Wednesday, October 31, 2007


Yay! It's my favourite day! Halloween! And just to prove that it's my favouritest day I was up and out of the house by 10.30am (which on my day off is a serious effort) so I could get to my mom's house and start on my pumpkins. That's right, I work on them at my mom's house. Mostly because it means there is a giant pumpkin mess at her house and not at mine. Also my cats remain pumpkin innards free. And these are good things.
The trouble is, every year I end up doing some crazy pumpkin and then the next year I feel like I have to top it. It's silly, but I've been making myself crazy every year doing this. Last year I did two pumpkins. Both were cool and I was happy with them. So, of course, this year I had to do three pumpkins.
I have no fucking idea.
So in no particular order, here they are.

First up is Groucho.

This is one of the monsters from Where The Wild Things Are (my mom wanted one to take to her school with her so I needed to do a kid themed one, otherwise this would have been Johnny Cash. I guess Johnny will just have to wait until next year.)

And finally there's Hawkeye. (I know this makes me a giant dork, but M*A*S*H* has been my favourite show forever.)

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Best Sentence Of The Day 10/30

"Who mastered the art of invisible block technology? Because I need some."
- This Guy.

Monday, October 29, 2007

The Taste Of Victory

If you guys haven't been to The Sneeze lately you should at very least check out Steve's latest post on the world's most delicious painkiller. Seriously. Go now. I'll wait here.

Fabulous Zombies

I don't know when I became such a Fab whore. And I can't even say it was because of the halloween costume because I only saw those pictures yesterday.


No, I'm not just starting to type jibberish. And no, I'm not starting to title my posts in Klingon. I am however getting really gaddamned sick and tired of the spam fliter word thingy.
Once and a while I get something reasonable, which would be four letters max. But most of the time I get some rediculous bullshit that's half an alphabet long.
I think the only thing that pisses me off more than that shit is when it's blurry or distorted or some stupid shit. It's not a fucking magic eye picture, it's an anti-spam word. Some of them are almost completely unreadable so you get the chance to try again and again and again.
"Why not just turn it off?" I hear you say.
Because I turned it on in the first place because I was sick of having my comments section filling up with spam.
The only real solution I can see is killing all the spammers. It's not like they're actually human anyway. They're somewhere between used car salesmen, lawyers and paparazzi.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Best Sentence Of The Day

"no bampfing out of my butt."
(in regards to Nightcrawler)

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

I'm Considering Smacking Some Sense Into You

Grow a fucking sense of humor already! What the fuck happen to you to turn you in to such a humorless, uptight, nazi bitch anyway? Parents didn't buy you that pony when you were eight? Mad because you couldn't really grow up to be Barbie? Unhappy with your sex life? What? What is it!?
Because from where I'm standing you've got very little reason to be bitching and absolutely no reason to be bitching on other people's behalf. People who do that kind of shit should be locked in cages and kept away from the rest of society. Because reasonable, rational people don't need to walk around looking for things to be offended about or people to be offended for. Believe me, we have too many fucking people being offended on their own already.
You know why people make jokes about themselves, because they're strong enough to take the criticism, because they're okay with their faults and because it's fucking funny. You're inability to see that is just making it so very clear that you're not okay with who you are and any amount of criticism would bring your whole world crashing down around your feet.
So you've turned into this easily offended, constipated freak who wouldn't know what was funny if it hit you in the face with a cream pie. And even if you did you haven't had practice enough to actually laugh. Your face might crack.
You're one of those sad little people who was tragically born without a personality or a sense of humor. You're one of those boring ass, soul-dead people who thinks that white is a colour, salt is a spice and that going to bed without brushing your teeth is being rebellious. You're one of those goddamned people who thinks that censorship is a good thing, that rules will set us free and that laughter is a sin.
Well you know what, fuck you. You want to be offended? Fine. Fuck you. How about that? Just fuck off and die already. Jerry Falwell did it. Why can't you?
Oh and by the way, I've seen your taste in movies. They all suck. None of them are funny in the least. They're films made for idiots, for people who don't understand things like satire and intellectual humor.
Also, how exactly are the Aflac commercials hilarious? Just saying something like that makes you a fucking asshat. Kindly stop wasting so much space and using my oxygen.

Health Update

My arm still hurts.
Seriously, this shit is getting old. It's been over a week. If this shit hasn't worked itself out by Monday I'm going back to the damned doctor.

