Found Letter

Dear Mom and Dad,

I am writing you as I slowly die. My body is losing blood rapidly as we speak. All these years of CPR and Emergency Preparedness could never have prepared me for this massive, huge mistake that just got taken.

Hopefully one day you’ll realize the resonance of my research, understand what my life’s work entailed. Zoology remains stagnant. My “avant garde” approach to engaging with the creatures that inhabit this earth may stir controversy, yes. Remember, however, I am your little boy, always and forever.

Love,

Death by Horsecock Guy.

P.S. Maybe you could set up a scholarshiop in my name, “Let The Animals In” Zoological Scholarship Fund.

Cosmic Thoughts

Honesty

Dear Sir/Madam,

First, I must solicit your confidence in this transaction. This is by virtue of its nature as being utterly Top Secret. Though I know that a transaction of this magnitude will make any one apprehensive and worried, but I am assuring you that all will be well at the end of the day.

Let me start by first introducing myself properly to you. I am Thomas B.Biskup,a senior Staff member of Banque De L'Habitat Au (BHBF) in France would like you to indicate your interest to receive the transfer of $7.5 Million Dollars.I will like you to stand as the next of kin to my late client whose account is presently dormant for children's in needs all over the world claims. Please once you are interested kindly send me the following details information below,

(1) Private phone and Cell:..............................

(2) Fax numbers:..............................................


Thank you in advance for your anticipated co-operation.

Yours sincerely,

Mr.Thomas B.Biskup

Please, kindly disregard this message if you are not capable of handling this transaction.

Dramatic Review

My friend Curt was a forensics guy in highschool (debating not CSI). When he went to Radford, he tried out for a production of Macbeth. He was the only non-theater major to be cast. He was Seyton, the murderer. He killed and bled many on stage. The crowd was stunned, asking “How is he such a good actor without taking a class with the drama department?”

When we performed an excerpt from “The Crucible” in class, Jeff outshone him with the role of Paris, done with a slight 20’s New York accent. Casting Ron as Danforth was a mistake.

I cannot perform to my fullest wihtout a proper stage and some Perrier.

*Arthur Miller was an American playwright and essayist. He was a prominent figure in American theatre, writing dramas that include award-winning plays such as All My Sons, Death of a Salesman, and The Crucible.

Speaking on my phone, to which is attached a green pocket Gideon's Bible

… (it’s ringing) … Hello, operator… yes. Noah’s Restaurant. . Thank you… . (rings again, this time the phone call has been redirected to Noah’s Restaurant, which is on Water Street). Uh hi. Yes I can hold. (holding). (holding still.) (what the fu-) Hey. Yes I would like a table for tonight. . I’m thinking around 7:30 or 8:00. . 7:45 will work. . Dinner yes. Um, I was thinking something in the amphibian section. . . Well I don’t really like the reptile booths, they sink too deep… I guess I can work with something in the Human section… … Actually, it’s going to be three of us. Me and my boys… What? It has to be just a man and a woman? … What does Prop 8 have to do with this?

Me and Mr. Coffee

Suggestions for the Yogi Bear movie

1) “Thems mothafuckas at Cottonelle givin’ us a bad name, let’s smoke they ass.” / “Only if they wipe” / “Shut the fuck up, Booboo.”

2) “Does a bear shit in the woods, Yogi?” / “Why the fuck would the state allot National Parks funds and not provide ample shitters? Think Boo”

3) “This picnic basket is nicer wicker” / “Don’t be a queef Boo, just load the crack and let’s peddle this shit before Ranger Smith catches wind” / “Sorry about that Yogi. The basket in 4C had a lot of deviled eggs” / “What is this? Gross-out humour?” / “I guess.”

The Family Stone

If America's Next Top Model was....

If the Cast of America’s Next Top Model was cast to play the cast of One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Ursula……………………………………Tyra Banks

Jose Arcadio Buendia………………….Nole Marin

Colonel Aureliano Buendia…………….Nigel Barker

Remedios/Rebeca/Renata…………….Heidi Klum

Jose Arcadio……………………………Ms. Jay

Arcadio………………………………….Jay

Melquiades……………………………..Seal

The Future of Youtube.

