says "I don't feel 30!", but I guess I do.. I just don't feel like it's old.

We'll see. Maybe I'll have a nervous breakdown or something. I'll keep you posted.

On drinking.

2009-06-04T04:28:00.003-02:00

It is possible to drink often and get drunk rarely.

Just thought I'd point that out because a lot of people tend to assume that anyone who drinks regularly is a raging alcoholic.

One or two beers a night will not get you drunk, probably won't even get you buzzed (unless you drink them really fast). I happen to drink, on average, 1 beer a night. Sometimes I don't drink anything, sometimes I drink one, sometimes I drink two, every great once in a while I'll have 3. But that's usually the full extent of it.

So do I drink? Yes. Do I get drunk? Rarely.

Just pointing that out for those who tend to make assumptions.

Writing Again

2009-05-14T18:49:00.001-02:00

A little bit anyway. I've been on a pretty long dry spell, but I'm finally writing in some stories again. Off and on. Not with the ferver that I have in the past, but progress is progress.

Blog Adultry

2009-05-04T04:04:00.002-02:00

I've been updating somewhere else.

I know, I know; we've been together for so long. But I've been doing it.

It's not the magic is gone, I just saw some magic elsewhere. It twinkles, it shines, it catches my eye. Don't worry, I don't want to leave you. I just... I just need a little bit of this on the side.

It doesn't take up nearly as much time. I don't have to think as much, is all. It's easier.

It's name?

Come on, you don't really want to know that. What good will it do if you know it's name?

Okay, okay. No need to shout.

It's name is Twitter.

And you should follow me there. @donteatpoop

(I'm sorry)

Why Bananas are Cool

2009-04-22T03:59:00.005-02:00

Bananas are cool because they are yellow. There are no other fruits that are yellow and as cool as a banana.

Monkeys like bananas. You like monkeys, don't you?

Bananas are also packed with vitamins and shit. By "shit" I mean "additional things that are good for you", not "shit". That would not have been a good selling point.

Plus they are shaped like dicks. So when a babe eats a banana, you can kind of pretend like it's a dick. But you have to kind of ignore it when they bite chuncks out of it.

When friends who are male have bananas you get to harrass them for having one. You get to make dick jokes and ask him why he packed his dildo for lunch or if he's testing his gag reflex or if he plans on eating that. And then he can run away and cry and think of a really good comeback but not think of it until much later in the night when he is at home and posts it on the internet.

If you are a guy and you bring a banana to work for lunch, a good cover would be to offer it to a female coworker in a suggestive mannor. "Would you like my banana?" wink-wink. nudge-nudge.

Wish I'd thought of that sooner.

*sniffle*

BBQ

2009-04-21T13:06:00.000-02:00

I like barbecue sauce.

Beer

2009-04-20T19:32:00.002-02:00

An uncle of mine once told me "you know why beer goes through you so fast?"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it doesn't have to change color on the way out!"

Then he laughed for a while.

When he was done laughing I pointed out that we were both drinking Guiness, and that either he had mistaken his dick for his asshole or there was something seriously wrong with his urinary track.

For Those Who Celebrate

2009-04-20T03:49:00.004-02:00

Enjoy your day.

It's what killed the dinosaurs, you know.

Troegs Nugget Nectar

2009-04-12T16:14:00.002-02:00

Had some of this on tap last night. It was soooooo good. The hops were very present, giving off a citrus-like taste. It went down so smoothe, it was refreshing to drink after all of the porters and stouts and dunkels I've been drinking lately.

My wife even liked it, and she claims to have disdain for hops. She pointed out the flavors she liked, and what she described was the hops. So I enlightened her. I ended up grabbing some IPAs for her to try, since she apparently doesn't hate hops as much as she thought she did.

The barmaid there described the ale to another patron as "hoppy and bitter," the guy steered clear of it for that reason. What a shit-barmaid.

It's an amber color, citrusy hops and a light bitterness. That's what I would have said. Bet he would have grabbed it if he'd heard that.

Happy Easter

2009-04-12T16:12:00.003-02:00

Jesus is alive.

Happy 'you're not dead anymore' day, Jesus.

Another one bites the dust

2009-04-05T01:04:00.002-02:00

Found another dead hooker in my trunk.

I'm thinking about drilling some air holes so that this doesn't keep happening.

NOTE: The air holes will be drilled into the trunk, not the hooker.

I Have Achieved Lift Off

2009-04-02T04:03:00.003-02:00

As the shift came to a close at work and people began to leave, I realised that it would be a matter of time before I could let out the gigantic fart that had been building up inside of me for the last several hours. When the last person walked out the door, I let it go.

It moved me forward like an inch on the chair.

This has never happened to me before. I've dropped some serious bombs, but nothing has ever literally moved me.

I'm hoping to find a way to turn this into an alternate fuel source.

Stump the DJ

2009-04-01T04:10:00.003-02:00

Since it's April 1st, I thought I'd revisit a prank I pulled a year ago on some friends. (this was posted once before as part of another post) For the sake of anonymity we'll call them Dude and Chick. This prank was not pre-concieved, but if I ever get the chance to try it on some new people who haven't heard me tell the story then it most certainly will be.

After a semi-stressful night of work two of the other supervisors and myself decided to head out to a local bar for drinks. (the supervisors are the aformentioned Dude and Chick) There was a DJ there that night and he said over the mic that he was taking requests and if anyone had any to just come up and tell him what we wanted to hear.

That’s when I proposed a bar-game. I don’t know if this is a game other people play, but it’s called Stump the DJ.

“How do you play Stump the DJ?” Chick asked.

“It’s easy,” I told her. “We make up a band and request to hear it a song from them.”

So we started brainstorming for band names. It had to sound like a real band and we threw several ideas out on the table; Black Sunday had a good run, then I suggested Silver Jews (someone I was certain they had never heard of). They thought Silver Jews sounded horrible, not like a real band at all. (for those who don't know, the Silver Jews were a real band, a member or two went on to form Pavment... Another band that a lot of people haven't heard of... google it). I was trying to get a feel for their musical expertise, especially because Dude graduated from college with a bachelers in something music related. I was pleased that they hadn't heard of them.

Next I suggested Queen Franklin and we toyed with this one for a while before I suggested Soul Coughing, a band that was not unheard of but not common. I watched them for recognition and saw (thankfully) that they had never heard of Soul Coughing.

“That’s what I’m going to request then,” I said, getting up from my stool.

"I don't know, that's not really a good name," Dude said.

"Yeah, you said it's supposed to sound like a real band," Chick said.

“Well I'm going with it, I don't care... I think it's a great band name. And I'll ask for the song..." I acted like I was pulling this song title out of thin air, when in fact it was one of their few 'hits'... "Super Bon-Bon.”

Then I walked away from them, went up to the DJ and requested it. The DJ hadn’t heard any requests for Soul Coughing in a long while, but he did have the song.

I returned to the bar and Dude and Chick were excited to hear how it went.

“I walked up to him and asked for Soul Coughing's Super Bon-Bon," I said, trying to look disappointed, "but he didn't really pay me any attention. He just put a thumb up. So then I asked him if he had it and he kind of rolled his eyes and said no." I sighed here. "He didn't even bother looking."

They were pretty bummed.

"Big build up, no pay off," I said. Dude and Chick nodded in agreement.

Then, two or three songs later, the DJ announced that the next song was from a band called Soul Coughing with the song was ‘Super Bob-Bon’. The bass started pumping and the looks on their faces... Their jaws just dropped. It was all I could do not to laugh, I dropped my jaw as well trying to look as astonished and dumbfounded as they were. "No way," I said.

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was glorious. It was also great to watch the reralization hit as Dude looked at me and said "Fuck you, Poop." Then chick slapped my arm and called me an asshole.

Long set-up, but everytime I think back on the looks on their faces... Holy shit was that a solid pay-off.

My little girl

2009-03-31T15:58:00.003-02:00

She's getting big. She turns six next week. I know that doesn't seem that old, but I already miss the cute little-girl things she used to say and do.

She used to have a lisp, couldn't pronounce the letter s when it was followed by another consonant. So the word "lisp" for instance, would have been pronounced "lip". She used to talk to us about the tars in the ky, the people walking down the treet, bee tings, tiger tripes, and melling flowers. I won't even bring up the times she wanted to play with her scooter. (hilarious)

When we startled her she'd say "You cared me out of my crap!"

She used to carry around her little kitty blanket and suck her thumb...

I miss that. I wish I hadn't had to work so much and miss out on so much.

Walking Cool

2009-03-31T01:54:00.002-02:00

You know how sometimes you're walking with a really cool swagger? You know, just struttin'... But then you bump into something, trip or stumble? And there's that moment when you aren't sure what you should do next?

I think it's important to keep moving with the cool walk. That way anyone who turned their head at that moment and didn't see how lame you are... They would still think you're cool.

And the other people would think "Man, that's the coolest clumsy person I've ever seen."

Booger under Keys (no lock)

2009-03-30T05:18:00.002-02:00

Just lost a booger to the keyboard. I saw it fall from my finger and attempted to rescue it, but it slipped under the 'f' key. It's a gonner now.

No time anymore

2009-03-30T04:45:00.001-02:00

I keep wanting to write in this novel that I started forever ago. (of stones and stars). I've worked out a few changes that need to be made which will help me progress the story nicely and open a few sub plots... But i just can't seem to find the time to work on it.

Right now, for instance, i'm writing this instead because I only have twenty minutes or so before I should be in bed so that i can function at work tomorrow. Between work and family my writing has been on serious hold.

I need to get into it though, I need to get back to chasing my dream. I frustrate myself with my procrastination and my inability to follow through. Dammit.

Alright, enough venting. Off to bed with me.

New Troll

2009-03-29T02:46:00.004-02:00

Got one for real this time.

I've decided to stop publishing Quixnote-Grey's comments as he is stuck on one topic and will not move from it. He continues to attempt to antagonize and act like a bitch and I've decided that I'm uninterested in putting up with it anymore.

I've asked him to stop with his shit, and he responded with the usual; bitching about censorship and threatening to never return... As though that were a punishment of sorts.

Begone, asshole. Go find yourself a new bridge to hide under. You have shown your true colors.

Word of advice, at least learn to admit when you are being a troll. You'll find a lot more freedom in your life when you learn to admit who you are to yourself.

I will also reiterate and reword the moral of one of my previous posts as it is clearly applicable to this cock-gobbler: The freedom of speach does not mean you get to just be an asshole all the time.

Stephen King made me crap my pants

2009-03-08T05:21:00.003-02:00

Before you make assumptions, I wasn't frightened at all; but this evil heartless bastard still made me shit my pants.

