blogs are for nerds

after careful deliberation...

2005-10-21T10:07:00.000-07:00

I've put a lot of thought into this and I've finally decided that the best newspaper headline I could ever read would be...

"HILARY DUFF SHOOTS PRESIDENT, TURNS GUN ON SELF"

A Story of Two Pals

2005-10-19T00:20:00.000-07:00

Owen and Mark sat on their favorite local park bench. They chatted comfortably as they had at least once a week for the past 40 years.

"I don't like stories with big, climactic endings," Owen remarked.

"Oh, then you'll love this story," said Mark.

My Favorite Book

2005-10-19T00:15:00.000-07:00

"This is my favorite book," I said.
"That's not a book, asshole," he replied. "That's a waffle!"
"Fuck you!" I said.
And out of spite, I proceeded to read my waffle.

...so many typographical errors.

But this is the story it told me...

The Glass of Chardonnay

2005-10-13T23:15:00.000-07:00

She tossed her head back with laughter, her hair flipping off her soulders only to float softly back to place like a duck filled with helium being thrown from a jetliner slowly caosting back to the oceans from whence it came.

I knew now she certianly enjoyed my company. Heck, I'd been saving this humorous anecdote -- the one where the camp counselor called my boss's office to inform him his child had died when it was actually my son who had drown in that canoeing accident -- all night; if it hadn't gone over well, I'd be very hard up for conversation. So finally I let my guard down and comfortably moved into my "B" material: primarily consisting of my hatred of Eskimos, American Indians, you know, native North American races. Wait 'til she hears of my distrust of the Aztecs!

She smiled, her lips tightly grabbing at their center, but soon they would be grabbing at my penis, I said aloud.

Her interest in me waned. I should really get back to serving the other customers, she said something to the effect of.

"Oh them," I laughed. "Have another glass of Chardonnay."

We both glanced around: there were no other customers. Caught in her lie, and clearly a tad bit of a lush, she took a seat and I poured her a glass.

She sighed, "This job is not for me."

"Why not just finish your engineering PhD?" I inquired. "I don't know why they kicked you out of Brown to begin with. Throwing paint on a panda, everyone's thought of it."

"I hate China. Communist bastards," she scowled.

But there was silence... And then I swear I saw her cry.

When I was a child, I used to wait for the bus by an old wooden fence that was tilted at a very precarious angle, probably having been hit by a car in accident at some point within the previous few years. For a child, it made quiet a wonderful nook that could shelter me from the rain, if need be, after Mother had dropped me from her car. But when the wind whipped up, even just a little, those devious raindrops would be slung in on an angle pelting me mercilessly. As I watched Kerrisa's tears fall, I recalled that little nook, and I felt every tear that wet her cheek with the same sting I felt on my face from those clever little raindrops who realized they could fall without falling directly to the ground.

"When the shuttle returns from orbit, do you think he'll come visit me?"

"Your father's a great guy," I replied with a comforting smile.

But she wasn't so sure. She stood. "Well, now I guess I really should get back to the other customers."

Sure enough, a blind woman had entered with her seeing eye dog (who oddly resembled Jesus) and Miami Dolphins now second-string running back Ronnie Brown.

I called after her: "You forgot your glass of Chardonnay!"

Oh that sweet laugh as she said, "You realize that's a Pinot Noir. It's red for God's sake!"

And as she walked out of my life, I stared at that glass of Chardonnay.

And it was. It was red.

The Worst Place to Hide Your Soup

2005-10-12T21:05:00.000-07:00

Wally stared at the crotch of his Wrangler jeans, now deeply soaked through as if he had massively pissed himself. Onlookers stared at him with wide-eyes and captured smirks. Somewhere on the periphery, surely, someone was pointing: here was a man caught in the depths of what could only be one of his most embarrassing moments. Others, the pointers thought, would want to see his discomfiture -- this most unsavory of pickles -- and, seeking to displace their own insecurities, these fine gawkers were more than happy to direct the rest who stood in need of a sordid chuckle.