“Me levante, me vesti, y sali para le fiesta.”

Then, with a look of puzzlement on his face, Godot threw the rope over the branch of the chestnut tree.

“Is this real life?” Davide asked his padre.

“No habla, espagniola, mi amigo,” he fired back.

La cucaracha waddled off into the raized land after the recording of the last of man was played.

Books I Need to Read

1. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggars

2. Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Saffron Foer

3. It's Kinda a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini

The Cat Cries (A Poem)

Wah wah, he says
yello fur ruffling
getting caught in the heater.

"Smells like Chinese food,"
Pawpaw said.

They're both dead.

Amen.

A Rendering of A Climax

Duck It List

1. Cannonball
2. Limbo stick
3. Camouflage bed sheet

I Went to the State Fair Once

Does Something Seem Amiss to You?

This is the location where my friend Thomas gets breakfast periodically. You may notice the sign has some interesting symbols. Let me know what you thought!

I'm going with a penis with a chef's hat and mustache.

Cinderella

She sat up and looked around. The pumpkin, which had been a carriage minutes before her fall, now sat, demonic with a smashed-in face. A candle flickered from its insides, reflecting on the blood that dripped down her forehead.

What happened to prom?, Drew Barrymore asked herself.

Looking around, the high school gym resembled a gutted fish. Drew sat, helpless and bleeding, alone like Gepetto, in the belly of a forgotten beast.

Her transformation into a teen had been completed; the story she’d written for the Tribune had its close but no fairy tale ending. The corsage at her chest had yellowed into a shade that matched the sullen after-hours lights that cast a dimness onto the walls and bleachers of Mandy More High School.

Maybe I am old, Drew thought. She felt like the musky pages of a book that had gone uncracked and unloved for years. Her pages faded into a sprawling mess of patheticness in a school gym where she’d pulled back her wrinkles and hidden her true self to blend in with Steve Monroe and James Jobs and the other jocks. All just to feel accepted.

The time on her watch approached fifteen minutes after midnight and the shoes on her feet once again began to take on the shape of, not beautifully crafted Italian ballroom shoes, but fluffy, hole-ridden dog slippers. They matched the polka-dotted dress Drew had hemmed herself and rendered a stunning silk number, almost as if it’d been from the Spring Versace catalog.

Drew wiped her head.

“Child, I believe you partied too hard tonight,” Elton John softly offered up as he walked around from behind the bleachers.

She just remembered the feel of the bathroom tile. The cold blue that caught her body after Steve had humiliated her in front of the entire senior class. The pills Elton had given her were her last resort after an evening that ripped any hope of finding love straight from her grips. She saw her red hair swirled as she sank into the chemicals flowing through her body. That was hours ago.

“He didn’t love me,” Drew whispered, letting the words escape her and spill out onto the hardwood at Elton’s feet.

“Drew. Look at me,” Elton said, bending next to her. His soft hand with delicate fingers of a pianist graced her under chin.

Drew Barrymore raised her eyes to meet his.

“I love you, Elton,” Drew said.

He helped her to her feet.

Together they shuffled out of Mandy More High School and into the lonely, forsaken night. Elton turned to her as they stood below the mistletoe that hung at the school’s entrance.

“Drew, I’m gay.”

A Copperhead Walks Into Applebee's

Single Bod

Happy Birthday Katy!

At The Arcade

Walking

Loneliness

Back To School

This Guy Needs a Tip

Cellular Biology is so Fun(ny)!

Baseball Night in America

A very recent trip to see the local struggling lower-tier professional baseball team left me with some memories ripe for the relaying.

Immediately when I walked into the stadium, a table with freebies and a spinning wheel beckoned me over. I filled out the paper with a bit of false information: names, email addresses, phone numbers, things of this nature.

I really wanted the stress ball shaped like a baseball (complete with finely decorated red "stitchings") and spun with all the luck I could possibly muster behind the elegant spin.

