September 30, 2003

Dateline - Sweden (SBD)

Snooze Button Dreams is proud to present an exclusive interview taken with H, of The Everyday Stranger, leader of the Anti-Mappists. This interview was obtained at great personal risk to our intrepid war reporter who will remain anonymous for his own protection*. The following transcript is taken verbatim and is certified to be 100% fair and balanced as well as completely accurate.**

SBD: Thank you so much for this interview. I'm very honored to be the one who will expose...er...reveal the real you to the world. Your sensuality, your writing skill, your delightful kilt picture...all of these together cannot begin to explain your massive appeal.

H: Patronize me at your peril, man. I am not kidding.

SBD: Right. Sorry. Let's get to the interview then, shall we?

H: Whatever. You're just old and bitter.

SBD: I'm not old! I'm 37. And I am not bitter, either! I must say I am offended by that!

H: Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to bend your dick that way.

SBD: Quite all right. Now, for the first interview question: Recently, blogwar hostilities have erupted between your blog and Snooze Button Dreams. Can you tell my readers why you declared war on Jim?

H: I want him to cry soft, silent tears while he makes love to me.

SBD: Are you being flippant?

H: What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

SBD: Well, it's well known that you both already have partners and there would also be a logistical problem with you being in Sweden and him in the USA. Given that, I thought it might be possible that your previous answer was flippant. Was there perhaps a little bit of sarcasm there?

H: Buckets and buckets of it.

SBD: I see. Let's skip to the next question. Did you make any preparations for battle before declaring war?

H: Trimmed my minge. It's now in a very cute box shape.

SBD: Yes, of course you did. Now that battle has been joined, can you describe the experience?

H: Rhythmic choas, baby. It's like being in a small confined space with Satan and suddenly, I was nude. I am reduced to being nervous about super-speedy cows.

SBD: That sounds quite traumatic. Looking into the "crystal ball", what do you see for you and Jim at the end of the Mapwar?

H: We have to be scraped off the top of our cars with a putty knife and double our doses of thorazine.

SBD: If you forsee such a horrible outcome for both of you, why pursue this war?

H: You have no idea how grouchy you can get after four days of pygmy hamsters.

SBD: I will have to take your word for it. I assume you have heard the rumors to the effect that you were put up to this Mapwar by the Swedish Fairies Union. Can you comment on these rumors of your collusion with the SFU?

H: If I see that little bastard Roland the Mental Health Fairy I am going to rip his goddamn wings off. I cooked and served up the Laundry Fairies earlier this week.

SBD: I think we can safely take that as a denial of collusion. Do you have anything to say to your opponent?

H: Go muff diving often, and without prompting.

SBD: Yes...sound advice that. I was thinking of something apropos to the Mapwar. Do you have anything of that nature to say?

H: I have been the one taking care of the dog.

SBD: That makes no sense at all.

H: Shut up.

SBD: It's hardly an interview if I do.

H: Don't piss me off...I have an anger control problem, remember.

SBD: Ummm...perhaps it would be safer...er...prudent to end the interview here. Thank you again for granting it and I hope my presence here was not too upsetting.

H: I feel enormously pleased.

So there you have it folks, in her own words. Who are you going to support in this Mapwar? Your favorite source for wit and humor or an aparently confused fairy killer?

Think of the fairies.

(*And because he's a total and complete fabrication of my mind.)
(**In the great traditions of Maureen Dowd, Jayson Blair and Reuters.)

Posted by: Jim at 10:24 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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September 29, 2003

Father/Son Bonding (SBD)

Bear and I took a little drive the other day to do some bonding. I calmly explained what has to happen with his school work and chores around the house and why it is in his best interest and he finally decided father knows best. I really felt that we finally connected so I took a photo to always be able to remember this milestone. So my message to all of you with kids is to just take some time and really try to communicate with them and they'll come around.

Click here for the pic.

(hat tip to Steve)

Posted by: Jim at 09:54 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Saturday in the park, I think it was the Fourth of July. (SBD)

Except it was Sunday and it was the 28th and the month was September. Otherwise it happened just like in that song. Well, the song title anyway. There weren't any dancin' people or ice cream salesmen and there certainly weren't any people saying "Eicay varee', eisee' nardee'". So I guess it was only tangentially like that song. But isn't "tangentially" a cool word? It's really close to "tangenitally", which isn't a word but has "genital" in it and that's funny.