Wally looked about, unable to gain enough composure to put words to the situation. His mind raced; his cheeks rapidly flushed. He again turned his gaze crotchward, and thought to himself, Well that was the worst place to hide my soup.

my impression of Mike

2005-10-05T12:45:00.000-07:00

blah blah blah. My toenails are painted. I have a beard. Look at me, blogging away with my painted toenails and creepy beard. Blah blah blah.

my impression of Joe

2005-10-05T12:22:00.000-07:00

blah blah blah. i hate blogging. i'm not doing it anymore. blash blah blah.

The Saddest Day of My Life

2005-09-28T21:53:00.000-07:00

I cried. And cried and cried.

And cried and cried and OH! how I cried.

I thought of her again...
and cried some more.

Why? Oh, why did she leave me?!

Grandma could have stayed and eaten Spaghetti O's with me, but instead she had to go and assasinate star of screen and television, Jason Lee.

Why? Oh, why did she do it?!

I blame Time. Earl was much over-hyped.

Lawrenceville, Part 1

2005-09-28T17:06:00.000-07:00

All of the town residents had gathered at the station to witness the entrance of Engine 101 into Lawrenceville. If one were to perch themselves atop the town's first and oldest resident, an old oak nicknamed "Wally", they would not just spy a cross-section of the town's residents, but almost every soul to hold a mailing address in the local postal code; the store owners, the stay at home housewives, the local high school football team, and everyone in-between had turned out to add their own reckoning to the event. Some had even made signs mounted on used planks of wood blazoned with the latest sayings of the day:

"A Fourtsnoot by the light of day! A Hollings by night!"

"Tithers and Shithers on the Donkey's head"

"Bleeblacks for SnickSnacks"

Milt the Dry Cleaner hoisted Milt Jr atop his lofty shoulders. Blanche, Milt's untempting wife, stood in her husband's shadow as usual. Even the town librarian, Grisansnable, had temporarily closed her temple of thought to bear witness to the day's events. It was the first time that anyone could remember that her palid consitution had seen the light of day in years.

Homer the Grocer stood idly by Wally the Tree, smoking a pipe filled with the latest tobacerry from Indo-China. Though he casually lit his pipe and tryed to portray the role of the disinterested English Lord-about-town, it was hard for even he to stow away his curiousity.

Mayor McDougal was there along with the City Council stood on at least the height of one stout woodsman above the crowd. They had installed themselves on the railway's platform dressed in their Tuesday's Best. None moved a limb, but to look at them from the reverse what be nothing but a collection of eyes darting to the left and right, all hoping to maintain their composed dignity while still catching the first sight of Engine 101.

More precisely, there was a specific passenger from whom they waited with anxious (and sometimes wheezing) breath.

And there, they waited...

And waited...

And waited...

The first night's owl had just sat down for breakfast and not a soul had moved. In fact, far from thinning, the crowd seemed to have swelled, growing in number as if every here-then-there birthed a litter of twins.

By moon's rise, the crowd had grown to fifty persons deep -- though in many cases the number of small children underfoot gave cause to increase the number three-fold.

No one can be sure of the time -- watches and other time pieces having been outlawed at the last bi-annual -- but a count of the dropping lids in the throngs would give reason to believe it was somewhere after three. It was then that a puff of steam from over the horizon caused the Mayor to jerk out of his micro-slumber and start ringing the town bell.

Suddenly, eyes that were closed shot open. Thoughts that were wandering immediately focused.

"Over there," shouted a young boy wearing the uniform of the time, a plaid-green one-piece jumpsuit. And the crowd lerched forward to face the inevitablity that was coming there way.

Slow at first, then gaining in speed, the familiar two-tone sky blue / blood red train made it's way toward the platform.

The Mayor turned and waved a baton, striking up the towns humble 14 piece brass orchestra. A strong six piece sousaphone section began alternating oom-pahs as the lone drum began to beat it's rhythm to the tune of the approaching 101.

To the dismany of many, the train didn't appear to slow it's top heavy gait. Even as it came into full view and chug-a-chug-ad toward the platform it's momentum showed no signs of down-grade.

The steam shooting from the top gradually changed from green with white spurts to a deep shade of orange and the residents knew that their greatest fears had come true.