Here's how it happened.

I was messing with the computer when I was suddenly hit with an urgent need to go to the bathroom and drop a duece. So, naturally; I went downstairs to the basement toilet, planning on reading a book which I had left down there earlier. It was one of King's books, a part of the Gunslinger series.

But the book wasn't there. I pinched my cheeks together, holding back the emmenant anal explosion that was begging to be set free. I desperately looked around for the book, but it was nowhere in sight. I had done a little laundry earlier, so I made my way over towards the washing machine in the hopes of finding the book.

And that's when it happened. The ass cannon had fired.

I gave up looking for the book and took care of business, cleaning my underwear and showering afterward. First time I have ever shit my pants. Fucking Stephen King.

And get this, after everything was over; the book appears as if by magic not far from the toilet.

You owe me a new pair of underwear, King.

Random Tough Guy Character

2009-02-16T05:32:00.003-02:00

A line for a future tough-guy character. Comedy. No plot yet.

MobsterOrSomeshit: If you don't pay up, I'll sick ToughGuy on you.

ToughGuy: I punch elephants.

Protagonist: You punch elephants?

ToughGuy: ...

-silence-

ToughGuy: Yeah.

Protagonist: Woh. That's pretty badass.

ToughGuy: I know-

MobsterOrSomeshit: Forget about the elephants. I want my fucking money Friday.

FIT

2009-02-11T20:34:00.002-02:00

We have the Wii Fit now at our house. So now when I play video games I can get some excercise in.

I'm trying to counter this by drinking heavy beers and eating while I play.

6 9 6

2009-02-09T04:54:00.003-02:00

Sometimes I kill people

Usually they piss me off first

Other times just because

Why does this keep happening to me?!?!?

2009-02-05T06:36:00.004-02:00

I swear there's some sort of conspiracy out there to keep me from ever being at peace.

I went out for lunch today, left the office and ran to grab a few burgers from the local burger grill. I don't go out every day for lunch, in fact it's pretty rare; which is why this is so baffling... How did they know?

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I went outside, got in my car and drove. It's not a short drive, but not a long one either. It might have taken me ten minutes at the most.

Anyway, I got out of the car and ran inside, ordered my burgers and waited for them to be cooked. When they were done, I went back out to the car. No time to eat them there, I had to get back to work.

So I get back in my car and I spot a flash of metal out of the corner of my eye. I ducked just in time for a shuriken to embed itself into my dash. Fucking ninjas!

I turned around to find two of the bastards in my SUV. One of them had just drawn a katana, I guess he wasn't used to fighting inside of a vehicle though because he had no manuverability. He tried to take a swipe at me, but the blade got caught in the cieling, fucking ripped a big gash in my cieling! I'm thinking about suing.

Anyway, it was easy to dodge such a clumsy attack. I started the car and pressed the cigarette lighter in while he made another swipe at me with his blade, this time it ran into a window so no worries there. One of the ones in the back-back threw another star at me, thankfully the clumsy jackass with the katana was moving around at that moment and the shuriken landed in the back of his head. He must have been new to the job or something.

At about the same time that I heard the sick 'thump' of the throwing star hitting his skull the lighter popped out and I grabbed it. I dove over the front seat, stretching towards the back; his projectile weaponry was no match for close quarter combat. I plunged the lighter into the guy's eye, his eye jelly sizzled and popped. First time I ever smelled a burning human eye, that's for sure. I can't help thinking that a little lemon pepper would be a perfect touch to make a meal out of it.

While he's freaking out over his eye-burn I take one of the razor sharp throwing stars from his belt and cut open his throat.

After a couple moments of breathing I got out, opened the doors, and threw the bodies out of the car. Thankfully there wasn't a lot of blood. It was a pain in the ass to get blood stains out.

The car was pretty much warmed up at this point, so I put it in reverse and started driving back to work; biting into my burger on the way.

Seriously, could the Kenjin Clan please stop sending assassins after me? I'm sorry I ran one of your elders over, but he shouldn't have been crossing the street in the middle of the night without looking both ways. I can't be held responsible for not seeing him, you people dress all in black! Get some reflective wear or something.

Please, leave me alone.

Analogy Time

2009-01-31T06:23:00.003-02:00

There's a big ongoing party that everyone is invited to. Everyone. People come, people go; some linger around longer than others.

The music is bumping, the drinks are cold and intoxicating, the food is delicious, and the people seem to get along nicely for the most part.

One day this dude walks in, a new guy; first time he'd decided to take advantage of the open invite. He drinks the beer, eats the food, converses a little here and there; and then he decides that he isn't digging much on the party.

Now, instead of just leaving like most polite people would do, he shuts off the music for a moment and gets on the microphone.

"Hi everyone, I know I've only been here for a few minutes but I just wanted to bring a few things to your attention. First, this music sucks. I mean seriously, it's terrible. Secondly this beer is like piss in a bottle. The food was absolutely wretched, and to be perfectly frank you people bore and annoy the hell out of me."

Surprisingly the many many people at the party were not pleased with this announcement. As one they told the new guy to get the hell out of the place, kicking him out the door from whence he came.

Once he left, the party resumed.

But the guy was actually offended by this. How dare they tell him to leave! He was only expressing himself, only offering them an objective veiwpoint! This simply would not do!

He went around town telling a few people here and there about the terrible experience he had at the party. Some people listened to him and took his words to heart, most just ignored him. But that didn't stop him from trying to spread negativity about the party.

It is said that the guy still resents the party and party goers.

Despite his efforts, the party went on uninterrupted. That party still goes on today. The moon still revolves around the Earth, and the Earth still spins around the sun.

Moral: Freedom of speech does not entitle you to be an asshole.

Troll Milestone Revoked

2009-01-31T05:44:00.004-02:00

Just when I thought my blog had just hit a major milestone, it turns out that I didn't really earn the troll after all. I thought a troll had found me and decided to hate on me. I was hoping he/she would come back and troll me some more. I do so love those antagonistic little bastards.

But alas, if you read the comments of the previous post, you will find that it wasn't earned. Just someone blowing off some steam to a friend, and the friend coming over to try and humiliate me.

Damn it! Thanks for ruining my hopes and dreams, Q-Grey!!!! You couldn't have just left it alone and allowed me to enjoy this achievment could you?!?

Ignorance was blissful, however shortly lived it may have been.

Being as much of an asshole as I am, I really thought I'd have a small colony of trolls camped up over here. Oh well. Perhaps one day I will have a troll of my very own. There's always hope, I suppose.

I think I've earned a troll...

2009-01-29T06:11:00.006-02:00

This is so fucking exciting, everyone. It really proves that I'm making my mark on the net. And not just a shit-stain mark on the fish-net underoos this time! If you check the comment section of the previous post you will see what I am talking about.

I like to think I have somehow earned this troll rather than him just happening upon my blog by chance.

But then again, self depreciating comments occur quite often in this blog so I suppose this is really a compliment and not trollish behavior at all.

A compliment so important that it had to be typed three times. It's like a triumverant of compliments. "BORING!" he says. A blog so boring that he attempts to post his comment not once, not twice, but THREE times (before the moron realized that his comments needed to await approval).

I love the interwebs. But I love the idiots who get on the interwebs even more.

Troll on, you crazy diamond. I look forward to your return.

So much snow

2009-01-16T03:49:00.005-02:00

It's been snowing like crazy lately.

I stepped into a snow drift earlier and felt a cold sensation on my balls.

Check Mate

2009-01-03T21:16:00.003-02:00

I bet its hard for Australians to play chess.

"Check Mate"

Wait... Did he say "Check, mate" or "Check Mate"?

This is so confusing. Hey! That dingo just stole my baby!

I thought it was only going to be a fart

2008-12-12T02:15:00.003-02:00

My butt had a message for me. It said, "I'm going to fart." So I leaned to the side and let one rip. What my butt didn't tell me was that the fart was loaded.

I was in a small office at work, thankfully one without witnesses, so I made my way down the long hall way to the back restroom that no one used and let the rest of it out.

But there was no toilet paper.

You would think paper towels would be more efficient at removing poop due to their texture, but they're not.

Penmanship

2008-12-09T07:27:00.003-02:00

Last night when I got home I had to pee so bad that I couldn't wait until I got inside. So I started peeing in the snow, and naturally my instinct was to write my name.

It was perhaps the most pristine example of penis penmanship the world has ever seen. That shit was so perfect it could have been a font in Word. Not one of those fonts that you have to download, but one that comes standard with the software.

Anyone who has attempted to write their names in the snow with their urine can attest to how difficult it is just to be legible. Well, my name wasn't just legible, it was beautiful. If I'm ever famous, I want to sign autographs like that.

Attention terrorists and suicide bombers.

2008-11-10T08:14:00.001-02:00

Nothing will dishearten America more than striking the Westboro Baptist Church congregation. I do not believe that the US could ever recover from such a devestating blow to out national heritage.

Sincerley,

The Infedels

Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

2008-11-05T23:51:00.002-02:00

My parents got a Wii recently. I'm stopping by their house way more often now. We tried explaining the awesomeness of the Wii to my Grandmother, who is near 85; and she kept thinking we were saying "weed". Which was really funny because she revealed this after I told my wife we needed to buy weed. lol.

In search of a beer store

2008-10-31T21:47:00.002-02:00

I was away on business this weekend and checked on beeradvocate.com for some good local beer stops. I found a grocer (ACME) listed that supposedly had good a selection, it also had the same name as the company that sells all the stuff that Wile E Coyote orders, so I decided to go.

I left the hotel and drove the ten minutes or so in search of the place, realizing after the first two minutes that I had to pee. By the time I got there it became apparent that I had to pee really really bad.

Given my bladder I decided that I would hit up the restroom first and relieve myself. But I couldn't find it. I had to try and avoid pinching it off by hand and just did my best with mind-over-matter; but there were a few times I grabbed my junk and held it for a bit. I tried to time it for when no one was around to see, but the last time some woman saw me and got this disturbed look on her face like she thought as about to whip it out and smack her in the face with it.

So I mumbled "I have to pee" and moved past her. Everytime I saw an employee they were super busy and couldn't help me, but eventually I found two women seated at a table in the candy section (which isn't far from the beer section). They were like "Hi, are you here for your flew shot?" and I said "No, I'm here because I have to pee and I can't find the bathroom and some lady saw me touch my penis and thought I was a pervert but I was only grabbing it so that I didn't pee all over everybody."

Then they said "the restrooms are right over there," and pointed at an area that was less than ten feet away. So I went peed. I gotta tell you, it was one of the most magical times in my life. The unrine just kept pouring out, tears welled up in my eyes... I must have stood there for five minutes letting the piss flow.