Friday, October 19, 2007

Facebook Zombies

While Crackbook does turn people into zombies, this post has nothing to do with that.
A while ago I drew some zombies for Jay on his graffiti wall. I liked them. So I drew some more for Steve-o. And then more for Coleslaw. And then I kind of decided to start drawing them and posting them in a really crappy comic kind of way. Heavy on the crappy. So if I'm motivated enough maybe I'll post one every once and a while.
If you're looking for an explaination as to the Zombie theme, I haven't really got one. I just think Zombies are funny.
Don't believe me? Have a listen.
Anyway, here's the crap I drew already.

And finally, what kind of person would I be if I didn't make the world's oldest and lamest joke? Huh? A bad person, that's what kind.

Reasons I'll Never Make It Big In Hollywood

I know you have an ego, everyone does. I do too. I'm just not the kind of person who's going to bow before your ego. Especially not at detriment to myself.
I don't care if you directed a movie, I don't care if you're rich and famous, I don't care if you're the goddamned queen of England. You're really not any more or less important than anyone else. You've just got yourself a fancy title. And it doesn't make a lick of difference to me. I still expect you to act with the same regard for people's time as everyone else.
You want to stand around and chat with your buddies? Great! You do just that. May I suggest you try somewhere that isn't closing up for the night for you to have your chitchat?
Maybe you weren't sure that we were closing up for the night? Is that it? Was the turning off of lights and the staff standing, with their coats on and bags in hand too subtle?
Learn to take a fucking hint already.

From Me To You 20

- For the love of God and all things holy, if you're going to turn into traffic at the last possible goddamned second, could you at least step on it!? I shouldn't have to hit my brakes rather than your rear end because you decided to take your fucking time with that turn.

- As funny as it may look when someone falls, laughing when someone is actually hurt makes you an asshole. A realy big asshole.

- When I say no to something once chances are I mean no. Asking me a second time, a third time, a fiftieth time isn't going to change my answer. I said no, damnit.

- If you insist on bringing your screaming, snot-nosed little shit machines out in public could you at least pretend to be a parent for five seconds? That little bastard is actually scaling the shelving unit. Maybe you could do something about that. Hmm?

- If you're going to prove to the world that we should instate sterilization programs with your novel approach to parenting, do you think you could spare us all your bitching when your spawn hurt themselves doing something stupid? As much as you'd like to believe otherwise, it's not my fault that you were to busy trying to sound out the big words on the back of Big Momma's House 2 to notice that it was playing on the escalator.

- If your geriatric feebleness is keeping you from pressing down on your accellerator enough to reach the speed limit, may I suggest you take a cab. The same applies if you've shrunk below the steering wheel or cannot see where the lines on the road are.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Heads Up, Bitches!

I've added a few more links to the link list. They're all good. Really. And they'll stay that way until I say so. Understood?
Now click the links, bitches! CLICK I SAY!
(This may or may not be a transparent attempt to win the favour of the likes of Mr. Fab and Natalie Dee...)

Wednesday, October 17, 2007


It's an old joke, but I'm too lazy to come up with something better.
Monday night in what can only be described as an act of complete grace and beauty, I fell on my face. Well not technically my face, I caught myself with my arm. So I guess I fell on my arm.
Where did I fall, I hear you all asking.
On the floor.
I decided that actually using the steps is for suckers and just skipped the step down. And in all honesty, the fall wasn't so bad. The hitting the ground sucked ass, but the falling I didn't mind. I don't remember much of the fall though. One second I was standing and the next the floor was awfully close to me. Strange how these things happen.
And as a complimentary gift to go with my trip I got a lovely stay at the doctor's office where they kept me at no charge for 3 fun filled hours, a complete set of x-rays and a super nifty sling!
I just don't know what to say! I'm so over-whelmed. And in pain.

*And it's not technically "broke" it's a sprain and I jarred the hell out of my shoulder and elbow. Whoo!

Monday, October 15, 2007

Classy? Oh I'll Give You Classy!

A co-worker passed on this lovely story tonight and I thought I'd share with you.
Apparently when he was walking home late last night he could hear some grunting coming from behind the Mason's building. He looked just in time to witness a girl bent over one of the parking baracades taking it from behind.
Now this is pretty classy. But what makes it super classy?
When she turns back to the guy giving it to her and says "Hurry the fuck up! It's raining!"