It clicked on the last peg of "frisbee" just before "baseball," alas, in a moment of intuition and extreme commitment to my goals, I manually set the wheel to the rightful position. The oblivious wheel attendant handed the stress ball over and never suspected any foul play.

Please with myself, me and my buds sat in the upper deck (section 203 to be exact) and passed much of the game in absolute splendor.

In the bottom of the eight inning, a player from the other team was at bat.

First pitch, strike.

Second pitch, ball.

Third pitch, foul!

The ball came sailing. . . . . up . . . . up . . . in a section to our left! Maybe thirty feet away, (most definitely just in section 202).

I was excited. I clenched the baseball in my right fist, trying to let my jealousy subside. Needless to say, my interest was honed in on this wily batter.

What if he hit another up here? I had to be ready!

Fourth pitch, strike. 2-1 count.

Fifth pitch, CRACK!

Like a heavenly being, floating into the dark evening sky, I saw the baseball coming closer. Its destination: SECTION 203.

The ball came closer and closer and closer. I rose to my feet, still clutching the stress ball that only pretended to be such a wonderful orb of American heritage and tradition. A ball, stitched together with the history of a nation. Our country's pastime.

When I realized the ball's trajectory would place it three feet to the northwest of me (practically in the hands of a sweet-looking older gentleman) I had a change of heart from my original intention to storm the bleachers. I wanted to pillage like a viking, take Normandy, impregnate a "sovereign" nation with troops to help "spread democracy."

Instead. . . I realized the ball deserved a home where it was cherished. I was going to be a reckless parent, obsessed with the idea of a complete home environment, decorated with a fantastic ball that flew straight into my arms, designating me as the chosen one.

As the ball fell into the bleachers, slipping through the delicate man's hands with a THUNK! I proudly rose my fist.

"YES! I got the ball!" and held my stress ball in the evening air.

The audience applauded (what I assume - and assume incorrectly - was my illusionary stroke of good fortune catching the ball.) I beamed.

The ultimate bait and switch! All for the fans.

ATTENTION! A New Buggy In Town

Hungry Hungry Hippies

On my way to Petersburg with DMG and Chris, we came to a halt at a stoplight. As with many intersections in this fine city, we stopped rolling directly beside a fine couple. A bohemian couple. An unbathed couple. A couple rich in experience and nothing more. Not opportunity or ambition (and probably at this point substances). Their sign, its exact message I do not recall per se, however in roughly hewn scribbles on cardboard a message of "GIVE US MONEY" came through loud and clear.

Chris, exhausted from irritating wrongs and misdeeds plaguing him, had just previously successfully worked himself into a thick lather. A creamy lather, if you will. And someone was about to receive the sordid suds of his wrath.

In rare form, almost a sudden wave of external control possessed Chris. He tapped on the window to alert our street-side sojourners of his concern for their situation.

Loudly Chris began to narrate his actions.

"LOOK! I'm pulling out my wallet!"

The dirty duo's interest was peaking.

"Now I'm pulling out a five dollar bill!"

Chris waved the currency in his hand. Its allure drew the beasts closer as if it was a bloodied steak of desire.

"NOW!," he paused (for what I assume was dramatic effect; expert employment of suspense). Chris made direct eye contact with our friends outside.

The light still registered red. We were locked in, whatever was in the next act.

DMG and I had no idea what Chris had in store. A Damien Omen twinge in his voice foreboded, loomed, boiled. Chris had the crazy eye.

The light still red.

Traveller 1 and Traveller 2 inched towards the window, their showerlessness fogged the rear window where Chris stewed.

"And this," he flaunted the dead president tauntingly,"is John's gas money."

He laid the money in the my lap and sat back completely please with the whole event. Things came full circle and he was completed.

I sat, rigid. DMG in shotgun looked forward too. A pair of rigor-mortised chauffeurs with a man in need of an exorcism cackling in the backseat.

The outsiders deflated.

I didn't know what to do or say so I didn't.

As if it was an act of God, the heavens released the rain to absolve the travelers and we got greens finally.

