I'm Cultured as Fuck

If I were to ask you lovely people to describe me in one word you would probably say something along the lines of artistic, bohemian, sophisticated, or gassy. So it should be quite the surprise to any of you that I went to a poetry reading for only the first time last night.

My internet pal/big time poet type person, Joe Massey, had trekked across the country by bus in a reverse manifest destiny kind of way to participate in this reading that took place in Brooklyn.

The reading was definitely an interesting experience. As someone who thinks he knows everything about which he knows nothing (what the?) I had some expectations of how this event would be. I figured there would be a bulk of people with super trendy thick rimmed Clark Kent glasses, at least one slightly balding white guy with an afro, some kind of pissy gay man, and a bevy of good looking women with really odd looking boyfriends. This assumption was pretty spot on.

I also didn't expect it to be all that stimulating to me apart from Joe's reading. This was very wrong. Between the soda machine I was leaning on for 45 minutes vibrating my genitalia to the brink of ejaculation, and the second poets use of the phrases "Hammer My mammary Glands" and "Mop up my meat," I was indeed quite stimulated.

Joe, whose livejournal is Mr.Tong Bliss, started off by making a noise which sounded like a pterodactyl sighing. Unlike the poet who read before him who had one 18 minute long garbage poem, Joe read numerous short form poems. And unlike the first poet of the evening who would preface reading one of her poems with some tidbit such as, "I wrote this after my brother died at a young age," Joe would tell a tale of punching out his publisher then sucking him off and "jacking each other in the ass with police batons." I luckily was standing at the front and facing the crowd so I got to enjoy the huge range of facial expression that came and went as he spoke.

All in all I had a very good time. I laughed, met some new people, drank a grape soda and heard some good poetry. Yeah that's right I enjoyed the poems dude. I'm all about that shit. I like Joe's poems because a lot of what he does, especially in his latest chapbook Bramble, is to take something small, simple and usually unnoticed by most people, such as a leaf blowing across a street, and makes you take notice the beauty of it. He makes the ordinary extraordinary....

What the fuck am I talking about? Even I didn't buy that stuff coming from me. I feel weird now.

Penis vaginaTom Selleck in a Kayak.

Much better.

Ha Ha. Death.

A bunch of years ago I had to do something I can't imagine many people do.

My Great Uncle Jimmy had passed away. He was a pretty old guy. Probably 117 or some shit like this. He was dusty. He would always tell these really bad jokes all the time. The problem was he had about 5 of them total, but that didn't stop him from telling them all to me every time I saw him.

Everyone was at the Funeral home waiting to go in the procession to the church, and I was telling this one joke I remembered to some of the people there. My mother thought it was sweet apparently and went and got her cousin, Uncle Jimmy's daughter, and she asked to hear the joke. After telling her the joke, this big grin came across her face and she said something incredibly scary to me.

" Would you tell that joke when we are at the church?"

In the split second I took to answer, 17 kinds of panic went fron he top of my spine down to my asshole and back up again. Of course I agreed to do it. Not even my life ruling anxiety could make me say no in that situation.

Fast forward tot he church. The podium is up on a stage in front of the church. There were about 70 people there. 2 people had gotten up and spoke about Jimmy through a face full of tears. I headed up to the stage with my mother and one of his Granddaughters.

First my cousin spoke. She broke down, and gave an absolutely beautiful speech about her grandfather. My mother stepped to the podium next and again cried her eyes out while talking about her uncle. At the end of she, she composed herself and introduced me.

As I strode (is that word?) tot he podium I felt myself start to shake. I have had problems before when peaking in front of people with shaking. I get very nervous and it is hard for me to relax and get it under control. Somehow I pulled myself together and recited the strangely appropriate joke.

There are these two very close friends and they both love baseball. As they got older they started to wonder if there was baseball in heaven. So one day they made a deal with eachother. Whichever one died first would come back the night after his death to tell the living one if there was baseball in heaven.

A few years go buy and one of the old friends passes on. Sure enough, the next night the remaining friend is awoken from his sleep and sees his old pal standing in front of him.

"Oh my god! You came! You actually came back!"

"Of course! I didn't forget our deal," Said the dead friend, "Now listen to me. I have some good news and some bad news."

"Ok. Tell me the good first"

"Well pal. There is baseball in heaven," answered the ghost.

"that's great! I can't believe it. But wait, what's the bad news?"

"You're pitching tomorrow night"

I tried to avoid looking at anyone while I told it which must have made me look like I was doing an odd Stevie Wonder impression. When I finished I looked at the crowd and just about everyone was smiling and laughing!

I felt great! Sure my uncle was dead and that as sad, but I couldn't believe I had gotten up there and told a joke at a funeral without freaking out. I walked back to the Pew behind my mother and sat down feeling good about myself for once.

That's when one of my cousins turned around and said, "You mumbled the whole thing I couldn't understand a word"

And that's when I tried to jump into the coffin.

Good Times.

Heave Ho, 2 in a Row

When viewed from the side, my penis resembles a Protoceratops.

The two best flavors are red and blue.

Every night my dog sleeps under my covers. Every morning I count my testicles.

Whoever invented these big plastic red party cups must be filthy rich.


Whenever someone tells me I can't do something, I say, "Ok Mom. I get it"

I got in trouble in school when I was young because I misunderstood when I was told to take out my Number 2 pencil.


I had posted a blog entry for 91 consecutive weekdays.

I have zero self-confidence, but there is no doubt in my mind that I can beat you at Super Mario Kart.

When I die I want my tombstone to say "Avenge Me!" or "Here lies Steve Sanders."

It's a Holiday.

I think today is President's Day or Pretzel Stick day or some shit. So in rememberance of a good dude and President, and in the interests of being lazy, here are some quotes from Abraham Lincoln.

- Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.

- Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power.

- Tact is the ability to describe others as they see themselves.

- When I do good, I feel good; when I do bad, I feel bad, and that is my religion.

- If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee.

- If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one?

- Does this hat make me look queer?

- No Mary Todd, I won't propose a Cleveland Steamer bill to congress until you tell me what it is.

- Nigga please!

Most of the quotes were jacked from http://www.quotationspage.com

a New Low

Today I will divulge some helpful info to you dudes. It's a lifeskill that everyone should know if they hope to get by these days and be successfull.

Vagina Jokes.

Everybpdy needs them. Everybody loves them. At some point you're going to run into a lady person who you don't particularly like because she is mean or refuses to let you touch her boobies. When this situation presents itself, you must be prepared because the one time women are always funny is when they are ripping a man to shreds.

So here are some lines about female genitalia that any man or woman can use if faced with a screaming harpy.

- Your vagina is so large, fingering you is like trying to get the prize from the bottom of a ceral box.