When I was done, I shook three times, washed my hands, and walked over to the beer section.'

Then I found the beer. They really did have a good selection, a lot of micro brews were available. The wine selection was pretty awesome too, divided by country and vintage. I was really pleased, and if I'm ever in the area again I'll go back. (but I'll be peeing before I leave)

./

2008-10-11T19:16:00.001-02:00

Sometimes when I go to hit the period button at the end of a sentence I also hit the back-slash button. I don't know if that changes the punctuation or not, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not somehow offending someone from a different culture in which "./" means something really vulgar, mean, and nasty. If that is the case, I'd like to take this opportunity to say "fuck you you filthy bastard./"

Oh that's right, I have a blog.

2008-10-10T01:30:00.003-02:00

Sorry about that, I totally forgot about this thing.

We have a little baby boy living with us now. He's cute as hell but he wakes us up a lot and I don't get the sleep that I used to. So that's my excuse.

Anyway, I'm gonna try and update this thing at least once a week.

Even if it's a really lame update with no real entertainment value such as this one.

I just washed that thing!

2008-06-20T03:51:00.003-02:00

What the hell?

I scrubbed myself down in the shower, made sure all of my parts were clean (especially the areas known to develope stink), and the moment I dry off my gut tells me it needs to let some shit out.

Now my freshly cleansed brown eye will spew forth a most vile filth.

And not having had time to dry properly, the toilet paper is just going to get flimsy and rip real easy. I'll have to take care.

Then I can flush and wait for it to fill back up before restarting the shower. Hopefully this time I won't have to shit again when I step out.

Trolls

2008-06-18T01:55:00.003-02:00

Why do I let the get to me? Why don't I just ignore them?

I don't really know the answers to those quesions. Maybe it's because I feel like someone should be doing something about them. Maybe it's because others vent to me about them and I feel that I should take a stand on their behalf. Maybe because I have a dark part of me that actually enjoys striking back at them using their own tactics.

I think it's a combination of all three of these things. I get complaints from my fellow users, I do feel that someone should do something, and I do enjoy enraging the enrager. I guess that giving someone a taste of their own medicine brings me some strange sense of peace that borders on rage.

It's a shame that they never seem to realize that what is so enraging them is exactly what they have been doing to everyone else.

The Dog

2008-06-11T04:01:00.003-02:00

I'm going to skip past the typical "Sorry it's been so long since I've posted" bullshit. It's been a while since I've posted. Whatever, that much was obvious.

Anyway, today at about 4:00pm we hear this sound from outside that sounds like a dog might be hurt. It was the irritatingly loud beagle bark, but it also sounded like it might be in pain or something. So I got my shoes on and stepped outside and there was a beagle sniffing around in circles on the ground, stopping now and then to bark. It wasn't hurt, just scared.

It didn't run away from me, but it didn't come to me either, just continued sniffing as though I wasn't even there. It was kind of pathetic really, running in circles with its nose to the ground, bark/whining.

Anyway, I finally got him and put a leash on him and called his house. His name was shadow. People came to get him and took him home.

Turns out the stupid fucking dog only walked a street over. One street over and it goes batshit stupid crazy. What a dumb fucking dog. One street. Sniffing in circles.

How much do you know about...

2008-04-25T03:03:00.002-02:00

Worms fuck. It’s true. I found out in probably one of the worst places I could have.

I had just gotten home from work and had to take a shit in the worst way possible. So I went to bathroom to drop a serious deuce only to find that the book I had been reading was no longer in the house. My wife apparently cleaned the bathroom and put my book somewhere. I didn’t have time to look for it, shit was about to go down quite literally. So I ran to the kids bookshelf and scanned the titles and grabbed one of those “What do you know about…” titles.

I ran back to the toilet, dropped my pants, sat down and opened the book. “What do you know about… WORMS.” Great. I sometimes get the unreasonable paranoia that something is going to come up out of the toilet and crawl up my ass… So why not worms?

Oh well, I pushed on and started reading. There was an index and I skipped right into the “Mating” chapter. I was like… “They have sex?” I don’t know… I know they reproduced, and when I was a kid I thought you just ripped them into pieces and that was how they reproduced; but I’m not so deluded anymore to believe that to be true.

How did I think they reproduced? I don’t know. To be honest, worm sex is not one of the topics that has ever entered my mind before cracking that book out. I don’t know if it just never occurred to me or if I subconsciously pushed any such thoughts from my mind.

But last night I found myself staring at the pages and discovering that worms fuck… All while trying to ignore the terrifying rising thoughts of a worm coming up out of the toilet and crawling up my ass.

Yep. Worms fuck. Did you ever see two worms laying on the ground touching? That’s them fucking. That’s how they do it. They just get up next to each other and go at it. And get this, both worms involved get pregnant. Both worms have worm eggs, and both worms have worm sperm.

I’ve also discovered that I really enjoy the term: worm sperm. I also just discovered, upon writing the last sentence, that saying “the term worm sperm” is even more entertaining. I’m now trying to think about other words that I could fit into that, like “firm” or “germ”, but none of it makes sense. Wait… The firm worm sperm has germs…. That was fun.

Okay, so they have sex, right? And then this film travels up and down the length of their bodies and falls off to become an egg sack, wherein hundreds of baby worms will hatch. At that point I decided that hundreds of baby worms are creepy. It’s one of the creepiest things I can think of. Spiders, cockroaches, centipedes, ticks… Yeah, they’re kind of creepy; but hundreds of tiny little baby worms? Fuck.

What if they all started crawling up my ass? That would be seriously fucking scary.

You say Goodbye and I say Hello

2008-04-11T03:11:00.002-02:00

“Samantha;” came his voice, whispering to me in the night and rousing me from my dreams.

I sat up to see him standing at the foot of my bed and met his eyes. The moonlight spilling in from the window gave him a strangely beautiful glow.

“Hello darling,” he said with a sad smile on his face.

“How did you get in here?” I asked. I was certain that I’d locked the door.

“I love you,” he told me.

“I love you too,” I said. Something about his smile and the way he was speaking told me that something was wrong. “What is it, Pete?”

“I came here to say goodbye. We have to stop seeing each other,” he said.

His words seemed to echo off of the walls as a cold quiet filled the room.

“I don’t understand,” I said, trying not to let the mounting sorrow overtake me.

“It’s not you, Samantha; you’ve been wonderful. It’s me.”

“Oh spare me the generic break-up bullshit, Pete,” I snapped at him.

He closed his eyes a moment, appearing to fight back tears of his own.

“What is it?” I asked again. “I don’t understand. Is there someone else?”

“No, there’s no one else,” he told me.

“Then what is it?!”

“I’m such an idiot sometimes. Oh God, how could I be such a fool!” His voice was thick with grief. “Sam, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I did something very stupid.”

“What, Pete? What did you do? Whatever it is, we can work through it…”

“No we can’t, babe; we can’t work through this one. There’s just no way.”

“Would you just tell me already?”

“Alright,” he said; taking in a deep breath. “Tonight was Ryan’s bachelor party. We went to a couple of bars. I don’t know how much I drank, I lost count at some point. I shouldn’t have been driving…”

“Did you hit someone?”

“No,” he told me. “No, I didn’t hit anyone.” There was a short pause before he continued. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Something jumped out in front of me,” he said. “I don’t know what it was, a deer or a dog… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I swerved to avoid whatever it was and ran off the road into a cluster of trees. I wrapped the car around a tree… You know, I thought it would hurt more than it did…”

“So… What? They got you for a DUI?” I asked. “How did you get away?”

“I didn’t, Sam. I didn’t get away,” He told me; the tears now running unchecked down his cheeks. “I just wanted to see you one last time before…”

“Before what?” I asked. I knew the answer, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry, darling.” He said, drifting backwards and away from me.

“Where are you going?” I asked, panic and sorrow feeding on one another. “Don’t leave me, Pete.”

“My sister should be calling you soon, Sam.”

“Don’t you leave me!” My panic and sorrow turned quickly to rage. “Don’t you dare leave me Pete, you son of a bitch! Come back here!!”

“I love you,” he said calmly.

“I need you!” I shouted.

The ringing of the phone from my nightstand awoke me. I opened my eyes to see the ceiling above highlighted with dim moonlight. My cheeks were still wet with tears; my body still digesting the intense emotions of the dream. Panic and terror and sorrow were mixing together inside of me like a cocktail of hysteria.

The phone rang again. I stared at it coldly, trying to will it to silence.

But it rang again.

Slowly, with a hand that would not be still; I reached for it.

“Hello?”

A handy man I am not.

2008-03-29T23:23:00.004-02:00

I've never been very good or interested in handy work, and as a result I have no idea what the hell I am doing. This makes trips to the hardware store a bit of a chore, but I can do it on my own... It'll take me a while, but I'll eventually figure it out and take care of it.

What's worse than going on my own is going with my wife. My wife is a handywoman. She loves doing shit around the house and she's good at it. It's really embarassing to follow her around the store, especially when the other guys give me the "look." You know what I'm talking about, the 'what kind of man are you?' look. It sucks.

Maybe you're thinking "well then, you better start learning how to do shit around the house so that you don't have to be embarassed." But there is a flaw in that logic. As I stated previously; I have never been good or interested in handy work. And my wife enjoys it, so why ruin a good thing?

Instead I have developed a plan. Any time my wife and I both go to the hardware store, I will walk behind her and act like I'm retarded. Hands straight down at my sides, taking tons of short steps instead of normal ones, my face looking straight at the ground the whole while... I get less looks this way.

I mean, when you're just a guy who has a wife who knows a bunch of shit about hardware and repairs and shit, you get a bunch of looks from guys like you don't have a pair of nuts between your legs.

But when you're retarded they just smile politely or avert their gazes.

I've already put the plan into play once and had great results. I intend on implementing this strategy with each visit to the hardware store. Hopefully I won't run into anyone I know.

Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.

2008-03-26T03:20:00.004-02:00

Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
Herpes on my scrotum
Herpe power

They're the worlds most common STD
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
They're herpes on my nuntsack and they're mean
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
When an evil outbreak attacks
These fucking herpes don't cut me no slack

Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
Your mother gave me these itchy, bumpy things
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
All the itching leads, it's just part of the disease
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.

I hope this puts you in the mood
Cause I'm gonna fuck you up the ass real soon.
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.
Psycho Rabid Mutant Herpes.

Would you like some herpes?
Suck my balls.

Monkey Business

2008-03-22T04:57:00.001-02:00

I have an idea for a new reality TV show. It's called Monkey Business. And basically it's a hidden camera show where monkeys enter the workforce.

