Monday, January 26

What kind of Afterlife is this?

Let's assume when we die, we turn into a ghost. If we have lived a decent life, a giant beam of life hits us from above , and we can float off to a better place, or we can hang around and solve our own murder cases. You know, like that movie where Patrick Swayze was a ghost. I forget the name of it. No one better leave a comment saying the name of the movie is "Any Day Now." 

Anyway, if we believe all this to be what happens when we die then there is a scientific hypothesis we can make that must be absolutely true.

Ghosts can not masturbate.

It's widely accepted that the best thing about being a ghost is seeing people naked that you never could when you were alive. At first this seems like a brilliant thing to hang around for, but let's face it, after 4 or 5 years of naked, it would start to get old.

Now if you could experience this forbidden nudity while retaining the self pleasuring skills you had while living, there would really be no reason to follow that light into heaven. In fact if jerking off was possible in the astral plane Heaven would be a place on Earth, which would make Belinda Carlisle some kind of Nostradamus like figure.

There would be a very small crowd in Heaven and the people who were there would walk around wondering when everyone else is going to show up, much like the time I went to that Air Supply reunion concert. Then when word got out on the shenanigans happening on Earth, they would all feel like idiots and wish they had stayed home and masturbated all over the place, much like the time I went to that Air Supply reunion concert.

The point is, the whole afterlife system would fall apart if ghosts could jerk off, not to mention the overcrowding that would be going on in the bedroom of my 7th grade Social Studies teacher. It would be a disturbing world drenched in shame and ectoplasm. The universe would be thrown into chaos.

So you can stop wondering now. Enjoy it while you can. 

Thursday, January 15

Amateur German Couple Fucks in Office

I was sitting at my desk today playing tower defense games like usual, when my ears took notice of some unpleasant words coming from down the hall.

"Let's get Ryan to do this."

Instinctively my body shuddered, and I released a grunt of disgust that could apparently be heard down the hallway. Laughing, one of my co-workers came over to me and said they had a new project for me to work on.  Luckily, it was not actual work.

I have the unenviable position in my office of "The guy that knows something about computers." I am not a computer expert by any means, but the knowledge that I do have makes most other people in my office seem like a bunch of baboons rubbing their slick red hindquarters over their keyboards. Gross! This knowledge includes: how to change a desktop wallpaper, where a file went after it was downloaded, how to get open "one of these youtubes my cousin sent me,"and that turning something off and then on again fixes most problems even if I have no clue what's wrong.

As a result of my superior technological saavy, I was asked to figure out how we can all watch the Inaguration of Barak Obama next week. This didn't take very long as we have laptops, a wireless connection and a projector. I decide to do a nice test run and make sure everything works and runs smoothly.

I bring all the necessary equipment into the conference room with the assistance of my work chef and novice stalker, Pancakes. The laptop goes on, the wireless seems to work, the projector throws it up onto the wall and my job appears to be just about done. I head on over to CNN's website and pull up a live feed of Hillary saying goodbye to the Senate.  The connection works well for a few seconds, but then begins to freeze.

Pancakes tells me he will test it out on another site. As he steps to the computer he tells me to go keep a lookout. Being the dullard I am, I don't realize what is going on until I see the giant words YOU PORN  plastered up across the conference room wall.

Before my brain can stop spinning, Pancakes has pulled up a video of young german couple engaging in intercourse. Now maybe some of you filthy degenerates have watched porn at work before, but I doubt you have experienced it on such a large scale. It is a bit overhwelming to see gonads swinging around on that scale. My head turned down the hallway, and then back to the giant penis and vagina on the screen and then back down the hallway again where it remained for a good 10 seconds beofre Pancakes yelled "He's putting it in her coolie!" 

The disgust I was feeling at this point was really only due to a middle aged man using the word "coolie." I don't even know if I am spelling that right. The last time I heard it I didn't know how to spell. He turned it off after a few more seconds and said "See? everything works fine."

My soul hurts.

Wednesday, January 14

Invention : The Hamlin Scale

If there is one thing I enjoy, it's getting so sick of something that I vomit . Then afterwards I pick through the half chewed bits and create something new and magical.

There are only a few ways we humons have to quantify our like, or dislike, of things. There are those who use stars, and other may use thumbs.  Early man used a series of grunts ranging from "Ugh" to "Unf." Once numbers were invented, we came up with the most common system of rating we have, the assigning of numbers between 1 and 10. For example, "This was a nice phone call. I give it a 7," and "You didn't confuse my thighs with my vagina this time, so you eked out a 4."