Anyway, took the happily family plus canine for a walk in the park yesterday. Canine is always leashed because he's a moron and will run off at any and every opportunity. He'll then run through the neighborhood pretending to be the Great Rabbit Hunter. We don't have any rabbits in our neighborhood but this doesn't phase him. We do have a load of feral cats and he thinks they are rabbits. He is consistently amazed at the tree climbing prowess of the local rabbit population. Eventually, when both of his brain cells happen to fire at the same time, he will realize that he is A) Hungry and B) Not the Great Rabbit Hunter. He'll then lope on home wearing a shit-eating grin and shit-rolled-in fur so Lovely Wife can do her Academy Award winning performance of "Dog owner who is furious enough to bite dog's ear off but has to act happy and nice so the moron dog won't take off again but oh wait until we're inside the house cause then your ass is mine except not really because said dog owner is afraid that if she lets the moron dog know she's angry then maybe just maybe the next time the moron dog runs off he might be afraid to come back at all as if I could be so lucky so instead he gets bribed with treats and canned food that makes him fart like Ted Kennedy after a weekend bender thereby reinforcing in his tiny little mind that running away is a good thing so he is encouraged to do it again".

This particular park is more than one neighborhood away so canine is carefully leashed. Should canine get loose here he would be completely unable to find his way home. Yes I've heard the amazing stories of dogs that travel thousands of miles, swim the Atlantic and get part time jobs as restroom attendants in order to find their way home. Those are smart dogs. We're talking Benji smart. Pull Timmy out of the well smart. Our dog is more on the intelligence level of a laboratory test subject. After the tests.

While in the park we met a real dog. Don't get me wrong, canine isn't one of those little ankle biters. When Lovely Wife decided we needed a dog I gave her the basic criteria: Any "dog" that can be heaved one handed over the roof will be. Canine is a beagle/terrier mutt and a decent 30 pounds so he passes the heave test (barely cleared the gutters). This dog we met in the park was a real dog though. "Great Dane" real. "This is my couch find your own" real. "187 pounds of imitation pony" real. Wow.

This massive beast, who we'll call "Opie" ('cause that was his name), was also very friendly in a "You will do exactly what I want and I won't consume your children. Deal?" sort of way. Nah, I'm not being fair. Opie really was friendly. Aloof but friendly. Its just when you encounter something that unbelievably large it takes a minute or two before the "fight or flight" reflex settles into the "deal with it, he can catch you if you run and swallow you whole if you don't" reflex. And when he yawned his jaws were the approximate size of the baby stroller. And where'd Burger go? And just why does my kid have to have a food nickname at a time like this? Oh, there he is, standing upright underneath the horse dog. Isn't that nice? Now where are my glycerin tabs?

The kids loved him. Couldn't get enough of him. Petting, hugging, kissing, rubbing, you name it. Everything short of copulation was performed. Our canine seemed visibly shaken. That's understandable as this behemoth was more than 6 times his size. Normally canine isn't bothered by a minor fact like his rival being larger. He's like the Joe Pesci of dogs, small and belligerent like if he refuses to acknowledge that his opponent is bigger than he is then maybe the opponent won't realize it either. I guess after a certain point there's just no need to fake it anymore and Opie was a good 80 pounds over that point. So canine sat there and pouted while his kids showered love on the interloper.

So now Lovely Wife wants a Great Dane. They're really great dogs, see? It's right there in the name. And they don't really take up a lot of space because they mostly just lay around all the time. They don't even realize that they're that big. They think they're a lap dog. Yeah, that's exactly what I want. A 187 pound mobile speed bump that wants to lay in my lap. I told her she could get one as long as she trades in an equal weight of current pets. She was not amused.

Posted by: Jim at 08:09 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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September 26, 2003

My kids are going to hate me

Not for a while, of course. Right now I am the shiznit. I'm the guy who'll suck on a giant plastic cow's teats. I'm the guy who'll scream sing "Nemo!" "Memo!" at the top of my voice in Borders. 2 out of 3 of my kids know how to play Hot Hands. I give airplane rides until the kids stumble around worse than a Massachusets senator. Let's face it, right now I am like the ultimate in Daddy material.

But for how long? I do this stuff because it's fun. It amuses me. I am all about amusing me, always have been. I'm the guy who takes the wooden sword off the shelf in the toy aisle and yells out "I'm invincible! Have at you!". If I think it's funny or the idea of it makes me smile, I do it.