For instance. A man hires a construction company to build a deck on the back of his house and a crew of monkeys shows up with hardhats and toolbelts and stuff. Imagine the look on the man's face when a crew of monkeys show up to do his deck.

Or a couple goes out to a restaurant and a monkey (dressed in a waiter uniform, white button up shirt, black pants, carries a notepad, etc) shows up to take their order, AND brings them out their food!

Or a man gets into the back of a cab and tells the cabbie where to take him. Just before the taxi starts moving, the driver (a monkey) turns around and gives him a big old chimpanzee smile.

And when PETA protests, we could send out our official spokesperson; and it could be a chimpanzee dressed in a suit and tie. He could stand at a little podium with a mic on it and address the crowd.

Animal planet could totally pick this show up.

Wouldn't this be the best show ever? Don't deny it, you know it would.

Why won't the robots stop calling?

2008-02-26T05:00:00.003-02:00

I don't mind telemarketers. I'd be hypocritical if I thought otherwise, as I work in a call center.

But at the very least have a human call me. Don't send me a fucking pre-recorded message. Does that even work? Ever? I can't imagine you see a lot of success with machines calling people.

I have to pull my jimmy out of the glory hole in an effort to answer the phone in case it's some sort of emergency; only to find out that someone recorded a message to play to me upon answering. Do you realise how rare it is that I am able to convince my wife make the beast with two backs with me?!? I can't be wasting precious time like that by answering the fucking phone and NOT EVEN BEING ABLE TO SAY "Hey, I can't talk right now because I'm having sex."

That's the best part about telemarketers, by the way; bragging to complete strangers.
But all of that is lost on a fucking machine that is playing a fucking pre-re-fucking-corded message!

Maybe I would appreciate the pre-recorded messages more if I was lonlier. But I'm not quite that lonely.

Wait... Are these calls coming from the same people as the automated commenters that I have blocked with the "type these letters" system? Are you that desperate to get in touch with me? I miss you too, guys. I miss your complements on the design of my blog and your random links to porn. Perhaps you could work the porn thing into your messages that you call me with? I think that would be great. Hope to talk to you soon!

A page from Ducky Park

2008-02-15T00:30:00.002-02:00

While you are disappointed that you can't run one of the roller coasters, you have to admit that it is pretty cool to run one of the rides, even if it is only a choice between bumper cars and the thing with the horses.

"I guess I'll do the thing where the horses go around in the circles," You tell him, doing your best not to sound too disappointed about the roller coaster thing.

"It's called a carousel, boy," He informs you.

"Right," you say; "The Carousel."

He nods approvingly. "That's where I started. Maybe you can work your way up through the ranks and be like me."

"I hope not," You say aloud, purely on accident. You immediately regret saying it and your face flushes red with embarrassment.

Thankfully Jake seems good humored; he laughs about it and slaps you on the shoulder. "You're a funny guy," He says, leaning on too close to say it, the liquor on his breath combined with the fumes from his poor oral hygiene nearly make you gag.

"Oh man," You say, "Could you not lean in so close when you’re talking to me?!"

"Sorry about that," He says to you, with a good humored smile on his dirty face. "My breath ain't the freshest, I know it."

"You're not kidding either, man. What the fuck do you do? Gargle with diarrhea? Damn!"

He laughs a little more and tells you how to get to the carousel. He tells you to send who ever is working there to him to be reassigned after he trains you for an hour or so.

You thank him and walk off in the direction he indicated. You're not sure why you're following his directions, you know exactly where the horse thingy is, but you figure that if he went through the trouble of pointing out a path for you to follow, you ought to follow it.

Your way would have been much quicker though.

You reach the thing with the horses that go around in circles and walk up to the guy operating the ride. He greets you warmly enough and you tell him what Jake told you to say. The guy practically hugs you, a huge smile spreads across his face and he thanks you over and over.

"I'm just so sick of this ride," He confides in you. "It's the same thing every time, around and around in slow circle after slow circle. I'm so glad you're replacing me."

You don't really know what to say to that, so you just kind of stare at him with a slack jaw.

The ride ends.

"OK, let me show you how you do this," He tells you. You follow him as he first walks over to the gate and opens it, then goes to help some of the kids who need help, get down. The kids all run to their parents who wait at the fence, and eventually the ride empties of all the kids.

He lights up a cigarette and stands there with you in silence.

"Now what," You ask after standing there for some time.

"Now we wait for a line to form and I can show you how to start the ride." He says, sighing deeply. "Man, I can't wait 'till I'm done training you on this. I really fucking hate this ride. I mean, it doesn't even draw a crowd. How many fucking rides are there that you have to wait for a line to start before it will run?"

"I don't know," You tell him.

"None," He replies, "This is the only fucking ride like that in the park. Except for Little Ducks, the kiddie area."

You stand in silence for some time, uncomfortable with the absence of conversation, you decide to introduce yourself. "My name is Ricky by the way," You say to him, holding out a hand for him to shake.

"Chris," He says, shaking your hand briefly. "You know what else pisses me off about this thing? No babes."

"No babes?" You ask.

"That's right," He says, hitting his cigarette deeply before continuing; "There's no fucking babes. You know how many chicks ride the coasters? Tons. And the water rides? Man, the guys that run the water rides have it lucky. There's always a hot dingbat who decided to wear a white shirt with no bra underneath.

"But the only babes you'll get on this ride are moms. Foxy moms. They're all right to look at, but when it comes right down to it, they're moms. They have kids and probably have husbands.

"Other than hot moms, the only babe you'll see on this ride is this blond chick who gets on the carousel once a week. She's gorgeous, perfect body, great rack, hot ass, and the most beautiful pouty lips you'll ever see."

He hits his cigarette again.

"Then what's the problem?" You ask.

"She's fucking retarded. Seriously. Mentally challenged. Not "slow learner" retarded or "acts like an idiot" retarded. Really, genuinely retarded. She picks her nose and eats the boogers and shit. They dethawed cavemen with more extensive vocabularies. It's a damn shame, too. She's a hot number. And her big body builder brother is always around, so you can't even try to take advantage of her."

"Damn," You say.

"Yeah," He replies, flicking his cigarette into the bushes behind the ride. "Looks like we got a line forming," he says.

You follow him to the entrance gate where two kids stand waiting. A third kid stands there with his mom, who urges him to get on the carousel.

"See what I mean?" Chris whispers to you.

"Yeah," You whisper back, "Any other ride and that kid would be begging to get on."

"No, I mean the moms," He says, "Look at the rack on her. Holy shit would I love to suck the milk from her teet."

You look at him like he's deranged... Mostly because you think he's deranged. "You're a sick bastard," You tell him.

"I know," He says. "But I'm on to better things soon, thanks to you."

The mom wins and the kid walks with his head bowed in shame towards the ride.

"Do you need help getting on one of the big horsies?" Chris asks him.

"Shut up, mister and start the ride," The kid retorts.

"We need four more kids before the ride can start, kid. Go pick your stupid horse so your mommy can see you ride around on it."

"Was that necessary?" You ask him.

"Hey Ricky, I don't go trying to tell you how to look stupid, so don't start trying to tell me how to treat the snot nosed little brats that get on my ride." He responds curtly.

"If no one else shows up after two or three minutes," He tells you, continuing with his lesson, "you tell that the carousel is about to start and that'll usually draw a few people."

"And if it doesn't?" You ask.

"If it doesn't you wait a couple more minutes and start it without them." He tells you.

"Ah," You reply, taking this information in.

Chris walks to the gate and cups his mouth with his hands. "Last call for the carousel!!" He hollers for all to hear.

One more kid comes straggling in.

"All right," Chris says to you, "Let's start this ancient bitch up eh?"

You follow him to the platform with the control switch on it and he shows you how to start the ride by moving a lever. He explains that it's on a timer, so you won't have to stop it, but in case of emergency he shows you the manual brake.

You notice a little knob beside the start lever and ask about it.

"Don't worry about that thing. It controls the speed. If you touch it, Jake will have your ass."

You help him start the ride twice before he parts company with you; wishing you luck. You wish him the same and wait for the kids to show up for the next ride. Somehow you imagined running a ride would be more exciting...

You go through the motions for a little over an hour, running the carousel four times for close to twenty kids. Chris was right, you decide, the carousel is a big pain in the ass.

At around five o'clock, however, a beautiful blonde catches your eye. She has a grin on her face that speaks volumes of happiness, and a body like the girls in the magazines your father keeps under his bed. She wears a plain dress and runs to the carousel with an overwhelming amount of excitement.

She runs up to the carousel and picks a horse, leaping up to straddle it. As she gets aback the horse, you cannot help but note the bareness of her ass beneath the dress. It doesn't appear that this foxy young temptress is wearing any panties at all. She looks up at you and smiles. You wonder if she caught you looking.

She makes only the second passenger on the carousel, so you know you have time to kill before more arrive and you have to start the ride. You want to go talk to her, but you're not really sure if she'll like you. You are a dipshit, after all.

Do you stand where you are and wait for more kids or go talk to her?

Interested in reading more? Ducky Park

Why I won't go to zoo's anymore

2008-02-09T05:19:00.001-02:00

I was attacked by a flamingo at a local zoo. Fearing for my life, I whipped out my pocket knife and slit its throat. Thankfully no one was around to witness the incident, so I planted the knife in the monkey cages and ran out of the zoo to my car and drove home.

Later that night; I saw on the news that a monkey had found a knife and gone on a killing spree.

I can’t help but feel guilty about it.

Inspiration comes in the strangest of places

2008-02-06T23:51:00.001-02:00

I've been rather blocked in my writing lately. I've had a couple new starts to novels (and posted both of them here), but I can't seem to continue with them right now.

But last night I had that feeling again. That feeling that I haven't felt in years. Inspiration.

And it's not just one of the usual moments of inspiration where I can write a few pages and then get stuck again, it;s the kind that pops into my head at every chance it can.

Our dryer broke at home and I have to go to the laundromat to take care of drying the clothes for the time being.

So there I am, sitting in a virtually empty laundromat while this mentally retarded couple is on the other side of the place conversing. I'm a bit of a people watcher, I enjoy taking in mannerisms and personalities; and these two were really entertaining.

As I sit there I start to think that the laundromat wouldn't be such a bad setting for a play. And then the wheels started turning.

I've always said that the laundromat where we dry our clothes should have an arcade machine in it, PacMan or Galaga or Donkey Kong, whatever just something real simple. They'd make a mint. But I degress.

In the vision in my head there is a Galaga machine there. But no one really plays it. One day a new guy starts using the laundromat; he's a studly and charismatic guy who is only temporarily drying his laundry there because his dryer recently broke down. Anyway, he starts playing Galaga. He is at first pissed off that there is no option to continue, but that just makes the high score even more significant. He tries and tries but can't seem to break the high score.