Coincidence? I think not.

The 3 Rings of Marriage

Why Bobby Flay Doesn't Win 'Throwdown! with Bobby Flay'

When Bobby Flay decides to take on a titan in a given region on a certain style of food, be it barbecue, jumbalaya or ice cream, he tends not to perform up to the standards that one would credit him with as an Iron Chef and Food Network Superstar. In Season 1, his win percentage was 20%, going 3-1-11. Season 2 yielded a 30% win percentage, going 4-9 but he leveled off his wins after that, going somewhere between 20% and 40% in the rest of the seasons.

Many people ask, "Why does he not win?" Well, you must ask yourself, who is judging? Does the hometown favorite have a distinct flavor that judges would pick up on and skew the results?

No. The kicker is the fact that Bobby Flay is a FLAVOR ARTIST. He pushes the tastes and doesn't settle for basic, run of the mill dish. This puts him in somewhat uncharted, slightly more gourmet, territory. Which isn't exactly the pleasing flavor profiles for the huddled masses trying to get on television and score some free food from one of the greatest chefs around.

Another reason Bobby Flay has trouble is the support he gets in the lab while researching his recipes for the battles. Bobby's assistants or sous chefs or whoever the two girls are, tend to be vicious. They offer up limited criticism, most of the time it's completely unconstructive.

All I have to say is HANG IN THERE BOBBY!

ON DIRECTING

SPAM: A Retrospective

I recently purchased my first can of SPAM at my local Kroger (the one off Cary which I'm told is the best within the city but I'm awfully fond of the one off Lombardy, so it goes to show these things are subjective (subject to opinion)). I was taken by the simplistic label - nostalgic - retaining its classic colors and design. The modest caloric density was moving as well. Upon arrival back chez moi, I immediately popped that baby open and looked up how to prepare it fro best most tastiest results. I don't remember the taste specifically or even if I liked it or finished it, all I know is that I would buy it again.

90 percent of U.S. bills carry traces of Sour Skittles

The term "dirty money" is for real.

In the course of its average 20 months in circulation, U.S. currency gets whisked into ATMs, clutched, touched and traded perhaps thousands of times at coffee shops, convenience stores and newsstands. And every touch to every bill brings specks of dirt, food, germs or even candy residue.

Research presented this weekend reinforced previous findings that 90 percent of paper money circulating in U.S. cities contains traces of Sour Skittles shake.

- CNN and Me

Working Things Out Progressively

Dr. Christenbury,

I too am confused.

From the beginning, I understood that I would be able to complete the M.T. degree by Spring 2011. That is what made me so excited about it. Upon your advice, I completed all my undergrad requirements by attending summer school in June.

I signed up for the classes you advised me to sign up for this spring. When we spoke earlier this month about TEDU 601 not begin available, I thought we were on track except that class which I was still hopeful might become available during the drop/add period.

Can you please clearly tell me what classes I need to take - and when - to get the M.T. degree. How many semesters?

I already have made tentative plans to move to NYC in June 2011, so I need to know where I stand.

Thanks, John

Gove Avenue Eye Center has a New Location!

Family Calendar by MOM

Why I Hate The Guy Who Owns The Local Convenient Store: An Essay

I stood in a line behind a girl and her dog. Cute dog, blond hair, excited to smell things and just be a canine in general. After he was done looking around and being exceedingly cute, his owner was finally able to corral him out the door. My turn at the register.

And there he stood: slender, mouse-ish face, long gamer ponytail. Extensive relics of the gaming world lining his quaint store. A store with a Super Scope, a complete Atari and about twelve other systems no one can recognize since 1990. Complete with the nasal voice of a pretentious person. His collection of beer (one can of over two hundred varieties) further highlighted his obsessiveness.

As I approached the counter and his full, undivided attention fell onto me, he glanced down at my item of choice. Diet Cheerwine.

"Why are you getting diet?" he asked, the slur in his words came through subtly.

I turned back from looking out the window into the day that was winding into twilight. I kept cool.