I embarrass lovely wife on a constant basis. The other day at Kroger (supermarket) I had all three kids in the cart and swung 'em around, doing an impersonation of a Tilt-a-Whirl. People stared. She almost died. Someone commented "Jeeze, grow the hell up." I responded proudly "No thanks. I'll stay young instead of turning into a bitter bitch with an asshole tight enough to squeeze pennies out of a quarter." I shouldn't talk to Lovely Wife that way - I didn't get any action for a week after that one.

The kids love it. Of course they do! I'm amusing as hell to their immature personalities. But what happens when they start to grow up and learn what "embarassment" is? How long until Bear shuffles off to the next aisle when I pick up a squirt gun at Toys 'R Us and tell him to "Cover me. I'm going in"? How old will they be when they don't want an airplane ride anymore, not because it's not still fun but because they don't want to be seen getting an airplane ride?

Hopefully it'll be a long time but it will arrive. It's as unavoidable as another Jason movie or the next Clinton scandal. It'll start with a forced laugh at one of my antics, instead of the gut busters I get now. Then it'll go to "that look" and silence. Then avoidance. It'll probably end up with my death.

Judge: You are charged with the murder of your father. How do you plead?

Bear: Not guilty by reason of embarassment.

Judge: Looking at your case file I do see quite a number of instances where you were subjected to mortifying embarassment but you never reacted violently before. What straw broke the camel's back?

Bear: We were getting ready for the prom and Lovely Mom was taking pictures. Dad came up behind me and gave me a wedgie.

Judge: In all honesty that doesn't seem sufficient to justify homicide.

Bear: And he goosed my date.

Judge: You're right. He had to die. Case dismissed.


So my days are numbered. I'll enjoy 'em while I can though, with reckless abandon and malice aforethought.

Anybody see where I left my Supersoaker?

Posted by: Jim at 10:58 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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September 24, 2003

Y'allbonics (SBD)

Welcome to Modern English 201. If you are in the wrong class you can find the Modern English 101 class here. Today's instruction includes common translations from the Y'allbonics to Yankee dictionary.

1. HEIDI - (noun) -Greeting.

2. HIRE YEW - Complete sentence. Remainder of greeting.
Usage: "Heidi! Hire yew?"

3. BARD - (verb) - Past tense of the infinitive "to borrow."
Usage: "My brother bard my pickup truck."

4. JAWJUH - (noun) - The state north of Florida. Capitol is Lanner.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck and took it to Lanner."

5. BAMMER - (noun) - The state west of Jawjuh. Capitol is Berminhayam.
Usage: "A tornader jes went through Bammer an' left $20,000,000 in improvements."

6. MUNTS - (noun) - A calendar division.
Usage: "My brother from Jawjuh bard my pickup truck, and I ain't herd from him in munts."

7. THANK - (verb) - Cognitive process.
Usage: "Ah thank ah'll have a bare."

8. BARE - (noun) - An alcoholic beverage made of barley, hops, and yeast.
Usage: "Ah thank ah'll have anutha bare."

9.) IGNERT - (adjective) - Not smart. See "Arkansas native."
Usage: "Them Bammer boys sure are ignert!"

10. RANCH - (noun)- tool used for tight'nin' bolts.
Usage: "I thank I left my ranch in the back of that pickup truck my brother from Jawjuh bard a few munts ago."

11. ALL - (noun) - A petroleum-based lubricant.
Usage: "I sure hope my brother from Jawjuh puts all in my pickup truck."

12.FAR - (noun) - A conflagration.
Usage: "If my brother from Jawjuh don't change the all in my pickup truck, that thing's gonna catch far."

13. TAR - (noun) - A rubber wheel.
Usage: "Gee, I hope that brother of mine from Jawjuh don't git a flat tar in my pickup truck."

14. TIRE - (noun) - A tall monument.
Usage: "Lord willin' and the creek don't rise, I sure do hope to see that Eiffel Tire in Paris sometime."

15. RETARD - (verb) - To stop working.
Usage: "My grampaw retard at age 65."

16. FAT - (noun), (verb) - a battle or combat; to engage in battle or combat.
Usage: "You younguns keep fat'n, n' ah'm gonna whup y'uh."

17. RATS - (noun) - Entitled power or privilege.
Usage: "We Southerners are willin' to fat for are rats."

18. CHEER - (adverb) In this place.
Usage: "Just set that bare rat cheer".

19. FARN - (adjective) - Not domestic.
Usage: "I cuddint unnerstand a wurd he sed ... must be from some farn country."

20. DID - (adjective) - Not alive.
Usage: "He's did, Jim."

21. ARE - (noun) - A colorless, odorless gas containing oxygen.
Usage: "He cain't breathe ... give 'im some are!"

22. BOB WAR - (noun) - A sharp, twisted cable.
Usage: "Boy, stay away from that bob war fence."

23. JEW HERE - (noun) and (verb) contraction.
Usage: "Jew here that my brother from Jawjuh got a job with that bob war fence cump'ny?"