Till one day when he does. Suddenly the phone starts ringing. If you've ever had to use a laundromat then you understand how awkward the ringing phone can be. No one knows if they should answer it or not and generally the people end up just staring it down until it stops ringing or someone actually picks it up.

Well this one doesn't stop ringing and eventually someone answers it.

They answer it to hear nothing but static, or maybe the little song that Galaga makes when you get a perfect score on the 'challengin stages'. Anyway, after the little song (cause I think that's what I'm going with now) one of the unused dryers starts running real loud-like; it sounds like a belt is broken and the thing is about to break down. And then it stops and a bright light beams out from it.

When the dryer is opened, white light encompasses them all and they experience the greatest joys they have ever known. They revert to childhood or something similar, who knows - I think I'll keep it a mystery anyway. Afterwards they all want to go back.

Beating the high score becomes an obsession for them. They almost fiend for it. In comparison to that one devine moment of thier lives everything else has become mundane.

That's basically all I got. I have a few characters in mind, one of which is a crazy and slightly retarded guy that everyone thinks is nutty, but friendly. It appears this guy has the original high score on the Galaga game, and (we find out later) is crazy because he wants so desperately to experience the divinity that comes from getting the high score. But he has never been able to reach that level again and stopped trying, waiting and hoping that someone else could beat the score.

I know that's all a bit scattered, but that's what I have so far.

(any ideas for a witty title?)

Perfume for the wife

2008-01-30T03:21:00.002-02:00

Well, she wasn’t my wife back then; but Christmas time was coming up and the little lady wanted some perfume. She was specific in the brand; showed me it, made me smell it. But I didn’t write the brand down. It’s okay, I thought; it’s got the same name as a GI Joe.

So my car broke down and I had to get a ride from a friend to the local mall. He swings by and picks me up and we drive out there, all thirty minutes to reach the place.

So we get to the store and I’m looking around at the bottles and nothing looks right. I’m smelling shit, and nothing smells right. What’s worse; none of these perfumes have the name of a GI Joe.

My friend starts to get impatient. “I’ve got things to do, poop,” he says to me.

“I know, I know. I’m going to remember it any second now, I swear.”

“You don’t even know what you’re buying?!” he says incredulously.

“Not exactly,” I say. “But it has the same name as a GI Joe.”

He laughs a bit at this, one of those angry laugh-instead-of-kill laughs.

“Start naming GI Joe’s” I say to him.

He lets out a frustrated breath before starting. “Snake Eyes,” he says.

“Nope”

“Duke”

“Nope”

“Shipwreck”

“Nope”

“Sgt. Slaugher, Flint, Scarlet, Lady Jay”

“Nope, nope, nope, nope.”

“Destro.”

“Destro is Cobra. The perfume is a GI Joe.”

“Oh for christs sake, poop!”

“I gotta get her the right perfume, man. Work with me here!”

“I’m trying, but this is fucking ridiculous!”

A few moments of frustrated silence while the sales clerk moves on to other customers.

“Law”

“Yeah, Law sounds like a fucking perfume, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck you, poop. Buy something now or let’s get the fuck out of here. I have a date to get to.”

Shit. I smelled a few and grabbed one.

Christmas comes and I act like I got the right one, but I didn’t. She opens the box and is like “what’s this?”

“That’s that perfume you wanted,” I tell her.

“No it’s not,” she said.

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“Uh…”

Silence.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I’ll just return it and get the one I wanted.”

“Sorry, I forgot which one it was.”

“Why didn’t you write it down?” she asks.

“I didn’t think I would have to since it has the same name as a GI Joe.”

She laughs. “You’re silly, poop.”

“So what was the name of it,” I ask her. “Cause this has been driving me nuts for days.”

“Ambush,” she says.

Fucking Ambush.

But, as she came to find out at the store; Ambush was discontinued.

There were no other perfumes who had GI Joe names, so she ended up getting something else. It didn’t smell as good as that Ambush stuff, but it was something.

I suck at getting presents.

Chewing Gum

2008-01-24T03:34:00.001-02:00

It was on my dresser when I awoke. I just opened my eyes and there it was, a perfect cube wrapped in wax paper. I reached for it, took it into my hand and unwrapped it.

It was the color of a deep red, soft to the touch and smelling of factory-fresh tropical punch. I could feel the flash flood in my mouth and I knew that I had to have it.

I popped the thing into my mouth and allowed to rest briefly on my tongue before I began gnashing it with my teeth. My mouth exploded with a mixture of fruit punch and spit, my mouth became a punch bowl of goodness.

It made me happy.

I stood up with an overwhelming joy as I continued to devour the chewy cube of sweetness; each time I bit down another surge of fruit punch flooded my mouth; as though I was killing something that bled deliciously. I felt a bit savage for it, but it is necessary to sometimes give into ones primal urges.

I began walking, fruit punch orgasms bursting in my mouth. When I reached the doorway I stopped. I must have looked quite heroic in that moment. It was perhaps the most exhilarating sensation of my life. I felt triumphant.

I chewed happily as I walked until, with an experimental flip of my tongue I managed to launch the little wax goodness into the back of my throat. It became stuck back there, wedged in my throat and blocking air flow. My hands shot up quick to grip futilely at my neck. I was choking.

Was I even walking anymore? I couldn’t tell. I guess I was too focused on rejecting this chewy assassin too much to notice if I was still on my feet and moving. I must have been just stumbling blindly. I remember tears distorting my vision and I remember panicking a little.

At one point my foot seemed to have missed the ground and I found myself falling. I banged myself up good as I bounced and bumped and rolled down the long wooden staircase. Somewhere during the ride I blacked out.

The world went black. There was no pain.

A little while later I began to see light and my eyes fluttered open. I tried to focus on a crack in the ceiling, but it kept sliding away from me.

How long was I out?

The pain started to come back and my stomach got sick; the liquid vision getting to be too much for me to stand. I began gagging.

My feet rested on the stairs, twisted at awkward angles. Everything hurt. Nothing was at all pleasant about my predicament.

Well, almost nothing. I felt something cold and oddly shaped between my gum and cheek. It was the most brilliant sensation, but whatever it was tasted like the most exquisite fruit punch I had ever tasted. Most of my body wouldn’t move for me, but my jaw was working just fine.

My teeth pressed down on it and fruity goodness spewed forth. I continued to chew on this glorious work of yummy wonder while staring at the ceiling waiting for someone to come home and find me.

My saliva gushed with fruit sensation and I reveled in what happiness I could find. I figured I would only have to wait a few hours or so, and I could get through it so long as I had this tasty treat with me for the duration. Somehow, as I chomped on that chewy goodness, I still felt triumphant.

Fate and gravity had other plans for me. It fell into the back of my throat again. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.

The world went black and there was no pain.

Martin Luther King Day

2008-01-21T20:19:00.001-02:00

"Happy Martin Luther King Day," I said to my wife this morning, rolling over and kissing her on the cheek.

"Happy Martin Luther King Day," she said to me.

"Martin Luther King Jr was a great man," I said.

"Yeah," she said; "He freed the slaves."

I laughed.

"What so funny?" she asked.

"Honey, Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves. Martin Luther King was a leader of the civil rights movement," I said.

"Oh," she said.

She also once said the following the differences between right and left;

"It's like they are the same, except that they're opposites."

Random Question # 3

2008-01-21T04:12:00.001-02:00

So when you eat corn and/or peanuts, do they reform in your stomach before coming out in your poop?

Plime

2008-01-19T02:59:00.001-02:00

Tonight plime was down. Which meant I didn't have much in the form of entertainment while at work.

So I figured I would search the internet for interesting sites to post on plime.

But the only one I could think of was plime.com

And it's not worth posting if it's not working.

I've Done it Again

2008-01-18T04:26:00.001-02:00

Prepare to be once again utterly amazed by the talent of donteatpoop.

This afternoon I twisted the cap off of my 20oz Mountain Dew. I won. Next time I purchase a 20oz bottle of Mountain Dew, I will get another one absolutely free of charge.

Only about 1 in 6 bottles are winners. Think about those odds for a moment.

What's more, over the last few weeks I have won two other times. Same contest, same odds and it was I who was declared victor.

1 in 6? I laugh at these odds! Try 3 in 21, Mountain Dew.

I'm a fucking champion.

Keep in touch

2008-01-05T03:50:00.001-02:00

People move away. It's inevitable, especially in the area where I live. So we promise to keep in touch.

The method of course, is e-mail.

But what happens? Rarely is any actual correspondence shared. It's all jokes and videos and chain-mail.

What kind of fucked up attempt at retaining contact with friends is that?

A Night Out

2007-12-28T03:20:00.001-02:00

Last night I got out of work an hour early. So two of my co-workers (we’ll call them Dude and Chick) and I decided to hit up the bar.

Buffalo Zoo Juice

We sat down and ordered our drinks. A few minutes later this trio of guys got up to the bar and ordered an interesting looking pink mixed drink. Dude and Chick were all like “Oooo, that looks good” and “I wonder what that is”. So I said, “Why don’t you go ask him?”

But they responded (and I’m paraphrasing here) “No, we have social anxieties and strangers intimidate us.”

“I’ll go find out, then,” I said. Both of them said I shouldn’t; I don’t really understand their inability to speak to strangers.

So I asked the guy what drink he was having and he told me; “It’s called Buffalo Zoo Juice” (this is at Buffalo Wild Wings, so it’s probably some sort of ‘chain-drink’).

“What’s in it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” the guy said; “But my brother works at another BW’s, and he made me one of these. I only drank the one and I was buzzing my dick off.”

“Wow,” I said. “Last time I buzzed my dick off, there was a cell phone in my pocket.”

Awkward silence, he blinked a few times.

“Alright,” I said; “thanks.”

“Sure,” he said.

I walk back over to Dude and Chick and they are immediately asking for details. “What’s it called?” “What is it?” “What’s in it?”

“It’s called Buffalo Zoo Juice,” I told them, pausing dramatically; “And it is known to buzz dicks off.”

“What?!” The two of them asked, astonished. “It does what?!”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I asked that guy what was in it and he said he didn’t know, but the last time he had one he was buzzing his dick off.”

They laughed for a while and “buzz my dick off” became a catch phrase for the night. I moderated it for Chick, saying “It will buzz your vag off”.

We ended up ordering the drinks and they were pretty good. Sadly, however, there was no dick buzzing.

A Friendly Game of Confuse the DJ

There was a DJ there that night. He mentioned that he was taking requests, said to come on up and tell him what we wanted to hear and to come on up as often as we like.