As they made their ways home that night, some by foot, some by auto, some by llama, a single constant thought made it's way through their heads and they all knew that they would be back next year.

The last man to leave the now-lifeless field, Homer the Grocer, calmy tapped his upturned pipe on his bepoke loafers and glanced back at the track, the steam still obeying the laws of perspective as it became aquainted with the distance. The owl hooted and Homer shut his eyes and remembered his youth.

PHONE SEX HOTLINE

2005-09-27T15:43:00.000-07:00

Overheard on the phone sex hotline after Ronald Baugh (34) saw a commercial for free phone sex during late-night "Everybody Loves Raymond" reruns.

SEX OPERATOR: Hey baby, welcome to free and dirty chat.
RONALD B: I, uhh... I've never done this before.
SO: It's okay baby, we'll start slow.
RB: And this is free, right?
SO: [MOANING] Uh-huh.
RB: So no charge whatsoever? How can that be?
SO: Oh yeah! We're ad-supported sex talk. Right there, go on with your large self.
RB: So, uh... What are you wearing?
SO: Pants, from the Gap. They're sand-blasted bootcut jeans.
RB: Huh?
SO: I'm them off baby, don't worry.
RB: Oh...okay.
SO: Oh, that's nice. I love the slightly loose fit with the boot cut opening. The five pocket styling, available in sizes 0-12.
RB: This isn't really helping--
SO: 99 % cotton. Machine was warm.
RB: But--
SO: And they're off. Oh, I'm not wearing any underwear am I?
RB: [GETTING INTO IT] No, you are not. Now why don't you come over here and I'll--
SO: Lay on your bed?
RB: Yeah, and--
SO: Your Select Comfort Sleep Number 9000 mattress?
RB: Well, no--
SO: Oh, baby, you know how I love the Select Comfort Sleep Number 9000 mattress. It get's me so...
RB: [Breathing heavy]What does it get you baby?
SO: So...so... well-rested. With a thickness of 16 incredible inches and their innovative two-sided season duvet-style pillowtop and their propriatary whisper-quiet Firmess Control System 9000 -- a registered trademark of Unidyne Industries -- I love it when you lay on top of me in it.
RB: What is this?
SO: The most comfortable mattress you'll ever own. I can take off my top and put your face between--
RB: Why do you keep telling me about mattresses and bootcut jeans?
SO: We're ad-supported baby.
RB: I don't think is going to work out. I have to--
SO: Watch the game on your brand new, in-home 6.1 surround sound theater system from Hitachi. Installs easily right out of the box--
CLICK! He hangs-up.

Reveal the sex operator, an INCREDIBLY HOT CHICK in lingerie, sitting on a large mattress with a pair of bootcut jeans to her and surrounded by speakers.

A SURLY MOVER enters carrying crates full of small stuffed animals and abba-zabba candy bars. He asks the operator to sign for the boxes. She eyes the boxes.

SO: Hmm... this isn't going to be easy.

Transcription of a Dear John Letter I Found

2005-09-24T22:54:00.000-07:00

Dear John,

Now that I have gotten my FRAGGLE ROCK - THE COMPLETE FIRST SEASON DVDs back from you, our relationship is officially over. I feel weird writing this letter out, but for some reason I am locked out of my e-mail account and we both know you need to pay your cell phone bill and FINALLY get that thing turned back on. I am very attached to you and I hate to do this, but after you being so drunk at the Burger King, I can never EVER look at you the same as before. All I see is an asshole who gave me a bruised arm eating chicken fries -- AND NOT SHARING! You never once asked me to share anything with you. ASSHOLE!! But in my final gesture of love which I am now ceasing, I feel like I should tell you the following things: 1) I never actually needed that abortion -- I just pocketed the cash. I had gotten fired from the SuperFresh and was too embarassed to tell you and I needed money really bad so I came up with that plan and lied and it was horrible. Which I guess is a second lie 2) that I had never told you about getting fired. and then 3) is when I would tell you I was going to work at the SuperFresh when I had actually been fired, I was actually going over to Chuck's place and we'd smoke grass and a couple of times we had sex. With a condom! 4) I always hated that "our song" was the Black Eyed Pea's "Let's Get Retarded". That song sucks and the Black Eyed Pea's suck. That's the only rap CD you own and you are pathetic. The next guy I date is going to have better taste in music and I guess that will have to make up for him having a smaller penis, Long John. :) Now that I think about it you are probably happy about the whole abortion lie since you are a devout little Catholic and now you won't have to go to hell THOUGH I'M SURE YOU'LL FIND SOME OTHER WAY IN! But I should get going. I will miss you and miss seeing your face when you read this letter. You can keep my fucking travel Connect Four. I don't need that shit back and don't you try to use giving it back to me as an excuse to come by my apartment cause I'm telling you now I DON'T WANT IT. And don't look to get the engagement ring back I've already pawned it so I can buy grass from Chuck.