24. HAZE - a contraction.
Usage: "Is Bubba smart?" "Nah .... haze ignert. He ain't thanked but a minnit'n 'is laf."

25. SEED -(verb) - past tense of "to see".
Usage: "I ain't never seed New York City". ---

26. VIEW - contraction (verb) and pronoun.
Usage: "I ain't never seed New York City ... view?"

27. GUBMINT - (noun) - A bureaucratic institution.
Usage: "Them gubmint boys shore is ignert."

Posted by: Jim at 08:33 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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WOW!

This article (Microsoft Rolls Out Beta of XP 64-Bit Edition) almost gets it right but it loses it right here:

The WOW64 architecture also takes advantage of the AMD64 architecture to enable compatibility with 32-bit applications without a loss of performance in most cases.

WOW64 is an interpreter that lets old programs (the 32-bit ones we use now) run on the new 64-bit Windows operating system. It can't possibly do this without a loss of performance. The loss may be close to negligible but it'll still be there. It's basically like having two people who speak different languages communicating with an interpreter. The archaic and primitive system (pulling a name randomly from the hat we come up with French) says something to the translator (which speaks both languages, we'll call it British) who then repeats it to the advanced system (for the sake of continuity we'll call this one American English) in terms it can understand. The process works the same in reverse. As the following simulation shows, even simple concepts can be difficult to translate and will add processor overhead and performance loss when running French programs (32-bit) on American operating systems (64-bit).

(over on the program side)

Frog Program: Putang inamo! (<--made up French words) Please display graphic X.

Brit Interpreter: Sure thing. I'll let the OS know.

(to the OS side)

Brit: OS, please show me something.

Yankee Operating System: What would you like to see?

Brit: Nothing really, it's that French program that's asking.

Yank: Well what does he want to see?

Brit: Graphic X, of course.

Yank: Okay, got it. Where do you want it displayed?

Brit: I told you, I don't give a fig. It's the Frog that's looking for it.

Yank: Then where does HE want it?!

Brit: Dunno. I'll find out.

Yank: Please do.

(back to the program side)

Brit: Hey, Froggie!

Frog: Aloette! Vin! Bleue fromage! (<--Pretty sure this is French for something.) Where is my graphic? I issued that display request nanoseconds ago!

Brit: The Yank needs to know where to put it. And probably what size to display it at, color, whatever. Things don't just always go in the top left corner at the default size anymore, you know.

Frog: Je suis un âne complet et total! (<--Babelfish is so totally cool.)

Brit: What? Speak in 32-bit. I don't understand any of that ultra primitive 16-bit crap.

Frog: I said that you are next to worthless and the only thing more insufferable than you is that unilaterally acting warmongering American OS!

Brit: Well you better get used to it. They're in charge now and you're pretty much powerless to do a damn bloody thing without them.

Frog: Alors je bouderai comme une chienne! (<--Babelfish again)

Brit: What? Why do you keep using that barbaric tongue that nobody in the world knows or cares about except high school students in America who only take it because, unlike Spanish (the only other choice), they will never in their lives be forced to actually use it to communicate?

Frog: I said that I will obstruct the American OS in every manner possible. I have a seat on the UM (Universal Memory) too, you know! I will add zeros and ones all over the place! He won't be able to do a damn thing!

Brit: Okay, I'll tell him. I think that you're making a pretty big mistake though.

Frog: J'ai le sexe avec de jeunes garçons! (<--Cool. We'll stick with the Babelfish for the rest of the skit.)

Brit: Whatever.

(back to the OS side)

Yank: Hey, there! Welcome back. Did you get the location for that graphic?

Brit: No. He totally freaked. Says he's going to obstruct you at the UM and bring your processes to a screaching halt.

Yank: He's only 32-bit. Doesn't he know that?

Brit: I don't think he really gets what that's all about. He thinks he's all top of the line and modern and powerful even in today's environment.

Yank: But doesn't he want that graphic displayed?

Brit: Yeah, I guess so. Hard to tell really but I think he's just pissed that you want to do it. What are you going to do?

Yank: Well, I guess I'll go ahead and just display it anyway. He's only 32-bit. He might stop me at the UM but I'm multithreaded and I'm in tight with the processor. Won't be a problem at all. It probably won't end up exactly where he wants it but it'll look just fine when I'm done.