That’s when I proposed a bar-game. I don’t know if this is a game other people play, but it’s called Confuse the DJ.

“How do you play Confuse the DJ?” Chick asked.

“It’s easy,” I told her. “We make up a band and request to hear it.”

So we started brainstorming. It had to sound like a real band and we threw several ideas out on the table; Black Sunday had a good run, then I suggested Silver Jews (someone I was certain they had never heard of). They thought Silver Jews sounded horrible, not like a real band at all. I then revealed that Silver Jews was a real band, and they were astonished to learn this. This gave me an idea.

Next I suggested Queen Franklin and we toyed with this one for a while before I suggested Soul Coughing, a band that was not unheard of but not common. I watched them for recognition and saw (thankfully) that they had never heard of Soul Coughing.

“That’s what I’m going to request then,” I said. “Soul Coughing. I’ll call the song Super Bon-Bon.”

So I went up to the DJ and suggested it. The DJ hadn’t heard any requests for Soul Coughing in a long while, but he did have the song.

I returned to the bar and Dude and Chick were excited to hear how it went.

“I walked up to him and asked for Soul Coughing, Super Bon-Bon; and then I walked away.” They laughed a little. Wasn’t overly funny, but it was amusing at the moment for them.

It was far more amusing when, two songs later, the DJ announced that the next song was from a band called Soul Coughing with the song ‘Super Bob-Bon’.

Their jaws dropped as the bass started pumping. “No way!” I said, trying to look as shocked as they were. A moment later realization hit them and they realized that they had been had, but the look of shock on their faces before then was worth the trouble of the long set-up.

An open letter to the Philadelphia Eagles

2007-12-25T22:03:00.001-02:00

Dear Eagles,

You know we don't have a shot at getting into the playoffs. Why do you keep trying to win? What about the draft? Is the draft not important to you? I just don't understand.

Happy Birthday Jesus

2007-12-25T18:45:00.001-02:00

Happy birthday, Jesus.

The Metal Gate

2007-12-20T03:34:00.002-02:00

The wife and I had a little fight the other night. It’s been a while since we’ve squabbled, so it was about time really.

I don’t even remember what we were arguing about, but I know it was something stupid (the best fights are the stupid ones).

It got pretty heated and it eventually reached the point where I was going to start flipping out and saying mean things that I didn’t mean, so I decided that I just needed to end the fight real quick and walk away so that nothing escalated. So I said “fuck you,” and walked away (this is how I end fights). As I walked away I stepped through the metal child-gate we have that keeps our dog out of certain rooms. I opened it, stepped through and slammed it behind me; not shut, just slammed it.

So Mrs. Poop was like “Oh you like slamming things, do you?!” and she grabbed the gate door and was like SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

Well, I wasn’t going to let her get away with that, so I grabbed the gate and did one huge incredible hulk SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!! That one ripped the gate right out of the door frame, and my wife walked away. I was glad she walked away too, because I had broken several parts of the gate with that last slam.

I ended up setting the gate aside, propping it up against a wall and not saying anything about it.

Later on, after we were no longer infuriated with one another, Mrs. Poop saw the gate and said “why do you have the gate over on the wall like that? Put it up so the dog can’t get in here,”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I told her.

Then I showed her the cracked and bent pieces and we laughed. It was a pretty awesome slam, all things considered.

The next morning we went out and got a new gate.

Drive By

2007-12-13T03:07:00.001-02:00

That last post I made reminds me of something I actually have done.

Drive by snow balls.

It used to be a lot of fun, I'd drive and throw snow balls, the kids would throw snow balls out the back window. It was great.

Wasn't too often we actually hit anyone, but it was great fun trying.

A dream fulfilled?

2007-12-08T17:46:00.001-02:00

Today I did something that I have always wanted to do.

It just snowed last night.

I went to the gas station on my way home from work to fill up the tank. It was pretty crowded there.

I decided that I wasn't just going to dream about it anymore and I did it. I launched a snowball at a complete stranger.

He was an older man dressed with a stern face. He gave me the impression that he was one of those people who regularly snubs his nose at people like me.

It landed on the roof of his car and bounced harmlessly past him, but the roof bounce sprayed him a bit with a little snow. He glared at me and I stared right back at him as I packed up another snowball. At another pump somewhere someone laughed.

He was still glaring at me with his angry eyes as I threw the second snowball at him. This one hit his shoulder. "You are incredibly childish," he said to me.

"And you sir are no soldier," I said, packing another one.

That's when the missle came in at me; blasted me right in the side of the head. I turned around to see some guy about my age holding his hands in the air in absolute victory.

"That't it," I said. "You're dead." I returned fire.

Before I knew it, the entire area was engaged in an all out snowball war; the volley of snowballs was so intense that it blotted out the flaurecent lighting from above. Every one was fully engaged. It was glorious.

The man who was originally victimized by my terrorism drove away as his car took damage from hundreds of snowballs as the war waged on. Eventually the police had to come and break it up.

It was a night that I can never forget... Or could never forget if I had actually done any of this.

I wish I could work up the courage to do so, but everytime I play it out in my head I assume that someone is going to get wicked pissed and fail to relive the simple childish pleasure of engaging yourself in a snowball fight. 122

Today was kind of random

2007-12-05T03:54:00.001-02:00

Today was an interesting day.

I slept in a little; which was good because I felt a little better rested but was also bad because I was a few minutes late for work. I pulled into the work parking lot and my jacket sleeve got caught on my pants button and ripped the button off (that's what happened, by the way; my belly didn't cause it to burst or anything i swear). I put the button in my back pocket and tightened my belt a bit hoping that it would compensate for and cover up my missing button.

Then I went to work, up the elevator and in the doors; to my desk undetected by the boss. Certainly that was lucky. What was even more fortunate was what I noticed in the restroom mirror, the absense of my top button was thankfully unnoticable due to my enormous gut hanging over the belt line just enough to cover the button area.

Turns out a client was visiting today, so my massive girth really is fortunate with the whole button thing. I got to go to olive garden with them on company expense, and that was awesome.

I got 'stuffed chicken somthing'. There were two 'stuffed chicken somethings' on the menu, but I got the one I could pronounce. I figured I would be able to remember it since I could pronounce it, but as I told my wife what it was I realised that I had forgotten. As fate would have it, she knew the meal I was speaking of and named it right off; having seen it advertised on the television.

That's when I explained to her what I have already explained to her; that I had chosen one I could pronounce in the hopes of remembering the name it but having forgotten just that, and about how coincidental it was that she should know the name of it.

After that I came over here to post it on my blog, only to realize that I have again forgotten the name of it. I am certain that it is "stuffed chicken something", but as I have mentioned; there are two 'stuffed chicken somethings' on the list and I don't remember either of them.

If you go to Olive Garden, have the 'stuffed chicken something' that is easy to pronounce.

So I go to the fridge only to discover that my wife bought some St. Pauli Girl and stocked the fridge with them so that they were nice and cold for me when I got home.

Except that the beer in the refridgerator thing didn't actually happen. I made that part up to mask the pain that I feel because this has never happened to me. The conclusion of the day utterly destroyed what had been an otherwise wonderful adventure.

Honey, if you read this... Please buy me some beer and stock the fridge with it. If you won't give me head, at least give me beer.

*sigh*

Decorating for Christmas

2007-12-04T02:12:00.001-02:00

My wife loves to decorate for christmas. But for some reason she will not allow me to decorate despite the utter awesomeness of my decoration idea.

You know those circular cookies that the keebler elves make? I want to hang them on strings from my cieling. That way, if you're hanging out at my house and want a cookie all you have to do is reach up and pull one down.

And yet she denies the coolness factor of this idea.

Dear people who drive short cars...

2007-12-01T05:20:00.001-02:00

Dear people who have short cars.

I hate you.

Sincerely,

The guy who keeps getting excited when he thinks there is an open spot.

I just made the best sandwich ever.

2007-11-29T03:21:00.001-02:00

I toasted two pieces of bread and cut off a few uneven slices of cheese, then I put on some turkey, roast beef, ham, and some fried salomi. I topped it with a few dabbs of this gourmet horseradish mustard stuff that has been in the fridge for years and almost hurt to taste, but it's so good that the hurt is worth it.

It was pretty damn good.

Great, as if I didn't already have enough stories to try and finish up.

2007-11-24T22:12:00.001-02:00

New novel I started on...

Smoke curls lazily into the air from the end of the joint. Unaffected by drafts or gusts of wind, it is free to make its own path, rolling in upon itself as it climbs to greater heights and, inevitably my ceiling. It’s hard not to admire the beauty of smoke, especially when the light hits it at the right angle. It drifts upward in a path its own; so free, so calming, so magnificently beautiful. It takes a road of twists and turns until it inevitably reaches my ceiling and dissipates.

The glowing ember is drawn slowly, eating away at the herb and paper to sustain itself. Eventually it becomes too hot and starts to burn at my fingers; I have to lift my balls up from the seat to drop it into the toilet. The embers’ last hisses of protest are quickly silenced as the water claims it.

I wipe my ass real quick and flush everything away, stepping directly into the shower afterwards. The blast of water is arctic cold and I have to adjust the hot and cold in a hurry. The water doesn’t take too long to move to a more comfortable temperature and I am able to just stand there and zone out for a while.

I reflect on what I’ve just done and start laughing when it occurs to me that I just took single the most spiritual shit of my life. And now I am going through the cleansing process. It’s all very funny; to me anyway.

Man, I’m such a fuck-up stoner. I didn’t used to be like this, though.

After I got out highschool I stopped smoking weed when I met a girl. I had fallen quickly in love with her. We were great together. She asked me to stop smoking and I did. Just like that I quit, cold turkey.

It wasn’t even a big deal. I didn’t go through any withdraw and I actually started to lose weight. I didn’t have the munchies all the time anymore and I wasn’t too lazy to get up and actually do things. My friends were all really disappointed with my decision, mostly because they used to get their weed off of me. I was the hook-up.

When I stopped smoking I realized that all those guys did was smoke weed. Getting high was fun and all, but it shouldn’t be smoked all the time. I didn’t visit them all that much anymore because I didn’t want to watch them all smoke pot and lose the ability to form coherent thoughts.

I spent all my time with my girl. My every thought was of her, she was everything to me. She actually believed in me. I asked her to marry me and she accepted. We moved in together, got an apartment and I started working while she finished up school.

I made decent money fixing computers and had a savings account growing for the wedding. The plan was to be married when she finished up school. We would live the rest of our days as husband and wife.

Then she started acting real distant and I heard that she had been sleeping around. I didn’t believe it at first, but one night I followed her to a school event bonfire thing and found out for myself. Maybe it sounds creepy, but I had to know. And they were right.