Love, NO MORE!
Hillary

TOP 10 REASONS I'M BETTER AT PROCRASTINATING THAN BLOGGIN'

2005-09-24T19:20:00.000-07:00

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10. Uhh...

When a Poem WITHOUT Profanities Becomes Awkward

2005-09-24T15:16:00.000-07:00

I was feeling really horny, but it was just my luck
This nice girl I met didn't want to... play cribbage
But I didn't get discouraged, didn't throw a fit
I just went to the toilet and took a... magazine
So for Halloween, I thought I'd be a witch
As opposed to my girlfriend was always a... Superman
I own a lot of things, it could fill a mass hole
But that doesn't excuse you for being an... Mormon
This is the story that I had to tell
Now that you've read it I hope you go to... home of NASA, Cape Canaveral

The Race for Mayor of Toilettown

2005-09-24T14:17:00.000-07:00

And so the candidates debated.

"I will bring better funding to our schools," said Candidate One.
"I will fix the lampposts on Main St.," exclaimed Candidate Two.
"I will get the goose droppings off our public golf course," shouted Candidate One.
"I will invest public dollars into training parrots to deliver our mail," yelled Candidate Two while flailing his arms wildly.

And the populous thought long and hard...

"I will revive the heart-attacked monkey in the city zoo," said Candidate One.
"I will stop letting Tom Baxster's kids smoke grass behind the abandoned church," exclaimed Candidate Two.
"I will stop letting myself smoke grass behind the abandoned church," shouted Candidate One.
"Free haircuts for all registered voters!" yelled Candidate Two while juggling three balls in one hand.

And so thusly the populous continued to ponder...

Until from far off, just over the horizon, a odd-looking stranger in an all white suit swaggered into town. He strut right down Main St. tipping his hat to all the young ladies, not even minding that many of the lampposts had long been broken by the doped up kids of Tom Baxster throwing rocks at them.

He stepped right up to the podium, pushing both candidates aside, and brought a hush over the stirring, wide-eyed crowd.

"And let this proclimation ring throughout this fair city," the stranger said. "If you elect me mayor, I will change the name of Toilettown to Pleasantville."

And without saying but another word, this odd-looking stranger from a far off place won the race for the mayor of Toilettown in a landslide...

EPILOGUE: He was crooked and stole all the town's money.

The Second Stand of the Steak Salesman

2005-09-22T13:12:00.000-07:00

He sat there thinking.

Yes, Wally had failed once before, but fate is a dirty game. Here he was with a large surplus of raw meat that he had again purchased at low, low prices. Surely, he and his wife could not eat all this themselves before it went bad -- especially with his wife living at her sister's since leaving him after the first steak selling fiasco.

But Wally had learned a word in school once... and that word, was perseverance. True, it was a word that had foiled him before, knocking him out of the fifth grade spelling bee, but that bitch wasn't going get him twice... like his wife.

Throwing steak after steak into a satchel, Wally walked down to the street, confidence hastening each step, a wry smile slathered across his face like a foregone peach cobbler.

People may have forgotten me in the past, he thought, but those bastards will come to remember the name Wally Shitgiggles, yet.

"Meat for sale! Meat for sale!" he screamed with vigor.