Brit: Great, I'll let him know.

(program side again)

Frog: Mon chien a les niveaux exceptionnellement bas de testostérone! And you can tell that to the Yank too!

Brit: Uh...yeah. Right. Anyway, I just stopped over to let you know that the graphic is up.

Frog: Excusez-moi tandis que je donne une fessée à mon singe! How dare he do that without my instructions!

Brit: You did give him the instructions. Came right through the UM and everything. You just wouldn't help him with the details so he went and finished the job by himself.

Frog: Ma mère est un hamster! Does he not realize my majesty and power?! I will crush him! I will take that graphic down myself! Or make him turn its display properties over to the UM where it belongs!

Brit: Maybe you should take a look at it first. It looks pretty good.

Frog: Je suis une plus grande putain que Joe Theismann!

So you can plainly see that although the intended instruction of the 32-bit program was indeed carried out by the 64-bit OS there was quite a bit of overhead added and the end result wasn't quite what the 32-bit program wanted. An update on the 32-bit programs will help them to interface better with the translator and the OS but old 32-bit programs are going to be miffed by the new OS until they truly realize that they are in a 64-bit world and are, in effect, the bitch of the new OS.

UPDATE: If you're curious what the French person said but unable/unwilling to translate it, Ilyka has done the work for you.

Posted by: Jim at 08:12 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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September 22, 2003

Joe Theismann is a dirty little whore (SBD)

I can handle the occasional lousy officiating, even when the time crew can't seem to remember to reset the play clock. I can handle a poor performance by the offensive line. I understand that even Drew Bledsoe can have an occasional terrible day. I can even accept that it's nigh on impossible for a mediocre running game to do anything productive against the Dolphin's defense. Philosophically I can even deal with a loss to the hated Miami team. What I can't stand, what makes me sick unto vomiting, is the gushing Theismann led Ricky "Check out my dreads" Williams lurve fest that made up the majority of the "commentary" for yesterday's game.

And what's with those dreadlocks anyway? Is rasta the image of the day? But at least Ricky's got decent looking dreads. It's that half goatee thing he's sporting that pooches the image. Come on Ricky, if you're going for a goat then you need an upper and a lower. You've got some sort of chin rectangle thing going and it just isn't working. Or are you trying to create the "new look"? Some sort of dreadlock-rectangle thing (dreadtangle?). Whatever.

Back to the point of the rant. For those of you who had the good fortune to miss the Bills' humbling performance yesterday evening you may not understand exactly how far Joe Theisman had his head up Ricky's ass. Normally it would not be possible for one person to rectally intrude as far as Joe did but he had help from Mike "I am not Marv Albert" Patrick and Paul "I used to respect myself" Maguire who utilized a shoehorn and KY Jelly, resptectively, to assist in the insertion. Here's a brief transcript:

Joe Theismann: Man, Ricky is the fastest North-South runner we've seen in a long time.

Paul Maguire: He sure is, Joe. But he doesn't really run North-South as much as he used to.

Theismann: That's right, Paul. He's such a smart runner. He runs East-West so that he can run North-South when a hole opens up. He's like a modern day Barry Sanders.

Mike Patrick: Or a new age Emmit Smith.

Theismann: Absolutely. And he's so freaking gorgeous, too!

Maguire: Um, yeah. He sure is, Joe.

Theismann: I begged him to sodomize me but he has such class that he turned me down cold.

Maguire: You've just got to keep trying, Joe. Keep on keeping on.

Theismann: (wipes tear from eye) Yeah, just like Ricky. Keep on keeping on. (sniff)

Patrick: Yes!

>From Joe Thiesmann we learned that there is nobody on the Bills that can beat Ricky to the corner, nobody on either team that could take him down with one arm, nobody in the AFC with his lighning speed through a hole and nobody in North America with a larger penis. It would have been tolerable from a Madden or a Gifford because you would at least know that they were sincere about it. Then again neither of those gentlemen would have engaged in such a display because they don't need to. They are both excellent commentators with their own personalities, not obtuse ex-mediocre quarterbacks still riding the most publicized broken leg in media history as if it was some claim to legitimacy. He has to be a gushing simp because he has nothing else to offer.

The post game interview between Theismann and Williams was, if anything, more disgusting than the hours of verbal love Joey had already subjected us to. At least it was shorter.

Theismann: So Ricky, you've got the game ball and the admiration of every man, woman and child in America. How did you play so well?

Williams: I just read the patterns and followed my blockers mostly. I had a couple lucky breaks and just kept pushing as best I could.