- Last time I saw a hole that big, Evil Knievel was jumping over it.

- Last time I saw a hole that big, they were lowering my grandmothers corpse into it.

- Your underpants filter more tuna vapors than the air vents at Starkist.

- Your vagina is so large, I could reach in and wave Hi to your pancreas.

- Your vagina is SOOO large, Shaqueal O'neal went to kick you in the crotch, and his foot got stuck.

- Your vagina is so large, there is a tollboth outside of it.

I could go on, but I'm completely disgusted and appalled with myself right now. Feel free to add your own and join in the self loathing

Chew on this

I just realized how similar Neuroligist and Urologist are. I'm sure it means something, but I can't figure it out now. I'm too busy thinking about tits.

My two favorite episodes of Baywatch are the one with the kid who hates that his dad is a midget until the midget dad saves some kid from drowning, and the one where David Hasselhoff has to show Geraldo how to be cool so he can win a woman's fancy.

I realize they probably got the name Gatorade because it was used at the University of Florida, but everytime I drink it I sweat I can taste the gator in it.

I have a weird thing for chicks in hats. Not sombreros or anything comically large, but a nice baseball cap, winter hat or ever a stupid ass cowboy hat will do wonders for me.

Snowboarding should not be an Olympic sport. Snowboarders are scumbags who mess up the slopes for us classy skier tyes!

One time I cut in front of this woman on line at the supermarket. She poked me in the back and said , "Where do you get off?!" I told her, "In this small canteen I keep attached to my belt." She didn't say anything after that.

Shmalentines Day

This may create a wave of shock that will render people unconscious in a 10 miles radius, but I do not have a significant other at the moment. I can't even be bothered to lie about it and make one up like I usually do. "Oh her name is Ingrid. She is a top swimsuit model from Sweden. We met when she was in New York for a photo shoot and definitely NOT on the internet."

Maybe this lack of a partner is why I don't particularly care that today is Valentines Day. Although, I can recall several fights I have had because I didn't care it was Valentines Day when I did have a girlfriend.

I'm not one of these people who will go around preaching how this is a made up holiday by the card companies to fatten their wallets ( I only do that on Arbor Day) because I see it more of a pointless holiday. If I love someone I don't need a day of the year set aside to remind them of this. I should be telling them everyday. Valentines Day has no use to me and I don......brb




Ok forget all I just said. Someone just called me over and gave me a satchel full of assorted Hershey's miniatures. I forgot about the free candy part of the holiday. God damn I love me some Mr. Goodbar. I gotta find someone to ditj these gross Dark Chocolate ones on. YAY VALENTINES DAY!!

My day started off very romantically. I had a dream I was in a hotel room . There were two beds. I was occupying one and a cousin of mine was in the other. He had a girl in his bed, and I had one in mine. This girl changed identities several times, but her actions were the same throughout. She was dry humping the befuckinjesus out of me. A hole was wearing out of my pajama pants. I think she also tried to dry hump my face. I forget why she refused to take her pants and undercrackers off. At the end of the dream I have a feeling the girl was Jessica Alba.

Speaking of Jessica Alba. My friend and fellow primate-named blogger Monkey Movie Star has a recent post about the amazing acting talent that is Jessica Alba. You can also check out herIM rant on the wreck known as Mariah carey while you're there.

Nobody cares about me

But I was tagged by booger Becky. So here goes anyway

Four Jobs I've Had:

Hot Dog Dispensing Specialist

Hand

Blow

Spongebob Squarepants Imitator

Four Movies I can Watch Over and Over:

The Goonies

The Lost Boys

Rear and Pleasant Stranger

The one where R. Kelly pees on that kid

Four Places I've Lived:

Under my neighbors porch (2 weeks)

On one of the top shelves in the gardening section of Home Depot (3 days)

An oversized diarama based on Johnny Tremain. (1 month)

The Ballpit at McDonalds (3 weeks)

Four Shows I Love:

The Office

Boat

Peep

Mamma Mia (Broadway. I'm cultured bitches)

Four Places I've Vacationed:

Myrtle Beach, South Whatever

The Hamptons

Beautiful Mount Airy Lodge, The Poconos (where all you have to bring is your love of everything, especially semen stained sheets)

Your mom's vagina

Four of my favorite dishes:

Any dish with food on it is my favorite x 4

Four sites I visit daily:

WARNING: Some of these probably shouldn't be opened at work

Lemon Party (like this one)

Hot Model Veronica Moser(this one for sure)

Cryptomundo(this one is fine)

The Esplanade construction site

Four places I'd rather be right now:

The Couch

Middle Earth

An Olympic Sized pool filled with Hawaiian Punch

Betty White's Mouth

A week ago it was 65 degrees outside and I was struttin around in jam shorts. Over the weekend we had the biggest blizzard in recorded NYC history.

It's been a while since we had a big snowstorm, so I did several snowstorm related things that I have been missing.

I love being outside during a blizzard. I bundle myself up with jackets, hats, scarves, etc. I even busted out the snowpants for this one. I think I enjoy wearing all that crap because I get a false sense of invulnerability. Like I can get hit by a car and just bounce back up because of my Goretex. So anyway, I head out into the blizzard when the snow is falling at it's heaviest and the wind is whipping around at it's fastest, and I walk up and down the street pretending I'm on Hoth looking for Luke Skywalker. It's a good thing no one let out their dog or I would cut it open and sleep inside it's stomach.

Some guys where zippin around the neighborhood on snowmobiles, which isn't really a regular occurance in New York City. It was kind of annoying, but it did give me the rare opportunity to throw snowballs at some jackoffs on snowmobiles.

Ok my back aches from shovelling and I got tagged like the big fat rhino that I am and have to make another post today so this is it for now.

Some things I dreamt this week

- Distracting submarines and then dodging their torpedoes underwater

- trying to assassinate Pat Morita , who apparently became the leader of a small nation.

- failing in my assassination attempt because the night vision gun wouldn't fire

- receiving a back massage from a naked lady while an old timey kinda family was in the next room having coffee cake

- being lost in the wilderness looking for my dog and dodging lions

- My dog trying to mate with a Tiger to create some kind of Schnauger.

- hanging out on a couch with Hillary and hayley Duff and being strangely attracted to Hillary despite the fact I dislike her in real life partially because she is weird looking and partially because she dates a whiney douchebag. It's those fuckin icebreaker whatever the shit commercials. Messin me up

- Roy Schieder, not in a bean bag chair


All in all it was a slow week. Probably because of the lack of sleep and that guy who keeps breaking into my house and waking me up by trying to suck milk from my nipples.