But a permanent-pressed man in his million euro suit stopped to gawk. Wally had seen this man before. "Ha!" the man laughed. "'Tis once again a Friday during lent and here we find ourselves living in a futuristic society where all peoples have come to adhere to ultra-conservative Catholocism and it's strange ideals."

Bastard, thought Wally. Why is that asshole always here?

And so it is true, that Wally failed once again.

Death of an Eskimo or: My Day at the Zoo

2005-09-22T12:59:00.000-07:00

It's an old eskimo tradition to float the elders of the village out to sea on small ice floes in order that they can rejoin the natural order. Similarly, I was at the zoo the other day when I noticed a bear cub and it's mother sharing an ice-cream cone from the parks snacketeria. "I wonder how they got that ice cream cone," I thought to myself - careful not to say it aloud or mouth the words. I didn't want to arouse any suspicions among the bears. Now these weren't just any old bears. They didn't have funny hats or pants or glasses or know how to ride a ball. But they were eating ice cream. I've been on this planet for a while and I've seen a polar bear or two in my day but the thing that made these two so special is that they were sharing an ice cream cone. I wondered where they had learned to do such a thing and, more importantly, where they got the money to buy the cone. I would have understood better if it was nachos or french fries or even candy, but ice cream seemed an odd choice. Then it dawned on me - these were polar bears. Then it all made sense. It made me think of those Eskimos, sending out their ancestors out to drift endlessly and I came to one, final conclusion. If you're gonna be floating on an ice floe, it's probably best to bring snacks that are eating at sub-freezing temperatures. Anyway, ice cream is always pretty good.

The Story of My Life As a Virgin: In Three Brief Chapters

2005-09-21T14:04:00.000-07:00

Chapter One
I was born in the small coal mining town of Bethlehem, PA.

Chapter Two
I never got laid.

Chapter Three
I died one cold winter's night having been impaled by a gardening hoe at the age of 76.

the end.

Critics Already Deem Sean Preston Federline's Debut Album Too Commercial

2005-09-17T13:41:00.000-07:00

Years before his debut single has even been recorded, the infant son of Britney Spears and Kevin Federline is already being panned by critics.

"So much crying," says E! Television's Donna Shinestein. "Tracks like the Ying Yang Twin's Whisper Song are an interesting, unique take on the hip-hop genre. All I've seen Sean Preston do so far is suck on Britney's teat. I mean, come on, who hasn't thought of trying that. It's old news."

The helpless baby has yet to respond, but Ron Masterson, president of Jive Records, who signed the child in his third trimester, spoke on his behalf. "When we made the decision to advance an unborn fetus $2.5 million, we made a commitment to stand behind him as he grows as an artist and a human being. We believe in nurturing our artists, spoon feeding them mashed peas, allowing them to find their voice over the term of their contract."

The album, which has an expected release date of Spring 2018, is tentatively titled: "Who Cares?"

The Wise Man & The Editor of Entertainment Weekly

2005-09-16T01:39:00.000-07:00

The wise man said, "Those in glass houses should not throw stones."
To which the editor of Entertainment Weekly said, "Yeah... I know the sections have 'always been color coded', but I'm kind of getting over that."

The wise man said, "A penny saved is a penny earned."
To which the editor of Entertainment Weekly said, "Yeah... I know a new Leonardo DiCaprio movie used to warrant a cover, but since The Aviator, which, by the way, played well with the Academy but not with the kids, I don't know anymore."

The wise man said, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."
To which the editor of Entertainment Weekly said, "Yeah... A Dave Chappelle article? No, he's done. People don't do the whole 'I'm gonna freak out on drugs and that's fine' thing."

The wise man said, "Time keeps on slippin' slippin' slippin' into the future."
To which the editor of Entertainment Weekly said, "Yeah... Steve Miller? Seriously?"

The wise man said, "No, seriously, how does this bitch have a job? Did they grow her in a petri dish?"
To which the editor of Entertainment Weekly said, "Yeah... Dork humor. That'll drive people to your blog."

"LOSER!"

The Tale of Lonely Frog

2005-09-16T01:14:00.000-07:00

Lonely Frog was a sad amphibian. He never had any friends. Well, he had one friend, but that friend was a copper snake, and we all know copper snakes suck monkey balls.