"Just trying to keep the calories down. Almost too late for sweets for this guy," I said good-naturedly.

He looked blankly. I glanced down at the beef jerky next to the register and offering up my credit card to get on with my day. Being in that store sometimes is scary. I become very afraid of losing my soul, getting it sucked out and into the hiss of Simpson episodes playing on the television behind me (which never stops).

"Well you know it's caffeine-free already. Diet won't do anything." He looked proud. Distinguished. Deceivingly pleased with himself.

I nodded, smiled, and left.

So there you have it. No caffeine = no calories.

Griffinterview

ME: Dude tell Serena to rape me.

Griffin: That would be so awkward. But I'll do it. Cuz you are my friend.

ME: Thanks man. I won't press charges.

Griffin: She has this guy that she has been raping pretty consistently though :/

ME: Just tell her I want casual raping. No strings attached.

Griffin: I'll set you guys up on a blind date rape.

ME: Thanks man. You're making my day.

Relationships With Hobos: A Cautionary Tale

Seen a cute and dangerous man lurking in the alleys of the night, rummaging for vittles and gently-worn clothing? Turned on by women in wraps of soggy burlap who pillage trash receptacles for pastries and gently-used fruit?

If Yes...

CAUTION! Dating a hobo, a bum, a street person is not what it seems!

Your relationship is doomed to suffer. Dates will; be subdued, in-extravagant strolls though garbage. Sex toys will be out of batteries and second hand. Hygiene suffers in general (not necessarily a major point of contention if you're fucking a homeless person). Vacation plans will be limited by funds and availability of sidewalk to push your cart.

If they say their job is recycle collector, make sure its a government affiliated endeavor.

(Don't eat that vaga-bond.)

Failed Boy Scout

For a while I thought I was a failed Boy Scout. Despite the fact that I got my Eagle at age 15, when all the media covered scout molestation, I felt an emptiness that is still there. Why didn't they pick me?

A Monologue

Maybe I should shave. I'm getting fluffy. But it does complete my Jeremiah Johnson look. Maybe I'll call some ladies tonight. I haven't made love in a while. Being rusty doesn't really matter with them though. Or maybe I should call Amber. I like her red hair. Even though it's dyed. And she doesn't mind the fact that I'm younger. We do both wear glasses. Except I don't. Hmm. Maybe I'll just go to the bars. I should drink more water. But me and the waitress are really hitting it off. She smiled at me last night. And she knows my name. Maybe. Well, I do have another disc of Full House to finish, and some pasta in the fridge. I don't know. Maybe.

Cellular Telephonetation

Customer Service Problems

Have You Ever...

Have you ever thought a girl was cool and didn't really realize she was pretty banging (a.k.a. attractive) and then you see her on your last day you are in Chicago with like two hours left and things click and then all of sudden you're riding around in a bike-drawn carriage? And after that you both get a box of matches in order to commemorate the newness of passion? And then you go dancing and you make yourself dance because you think this girl is really cool? And you happened to spill all your knowledge about the Hanson brothers to her which hooked her? And she likes Disneyland? And then you nuzzle each other while trying to dance and it was cute and sexy and everything you ever wanted? And then some douche bag she's taking a class with at Second City gets really fucked up and she has to go take care of him and you are stuck in Chicago alone? And you have ten minutes to catch the North Line? And the cab driver is really fucking slow? And some Navy mother fuckers are in front of you on the Metra? And then you wake up and you're still on the train? And when you arrive it's almost two in the morning and you wait under the pre-pay awning because its raining? And then your best friend comes and picks you up? And you try not to cry in the car but just wait until you're laying down?

Me neither.

4 Guaranteed* Pickup Lines

1. Is your vagina tired? Because I have been having sex with it all day in my head with my wiener.

2. I'm a carefree guy. Like I don't care that I have HIV.

3. Which way is the bathroom because I have to shit before we fux.

4. I just banged your mom and you are next pretty lady.


*unclear what is guaranteed

Clipboard Woman

Today I was walking to the corner to begin to cross the road. I spotted a woman with a clipboard in her hands, poised for signatures. In my head I imagined she was petitioning for "women's rights" in which case I imagined responding "no, they're a myth."