Theismann: You were unstoppable. You were godlike. It was as if the spirits of all the great running backs in the history of the NFL were instilled in your lithe, sweaty frame.

Williams: Uh... I guess I had a really great game but it was mostly just hard work, lucky breaks and a really great effort from the offensive line. I thank Jesus for watching over me and letting me perform so well.

Theismann: Jesus would be lucky if you let him lick the toe jam from your heavenly feet. I love you. I want to have your love child.

Williams: You are whack, man. Seriously freakin' whack.

Patrick: Yes!

UPDATE: We discussed Theismann's whoring in detail in our department meeting today (I am quite fortunately surrounded by Miami haters) and it became apparent that Chris Collinsworth is also a man-whore. His infatuation was with the entire Tampa Bay team, not a single player, which makes him an even bigger slut than Theismann.

No, I'm not bitter. Why do you ask?

Posted by: Jim at 08:00 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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September 18, 2003

Newsflash! (SBD)

A scientist from Southampton University has invented a bra that keeps women's breasts from jiggling and prevents the nipples from pushing through the fabric when cold weather sets in.

At a news conference announcing the invention, the scientist was taken outside by a large group of men where they proceeded to kick the shit out of him.

Posted by: Jim at 09:57 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 61 words, total size 1 kb.

September 05, 2003

Why oh why do I have to love women?

Man, I wish I was gay. Life would be so much cooler if I was in a relationship with a guy. Just imagine, there'd never be an argument about what to watch on TV. The game! If there's no game on then the selection automatically runs down through action flicks, nature shows on sharks, StarTrek, classic cartoons and That 70's Show (of course my favorite character would probably be Fez then but I can handle that).

If there wasn't anything on the boob tube we could always pop in a porno. What guy doesn't like porno? And since there's no gals around there would definitely be a nice sized collection. Sure, it would be gay porno but that's what I'd be into anyway.

And we'd be watching it on a massive TV. Guys know how to prioritize purchases in ways that women just can't grasp:

Me: So, would you rather get a diamond ring or a big screen TV and a kick ass sound system?

Gay Lover: Um, hello? The TV of course. Don't be such a dumbass.


Food would be so much simpler. No matter who ends up going to the grocery store the correct items would be purchased. Steaks, beer, maybe some munchies.

Me: Hey lover, what's for dinner?

GL: I thought I'd grill up a couple steaks and wash 'em down with some brew.

Me: Again?

GL: Yeah.

Me: Awesome.


Sex would be so much easier too. I mean, come on! That's all we guys ever really think about. Never again would I have to worry about not getting a blow job when I want one.

Me: This game is boring. Wanta screw?

GL: Um, hello? I'm a guy. Of course I want to screw.


Watching the game on my big screen TV, beer in hand, gay lover giving me a fine blow job...that's guy heaven right there.

Man, it sucks being straight.

(Blame Credit for this one is 100% on G, my chief idea man.)

Posted by: Jim at 06:36 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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September 03, 2003

Fecalation

Warning: Potty humor ahead

I have just done something I absolutely hate doing. Something that disgusts me more than an image of Michael Moore and Hillary Clinton making the beast with two backs. I crapped. In the john at work. I loathe myself now.

Lest you think I'm overreacting here, there are several reasons for this disgust with birthing a stink pickle at my place of employment. First and foremost, the mens' room here has an extremely odiferous reputation. This is due to exceptionally poor ventilation and the contributions of "The Morning Regulars". Our many requests for better ventilation have resulted in a stand-alone HEPA air filter. Despite early misgivings this has actually helped quite a bit but nothing can cope with the depradations of the "Sunrise Commandos". These are a handful of gentlemen that descend upon the mens' room stalls shortly after arriving in the morning. They are armed with newspapers, magazines and enough collective colonic problems to put a gastroenterologist into a shiny new Lexus. Annually. Our bathroom is rectangular with a door on each end. It is not at all unusual for a person to walk into one door, see the stalls closed, and sprint to the other door in asphyxiated horror. For those with an especially refined disgust of olfactory scatagrams this can be a very painful time. The odor is so foul that I have seriously considered a ruptured bladder to be preferable to suffering through a urinal session while surrounded by the clouds of doom. It takes the air filter anwhere from a quarter hour to forty-five minutes to get rid of the fecal aroma depending on what was for dinner but this seldom happens. Remember that the "AM Crew" is comprised of a not inconsiderable number of gastrically challenged individuals. What normally happens is that they arrive in staggered formation and sentence the blighted restroom to consecutive punishments. It is sometimes noon before it is completely safe to enter.

