In response to Skank's earlier post, I must say, I just don't get guys' fascination with cars. I mean, they can be fast. So what? They can be loud. Why would you want that? And the fascination with engines. What's a V8? What does that mean? What does V stand for? Velocity? Vector? What's torque? Why do you need it? What's the point of a spoiler? I hate everything about cars except the whole not having to walk thing. I'm not sure I could change a tire. I have no idea where the tire-chanaging tools are in my car. Probably in the trunk but I can't find them. I don't know where the oil goes or the brake fluid. I just found out about two weeks ago that brakes needed fluid when my oil light or one of those lights went on and it said, "Add brake fluid" in the manual. So I had my wife do it.

The only thing I can identify when I open the hood, and by the way, it took me about a half an hour to figure out how to open the hood, it's not that easy, where was I? Oh yeah, the only thing I can identify in the engine portion of the car is the battery because some guy pointed to it once and said, "That's the battery". I don't understand why the car doesn't explode when the "spark" hits the gas? Is that even what starts the car? By the way, my engine light has been on for about six months and the car runs fine. I'm assuming the light is defective.

I learned everything I know about cars from my father when I was driving with him one day when I was about twelve, and there was a loud banging noise coming from the engine and I said, "Dad, what's that noise" and he turned up the radio real loud and said, "What noise?". So far, I haven't had any loud banging in my engine but if I do, I know how to fix it. Oh, and one time I blew the engine on my brother's 1970 Chevy Nova because I was doing 70 mph on the Garden State Parkway (Exit 144) in 2nd gear. I had the radio so loud I didn't hear it whining like a nine year old girl who just got pushed down a flight of stairs. Only when black smoke started pouring out of the engine did I realize something was wrong. Whoops. It was his fault for having such a kickass stereo. As a matter of fact, that's the only thing I do understand about a car - the radio.

But I am an excellent driver. Except the time I drove into a friends' parked car and flipped my car over. But that doesn't count because I had been drinking.

Go Hokies!

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 02:10 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 480 words, total size 3 kb.

Tonight, on this Holiest of nights, I'll be going to a sacred place. A place where men and women gather to express their faith and reverence for something far greater than themselves. That's right - I'm going to a hockey game. To some this may seem like blasphemy. But if you think about it, church and a hockey game have many similarities. You go to both places to root for your team, or your god. A preacher stands in a pulpit guarding the Eucharist, wine and candles, and a goalie guards the net. Parishioners are trying to get into heaven, and the players are trying to get past center ice and score. Church has hymns that praise God, hockey has We Will Rock You by Queen.

There are many rules and traditions that must be followed in both places; kneeling, skating, holy water, ice, signs of the Cross, icing, Amens, calling the ref an asshole, roughing, saying rehearsed shit back to the priest when he says some prayer, beer, wafers, pretzels, wine, confession, penalty box, five minute major, Hell, Rosary beads, jockstraps, violence, violence. You get the picture. They're almost exactly the same except one is fun and the other...not so much.

Which brings me to my main point - could Jesus have played hockey? In my opinion, and to be brutally honest, I'd have to say no. Based on my knowledge of J-Lord, he was a little too effeminate. And he was a hippy. And he wore sandals. Three strikes and you're out, J. Whether any of that is true is anyone's guess but I have to tell you, whoever came up with his image could have done a little better marketing the guy. Jerusalem - 32 A.D. or San Francisco - 1968, he fit in both places. And if the former was anything like the latter, I would have crucified him too. Only I would've made sure it was a slower, more painful death. That is how much I hate hippies.

Now I'm sure J-Lord was a great guy and all; turning wine into water, loaves into fishes, preaching at the Temple Mount 24-7, carpentering and chatting up the whores, but really. Even if he was the son of God, and I'm not saying he's not, all that means is that he was born. So was I. So were you. It's not that big a deal. Someone squirted him out. Which brings me to my real main, main point, which is, I have a limited amount of placenta from the birth of Jesus. That's right! And it can be yours for the low, low price of only $19.95. It comes in a 1 oz. decorative vial and is available in a wide variety of colors. And His placenta has many uses! Use it as an energy drink! Rub it on a wound! Clean out your colon! Or use it as a lubricant with that special someone you want to pork this Easter Sunday! Act now! Supplies are limited!

Send check or money order to:

J-Lord's Authentic Placenta
Rent-A-Placenta, Inc.
P.O. Box 666
Styx River, WI 53207

how's that for upper-decking...

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 09:08 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 544 words, total size 3 kb.