10 Things You Didn't Know About Scott Baio

1. Scott Baio released an album which included his take on a Harry Belafonte classic, but instead of Day-O he said "Baio."
2. Recently, Scott Baio pitched a new idea for a spin-off based on his old sitcom where he and his girlfriend would run a Japanese Steakhouse. The show was called "Joanie Loves Hibachi"
3. Scott Baio's penis appears to be different colors depending on which angle you are viewing it.
4. Scott Baio turned down the lead role in Titanic and stated as his reason, "Scott Baio doesn't do fat chicks."
5. Charles is not in Charge. Scott Baio is.
6. Scott Baio refers to one of his bodily fluids as "Baio Mayo."
7. Scott Baio also pitched a new idea for a TV show where he would play a police officer in Maui. It was called "Hawaii Bai-O"
8. Scott Baio is obsessed with Star Wars and often can be seen in a large brown robe, swinging a light saber and referring to himself as "OBaio Wan Kenobi."
9. Scott Baio is disgusted at the idea of animals being killed for human consumption, but he doesn't see anything wrong with roughing them up a little.
10. Scott Baio is Asian.


And for your viewing pleasure. This is the real Chompy Brown, before his fro grew in.

Audio Blogger Fucks up my line spacing!

I definitely got eaten by a Zebra this morning again.

As a result, I'm taking the easy way out andsharing more pictures buried deep within the bowels of my hard drive.

I love Sinbad. I think he is one of the funniest bastards I have ever had the pleasure of seeing tell jokes on an HBO special in a bright yellow and purple jumpsuit. He ain't lookin so hot in this picture. In fact he kind of looks like a huge retarded kid on a huge retarded field trip. Believe me though, if you check out Showtime at the Apollo, which he hosts these days, you will see a much more suave and debonair Sinbad. The Sinbad we all fell in love with on "A Different World" all thsoe years ago.


Here is me doing one of my favorite Sinbad jokes and failing at life



This is my artist's rendition of my friend's ferret, Chompy Brown. He is a bad ass mother SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I'm just talkin bout Chompy Brown!

The Real version enjoys biting ankles, eating pizza in the closet, and relieving himself next to me on the couch.

WHOA!

There would be a few more if that god forsaken audio post didn't screw everything up and make it 10 times more difficult for a clueless spazz like myself to post!

I will save the pictures of me and the Wilson brothers comparing jawlines for another day.

I need Nytol

I keep staying up really late every night. Some times I am doing stupid things like using the internet, and sometimes I am doing important things like using the internet. If I keep doing this I'm going to go insane from lack of sleep. I will wander the streets in tattered rags mumbling incoherent things about Fidel Castro being the clear favorite on Bobsledding with the Stars. People wont give me money because I am obviously demented so I will have to eat garbage. I will lose weight because people don't usually throw out anything tasty. That's the food they finish. Then one day a group of people will kidnap me and drag me to Africa where I will be stuck into the fabulous world of white slavery. After months of being beaten and worked to the bone. I will have the stupid idea to lead a white slave revolt. Things go terribly wrong when I forget to include any other slaves in on my plan. When my one man revolt is stopped my masters will punish me by forcing me to fight in coliseum like events where I am put in a ring to fight exotic and dangerous animals.

So I'm going to head to sleep earlier form now on because my mom would be pissed if I got eaten by a Zebra.

It's the Chinese symbol for Attention Whore

Yesterday I went with a friend of mine to a Tattoo Parlor because she wanted to get her lip pierced. As I was waiting in the store, I checked out all kinds of art they had on display. Some of it was incredible. Some of it was fucking weird.

Who are the skeevs out there getting lifelike naked ladies etched onto their skin? For me, a tattoo is something that is supposed to have meaning to the person who gets it (or at least look totally bad ass!) What does a tat of a nude woman doing some kind of advanced yoga stretch mean to someone? Man oh man do I love titties?

There was one piece of art I saw on the wall that disturbed me to no end. It was large and would probably take up most of someone's upper back. I am probably wrong, but I swear to god it looked like Tony Danza fishing on a lake.

I only have one tattoo myself and yes, it is on my ass. I got a second buttcrack drawn on just to confuse my toilet.

If any you persons have a cool or meaningful tattoo, tell me about it so I can steal it and get one and join the rest of the world finally.

Shamrocks and Shenanigans

Keeping with the theme from yesterday, I am going to tell you a strange experience I just had at work. I was talking on the phone to an Irish gentleman about some CDs he wanted me to send him to have a listen to. He seemed agigtated for some reason or another. Eventually this happened.

Me: So if you want, that's what I can do for you right now.

Irish: Lister, ya got ta understand somethin

Me: What's that?

Irish: The Otter tastes, they own matter.

Me: ... What?

Irish: The otter tastes, they own matter.

Me: I'm sorry can you say that again

Irish: THE OTTERS TASTES OWN MATTER!!

Me: The Otters what?

Irish: What's wrong with ye ears boy! The Otter Tastes own matter!

Me: *laughs*

Irish: *Unintelligible screaming apart form the word Fucker*


And then he hung up on me. I've been hearing Irish accents for almost 10 years now, and I still have no clue what that guy said.

Idiocy is genetic

Several years back my parents decided to have some work done on the old house. So for a good week during the summer there were a bunch of dudes hanging in, around and on the house, and for once it wasn't because my mom is a slut! lol @ my mom

As they worked on the roof, they removed parts of it and flung them to the ground without much regard for what they were hitting. While they were working on the front of the house, this debris was falling down onto flowers that my father had planted.

Now my father spends a lot of time digging and planting and generally gardening like a mo fo. He loves doing it. I think it relaxes him. Either that or he just wanted a reason to be out of the house and away from me and my brother fighting over who ate the last of the Cocoa Puffs. The point is, it's pretty important to him.

So my dad yells up to the guy on the roof, "Hey! Could you try not to throw that stuff onto the flowers?" The guy says agrees, no problem. My father starts to walk away to the back of the house when he hears the guy on the roof yell to someone else...

"Hey! The Homo doesn't want us ruining his flowers!"

My dad freezes in his tracks. He could not believe his ears. Did that guy just have the gall to call him a homo for not wanting his flowers ruined? Like he is some kind of a pansy loving pansy? A Flower pickin gay lord? I give him credit, and am shocked, because he didn't run back over there and immediately start a fight. Instead he started fuming and went inside to look for my mother.

Dad: *Slams Door*
Mom: What's the matter with you?
Dad: You will not fucking believe this!
Mom: Ryan actually went to class today and then applied for a job?
Dad: No I didn't see any pigs soaring by
Mom: Then what is it?
Dad: One of the guys out there called me a homo because I didn't want my flowers ruined!
Mom: Well gardening is kinda fruity...
Dad: Zip it woman!!