So Lonely Frog turned to his not so lonely mother and asked her: "Mom dearest, how do I make friends?" Mother Frog pondered this for many moments, thinking very, very hard for she so desperately wanted to help her son.

Finally, an idea popped into her green froggy head. "Why don't you make a batch of cookies?" she suggested. "All little frogs love a tasty cookie treat."

So Lonely Frog baked for days and days, working on his very special froggy cookie recipe, for he wanted his cookies to be juuust right. He tried, almonds and cashews, raisins and chocolate chips, cane sugar and brown sugar, sprinkles and icing; and when his special green frogalicious cookies were juuust right, he loaded them up in basket and hopped them down to the pond.

Lonely Frog handed out his special cookies to all the little frogs at the pond, even the little one who were barely past their tadpole days. And everyone loved the cookies!

...but still no one would be Lonely Frog's friend.

So Lonely Frog hopped all the way back home, with tiny little tears in his little froggy eyes, crying, "Mother, mother. I made the best cookies I could ever possibly make and I am still, alas, a lonely frog. What, oh what, should I do?"

Mother Frog felt for her lonely son, and she thought and thought as hard as she could, until once again an idea popped into her grean froggy head...

"Well, for one, you could stop being such a pussy."

a country story

2005-09-15T19:26:00.000-07:00

I was walking along the old highway leading into town when I came across something I'd never seen before. To my left there was an entire field of cows. Cows of every conceivable shape and size. But the odd thing about these cows wasn't that there were so many of them. It wasn't that they were quiet -- they were -- and it wasn't that they were all facing the same direction -- they weren't. They weren't performing tricks or earning money. Nor were they eating, sleeping, dancing, or being ogled by an class of third graders. It wasn't that they were any more special than every other cow I'd seen in my life up unti that point, except for one, minute, amazing thing: They were all wearing sombreros. Every single of of them. Sombrero's of all shapes and sizes, adorned with the finest in bedazzlements, all fitted perfectly for each of their cow heads.

That was a crazy day.

History 101

2005-09-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

Throughout history the "White Man" gets blamed for a lot of evil things, but this "Blue Man Group" seems OK.

my wish

2005-09-14T13:13:00.000-07:00

If I had could have one wish, I'd wish for world peace. No, actually, I'd wish for a pony where everytime I rode her there would be world peace.

A Good Day For Teddy Bear

2005-09-13T18:14:00.000-07:00

When Emily played, Teddy Bear was her best companion: tea at high noon, slumber parties at night. But when Emily went off to school, Teddy Bear came alive! wandering about the house and having a good ol' teddy bear time.

One Autumn morning, shortly after Emily took the big yellow bus off to school, Teddy Bear opened his teddy bear eyes scampering about while no one could see until he stumbled upon Emily's stash of weed. Boy did Teddy Bear get stoned that day!!

The Story of the Onion

2005-09-13T17:51:00.000-07:00

"I have an idea," the old man proclaimed. "Let us eat this onion as a celebration of peace!"

And so they did, one at a time, bite down into that tasty onion.

Until a younger man proclaimed, "Fuck this! Let's eat this delicious apple instead -- still as a celebration of peace -- but now, not so putrid tasting."

And so they tried the eating of the apple.

"This is much better," the masses cheered. "This young man shall be our new king!"

And so he was. And the old man watched on in horror, for he knew...

"An apple...?! That is, a forbidden apple! And God hath proclaimed that those who taste of such a forbidden apple shall be smitten by He!"

So the masses waited... possibly by watching reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond. And yet God did not smite them, instead blessing them as it rained golden dubloons for a fortnight.