She was there for women's rights.

I declined to sign based on principle.

Sparknotes: HERO and LEANDER

Hero is a total babe ad Leander wants to fuck her. In order to get in that, Leander must swim across water. On his way, Poseidon sees that dick (now remember Leander was wearing only a skimpy loin cloth and his cock was way out there) and he wants nothing more than to suck on it. Slurp! Slurp! He settles with only giving Leander a great handjob. After Leander gets ashore, his emotions are conflicted as he begins to cope with the aftershocks of molestation. Hero ends up beating her meat alone in the temple at Delphi.

Celebrity Lookalikes I'd Like to Meet

1) Kate Winslett
2) Danny Glover
3) The Beatles
4) Peewee Herman
5) Sacajawea
6) Dave Thomas
7) Snow White

Talking to Dave

ME: what's Charlie St. Cloud about?
DAVE: Zak effron's bro dies and Zak plays ball with hid ghost and thn Zak falls in love with a girl who wants him to sail around the world with her but can't becase he has to play ball with his dead brother but then a storm comes and Zak has to go and save his girl who is on the boat.
ME: sounds awesome! I'm going to see it. He's hot!
DAVE: No it looks bad/good
ME: I like him. 17 Again was seriously good.
DAVE: I saw it. I like Matt Perry.
ME: Me too. And I would blow dudes for Leslie Mann.
DAVE: That's weird.
ME: Not really it's weird if you don't agree. Are you a fag?
DAVE: Nope. I hate fags which might make me a fag.
ME: Yes, by the transitive property of nature. You are.
DAVE: I knew it. That's why I hate myself.
ME: These third grade math principles will get you.
DAVE: You had maths in the third grades that is cools

Wanted: Girlfriend

Must have:

- longish hair
- wavy or curly preferred
- redhead would be wonderful but I also like all the differet varieties too
- I'm partial to hipster girls or punky girls
- tattoos are a plus
- must like to laugh
- must like The Kinks
- must not be premeditating breaking up with me after pretending to be in love
- a pair of dancing shoes is optional as I will take you out on the town
- if you don't like to cuddle please refrain from responding to this inquiry
- if you are making fun of me and wish to have me sink lower into the septa of depression and also think I'm a big pussy and want an asshole to make you feel insecure do not follow up on this (I am a genuinely sweet guy with oddities but that hardly gives you the fucking right to drop me in a serious time of need)
- boobs are good but not required (cancer survivors, I'm equal opportunity)

More on God

"If God wanted us to bear our breasts we would have been born nude. Me, I came out of my mom's vagina wearing an Armani three piece."

- Bob McDonnell

Chicago Sex Tips

Here's a couple if tips that will help spice up your sex life whilst in the Second City:

1) I don't know what it is, maybe the locals know, but the butt sex here is fabulous. It has something to do with the wind.

2) If you get a half-blowjob (a quick dip down on the member) you can lie on your back and with reverence to the sky tell the wind's direction.

That's it for today's tips. Remember to be safe and enjoy each other's sensuality every day possible.

My Top 3 Fears

1) Losing My Teeth
2) Dangerously Dry Handjob
3) Death

A Religious Testimonial

God REALLY runs my life now. he rewards me with divine sexual pleasure for doing my work. me=God's slave. lol. I was watching porn/enjoying the blessing of hands for 45 minutes, yet, zero pleasure. God took my ability to feel pleasure. then all of the sudden. BOOM. Godly intense O. LOL. God it is really hot in here sweetheart take off your clothes again. ROFL. nice one God. I meant to say God is the SHIT. LOVE HIM.

- C.C. Applegate

Piggy Payoff

For all you fans of cute pigs and movies such as Charlotte's Web, Babe, Babe 2: Pig in the City, Lassie and G-Force, you will be really excited to see the new installment in the Nanny McPhee saga:

Nanny McPhee Returns.

There is a HUGE piggy payoff!