Ok maybe the end of that didn't happen exactly the way I said, but he was furious beyond belief. He stomped around the house and yard for fifteen minutes, face totally red with rage and smoke coming out of his ears telling anyone but the workers about how highly insulted he was. This included my instigating neighbor.

Dad: Fred, come over here.
Fred: What is up dude
Dad: You won't believe this.
Fred: Your son brought a girl home that isn't 300 pounds and heavily sedated?
Dad: Yeah right do you see any winged monkeys exited my anus?
Fred: What?
Dad: Anyway, One of the guys working ont he house called me a Homo!
Fred: Whoa man that's not cool. You should totally call him out on it.
Dad: You think so? But they still have to finish the roof and I don't want to doa nything to prevent that
Fred: No man you can't let someone dis you like that. You need the respect man. You are the Boss here. You pay them, the lowly laborers man. You gotta go dress him down.
Dad: You're right Fred! Im going to go do that now.

Because my dad was so incensed he was pretty susceptible to Fred's ridiculous provocation. He marched over to the guy in charge of the workers filled with anger and ready to let it explode all over the flower hater. "Who are you to call me homo? I'm paying you I deserve respect! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my flowers! prepare to die!"

He told the guy he would like to speak to the worker on the roof, but he did not say why. The guy said ok and he yelled up to the evil homophobe...

" Hey Jimmy! The HOMEOWNER wants to talk with you! "

Upon hearing this my father's rage, and stomach, fell right out of his ass. The realization that he had been fuming for the past twenty minutes because he misheard the word "homeowner" was bitch slapping my dad right in the face which was still bright red, but from embarrassment now.

Stuck in a whirlwind of shame, my father had no time to think of something to say to his former arch-nemesis whow as all of a sudden right in front of him. He managed to blurt out "Umm Thanks for not hitting the flowers anymore. You want a beer or something?" The guy said he would love one. My father went inside, grabbed a beer from the fridge and handed it to the worker outside who said...

"What the hell is this? O'Douls? You faggot!"

Self Image

I'm totally shot today, so here is an incredibly lazy post.

These three pictures are ones that I have sent other people when they have asked me what I look like. I believe all are a pretty accurate representation of my appearance.

Yeah, that's right. I left my house!

So I'm at my friends house on Saturday, mooching a some free pizza. As it is heating itself in the microwave, I got to fetch myself a refreshing beverage. I choose Sprite.

I start opening her cabinets looking for a glass. There are no glasses. I yell, "Where the hell are your glasses," and she tells me they are right in front of my face. I have no idea what she is talking about. I see salt shakers, empty jars, a couple cereal bowls...

Wait a second...

As she walks into the kitchen , I reach intot he cabinet and snatch out one of the empty jars.

ME: You're kidding me right?

HER: What?

ME: This is not a glass!

HER: Sure it is. My boyfriend saved all of them. I drink out of them all the time.

ME: PHWOAR?!?!

At this point I am in awe of how incredibly ghetto this whole situation is. I can't imagine finishing a jar of jelly or pickles and deciding it would be a good idea to rinse that bastard out and put my chocolate milk in it.

I attempted to drink my Sprite out of it.

ME: Ugh

HER: What?

ME: There is no way Im drinking the rest of this.

HER: What's wrong?

ME: You didn't clean it well enough!

HER: What are you talking about retard?

ME: The Jar! My Sprite tastes weird!

HER: You're being a pussy

ME: Oh god I can taste the Marmalade!

I spill half a drink on myself when I'm enjoying it in a normal cup. With the awkward ridges of a jaw, I might was well just pour it all over my chin, chest and moderately tempting pant bulge.
I would rather sip a soda out of a bowl than drink it from a jar again, or maybe just pour it into my hands a little at a time and fling it down my gullet before it spills all over the floor.

This totally changed the way I look at my friend. I am convinced she is making moonshine in the bath tub and running it down to the deep south where her contact Uncle Jesse picks it up and spreads it across Hazzard County.

The whole experience was very jarring



I really hate myself

What is the most disturbing thing ever?

I found this picture god knows where on the internet. It's creeps me out beyond belief. If I made a list of people according to who I would most expect to find a topless photo of on the internet, Alex Trebek would be somewhere between my grandmother and Tito Puente.

Being an inch away from seeing Trebek-nip isn't the only unsettling thing about this picture. It's that look that seems to say, " I have a Daily Double in my pants" that makes me avert my eyes also.

I am perplexed to no end by this photo. Why would he need a shirtless picture? Who would want to post it? (besides me) Why do his eyes follow me where ever I move? How much can he bench? Why are my nipples hard?

Maybe there was a steamy Game Show Host calendar out there with pictures of Pat Sajack bent over his Wheel looking all coquettish and Bob Eubanks eating a banana. Someone quickly do a google search for "Wink Martindale's cock."

Grab Your Rod and Head South

I got this from somewhere. Someone wrote it.

A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

"Not very long," answered the Mexican.

"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.

The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family.

The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs... I have a full life."

The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

"And after that?" asked the Mexican.

With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers.Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant.You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge newenterprise."

"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.

"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American."

"And after that?"

"Afterwards? Well my Friend, That's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"

"Millions? Really? And after that?" said the Mexican.

"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, ca tch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends."



Chew on that for the weekend

Guh?

Last night I could't sleep. I was exhausted from only having 3 hours the night before. Despite this I tossed, and I turned. Several hours went by and I couldn't catch one wink. I contemplated dragging my big ass out of bed to the bathroom to search the medicine cabinet for some kind of sleep aid, but I was drained of all energy besides the kind keeping my mind awake and alert. It was maddening. Why the friggin hell couldn't I fall asleep? I was seriously considering gathering all my strength and rolling off the bed as hard as I could in hopes of bashing my skull against the radiator sending me off into dreamland when. But before I could start gearing myself up for that, out of nowhere a thought screamed and rushed through my head...




Mustard Zero

Hidden Jewels

As I have mentioned before, I have been known to frequent a chat room or two out of boredom or whenever I feel the need for some level of social contact because real people scare me.

There is an extremely wide selection of chat rooms to go into these days such as "Back Chat" and "Toronto Women Pee On Me." Some days I will wander in and out of these rooms to see what they are like and also pretend to be a lesbian co-ed who just broke up with her Ukrainian model girlfriend and is in need of consoling as a result.

One time I was perusing the list of room names and I saw one I didn't understand.

"TV, CD, TS, TG"

Now, some of you may know what goes on in this room, but at the time I had no clue so I double clicked the name and headed on in.