How To Get Sent Home Early And Other Crappy Sunday Tips

I had every intention of spending all day in my Pjs and then going to work tonight after a long day of being lazy. But my phone rang at around 11am, my mom needed a ride to do some errands. So off I went. My Lazy day died before it could even really get started.
At around 3pm I got back home, proud of myself that I made it through an entire shopping trip with my mother without getting into a screaming match. Low and behold, I have a message. It starts out "Hi, this is the library calling..."
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
I was supposed to work a call in shift at 1pm.
I forgot.
I'm an idiot.
I call them, apologise, offer to come in for a few hours. They say don't worry. It's not a problem. I still feel like an asshat.
After I hang up I check my email, eat some food and get ready for work. On my way I stop and say goodbye to a friend who was in town for the weekend. My parents are making a big family dinner for her. I get to miss it because I have to work. The fun never stops around here.
At work all goes well. I get all my shit together in record time. I fill out any paperwork that needs doing. I get the poster change organized. I get myself a drink. And I'm ready to go when the clock strikes 6. People start trickling in by 6.30pm and by 7 there's 59 people in the theatre and Jared is starting the film.
Time to read.
7.30 I run my shift report. Fill out the paperwork. Sigh. Back to my book. (Goldfinger, if you're interested.)
8.30 and I smell something. It may not sound like much, but I have virtually no sense of smell. So If I can smell it, it's bad. It also smells like burning. Which is bad. Very bad.
I go to the booth and as Jared is waiting for the change over I just ask if he can come down from the booth when he's done. By the time I get back to my desk, a few people have come out of the theatre. They smell the burning too.
This is bad.
Jared comes down and decided to investigate. By the time he comes back I can see the fire engine lights outside. We have to get everyone out. I knew things were going too smoothly.
The dumpster outside is on fire. It's just a precaution, but everyone has to leave. The fire fighters come in a check everything and advise us to wait at least 30 minutes before we let people back in to the theatre. After some phone calls and a lot of discussion we decide to shut down for the night.
Great. I love having to refund 59 tickets to inconvenienced people. Luckily Jared finds 20 gift passes, but that's still 39 people who I have to refund in cash.
After they all leave, in between telling anyone coming for the second show that it's been cancelled, I change out the posters and go enter the stats. Jared gets the fun job of rewinding all the film and getting it ready to ship. As we chat Jared realizes that had he panicked and pulled the alarm, the fire exit everyone is supposed to use opens up into the alley, right where the dumpster is. The dumpster that was on fire. Perfect.
We're out the door by 9.45 and on my way home I catch a glimpse of the dumpster. It's (excuse the pun) trashed. The outside is bowed and blistered. I also see what the fire fighters were talking about. Whoever set it on fire was clever enough to push it right up to the Library van, hoping that it would go up too.
Aren't humans just grand?

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Good Idea Bad Idea

Good Idea - Making hashbrowns and eggs.
Bad Idea - Not looking at the spices before you dump them on your hashbrowns.

I got home late last night after work and as it had been a really long day I was hungry. So I decided to use up a couple of the baby potatoes I bought last week and make hashbrowns and eggs. I cut up the potatoes and boil them, then dump them in to the pan. They get some pepper, some garlic, a little dill and some cayenne.
But wait. Why is the cayenne a funny colour?
Because it's cinnamon.
Last week I made gingerbread cookies and somehow, when I put the spices back in the spice rack, the cayenne got pushed to the back and the cinnamon got put in its place.
Damn it all to hell.
By that time it was 1am and I was fucking starving so I decided to just say "screw it", just add the cayenne and move on. I don't know if it was necessarily a bad idea, but it certainly wasn't something I'd do again on purpose. And it was made even weirder by the strong cinnamon smell coming from the hasbrowns.
I did eat them. I was too hungry and too lazy to make more or just toss them. They weren't terrible. They weren't good either. I think that if I was still eating cheese wiz they might have been okay (cinnamon bagel and cheese wiz = awesome), but the ketchup just didn't cut it. Neither did the toast and cream cheese (though cream cheese, as it always does in my opinion, made it better).
So lesson learned. Always be careful to follow your own filing system if you have one and always look at the label on the spice jars before you dump them on your food.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Who Likes Cupcake? We Like Cupcake!

Tonight, if you missed it, was the Band of Brothers benifit show and it kicked ass. This was in no small way due to the ass kickery of Cupcake! If you haven't seen them play, you haven't really lived. If you haven't got one of their CDs, your life is meaningless. And if you missed Funshine's pompadour of awesomeness, your life will never be complete.
Like their stickers say: Guys who look cool doing stuff that is awesome.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Motivational? You Bet!

While surfing through these fantastic tubes I came across The Motivator! This loverly site allows you to make your very own annoying motivational-office-type-wall-garbage. Hooray!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Well, It Was Only A Matter Of Time

The good folks at Eternal Image have come out with a line of Urns and Caskets that are either the nerdiest or the most awesome line of Urns and Caskets ever conceived of by man. Either way, I give you - THE STAR TREK LINE!