Best Advice

"Son, you can't get a baby boy pregnant."

- Father

One Side of A Phone Call With My Mom

Hey Mom. (Sigh of disgust) No, I don't need you to do my laundry. I'm a fucking grownup for Christ's sake. Sorry. (deep breath) I flew off the handle. I didn't mean it. I was out late last night and the No Mom! I'm not telling you what I did last night. It is none of you business. I'm not a fucking kid anymore. I don't need you badgering me about my sex life. If I want to be a big boy, I can do what I want! (tapping fingers nervously) You have NO RIGHT TO KNOW MY PERSONAL BUSINESS! So what if we did it in the parking lot of the church. It's no skin off your teeth! (deathly silence) Love you too, Mommy.

I Hardly Know Her!

Tipper? I hardly know her!

Torture? I hardly know her!

Runner? I hardly know her!

Rape her? I hardly know her!

Bananer? I hardly know her!

Potater? I hardly know her!

Gunner? I hardly know her!

A Conversation With Myself

Me: Hey man, how did last night go?

Me Too: It went pretty well. I had a good time on stage.

Me: What the fuck dude, quick beating around the bush. You know what I'm asking about.

Me Too: No. No, I really don't. Calm down you. I mean, calm down me.

Me: Quit the cutesy bull shit. Did you get the girl?

Me Too: Well, I did me a very nice and cute girl. That much is affirmative.

Me: Goddam it! Just fucking tell me. DID YOU GET THE PUSSY PAYOFF?

Me Too: What are you talking about? You are so sick. She's a lovely person. Don't disrespect her like that.

Me: Oh, I get it. You did the deed. Yeah! That's what you did you little bastard. Hell yeah!

Me Too: Stop it. Stop it right now! I am a gentleman and she is a gentlewoman and to be quite frank -

Me: Oh shut your pussy up.

Me Too: I would be the shit out of me if it wouldn't hurt me too.

How Acai Berry and Colon Cleanse changed my life forever!

ho.io

My name is Lynne Thomas and I wanted to share my weight loss story with you. Im no medical guru or anything like that. Im just a mom who figured out a system that works better than all the famous diets you tried (you know, the ones that didnt work?).

Be More Specific

I helped out my aunt the other week and baby sat my little 5-year old cousin. Crazy little girl, cute, but she's got the devil inside her. The urge to kill and strangle is deep within her, and I could sense it a mile away like Yoda sensed the midichlorians in Luke's blood, from the get-go.

Naturally when she asked to watch "Dexter" I popped in the Michael C. Hall joint. She and I just sat there, glued to the t.v., not moving an inch the entire duration of the last four episodes of season 1. I figured she was an enlightened chick, especially for a kindergartener.

Alas. Turns out... that there's two shows that could go by the moniker "Dexter" and I chose the wrong won. Can't fault me though. Honest mistake.

Movie Review: Sorcerer's Apprentice

Nick Cage hits another home run out of the park with the newest Jerry Bruckheimer insta-classic. I never thought he'd be better than he was in Raising Arizona as H.I. McDunnough but in this film he captures the serenity and eternal struggle a thousand-year old sorcerer deals with under the name of Balthazar Blake.

At first I thought this film would be just another throw away, but as soon as you see Alfred Molina as the evil wizard (who is a mixture between Al Capone and marscapone) the film launches itself headfirst into the unwavering memories of American GREAT cinema.

After some ground-breaking original twists in the plot line and an unexpected triumph from the underdog (in no way similar to Harry Potter or any slew of shitty movies that predicted this film's arrival to the main-stage) I left the film satisfied.

So... the big question: Does this film give you the puppy payoff? YES!!!

SPOILER: There are cute puppies and you most definitely feel fulfilled.

(honestly it was a decent movie in a box with clever and cheesy writing I just pre-ordered the dvd from Amazon)

Warum Hitler wirklich schlecht ist.