I saw her making out with some muscle bound jock mother fucker and left the party fighting back tears. I made it back to the apartment and starting packing her shit up and setting it by the door. I had plenty of time to write out a note, since I figured she be fucking for a little while. “I saw you at the bonfire but didn’t say hi. I packed your things for you.”

Then I stormed out of the apartment and went to drink the night away at some sparsely populated tavern. I didn’t return home for three days, staying in little motels and wallowing around in misery. I treated my condition with alcohol and tears.

The night has been replayed over and over again in my head countless times. There are many things that I wish I had done differently. Sometimes I think I should have walked up to her at the party and let her know that we were through, the verbiage of that fantasy varies from time to time. In other recounts I walked up to the guy, punched him across the face and knocked him over before telling her to fuck off. Other times I act as though I don’t know anything, then fuck her one last time and let her know afterwards; to use her as she’d been using me.

But it doesn’t matter how I play it back; it all comes out the same. I didn’t do what I should have done. I didn’t do anything, in fact. I just ran away. And when I got back she was gone. Gone from my life forever, for the most part anyway.

She called a few times, left messages on my machine; said she was sorry. She made some excuses, but I could tell in her voice that she didn’t believe that any of them would be effective in getting through to me; none of them enough to make me forgive or excuse her. Towards the end she actually a threw out a “we weren’t married yet anyway”. She said it to the machine anyway of course, I didn’t pick up. I just played the messages back. Over and over. Eventually she stopped calling.

I started drinking on a regular basis; started hanging out with my friends again; and started smoking weed again. Because I was smoking weed again, I realized that my friends smoked some swank shit, so I contacted my old sources and started hooking them up again.

Between the pot and the computer repairs I made enough to cover the bills and save up more cash. I added a bit here and there to the apartment, shit I’d never have been able to have had she still been with me.

I ran away and never got over the break up. I’m still not over it, really. It happened almost a year ago, and I’m still not over it. I haven’t seen anyone since; lady-wise. I haven’t even tried. I’m the fat kid again that everyone likes but no one believes in.

This is what my life has become. I’m just treading water sometimes, and more often than not I feel the undertow trying to pull me under.

To be said in a bad-ass voice.

2007-11-24T22:10:00.001-02:00

When outlaws become outlawed. Only outlaws will be outlaws.

How to stop a woman from complaining.

2007-11-08T03:46:00.001-02:00

In the first few years that my wife and I were together we lived in an apartment. We had a nice big shower there, and were able to share showers and everything. It was wonderful.

Of course the downfall was that sometimes my wife just would not stop bitching about things. This is a problem that many men have never been able to overcome.

Let me tell you a story of the day I defeated CBS (Continuous Bitching Syndrom).

I don't remember what it was about, and it's not relevant to the story anyway, but one night my wife just started bitching. Bitching, bitching, bitching. And it was one of those bitch fits that could go on for hours if you let it or didn't know how to stop.

I inwardly cringed, realizing that I had no way of stopping her except to stay calm and agree with her and apologize for whatever the hell it was that I did. But it wasn't working. The minute hand was about halfway through it's first lap when I said I was going to take a shower.

She joined me in the shower, which was our habit, but she was still complaining. She hadn't even paused in her tirade, just followed me to the bathroom, undressed and got into the shower with me. I started using the "You're bitching too much and I'm getting sick of it," route which lead to the logical counter of "well I'm sick of (insert complaint here)" I even tried the "please stop, you've made your point" tactic, but to no avail.

I got out of the shower and quickly dried off, leaving her in the bathroom alone. Naturally she raised her voice so that she could be heard above the water and through the door and accross the apartment to wherever I may wander.

When she finished her shower, rubbing lotion on her arms, she was STILL bitching. There had been no pause what-so-ever, just one long and continuous complaint. She laid down on the love seat to apply some lotion to her legs, her head resting on the arm rest.

Niether of us had dressed yet, and this fact is what sparked the genious of my plan. I walked up to the side of the love-seat, where her head was resting and slapped her in the forehead with my dick. There was a some-what loud "smack!" that seemed to echoe off the walls, and suddenly she had stopped.

There was a long moment of absolute silence as her brain began to process what had just happened. Her mouth hung open and she was clearly in shock. And then, after several seconds of nothing, she spoke.

"Did you just smack me in the forehead with your dick?"

"Well it shut you up, didn't it?" I said. "Nothing else was working." Then I walked away to the bedroom to get dressed.

Didn't hear another word about whatever she had been bitching about of her all night.

Another Heroes observation

2007-10-31T03:16:00.002-02:00

For anyone not a fan of this show, I apologize, but there was something else I was thinking about while watching the program. (by the way, if you're not watching it, you should be)

That chick with that can see anyone do something and then do that herself... She has some sort of mimicking muscles or someshit... Someone needs to sit her down and make her watch some porn.

Think about how quickly she could pick up on the moves those pornstar chicks, a few minutes of her studying a porn and you can say "goodbye" to her gag reflex. How awesome is that shit?

Again, sorry... I have a sick mind and these are the things that run through it when I think "what if my wife had this power"...

And that's what would happen.

Yo momma so...

2007-10-29T02:18:00.001-02:00

While making fun of a security guard, I realized that I had stumbled upon what could possibly be the greatest yo momma joke ever told. Sometimes I'm a freaking genious... Brace yourself:

Yo momma so nasty... When I got done eating her out, she handed me a toothpick.

Insanity Confirmed

2007-10-24T00:00:00.001-02:00

Most of you have undoubtedly come to the conclusion that I am crazy. Don't be bashful, I know it's crossed your minds.

This morning, I have confirmed it.

I was pumping gas and this lady beside me had one of those annoying little "yipe-yipe" dogs that was hell bent on yiping at me through the window. It was so fucking aggrivating.

When the woman went in to pay my pump shut off and I hung the nozzle up. Still that little fucking over-sized rodent dog wanna-be kept barking and yiping and generally annoying the shit out of me.

So I made three deep, menacing, and booming barks at it; the way a dog [i]should[/i] sound. The dog shut the hell up, whimpered a little, and backed up as far as it could in it's vehicle.

I turned around to see the woman returning to her car, and I quickly sat down in mine and started my car. Looking around through the windows I noticed that everyone else was just staring at me with slack jaws, clearly shocked by the crazy man who barks at dogs.

I waved and smiled like a polititian as I drove away.

One year of marital bliss

2007-10-21T23:19:00.001-02:00

My wife and I have been married for one full year now (according to the government, though we've been together 9 years in reality), so if you're reading this, even if it isn't the 21st anymore, I'd appreciate it if you drink one for me in celebration.

Thank you.

Heroes

2007-10-17T23:45:00.001-02:00

Anyone watching the Heroes television series?

There is a character on the show, a cheerleader who has the ability to heal from damn near any wound; broken bones mend, deep gashes heal back over without so much as a scab.

A lot of people mentioned their excitement when the actress turned 18, apparently hoping for some nudie pictures. But I think there is far more to be excited about.

You see, she can heal from damn near anything. That means her hymen will heal once it is busted, and she will forever be a virgin. Think about that for a moment, virgin pussy every time.

In response to censorship on a writing site

2007-10-09T22:08:00.001-02:00

On a writing site that I have recently been frequenting, one of the members (I think he's an admin or something) posted the following:

"This is my opinion. Swearing should be avoided on a writing site. There is no room in the English language for swearing. But if a member swears, then as long as he does not go overkill, he can do it."

I'm rather proud of my response, so I figured maybe you would enjoy it as well. Here was my reply:

Avoided? I disagree completely. If anything, I would expect there to be no restrictions on vocabulary on a writing site. Negative connotations that are associated with a word (or several words) shouldn't have any impact on the use of the word(s). In fact, the negative associations of such words only add to the impact such words can have. Banning a list of words from use on a writing site is like banning a color on an art site. Everything should be available to a writer.

In stories, curse words add to the flare of some characters. It gives the reader a feel for the narrator, or the internal dialogue of some characters. If a certain character only curses while in the company of a specific other character, this can lend the reader some additional insight to the relationship(s) between these characters.

It should not be avoided, but rather embraced. Fuck restrictions and constraints, they do little for the advancement of any art form. Can you imagine where art would be today if the members of the impressionist movement had listened to the critics who claimed that their art work was of poor quality and should not be considered art? Where would music be today if the Beatles and Elvis agreed that Rock and Roll was the devils music? Where would civilization be if the Wright Brothers had agreed with those who said that "if man were meant to fly, he would have been born with wings,"?

Curse words are not just something to spit out in order to offend people, they can also be quite effective in driving home your point. "Get off of my property" does not have the same effect as "Get the hell off of my damn property". "Shut your mouth" doesn't carry the same weight as "Shut your fucking mouth." Sure, the inclusion of these words can add to the anger of the statement, but that's exactly the purpose of their use in the above examples.

I would much rather see a banning and deletion of all 1337 speak and chat talk than a restriction on curse words.

Boxers or Briefs

2007-10-09T17:21:00.001-02:00

...Or commando, as I'm sure some of youn sick bastards are saying in your heads.

I don't like briefs, but they certainly hold my balls in one place. They're a bit confining, in my opinion, but I'm sure that's just a matter of perspective. Briefs activist probably claim that briefs are like a cotton hug for your testicles.

But I don't like them. My nuts need freedom. Plus, with my massive manhood, there's no room in the little space for my third arm AND the boys.

I prefer boxers. (or commando, really, but I have to wear something to work.)

Boxers are great because they allow the man room to swing free. He and the boys hang freely without any constraints. The only drawback to boxers (or no underwear at all) is the limitations they place on your ability to jog effectively.

With every running step I take, they slap up against my leg.

Slap, Slap, Slap, Slap, Slap, Slap. Oh no, donteatpoop is running this way.

In an all-out run it's like there is a crowd giving me a standing ovation as I go by.

Karaoke "Talent Hunt"

2007-10-08T23:26:00.001-02:00

Or some shit like that.

A co-worker of mine, who happens to be a Karaoke host-lady, told me that the bar she runs karaoke at on Mondays is having a talent contest, which is basically a karaoke challenge. She said I sing purty damn good, and that I needed to enter. They are going to give out 200 bucks...

I think I may go. I am the greatest karaoke person to ever take the stage... You know, except for those other people that are better.

Either way... Maybe I can win some moneys for singing some hard rock.

Speaking of balls

2007-10-03T01:39:00.001-02:00

My dog had his balls removed this evening. He's sleeping it off now.

The poor guy.

I guess if I ever had my nuts chopped off, I would sleep a lot too. It's a pretty good plan, I suppose. Wouldn't you agree?