And the old man watched onward, as the villagers bought new Lexus hybrid sports utility vehicles, and he thought to himself, Well, I'm an ass.

the world's smartest man tries to order a pizza pie

2005-09-13T17:09:00.000-07:00

Pizza Hut: Pizza Hut.
The World's Smartest Man: Hello, I'd like to order a pizza pie for pick-up.
PH: Would you like any killer cheesey poppers or wingy dingys with that?
TWSM: No.
PH: Okay, what would you like? [YELLS INAUDIBLY TO A CO-WORKER]
TWSM: I would like a large pizza pie. With extra cheese.
PH: Okay, your total will be $12.85. It'll be ready for pick-up in about 20 minutes.
TWSM: I have a coupon for 15% a large one-topping pizza pie.
PH: Okay, your new total is $10.92.
TWSM: Thank you.
(they hang up)

IN FACT... THE WORLD'S SMARTEST MAN DIDN'T HAVE A COUPON AT ALL. HE JUST MADE IT ALL UP. HOW DID HE GET AWAY WITH IT? BECAUSE HE'S THE WORLD'S SMARTEST MAN.

NEW FALL FASHION DIRECT FROM NYC'S FAMED "FASHION WEEK"

2005-09-13T17:03:00.000-07:00

Pants.

OVERHEARD AT THE DELI COUNTER

2005-09-13T16:49:00.000-07:00

The following is a recreation from memory of an encounter that took place between an Old Lady and a Surly Worker in West Los Angeles on or about September the 13th:

Old lady: I'm a size large, please.
Surly worker: Lady, this a deli counter.
(a pause)
OL: Oh, in that case I'll have three.
SW: Three what?
OL: My girdle is too tight.
SW: Your what?
OL: And my feet hurt.
SW: Lady, I don't have time for this.
OL: Three pounds of turkey, please.
SW: Smoked or honey-glazed?
OL: My girdle. Large.
SW: Lady, if you don't answer the goddam ques--
OL: Honey-glazed, please. Three pounds.
SW (laughing): I'm just kiddin' you ma'm. I don't work here.
(an awkward pause)
SW: Yeah, I'm just a drug induced figment of your imagination.
OL: My what--
SW: YOUR IMAGINATION! YOU'RE FRIGGIN' NUTS!
OL: Oh...
SW: I'm just kiddin' you again ma'm. Here's your turkey.

The Time I Saw a Bear

2005-09-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

Bears are odd. When I get high, I always think of ears -- the last four letters in the word "bears" --- when I read that particular word. Sometimes I get so high, I think "nor" is an odd word, but it's really not. It's a perfectly normal word. But this has nothing to do with the time I saw a bear.

Now, for the record, which I am sure someone is keeping, I have seen many animated bears, and people in bear costumes, and bears in zoos and such (not petting zoos), but I have only once seen a bear in person. The following is the telling of that story that has to do with bears.

I was driving in my friends car in Oregon. He drives a Toyota Prius, obviously, because he is a filthy hippie who lives in frickin' Oregon. Now that I think of it, I actually think he was the guy that got me that weed that got me so high that "nor" suddenly morphed into a nonsensical assembly of three meaningless letters. But I digress.

So I flip down that flap in the car that you use to shade the sun so I can use the mirror to fix my make-up (I was going through a goth faze) and out of the corner my eye, I caught a glimpse of something... It was a rare type of yellow blue jay, ironically enough. And I yelled, "Dude, check out this bird!" And I so startled him that he crashed his car into a bear.

Circle of life.

How I Spend My Saturday Mornings

2005-09-10T17:18:00.000-07:00

I am Jewish and, in Judiasm, Saturday is God's day.

So I hope God likes Cheerios, 'cause that's what he's getting.

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2005-09-09T23:50:00.000-07:00

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2005-09-09T23:45:00.000-07:00

OCEANFRONT TOWN OF DEWEY BEACH DESTROYED BY MOLASSES

My Conversation with an Old Homeless Guy

2005-09-09T23:42:00.000-07:00

Me: So how old are you exactly?
Old Homeless Guy: Thirty-Four.
Me: Oh.
(awkward silence.)
Me: So your not that old really?
Old Homeless Guy: No.
(awkward silence.)
Old Homeless Guy: So can I have that change you promised me now?
(I have left.)

PANTS OR SHORTS?