I immediately started asking what went on in that room. No one would tell me. All they would say was, "Look at someone's profile , darlin." Being the totally self centered, oblivious jackass that I am, I was too caught up in asking everyone if they talked about Television and Albums in the room instead of looking at someone's picture.

After a ridiculous twenty minutes of demanding someone tell me what those letters meant, I had an epiphany about them.

Transvestites, Cross Dressers, Transexuals, Transgenders

Yikes

At this point everything became clear. The "guy" calling me darling, telling me to look at the profiles and the screen names like shoulder_hair_diva and askaboutmygroinscars all started to make sense. I immediately got terrified and left so fast there was an outline of my voluptuous form in the virtual wall of the chat room like I was Bugs Bunny. Although if I had stuck around maybe I would have met that one messed up Wachowski brother.

The thing that creeped me out most, besides the 220 pound men in mascara with their dicks taped to their taints, was that it was eerily similar to an experience I had in real life.

No! It's not what you're thinking! Shut up! Stop laughing! It was dark I couldn't see how big her hands were!

Can you tell I was desperate for something to write about today?

Now I have to change my name and move again.

Thank me for not putting pictures up with this one.

Survivor: Emerald City

I'm going to assume at least two of you people reading this watch the TV show Lost, which is on tonight. For those of you who don't, the show is pretty much a less realistic Gilligan's Island.

This season we found out that there was another group of survivors from the crash of Oceanic Air flight 815. Among these survivors were that abrasive Hispanic bitch from the Fast and the Furious, the principal of the High School on Growing Pains, and a character called Mr. Eko who is played by actor Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje. If you think his name is a mouthful, you should check out my middle name. It's "Nineinchcock."

Mr Eko is a fantastic new character on the show. He is a former drug runner from Nigeria turned a bad ass priest that delivers hellacious beatdowns to bad guys with a scripture covered whoopin stick. He seems to be a very soulful and good person, so far. I say so far because you never know what will happen on this friggin show, and also there is something that will always make me nervous about Mr. Eko.

It's fuckin Adebisi!

Now I'm not sure how many of you ever watched the HBO show OZ, but if you have you probably share my thoughts. On OZ, Adewale played Simon Adebisi who was probably the most evil bastard on the show which is saying a lot considering it was set in a prison.

Besides his trademark gravity-defying hat, Adebisi was known for being a drug addicted murderer who beat, stabbed, abused and said very hurtful things to his fellow inmates. Some of his more heinous acts included:

- butchering a police officer with a machete
- grinding up glass and putting it in a mob boss' food, killing him slowly.
- anally raping the son of said mob boss.... twice.
- forcing another inmate to claim he was molested by someone who worked at the prison
- infecting another inmate with AIDS by pricking them with a needle.
- forcing several inmates to smooch his pickle.

Because of shit like this I can't stop thinking his character on Lost is going to flip out one day and shank Jack, which would be a shame considering how well he has been doing since he recovered from his cancer on Party of Five.

It is definitely a tribute to Adewale's acting skills that I am still terrified by his old role and think that at any moment he is going to drag that little hobbit bastard into the woods and buttfuck him silly.

So yeah, enjoy the show!

Any Ladies For Chat?

Sometimes when I'm bored, which is all the time, I go on the internet and cruise chat rooms for hot babes to talk to. Meeting the chicks online isn't as easy as you would think. These days there is such a variety of men they can talk to like Indian men, Pakistani men, Indian men with their dicks on out on webcam, and me. You can see I don't stand a chance.

One day I was one of my regular chat rooms, NYC BBWs for Depressed Douchebags, feebly attempting to garner the attention of the girthy angels, when I received an IM from someone under the name chocolatethunderpants69.

They said to me, "Hey pal. It's me. Pat Sajak. I notice you are having some trouble attracting the bitches in there. Here's how you solve the puzzle. You gotta spice up your game playa. Give them a reason to talk to you. Show them what a stone cold gas you are. Now I gotta go. Someone in the German room is about to ask me to buy a Bowel."

Thanks to this sage-like advice I developed a technique which has scored me countless moments of masturbatory textual bliss. It's called the Any ladies for chat method. It allows me the freedom and creativity to show these cyber vixens what I gots. And it goes a little something like this...

Any ladies for chat? My third nipple can receive free satellite radio broadcasts.
Any ladies for chat? I once kicked out of Hulk Hogan's leg drop.
Any ladies for chat? For one glorious summer I worked as Oprah's official Beef Shoveler.
Any ladies for chat? I can count to 10 in Kling-On
Any ladies for chat? I was the first person in my neighborhood to beat Super Mario Brothers 3
Any ladies for chat? In Austria I am known as Baron Von Pantsshitter
Any ladies for chat? I look like a pump, but I feel like a sneaker.
Any ladies for chat? I am the current New York State Puddle Jumping champion.
Any ladies for chat? I once got busy in a Burger King Bathroom.
Any ladies for chat? I once got trapped in MC Hammer's pants foran undetermined amount of time, but when I emerged all of my pets were dead and my little brother was now older than me.
Any ladies for chat? I have every episode of Small Wonder on tape.
Any ladies for chat? I have had a long running mail correspondance with Dolph Lundgren.
Any ladies for chat? My mom says I'm ok lookin.
Any ladies for chat? I have my own blog where I talk about my penis way too much.
Any ladies for chat? I have no idea why I made this post.

Unevolved Love

I met the most attractive, gorgeous, pulchritudinous, hot ass woman.

Right as I saw her my heart was filled with love, and my loins were filled with a bubbling lust as her hips swayed two and fro while she approached me. Once she was right in front of me I had to steady myself on a nearby wall or china cabinet. I can't remember what it was because I was staring at her face with my mouth agape like I just saw the Pope shit on my lawn.

Everything about her was perfect. Her hair was dark and flowing. Her eyes were smoldering with hidden passion, and her elbows were so smooth and lovely that if she drew nipples on them and held them together in front of her chest, they would be as fine as most women's breasts.

When I am in front of most women I get nervous as hell. Faced with this exquisite creature, I was surprised I hadn't run away and hid in my blanket fort. Surprisingly she started talking to me. The unthinkable happened! Not only was I able to have command over my power of speech, but I did it well enough that she offered to give me her phone number!

After handing me the slip of paper with the number that just surpassed my SSN as the most important number in my life on it, she said she had to get going and flashed this smile at me that was so insanely gorgeous that I was momentarily knocked backwards in time where I managed to high five Squanto before I made my way back to the present (what the?). As she turned to leave, I saw it.

She had the tail of a monkey sticking out of her body.

So obviously none of this long and drawn out story ever happened, but I was sitting up the other night wondering what I would do if the hottest woman I ever saw asked me out only to discover she had a monkey's tail.