I think it would be worse for me, though; if my balls ever got chopped off. I'm sure it's terribly devistating for him, certainly. But I have an opposoble thumb. So it would be way worse if it happened to me.

Plus he won't be getting bitches pregnant, or spreading animal STD's.

---------------

Speaking of balls, did you ever fart while sitting and have gas float up and vibrate your balls? I did this one time with a crazy-loud one and they actually slapped a couple of times from the air bubble.

It was awesome.

Down the tubes

2007-10-02T04:15:00.001-02:00

I used to think automatic toilet flushers were awesome.

Then I had to poop one day at work.

I tried to avoid it, but I was passing way too much gas and my stomach was like "You better go poop or I'm gonna leave stains." I decided that I had to do it.

So I took a stroll down the hall to the rarely used mens room at the end. It's a pretty old building and the bathroom was pretty small, the two stalls were tiny.

I grabbed one of those paper things that you put on the toilet seat and checked the first stall, it was filled with a dark yellow piss and a fat little turd bobbing along and having a grand swim in the nasty yellow pool. I opted for the next stall.

The next stall was sparkling clean. I'm telling you the damn thing smelled like a breezy sunshine afternoon in a field of wild flowers. I lined the paper thing to the seat, turned around and started to drop my pants.

The damn thing started flushing, I turned around and the fucking seat was going down.

My asshole was like "Shit! Hurry, go get another one!" He was right, so I pulled my pants up and held them with one hand as I walked accross the empty restroom to get another toilet seat. I lined the damn thing up, dropped my drawers and started to sit when FLUSHHHHHHHH.

Mother fucker! My butt hept trying to convince me that it would be okay, reminded me of the sunshine and wildflowers, but I refused to sit on a bare public toilet seat no matter how clean it was. I saw the first stall for the warning that it was.

I hobbled accross the restroom one more time, walking with my cheeks pressed firly together. I got the fucking seat protector and walked into the stall again. I held the seat protector to my butt and sat down on the toilet seat as it flushed. Thankfully the paper was now wedged between my butt and the toilet seat, and I could finally get the ordeal over with.

I should be arrested for what I did to the toilet that day.

Why I don't like Stephen King's writing

2007-09-30T03:34:00.001-02:00

Things I don’t like about Stephen King’s writing style.

I’ve never been a fan of King, but I hear such great stuff about him from people who seem to otherwise have good taste.

I’ve now read 7 novels* from him, just trying to give him another chance, but I keep getting disappointed. Normally an author gets one chance if they are utterly unreadable, two chances if they aren’t good, three chances if they either show promise or are well praised. King always read like he had promise to me, but not quite anything that really hit me. I read It and Dream Weaver first and didn’t care for either one of them. I wasn’t going to buy another book from him, but my mom gave me a free one “Hearts in Atlantis”.

Hearts in Atlantis is one of the best books I have ever read. Just amazing.

I then read a short story by him in a compilation book called LEGENDS (also where I was introduced to the great George R. R. Martin). The story was about Roland, the gunslinger. He fought off a town of mutant-zombies. So I bought the first full novel he wrote about this Roland character. It was great. The second book was only okay. The third was the same. The fourth... I’m still trying to force myself through it.

Anyway, so I’ve pinpointed what I don’t like about the man’s writing.

-Uses parenthesis as an aside far too often. It’s overdone and starts to annoy me after a while.

-Most of his books have a phrase or three that are repeated constantly throughout. Like the parenthesis, it’s overdone. These are always cool at first, but get really annoying later on. Especially when it relates to the story because it just seems so patronizing.

-His chapter lengths are constantly sporadic. One chapter will be a page and a half, the next will be 20+ pages. While I believe that style is just as important as the story itself, there needs to be some structure, even if it’s a structure unique to the story. Chaos, does not count as a structure.

-He goes into unnecessary detail. Do we really need to read about the time the character had a boner when he was younger? He’s not getting paid by word count, is he? (That’s what ruined Dickens IMO, because Dickens had TALENT, but that’s another thread for another time.)

Anyway, that about sums it up. It's all of those things at once. I can say that Gunslinger and Hearts in Atlantis proved that he has the talent, proved that he could be amazing. He just keeps falling short for me.

*Dream Weaver, It, Gunslinger I-IV, and Hearts in Atlantis

Things to do when I get old.

2007-09-28T01:46:00.001-02:00

*Purchase black socks and plad shorts. Wear black socks to knees, call shorts "short-pants".

*Yell at people for stepping on my lawn, everytime someone steps on my lawn.

*Cup hand to ear when people speak to me. Yell "Heh?" instead of while cupping hand to ear. Repeat if necessary.

*Make people pull my finger.

*Bitch about how easier the younger generations have it.

*Talk loudly about embarassing medical conditions.

*Tell children scary stories.

*Pretend I know older famous people, tell long and overly complex stories of the time I've spent with them.

Must... Shed... Pounds...

2007-09-24T04:12:00.001-02:00

My stomach keeps growing. I sometimes think that I may be pregnant, but there's no strange cravings, no frequent urination, no morning sickness. Plus I don't have a vagina. That's where the baby grows, right? Somewhere up in the vagina?

I must just be getting fat(ter). I can make popping noises with my finger and my belly button, and I once knitted a sweater from a ball of lint I pulled out of there.

And I'm starting to believe that my zebra stripes are actually stretch marks. I may never have been a zebra at all...

No more blasting her in the face.

2007-09-18T04:00:00.001-02:00

My wife wants to have another baby.

A premature birth announcement by donteatpoop

The most amazing blog entry of all time

2007-09-11T03:30:00.001-02:00

As you read this, I am sure that you are already starting to feel an overwhelming sense of awe and wonder, like some starry eyed child seeing the moon for the first time.

Try not to allow yourself to be terribly overwhelmed, for though this post is breath taking, this is only a blog entry. Granted, this blog entry is incomparable to all other blog entries on all other blogs, but that is just an attestment to my geneous and the overall superiority to all other blogs.

So wallow in this temporary sense of wonderment while you can, for once you sign off you will only have the memories.

Random Question #2

2007-09-06T05:04:00.001-02:00

Do they taste like nuts? Is that why we call them that?

TEST

2007-09-04T03:31:00.001-02:00

This post is a test. It is only a test. If this were an actual post it would contain some form of content and not a stupid bullshit message like this one.

Let's Get Together

2007-08-31T04:12:00.001-02:00

We should hang out together sometime.

People say I’m “fun to be around”. That’s what “a dickhead” means, right?

I’m both “clever and witty” at the same time. I’m pretty sure that’s what people mean when they say “cruel and wicked”.

So let’s go hang out some time and you can buy me beers.

It’ll be “amusing” or, as my friends say, “torture”.

Guesstimates

2007-08-25T03:59:00.001-02:00

I'm attempting to recreate a board game I made several years back. It's called Guesstimates and, much as the title implies, much of the game surrounds ones accuracy of their estimates.

The closer you are to the total, the more spaces you can move up. It was incredibly fun when we tested it years back, but it never ended; partly because there were too many spaces on the board, and partly because there were twelve people playing.

Questions like: How many inches are there in 300 yeads? How many completed passes did Joe Montana throw in 1987? In what year was Napoleon Bonaparte's first battle? How many minutes in length is The Sound of Music? What is 15,678 X 256,113? How many songs are there altogether on all of The Beatles' albulms? How many days was Thomas Jefferson alive? (and so on)

Does that sound like fun? Feel like coming up with some questions? Whether you know the answer or not, throw me a question. If I have to find the answer, I will.

...Or, you could blatantly ignore this thread and follow a similar strategy that you have all been using on my previous threads. (lurkers)

Crossing the Street

2007-08-13T15:47:00.001-02:00

I take my time crossing the street, and rarely bother waiting for traffic (unless it's super heavy). I figure the drivers will stop, and they don't want their insurance to go up. Plus, I'm certain that I would do some serious damage to their vehicle.

Sometimes they honk the horn at me. That's when I bend down and pretend to tie my shoe.

"It's not the heat, it's the humidity"

2007-08-09T03:44:00.001-02:00

Well whatever the fuck it is, it needs to stop. It's sweaty-hot. I get home from work and I wring the sweat out of my ball-hairs.

Fucking Ohio summers.

The Contraband Candle

2007-08-06T02:45:00.001-02:00

I went to my cousins' wedding yesterday evening.

Got pretty drunk.

We came home and the wife lit a few candles, because they smell nice. We left one of them burning on the front (enclosed) porch over night. It was a safe, ten hour candle; the kind that comes in a jar.

We went to sleep a few hours later.

At 4:30am the phone rings. I fumble around, trying to wake from a deep, drunken sleep. It's the police, they tell me there are some officers at the front door. So I stumble to the front door and, sure enough, there are three officers standing at the bottom of the porch steps. Two cruisers are parked on the road in front of my house.

"Hi," I say. "How can I help you?"

"We got a call from one of your neighbors," one of the officers says. "They saw you had a candle burning on the porch and were concerned that you hadn't blown it out."

I stared at them, dumbfounded for a bit before saying; "Do you want me to blow it out?" No answer. I continue; "It's safe. That kind of candle can last for hours."

"Okay," the one that talked said. "We just came to check on it, to make sure everything was okay. One of your neighbors was concerned."

"Alright," I said. "I'll blow it out then."

So they thanked me and turned around to return to their vehicles, and I blew out the candle.

First I'm pissed off and wondering which one of my idiot fucking neighbors called in with concern about a candle burning, and then I'm wondering how boring the graveyard shift must be for these guys if they come in for back-up on a candle burning in a jar.

Stupid fucking Youngstown suburb.

Disposal

2007-07-28T03:21:00.001-02:00

Tonight I came home to find that my wife had tore out the carpeting in one of the rooms upstairs because one of the cats had been pissing on it.

She didn't want it sitting with our trash, so my mission was to take it to an apartment complex that we used to live in and dump the bags of carpet in one of their dumpsters.

There were four massive bags in all, each of them black drum liners filled to capacity. They were large enough and almost heavy enough to be filled with body parts.

It's about one in the morning when I pull the car over next to a dumpster and turn the lights off. Two teenage kids sat on a curb up the avenue a bit, trying to look tough, while I unloaded the huge bags into the dumpsters.

After moving the bags I got back into the car and turned it on, the lights hitting the kids who turned immediatley away as though trying to hide that they were looking at me.

I was secretely hoping that they thought I was dumping bodies.

I put the car in drive and drove slowly past them.

In my head, one of them stopped me and said "Damn, how many bodies did you bury?'

To which I replied, "Only the ones that ask questions."