2005-09-09T23:40:00.000-07:00

The winner gets twenty bucks

DAILY CONSUMER ADVICE: Fuel Efficient Cars You Can Buy For Under $100

2005-09-09T23:32:00.000-07:00

None.

dining tip #1

2005-09-09T23:28:00.001-07:00

How come salad dressing is the only food that people order "on the side" without anyone batting an eyelash? For some reason, as a society we entrust a chef to complete every part of a meal while still lacking the ability to judge properly the amount of dressing to put on a head of iceberg?

That's like ordering a sackfull of oranges and a glass. "I'll handle it from here. Thanks for the oranges."

My Fear of Black People

2005-09-09T23:28:00.000-07:00

My fear of black people stems from the idea that black people like to read blogs and may, therefore, read my blog proclaiming my fear of those very black people who may or may not be reading this blog right now.

Things Overheard on the Subway

2005-09-09T23:22:00.000-07:00

This is a conversation I overheard on the subway:

Tall Guy: Whoa!
(Tall Guy squeezes through the door as it shuts.)
Tall Guy: Is this the G train?
Asian Guy: Huh?
Tall Guy (slightly louder): G train?!
Asian Guy: No.
Tall Guy: Shit. Which train am I on?
Asian Guy: You're not on a train.
Tall Guy: What? That seems ridiculous.
Asian Guy: The world is a ridiculous place.
(Tall Guy pauses. Looks at his script.)
Tall Guy: This dialogue is ridiculous!
Me: Keep reading it or I'm not taking off your shackles.
Tall Guy: Why'd I even come to this Denny's in the first place...

correction: President DOES Actually Exist

2005-09-09T23:11:00.000-07:00

Oops. He just bought me a hotdog. Nice guy.

I'm a Frickin' Genius

2005-09-09T22:52:00.000-07:00

I was sitting down the other day, in a chair no-less, when it suddenly dawned on me -- I'm a frickin' genius.

Yes, I'm sure we've all met geniuses in our lives. But none like me; I'm a frickin' genius. Clue #1: I just used a semi-colon. Have you ever used a semi-colon? You might be asking yourself: In today's harsh and discohesive political environment, with man bombarded constantly with images of destruction and misery, at a time when there are many more pressing and important issues ranging from ATsunami to ZAbortion, can superlatives of any sort be of considered a pressing importance to be thought of above all else? Yes. And I would know because I'm a frickin' genious.

Don't worry, not being a frickin' genius probably won't cause you any problems on a moment to moment basis. I suspect that your average Joe Not-Too-Bright will never fully comprehend a fully realized view of the world. However, not being not a frickin' genius I'll never know for sure.

Take it from me, being a frickin' genius is great. And I would know. I'm a frickin' genius.

by:
Billy Appleton

update: President Does Not Actually Exist

2005-09-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

Since publishing a posting entitled "President Does Not Actually Exist", I have received a lot of feedback from many different readers pointing out such things as "uh-huh, the president does really exist and whatnot" and "you are a moron and such." Here is one such example:

Dear Mr. Lewis,
You are very misinformed. I just saw the president on TV yesterday, douchebag.
Sincerely,
Some Idiot

As you may notice, I have changed Mr. Idiot's first name to protect his identity.

But here is the rub of rubs: yes, I too have recently viewed television programs showing images of a "president". But if you look closely, there is one obvious flaw. This is old footage. For if you inspect the fine print below the video footage of said president you will notice that his name is George Bush. We've already had a president with that name. Learn to read! OLD FOOTAGE!

newsflash: President Does Not Actually Exist

2005-09-09T22:35:00.000-07:00

There has been a lot of talk recently about whether or not the president really exists. I know for a fact he does not. Yesterday, I was home in Washington, DC and I took a tour of the White House... something that I haven't done since I was in middle school and liked playing with my teddy bears. But this is not about teddy bears; it is about the president -- who does not exist. He used to exist. I know this because the teddy bear is actually named after a president. But I digress.

On this White House tour, they showed us the presidential bedroom. I asked, where is the president? They said, "He is working in the Oval Office." But when we went to the Oval Office the door was locked. Do you know why it was locked? I'll tell you why! Because the president doesn't frickin' exist!

i even gots my own skizzors

2005-09-09T21:44:00.000-07:00