I probably would at least go out with her and try to ignore the tail at first. I probably wouldn't be able to do that for very long if she did something like pull her chair out with it or hand me a banana. Yeah, the tail would definitely be functional and not just for show. The thought of making out with her and feeling the tail wrap around my arm or rub against my leg skeeves me the hell out.

Maybe I could get used to it though! I could get her to tuck it in her pants when we went out or wrap it around her waist so people think it's a furry belt of some sort. It wouldn't smell like a monkey, and she would keep it free of fleas and ticks. And she would have been born with it. It wasn't obtained through strange experiments in a lab or biochemical accident. You know, as long as she didn't have any other monkey traits or behaviors like a big swollen red baboon ass, I think I could do it!

Although there is no way I would be able to handle doggystyle no matter how interesting a tail could make it.

Pic Me a Winner! (Ugh)

Over the last few years I have accumulated an odd selection of photos from various places. I recently was browsing through them and figured they would make for a blog post that required minimal effort. So here we go!

This picture was taken in my yard a few years ago. As many of you may know, because of the high population of people in New York City, there is a lot of garbage produced. This excessive amount of trash allows the local wildlife to eat way more than they normally do. This is why these two raccoons have gotten so large.

Or it could have been from the Bronx Zoo. My memory is hazy.


I downloaded this picture because I thought it was the real life Zangief. Turns out I was wrong. This friendly looking gent is beloved children's author Shel Silverstein who wrote some of my favorites such a A Light In The Attic and The Giving Tree. Check out this poem of his called Whatif. It explains my paranoia perfectly.

Uhh also I just read he wrote Johnny Cash's hit "A Boy named Sue? Wow this guy was bad ass!

After some research I found out this picture was taken in his later years after he was bitten by a rabid Slovakian..


This picture will probably make me a very rich man and I'm only sharing it with you dudes for free because of it's importance

It is undeniable proof that Superman is real. How the hell else could there be a hole in a mountain like that? He was probably battling an alien supervillain or in a rush to get some waffles and burned a hole through the rock with his Kryptonian heat vision!


Last, but not least, is a photo of me! This was taken during a particularly sweltering summer. I had spent the entire day topless and as a result was feeling kinda sexy when this picture was snapped by my girlfriend at the time, Aunt Rachel from Family Matters.




Ok I think I'm done with that.

I am not as funny as I think I am

And sometimes this causes me problems because I have absolutely no self control. I have tried to be funny at very inappropriate times.

For example, a while back I was applying for a job at Barnes and Nobles. I had nearly finished filling out the application when I got to the "Special Skills" section. It said to list any special skills or information that would be relevant to the position I was applying for.

Being the unthinking mongoloid that I am, I thought I would be funny and wrote in "A 4th grade reading level"... cause its a bookstore...GET IT? ...ugh.

I didn't get the job.

Another time where my uncontrollable urge to say something extremely stupid got me into trouble was when I was transferring colleges. I was switching to a City run university which required some kind of aptitude test for transferring students because my previous school was too expensive for me to play basketball in the gym with African dudes instead of going to class.

Half of the test was writing an essay where I would state whether I was for or against boys and girls going to separare schools. No problem! I wrote out a thoughtful and incisive essay in the proper format on the con side of the gender segregation.

As I wrote the conclusion to end the essay, the Jackass hemisphere of my brain began to fight for power in my skull.

I thought up a line to end the paper with that I thought, at the time, would be hysterical to anyone who read it. After several minutes of inner debate and erasing and rewriting, I got up and handed in the written portion of my test which ended like this.

"For the reasons I believe both genders should attend the same schools and classes. Also, I ain't no fag!"

I spent the next semester in Remedial English.

Por Quois?

Why do women dance on bars? There isn't nearly enough room to do a decent running man.

Why is it that the older I get, the younger I wish I was?

Why am I 99 percent sure I could beat up Spiderman?

Why do I have to be me, instead of being Tom Selleck?

Why does the smell of fresh bread give me a large and painful erection?

Why doesn't anyone want to touch the aforementioned erection?

Why don't I use the word aforementioned more?

Why am I writing this blog?

Why does Morgan freeman have freckles?

Why am I not dead?

Why are cookies and milk oh so much better than a Taco and Clamato?

Why am I starvin now?

Why don't they make Taclamoto?

Why did I do this instead of posting something funny?

Work is For Suckers

I'm completely lazy and unmotivated. As a result I spend my time and brain power thinking up ridiculous ways for me to avoid any kind of real work. One of my genius yet implausible ideas involves my extensive musical talents.

I was given a guitar as a present several birthdays ago and was told upon receiving it, "The guy at the store said this is the same one Garth Brooks uses." AWESOME OR WHAT?!?! Strangely, this was the third year in a row that sentence was said to me after I was given a gift.

For a long and arduous month in 2004, I learned to play the guitar. My fingers became marginally rough and slightly calloused from my half-assed attempt to become a musician. Intensive seven to eight minute practice sessions honed my skills.

And what did I have to show from all of this hard work? One song, the theme to Inspector Gadget. Actually it's really only the first 10 seconds. Although it becomes 20 with the speed at which I can fly through the fingering.

Now here is the idea. I take my musical gift and turn it into a stage show. I think this would work best if I was opening for a band, but I could also morph it into a stand alone kinda performance.

My name would be announced and I would walk out on stage with my guitar in front of thousands of screaming fans. I would take great care in adjusting the microphone and my stool so that I would have perfect position to rock the house. After a lengthy set up, I would break out with the Inspector Gadget song.

"Do da do da do do do do do do, Do da do da do DOO DOO."

Then I would stand up and walk off leaving the audience slackjawed and moist.

If you are in a band and can pay me copious amounts of money for this performance, please contact me before I have to wear a button down shirt at a real job.

Fuck America!!

Hear me out on this.

So I'm having an excellent dream the other night. Some of the details are hazy now, but I was attending what seemed to be High School. I'm pretty sure I was a real student and this wasn't another one of my 21 Jumpstreet fantasies where I am a police officer who gets sent undercover in schools because of my boyish good looks.

I remember walking out of the building with this cute skinny girl with dark blonde hair in a bob. This is another reason I know it was me back in High School. It was friggin bob city back then. I can not express fully how much I dig bob cuts.

She very nervously began talking to me. She stuttered and stammered in the most adorable way as she tried to ask me out. Being the smooth ass cat that I am in my dreams, I put my hands on the side of her face and kissed her with extreme prejudice. Her body immediately surged towards me and we started making out to the max!

I fell back on my ass on a patch of grass right next to the wall of the school. All of a sudden this girl who was nervous as hell, was now trying to suck out my spleen through my mouth. I, of course, got a full boner as soon as she was within 2 feet of me. Instead of freaking out or laughing at it like in real life, she started pushing her loins against it under her wonderful sundress! Oh yes. I was about to have dream sex!