So there is the general problem of not having a facility that allows me to breath normally while doing my business. That by itself is quite a deterrent. My second reason for not wishing to practice the fecal arts at work is of a more personal nature. It's freakin' gross! Crap at home! Don't bring that nastiness to your place of business! It's one thing to peal porcelain in the comfort of your own bathroom, it's quite another to use a public throne and then wonder just who the heck knows that you are the source of that curious combination of rotten cabbage, fouled eggs and sulphur. And foreign asses have been on that seat! Asses not related to you by blood or marriage. Bare skinned asses belonging to persons of the same sex as well as heterosexual orientation (as far as you know). Your only protection against ass cooties and pooples (butt pimples from seat nastiness) is that paper ass gasget. A microthin sheet of wax paper that cannot possibly be a barrier to any significant contaminant and that you just know is going to wick potty water up onto the seat from that part that dangles in the bowl.

Shudder. Shudder.

The final warning flag against corporate crapping is the toilet paper. Is this toilet paper? I use toilet paper at home all the time and this just doesn't resemble it except superficially by shape. It is resistant to tearing. It has no quilting. It is not two ply. It is not absorbent. In texture this work TP is more like the roll of message paper next to the phone. It fails the most important goal of toilet papers, that all important function that is the one thing it must succeed at. Specifically, it is not capable of getting shit out of your ass crack. You end up with fistful after fistful trying vainly for a feeling of cleanliness but you shall never succeed. It is like trying to clean spilt latex paint off of linoleum using only newspaper. Every wipe gets some more but there is always more on the next wipe. By the time you can no longer see dookie streaks on the paper (and you DO look at it, don't lie to me) your anus has been sanded to a bloody remnant of its former glory.

The horror. Oh, the humanity.

So for these reasons I avoid making a lincoln log cabin at work but occasionally, like this morning, there is no other recourse. I blame the Taco Loco I had for lunch yesterday for the way I feel right now. I sit here typing, hoping ever so much that the feeling between my cheeks is just nervous perspiration. Or maybe blood. I'd go in for a secondary wipe right now but one of the "Magnificent Seven" just headed in there with the morning paper.

I want my own toilet. I want my own TP. I want a freaking baby wipe.

Posted by: Jim at 11:30 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 824 words, total size 5 kb.

September 02, 2003

Dear Mr. Address Does Not Exist:

My penis is nicely sized, thank you for your concern. I have no need for your penile enlargement drugs or devices. I am generally a happy fellow so no thanks on the discount rate Zoloft and psychotropics. Similarly, I am blessed with a libido that can be stroked stoked by the merest of feminine charms. I really don't have a use for bargain basement prices on Viagra. Thank you for thinking of me though.

I have a real life job that takes up the bulk of my daytime working hours and on the weekends I like to relax and enjoy my family. Otherwise I would be more than interested in making up to $6,000 a month from my home. As you see though, I wouldn't have the time to invest to take full advantage of this wonderful opportunity. You should try to help somebody else with that one.

I'm very happy that my resume was accepted, my application approved and that you are replying to my review, but every time I try to read the emails my wacky virus protection kicks in and won't let me. Could you maybe resend those without the attachments? I think that's what is getting the antivirus so upset.

Yes, i do love music but I haven't purchased a CD for any price in almost a decade. Even though you are practically giving them away I am afraid that I'm just not interested. I could forward your offer to Lovely Wife if you'd like. She is still a music consumer.

Those are really great deals on those software titles but I don't think they would run on my computer. I'm terribly sorry but I got rid of my Win 3.11 system several years ago. Had I only known the amazing deals that would become available I would certainly have held on to it.

Could you do me a favor? There are apparently billions and billions of unclaimed monies in abandoned accounts scattered all over Africa. Unfortunately there seem to be some disreputable people trying to smuggle it all out to America. Although I could certainly use a couple million bucks myself I couldn't take it at the expense of its rightful owners - the poor folk of Africa. Since you are a real internet business person I'm guessing you're pretty well connected. Could you let the proper authorities know? Thanks.

Oh, one more thing. If it isn't too much bother, would it be at all possible for y'all to get some sort of idgit scale to correlate with the addresses on your mailing offer lists? I'm imagining a simple scale starting from Intelligent and working down to AOLer. That way you could omit sending quite so many amazing offers to those of us at the top end and concentrate your efforts on the folk that might actually buy your stuff.

Thank you ever so much.