Der Zweite Weltkrieg war eines der tragischsten Ereignisse in der Geschichte der Welt. Nicht nur, dass Millionen von Menschen sterben, aber die Welt war dazu verdammt, sich mit Die Beilegung des drohenden bösen Smog Wolke von Nazis und Faschismus auf unsere Gesellschaft.
Unser Leben, unsere Kultur kann und darf nicht loslassen, was passiert in der
Welt vor siebzig Jahren. ABER, sollten wir nicht verbilligen die Travestie, indem einfach und reichlich Hitler Witze und Referenzen.

Meiner Meinung nach, ist Hitler nicht nur schlecht, weil er ein böser Mensch (was war teilweise der Grund, ich habe so ein großes Problem mit der Fülle von Casual Hitler Anspielungen), aber auch er geplagt unserer Kultur mit verkümmerten Denkprozesse. Dort sind böse Menschen in der Welt, wie wir, die wirklich mit viel mehr tun konnte, sprechen belästigen und Scham in der Hand des schlechten Kreativität (wenn ich selbst es so nennen kann).

Wenn du zu schreiben sind, nicht bringen Hitler, nicht herauf Nazis, Don't Bring up Faschismus, weil es nicht lustig, es ist nicht original, und es ist pathetisch und verstörend.

Letter To Ellen Page

Dear Ellen,

I think you are so beautiful and talented. You have such a nice demeanor and you are funny and cute and need a man to really give you all the attention and respect such a rare and awe-inspiring jewell deserves.

If you are ever in need of a boy friend, you know how to find me! (I am friends with everyone on facebook under the name "Ellen Page")

Love,

John Reaves

A Real Breadwinner

I overheard the owner of a local sub shop talking about how their morning deliveries of bread (sub rolls both wheat and white, and maybe the occasional box of flatbread) had been pillaged, pilfered, raided. Parts of their bread orders had been absconded with and vanished into a doughy nothingness in the wee hours of the morning.

His idea was to put out a sign that says "Thou Shalt Not Steal." When I heard this, it made me excited. So the next morning, I staked out the place and waited for the eagle to land (the delivery to be made) and the sign to be applied donning the foreboding cautionary message of "Thou Shalt Not Steal."

I swiftly made my way down the alley, across the street, and managed to pry loose a bit of sub roll for myself and my disciples.

I left a sign that said "Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread."

Cabbage Patch Dolls

When I was a kid I had a Cabbage Patch doll that my grandmother bought for me.

His name was Albert.

I loved him forever.

One day I found out his name was Alberta and he was a girl.

I was very sad.

Movies That Make Me Cry

1) Big Fish

2) Beverly Hills Ninja

Do you feel....

Do feel:

- fat?

- worthless?

- ugly?

- pathetic?

- insignificant?

- stupid?

Chances are that you probably are one of these things at least partially.

Come on down to Gun World! Our deals can (and will) blow your mind!

Silly Things From Last Night

Why do bananas look like yellow wieners?

8-pack of frozen hot dogs = edible dildos.

Movie Review: I Am Love

Should I see I am Love?

Do I want to see Tilda Swinton's tits and a bit of her hooha?

Chairs: Barber vs. Dentist

There must be some sort of graph out there to indicate the relationship between bad hair and talkitiveness at the dentist.

The other day I went to the dentist. As I was sitting alone in the chair, partially reclined and trying really hard not get get a full-on erection, I could hear in the room next to me this middle aged woman going on and on while two hygienists held her down as Dr. Dentist went to town on her mouth.

Now my thinking is that she confused a chair and attention to the head with the same atmosphere of a beauty salon. She was trying to explain her kids' swim team activities as the hideous high-pitched hiss of the dental drill pecked away at her toofs.

My suspicions were somewhat confirmed when I saw her get up and leave, all smiles, still chatty Cathy. Her hair was big. I mean BIG. Dyed awfully, but clearly a lot of attention paid (literally as well) to maintain such a bushy quaff.

Then I thought about my hair. Fabulous curls, styled to the utmost, right where high-fashion and ultimate style meet in the middle of the street and start having crazy animal sex.

So, in conclusion: the more you pay for your hair = the most you'll talk at the dentist. FACT