So I was over at Ryan's place reading about his Unreal Tournament experiences when an offhand comment about Maude Flanders got me to thinking. What's with the 'e' at the end of 'Maude'? It doesn't serve any real purpose. You don't pronounce it at all and it doesn't modify the other vowels. Why not 'Maud'? Isn't it just a tad pretentious to be adding extra letters onto a name and not even pretending to use them? Maybe I should go by 'Jime' and if people tried to use that 'e' to make a long I-sound I'd get all condescending on them like "Look you plebian, the 'e' is silent" and I'd be all looking down my nose at them (I might have to lean pretty far back to do that because I'm short but that'll just add to the pretentious effect) and I'd be all dismissive and "whatever" towards them.

Jackasses can't even pronounce my damn name? Screw 'em!

Posted by: Jim at 01:35 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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I had the weirdest dream last night...

I was falling through the air, the wind ripping at my clothes, blinding me and whipping my hair about. I vaguely remembered a fight on the airplane and sabotaging it so the people on board (terrorists I think) would die. I was falling and perfectly calm, with no parachute. Then I remembered that I had thrown the only parachute out of the plane before the fight. I had to catch up to it now.

I caught a glimpse of it tumbling far below and behind me and I angled myself to catch it, just like James Bond. In my head I was processing my fall: attitude, altitude, trajectory, velocity, overtake, you name it. I was processing the parachute's fall too, especially how it's terminal velocity and relative speed were changing as it tumbled. It made the numbers jiggly to follow but I was running them like my brain was some sort of supercomputer (not that this should surprise any of you).

To reiterate, I wasn't frightened at all. In fact I didn't think about the fall itself at all, just the mathematical construct of the variables and effects of it. An image coalesced in my mind's eye that represented my reaching the parachute in time to secure it and deploy it safely. It was a tesseract and as my chances of survival dropped, the tesseract collapsed on itself.

As I slowly gained on the parachute I saw the ground gaining definition as it rushed up toward me. I watched as the tesseract inexorably drew in upon itself. I caught the tumbling parachute, oriented on it and put my right arm through a strap. I spun around to let the wind carry the parachute into place and put my left arm through. The tesseract was almost flat as I buckled the harness in place and grabbed the rip cord. The tesseract was flat. I pulled the cord.

And an anvil popped out, a la Wiley Coyote, and took up position a few feet above my head. I crossed my arms and got a foul look on my face. I rolled my eyes, said "fuck it" and woke up.

Damned roadrunners.

POINTS: 3 points to the first person to name the group that sang the title to this post. No searching please.

Posted by: Jim at 11:49 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 Heart. And I hate that song.

Posted by: ilyka at May 25, 2004 11:54 AM (wpP49)

2 Ding ding ding ding! Dang, I didn't even get to send out a notification. 3 points for Ilyka!

Posted by: Jim at May 25, 2004 12:08 PM (IOwam)

3 hey, man... don't bogart that whateveryegot. That's some dream-stuff. duude.

Posted by: Claire at May 25, 2004 04:51 PM (l1oyw)

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Q: I stumbled across the original post by Jim while searching "wet dreams" on the internet. I'm 40 years old, and I haven't had any kind of a dream in a very long time, but I'd really love to. Is there any way to force your self to have some kind of a wet dream- either peeing or ejaculating?

-Dry in Denver

A: There sure is, DID. Your best bet would be to drink as much apple juice and water (about a 50/50 mix) as you can (without vomiting, of course) before going to bed. After about 45 minutes have your partner pour tepid (tepid means slightly warmer than you) water over your hand. If you don't start peeing from that then your partner should pour it over your groin. This way even if you never actually piss yourself you can still pretend that you did.

Along the same vein if you can't ever seem to achieve an ejaculatory dream you could simulate the effects of one by having some guy jerk off on you while you sleep.

Posted by: Jim at 03:13 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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...to get Jim to clench the flow mid-stream and abandon the urinal?

One guy shuffling to the crapper like Eddie Murphy doing his tight-assed white guy impersonation followed by two explosive gaseous anal exhalations. You know the ones with that curiously soft echo that you can only get while seated on the throne. Poof! Poof!. The ones that always precede a torrent of semi-liquid gelatinous feces spraying forth from a burning anus like a garden hose when you hold your thumb over the end that will remain stuck to the back of the bowl regardless of how many times you try to flush.

Yeah, that's what it takes.

Posted by: Jim at 02:35 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 Damn! That was you?!

Posted by: dave at May 20, 2004 10:23 PM (EXbsn)

2 Too much sharing.

Posted by: Simon at May 21, 2004 12:55 AM (UKqGy)

3 Too much sharing. Simon, I think you just came up with the ultimate subtitle for this blog.

Posted by: ilyka at May 21, 2004 04:42 AM (CjcOh)

4 Jim, you promised you would issue a Poo alert when you would discuss...ahem...bodily functions. Some of us are delicate flowers, after all.

Posted by: Helen at May 21, 2004 07:11 AM (+Qiat)

5 Sorry, Helen. When you gotta go, you gotta go. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at May 21, 2004 07:51 AM (IOwam)

6 Have you ever eaten at Bertha's? I did and that dude couldhave been me... ("Eat Bertha's Mussel's" bumperstickers are common around Baltimore.)

Posted by: Clancy at May 21, 2004 08:08 AM (EGVPL)

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The scene: Two bearded men are asleep in bed in the classic spoon position. The morning call to prayer awakens them. They hurriedly jump from bed, pull on robes and kneel on their prayer mats. They are in the midst of prayers when one suddenly sits up as if coming to a realization.

Abdul: Yassir...last night...you got your anus on my external najaset*.

Yassir: No Abdul, you got your external najaset in my anus.

Abdul: You fool! You attempted to make your anus Pak** using a handful of gravel!

Yassir: The Taharat*** allows one to make their anus Pak using stone.

Abdul: But not when an external najasat reaches the anus! In this case only water may make the anus Pak! You are engaged in prayer with a najis**** anus!

Yassir: Um...I...but...

Abdul: Infidel!!

Abdul reaches into his robe and detonates his bomb belt.

The moral of the story: Fundamentalists do not make successful gay lovers.

* As near as I can figure, an 'external najaset' is somebody else's cock.
** 'Pak' means 'acceptably clean'.
*** The 'Taharat' is the list of 83 rules that Islam specifies to take a dump, brush teeth, etc.
**** 'Najis' is 'dirty'. Not in the naughty sex kitten way like "Oh, you are a dirty little girl" but more in the "soiled with bodily fluids" sort of way.

Posted by: Jim at 01:50 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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The scene: Dopple-G and I are driving into work in the early morning hours. As it often does, our conversation turns weird.

Dopple-G: If you were a chick, what would you do for a living?

Me: I'd screw.

Dopple-G: You'd be a whore?

Me: No, I'd have a lot of sex and make a lot of money.

Dopple-G: That's called being a whore.

Me: Well I'd be having sex because I want to have a lot of sex. The money is just a bonus. more...

Posted by: Jim at 11:23 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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