Sincerely,
Jim

Posted by: Jim at 03:08 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 494 words, total size 3 kb.

Propensity for evil is inversely proportional to height

Discovery of this phenomenon has made my life much simpler. I can now judge the relative evil of a person at a simple glance. You may doubt my conclusion now but after reading my uncorrelated, anecdotal, and harshly edited and/or manufactured evidence you will no doubt agree with me. We shall begin my recitation of facts with Bear, our largest (and therefore least evil) child.

Bear has just turned 4 and is in all ways a model child. He is polite to a fault, caring, giving, nurturing and posessed of a sweet temperment. His primary goals in life are to watch television, play video games and protect his possessions against the depradations of his younger siblings. In other words, Bear is a carbon copy of me. Except for the caring, giving, nurturing crap - I am sadly lacking all of those. But I do love the telly and video games and I'm quite protective of my worldly goods. Bear has occasional episodes of evil but they tend to relate to his life goals. For example, he may have a conniption fit when one of our more compact children take his Ozzy Osborne talking doll (which features such gems as "I love you all but you're (bleeeep) mad!" and "Sharon! I can't get this (bleep) (bleep) TV to work!") and occasionally throws a tantrum when it's time to turn off the Monsters, Inc game. All in all, Bear's evil quotient is less than 25% even under the most dire circumstances.

Our next example is Bacon. Bacon will turn 3 in a week. Bacon wants money for his birthday. Bacon wants money at all times, for all occurences. Bacon does not want toys for he has discovered that he can simply take whatever toy he wishes at any time. Bacon spends much of his time on his hands and knees looking for dropped change. We emptied the piggy bank yesterday and took his money to the big-green-machine-that-eats-your-spare-change-and-counts-it-for-you-for-the-low-low-price-of-only-8.9%-of-whatever-you-feed-it-so-you-don't-have-to-roll-it-up-in-those-stupid-paper-rolls-and-put-25-forms-of-ID-on-it-before-any-cashier-will-accept-it-and-where-can-you-get-those-blasted-things-anyway-cause-God-forbid-you-ask-at-the-bank-where-the-teller-will-look-at-you-like-you-are-an-idiot-while-the-frigid-bitch-assesses-your-account-with-a-$2.50-fee-for-your-temerity-in-actually-going-to-a-freaking-teller-when-everything-you-do-now-should-be-through-the-internet-or-at-the-non-bank-employee-time-wasting-ATM. He had over $6 there. While some of this was odd change given to him by Lovely Wife or myself the bulk of it was money he has found over the past year. Money is Bacon's sole obsession and he will lie, cheat, steal and kill to get it. We estimate Bacon's evil quotient at close to 50%.

Our third example is Burger. Burger is somewhere between 1 and 2. His birthday is in January but as a male I am unable to peg his age down to months like Lovely Wife does so you can do the math yourself if you are interested. Burger's obsessions include turning off the television, standing in front of the television when people are playing video games, taking toys from Bear and stealing Bacon's money. His other hobbies are ripping up Daddy's books and throwing food. And he bites. And throws complete dive-to-the-ground-kicking-and-screaming tantrums. In public spaces. Like churches. Burger's evil quotient is an astounding 87%. The only reason it is not higher is that he is incredibly cute while sleeping.

Although these three anecdotal and highly biased examples are far more than would be required to prove a point and then become dogma at the DNC I sense that some of you may require further examples. Very well.

Napoleon. Perhaps the most famous short dictator the world has ever known. He enslaved most of europe, using his size induced evil to his utmost advantage.

Hitler. Not only was Adolph a crackpot, egomaniacal madman, he was also short. One can only wonder how different history would have been if Adolph had achieved a normal height. And if he wasn't a crackpot, egomaniacal madman.

Mini Me. Talk about compression of evil. Yes, I know that Mini Me was a character in movies and that he "turned good" in the third one. However, he was brought to life in such convincing fashion by Verne Troyer that we cannot but help thinking of him as a real person. And nothing in Goldmember counts! Nothing! That movie didn't happen! Nah! Nah! Nah! I can't hear you!!

So you can clearly see that I have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that shortness (or "The state of being vertically challenged", to be politically correct) is a primary indicator of evil. Put this knowledge to good use. Protect yourself and your loved ones from the diminutive forces of darkness. And always remember that despite my own mid 5' height I am an exception to this rule, am firmly on the side of good, and would never mislead you.

Bwah hah hah hah hah hah!!!

Posted by: Jim at 08:00 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 776 words, total size 5 kb.

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