I was going full bore towards penetrating this young lady when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone walking past us. Normally I wouldn't have even noticed this if not for who it was.

Fucking Captain America

There was absolutely no reason for him to be there. Last time I checked he doesn't live near me or teach High School math, yet there he was. A symbol of our country standing there in his costume, holding his big star spangled shield and staring at me dry humping a girl.

I don't know if you've ever tried to have sex while Captain America is staring at you in a very disappointed manner, but it's fucking difficult. He wouldn't leave! He just stood there like a big red white and blue asshole shaming me into waking up.

So fuck you Captain Cockblock and everything you stand for!!!

I'm moving to Nigeria.

No seriously, I've got Jungle Fever

I want to bang Queen Latifah.

With all my heart and loins.

Most women of her considerable girth are not especially attractive to me, but for some reason I want to be enveloped in the folds of her large and curvacious form.

Maybe it's because she seems to have a fun personality and her face is cute, but probably it's because in my mind I picture her as one big nubian sexual dynamo who would probably shatter my pelvis with her lusty gyrations, which I would love every minute of.

It could also be her massive dark continent teats that I have, on more that one occasion, thought about muffling my wimpers of joy as she grinds me into dust. The prospect of being suffocated to near death by her huge chocolate milk tanks sends electricity down my spine and makes my hips thrust incontrollably. I would set up camp in her cleavage, leaving only to hunt and gather firewood.

I imagine foreplay with her to be very similar to wrestling a grizzly bear. So shave my hair into a mohawk and call me Zangief cause I would take on the challenge of putting her in a nude spinning makeout piledriver.

I like the look she has now, but I would still want to get her stank on my hang low even if she wore those weird leopard hats and cross colors shirts like she used to.

The only thing that would make me hesitate if I ever got the opportunity to pork the Queen would be my acursed bulemic cashew of a penis. I fear that upon seeing me naked she would return to the rap world with a song about it with a song calld " T-E-E-N-Y ." This fear can be ignored though.

So send out the word! I'm comin for you Queenie and Im going to put my peanut butter in your chocolate!


I can't wait to see if I hit the Publish button on this one

I've got Jungle Fever

The last couple of thursdays I have written about some of the more interesting people that make up the big pigeon shit covered mosaic that is this fine city. So today this trend will continue with a tale of a celebrity run in!

One particularly sweltering day this past summer, I ventured into Manhattan to have lunch my friend Amanda. We had eaten at the same diner we have 17 times before because I am a picky bitch when it comes to what I will eat. It was a miracle that there was a place around her office that serves fried milk and Honey Nut Cheerios.

After I stuffed myself we walked around and hit a very rockin' pen store and a scintilating shop that sold buttons and steam powered dildos or someshit like that. We spent about 10 minutes in there and then wiped down the things we were checking out and left.

As we made our way back up 7th avenue towards her office, a man pushing a shopping cart headed towards us from the opposite direction. It is pretty normal here to see someone doing this around here so I didn't take much notice of him until he bust out into song. It sounded like this.



For those that can't hear this (Becky), he sang, "I just called, to say... It's too Mother fuckin hot out!"

I didn't stop walking because the next verse probably involved stabbing white people, but I laughed for about 5 blocks. I have been singing his song for months. It works in any weather

I just called, to say... it's too mother fuckin cold out!
I just called, to say... it's too mother fuckin unseasonably warm out!
I just called, to say... it's too mother fuckin partly cloudly with a thirty five percent chance of precipitation out!

What Stevie Wonder was doing collecting cans is beyond me though.

Randumb (AKA I couldn't think of anything)

I'm just your typical half Filipino/half Swedish professional Bocce baller with a zest for life and all things yarn.

There aren't enough celebrities named Rex these days.

I miss the excitement of buying pencil cases at Back to School sales, and I feel deprived for never owning a Trapper Keeper

I wish I was a dog so someone would get me to stop shitting on the carpet.

My least favorite smell is 7-11.

One of my favorite words in the English language is "crotch." Although it does sound like something you would store old photos or commemorative plates in.

My two favorite words at 2 AM are "Erotic Thriller."

There isn't nearly enough Albino themed porn

I tried to invent a new insult to yell at people, but the best I could do was "crap flamingo." As in, "Did you pee on my spaghetti you god damn crap flamingo?!"

Midgets are just people in bite-size form.

Hard Target

In a comment left for my latest voice lament, my blog pal Shavonne brought up something I have spent way too much time thinking about. She said,

"I heard men can't pee when they have an erection. That's pretty damn cool too because sometimes I have to go and being horny doesn't stop the urge. Though it does help to put a nice squeeze on a penis. "

I'm only going to talk about the urination and erection part of what she said, but the penis squeezing was too nice to not repeat. I have heard several times that men can't pee while they are aroused, but I must have some kind of factory defect in my loins because all my juices keep flowing even when in a severe state of turgidity!.

The dilemma of Boner Peeing has presented itself to me numerous times. Almost always it happens first thing in the morning after a particularly lusty dream involving getting some stank on my hang low with my 8th grade history teacher and can of corn. Once the remaining thoughts of porking are pushed out of my brain by the urge to drain the main vein, I hop out of bed and come face to face with the problem.

My enraged cyclops points upwards to Jesus, as you all know, and so does the opening of the toilet. Herein lies the problem. A rational human being would wait until their erection dies down. However, I am an idiot and wind up trying one of three techniques.

My first option is to stand about 8ft away from the toilet and try to urinate in a mighty arc. The problems here are that I have no depth perception so my aim is often terrible and as the stream weakens in power, I have to walk forward to compensate which is extremely tricky.

The second technique is the one I resort to most often. First I gently push down my emaciated banana, start to lean my torso forward as I pull my hips back and let the urine fly! There is a danger here if too much force is used when pushing down the boner. If done too hard there could be a ripped tendon resulting in an erection as floppy as an elephants ear.

The final method is the most advanced. It involves performing a handstand on the toilet seat so the pee hole points right at the toilet. The risks here include pissing in my own face due to lack of hand guidance and losing grip of the seat to wind up drowning in my toilet.

So there you have it. I apologize for wasting several minutes of your life.

Be grateful I didn't tell the story of how I used my ability to pee with a hard on to fake an orgasm.

Poetry and Regret

I just listened to the voice post I left over the weekend and I am considering sewing my mouth shut.

Anyway! Now for the poetry buffs out there, some more knowledge from the main man of morning drive, David Lee Roth. I present to ye...

ROTHKU

Sometimes kids need to be restrained.