It is time to abandon this old stand by and make the evolutionary leap to something more flexible and modern.

Enter The Hamlin Scale.

With the current old fogey way of doing things, one would say, "On a scale of  1 to 10, how good does this frock look on me?" 1  being completely atrocious and 10 being frocking amazing. 

Now, with my new system we will say "How was the roast pork on a scale of 1 - Harry Hamlin?" 1 of course being complete fail pork, and Harry Hamlin being the most delectable thing I have ever tasted.

Simple enough so far, yes?  Now, the real beauty of the Hamlin Scale, aside from Harry Hamlin,  is the flexibility and personalization it allows. For in between the two extremes of the scale are a number of possible values determined only by how extensive your knowledge of random celebrities is.  Confused? Me too. So here a few examples.

If someone were to ask me to rate chicken parmigiana on a scale of 1 - Harry Hamlin, I would say that it is a Tom Berenger because chicken parm is fucking delicious, but nothing is a Harry Hamlin.  And if you inquired how my first season of little league went, I would tell you that it was an unfortunate C.Thomas Howell, for I got zero hits and peed my pants 3 times.

I will now share with you a condensed Hamlin Scale in descending order. Condensed because I don't think anyone would read the 5 pages of names I came up with while thinking about this project. I have included links in the likely event of, "Who the fuck?"

Donatello (the Ninja Turtle)

I'd be surprised if someone knew all of these people without looking them up, but if you happened to have such amazing knowledge go seek some fucking mental help.

Whittling down my list to these 30 levels of rating goodness was difficult. Consider it a base for you to add in, or remove, any names you feel can quantify your level of like. You can take them all out and put in fictional characters or types of sandwiches for all I care, but there must remain a 1 and there must remain a Harry Hamlin, two universal truths that can not be denied. Spread the word. Tell your friends. The time of the Hamlin Scale has begun. 

If you are kind enough to leave a comment, feel free to debate any placing on the scale and suggest a name that should be included, and what position it should appear. 

I need a hobby.

Monday, January 12

Why Do I have a Mirror Anyway?

The other day I was parading around in a state of moderate naked as I am known to do from time to time, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Now, I haven't ever considered myself what scientists refer to as "physically attractive," but ho-lee fuck! This experience has given me  some helpful knowledge as well as a smattering of PTSD. I will now share to show how much I care.

There is nothing more ridiculous looking than a grown man wearing only a t-shirt.

Picture it right now. I will wait.
See what I mean? 

It doesn't even matter how in shape your physical form is. You can have a chronic need for scotch tape because you are so fucking ripped, but if you are wearing a t-shirt and no pants you will always look like a 3 year old searching for his mother to brag about using the potty by himself.

Socks probably make it worse. 

Things get flipped turned upside down when this situation is applied to women. Pants are the enemy in this case.

This was lame, but I had to write it so I wasn't the only one thinking about bottomless men. You're welcome Diane.

Wednesday, January 7


There was a girl who I had a a full on sexual adult relationship with some time ago. One time, during a particularly raunchy encounter, this girl cleared her breathing passage and asked me to give her what she called a "Corbin Bernsen." 

Being the eager to please, young go-getter I was, I naturally complied, but I fully regret taking part in such a heinous act. It damaged my soul. I advise you to not make the same mistake I did.

Monday, January 5

This doesn't look like North Haverbrook

I apologize for the foul nature of this post.

2009 is off to a rip roaring start. Work has turned back to actual work instead of the oddly furnished lounge it had been the last last 3 weeks or so. You can imagine my excitement.

A scant few minutes ago I got a call of nature and got up from my desk and made my way to the lavatory. it is usual for me to pass water around this time due to the one and a half liters of grape soda I enjoy as part of my balanced  breakfast.  I turn the corner and begin to pass through the doorway of the john when I run into a wall of horror.

I may have mentioned this before, but I avoid taking a dump at work like I avoid ex-girlfriend's facebook profiles. Many people in my office do not share this quality though. And one of these many people decided that today was a day to smear their shit all over the toilet. Someone who seemed to be on a strict diet of mushy peas and paste.

It's not as if it some inconsiderate bastard Jackson Pollocked the inside of the bowl and failed to clean it up with a handy toilet brush. Oh no. The seat was up and there was human dung all over the rim of said toilet. It honestly looked like some maniac had sat his buttcrack down on the rim on the toilet and then slide along it like some kind of Ass Monorail.

Naturally I turned around and ran down the hallway to make it back to my desk fast enough that no one would think I had time to commit what I can only describe right now as an act of terrorism. I will update as events unfold.

I can't believe you made it to the end of this.