I think I sexually molested an entire generation.

They're gonna grow up like Mariah Carey's Sister

--------------------
I got a kayak I put a sail on

Not the kind of freedom you get from a box of Maxi-Pads.

I call it Tilty Pleasure

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American Indians are buying America back one slot machine at a time

I am the keeper of the tribal knowledge

Shuffalo to Buffalo

In case you missed the first installment of Rothku, you can check it out HERE

I'm lazy

Speakin from the bed

If

If I had a band it would be called either Lance Boyle and the Breakouts or Uppercut Soldiers Unleashed.

If I could choose the way I will die, I would just keep procrastinating.

If that didn't work, I would choose to die while stabbing foreigners in the face with an American Flag. I would also settle for the band Foreigner.

If animals could talk, my favorite animal actress would be Puma Thurman. (ugh)

If I found a magic lamp and a genie came out and told me he would grant me three wishes, there would be a lot of nervous Canadians.

If I were to get self-motivated and really put my mind to it, I would probably be exhausted all the time.

If I were a woman, I would want to be fingerbanged by Eddie Van Halen

If I could think of something interesting to write, you wouldn't have had to read this worthless crap today.




If you don't check out my friend's blog Poohat and the 10 billion years before the sun blew up!, you will miss out on weirdness and funnyness and weirdness and really bitchin art. Also your feet will melt off.

*Sniff* Smells like Baked Wackjob!

Last week I posted a story about a local Wackjob. I have many of these stories so you will be seeing more of them. Wahey! How about right now!?!?!?!?!??!?!!!!!! EMPHASIS!!!!!

I do not remember the day, nor the time, nor the reason I was there, but I was on the subway with my buddy Jeff. We were in the last car of this particular train so there weren't too many people in it. Only 6 or seven riders from what I remember.

It was a very normal ride. Everyone was staring at the ads and trying not to let the others notice when they were staring at eachother. Then it happened. It came from seemingly nowhere and without any warning.

The pungent stink of urine!

I have never smelled such a powerful piss odor before in my life which is saying a lot considering I live in New York City where the summer heat bakes the soiled sidewalks filling the air with the stench of hot pee. (That was almost poetic.)

It came on so hard and fast. The entire car was overtaken by the pee smell in a matter of seconds. How the hell does that even happen with pee? I didn't notice any recently formed puddles streaming across the floor or seats. Immediately Jeff and I reached for our noses and let out a simultaneous sound of, "UAAGHH!"

As we looked around in eye-watering confusion, we saw another man on the opposite side of the train reacting in similar fashion. Like us, his hand covered his nose and he groaned. However, unlike us, this man came prepared.

He reached into his jacketand pulled out a god damn can of Febreeze.

I gazed upon him in awe and wonder as he started spraying it all over the subway car. Quickly the yellow death stank was replaced by a sort of tangello sweetness or some weird girly shit like that. The 6 other people on the train began clapping and he took a bow. At the next stop Jeff and I got off and tried to tell the story to any drunk college girl who would listen.

It was a short night.

To this day the man remains a mystery to me.
Who was this super prepared dude? This Grown Up boy scout. This Man Scout!
Was he a total genius? or totally insane?
Why am I aroused after writing this?

I may never know...

Crisis in Africa

I was sitting around pondering the plight of our brothers across the globe recently. My eyes, as happens more often than not, turned to Africa. Life is difficult for so many there. Many of the problems there are widely known, but there is one that I don't think any of us ever consider.

Horror movies in Kenya must really suck.

These guys win every friggin marathon on the planet. They can't be caught to be murdered!

Picture a young Kenyan couple holding hands during a romantic walk through the woods. They gaze into eachothers eyes longingly and with lusty intentions! Suddenly before them appears a massive chainsaw wielding, machete toting, creepy masked psychopath!

The young man screams, "Bumburuka jana!!!" Which is Swahili for, " Run Bitch!!!" The two turn around and start running. The methodical killer follows them with murderous intent.

Forty-five minutes later our two young victims are halfway up Mt. Kilimanjaro as the psycho killer is bent over in the woods sucking wind with one hand on a tree to steady himself. Once again he has failed. He finds a log to sit down and rest on as he wonders how much a gym membership costs around there.

Who would ever go see a movie like this?

So next time you are sitting there watching some young topless girl get her tits sliced up at sleepaway camp, take a moment to think of those less fortunate than you across the ocean who will never be able to enjoy what we can.

Bozy Bozy Bop.... Do Bop

Today is a monumental day. It is the first day of David Lee Roth's morning radio show. He is the replacement for Howard Stern in several markets now that Howard is on Sirius radio.

This show may be the worst thing ever broadcast in the history of media. There is a depressing factor of 10 as I am hearing a guy who was the biggest rock star on the planet doing commercials for Dial A Mattress.

David Lee Roth is obviously brain damaged and not afraid to show it off. It's so bad I can't help but be entertained. Diamond Dave, who comes across as Gary Busey on Nitrous Oxide, seems to love to impart deep and meaningful wisdom to his listeners. I have decided to put it into poetry form.

Behold the new sensation soon to be sweeping the nation....

ROTHKU!

Everytime you put on New York 1 there's a dalmation goin take me baby, take me

My strength is lifting people.

I live on the lower east side where there's nothin but scared horses

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

A lot of school kids have lesbians for moms and dads
I been places with my face you wouldnt go with a pistol

Two girls and a toaster oven, seriously.

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

Bang a track homey... like it owes you money
Make it happen, Captain.

I alone am the master of the flying curtain rod.

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

When you buy a horse or a boat it's only yours for the first 20 minutes.

You learn what the stump means if you want chicken for dinner.

No metaphysics before happy hour.

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

Last time I looked the Bible is written in the same language as my pornography

I wouldn't give you my coffee for that

My god is a fierce and vengeful comedian.

There will be more of this when I can bring myself to listen again.

You say you want a resolution...

Well I am feeling generous so take 10.

1. I resolve to include more fruit in my diet. (Skittles are fruit right?)
2. I resolve to grow at least 3 inches on any part of my body.
3. I resolve to win the lottery.
4 .I resolve to talk to a woman in person without spitting cookie crumbs in her face or calling her "Hiney Lady"
5. I resolve to write and choreograph a musical based on the songs of Cyndi Lauper. The "She Bop" routine will be oh so saucy.
6. I resolve to tell more people the story of Heitsi-eibib and Ga-gorib.
7. I resolve to absolve those who devolve and not evolve as we revolve until we dissolve. What the shit?
8. I resolve to include Rick Moranis in my blogging more often.
9. I resolve to punch a zebra in the face.
10. I resolve to keep a closed mind, narrow my horizons and dwell on the past.