Sunday, October 07, 2007

I'm Still Voting "Data"

Jay (of The Incredibly Lame Blog) and wife have done the unthinkable and decided to spawn. As much as I'm not a kid person, I do love naming things. And presumably their bouncing baby thing will eventually need a title by which to be called or at very least be listed by in police records.
Now I know that they're having trouble agreeing on a name. So I've decided to be as helpful as I possibly can and start The Baby Name List Of Awesomeness 2007/2008! (I'll try and add to this as often as I can over the next couple of months.)
You don't have to thank me Jay, this is just my gift to you, wifey and your offspring.
And without further ado I give you my name suggestions! (List aside, my vote will always be firmly "Data".)

- Jean-Luc
- Kermit
- Rolf
- William
- James Tiberius
- Beaker
- Floyd Pepper
- Janice
- Stephen Colbert Jr.
- Bones
- DeForest
- Montgomery
- Uhura
- Chekov
- Sulu
- Khan
- Gilligan
- Majel
- Algernon
- Oscar
- Cecily
- Gwendolen
- Hannibal
- Julius

(If you're planning on having two children, I definitely suggest naming the Ash and Trey.)

I Still Don't Know What "Nog" Is

I hate eggnog. I don't just dislike it, I hate it. My hate for eggnog burns with the heat of a thousand suns. And despite this, every year starting around this time until well after New Years I am hounded by every eggnog loving freak on the planet to just have a glass. Like somehow they think I've never tried it, I've never tried the right kind, I was mistaken about it's taste, that this one glass of eggnog will change my opinion of eggnog forever.
Believe me, it won't. It will only further cement the idea that "nog" is old english for "vomit".
Today G tried to talk me in to trying his own concoction of evil - eggnog and coke. Mixed. Together. In a glass. And one is meant to drink said mix. I declined, numerous times. Some of my other relatives were not so bright, however, and actually tried it.
The best response of them all came from Jay who said "I don't know what that tastes like but it's not something that tastes good."

Thursday, October 04, 2007

I Hope Zombie Elvis Guts You Like A Fish

Short of the handful of truely awesome adverts that win awards at places like Cannes and the London International Advertising awards, most range from bad to completely horrific. A poorly desgined ad, a low budget ad, a cheesy ad, most of these I can understand. But there are some products that I honestly could live the rest of my life without ever seeing advertised again and I would be happy.
Most defecation related commercials, for instance. Toilet paper, diapers and most especially *shudder* adult diapers. Without exception, they all send me scrambling for the remote. You can use all the "mysterious blue liquid" you like to show a diaper's absorbency, we all know you're talking about piss. And I can't put into words how gross it is, listening to some old broad talk about how much more free she feels.
Every advert having to do with maxi pads, tampons, etc. They're all vomit enducing. And for the love of all things decent and good, could you please stop trying to make being on your rag look like something happy and cute!? Seriously, "have a happy period"? Which man came up with that one. Because I cannot believe that any woman would come up with that load of shit. And the whole tampon campain when that woman plugs a leak in a canoe with her fucking TAMPON? Who was the genius who came up with that gem? Why didn't you just show a woman saving a village from a tsunami with her goddamned Always?
But the top of my list is Viagra. Every single one of their ads is wrong and awful in every way, shape and form. There isn't a single situation I can think of that would make middle aged weirdos talking about being able to get it up acceptable. I don't want to see some creepy bitch singing in the streets about how she was up all night boinking her potbellied retiree. I don't want to see or hear grey haird golf buddies talk some kind of creepy old man gibberish about how viagra brought life back to their wrinkley old man bits. And I sure as shit don't want a group of aging wanna-be rockers sitting around in some cruddy old building killing a perfectly good Elvis song so they can sing about their little blue pill.
Has anyone else seen this? "Viva Viagra"? They can't be serious. If I didn't know better I'd think it was a SNL gag commercial. I was expecting to hear the audience laughing at the end. But no. They're actually sitting around with their buddies singing about how none of them can get it up. Then they all race off, presumably because the pills are kicking in and we all know that sitting around with a group of men who have hard-ons would be just a little awkward. I can't imagine how it would be more awkward that boisterously singing about how you've got permanent limp dick without chemical help, but apparently these guys can.
When Bob Dole first started talking about Viagra, way back in the day when this shit was still a joke - that was wrong. But I think deep down we all sighed because, hey, it couldn't get any worse... right? Yeah well, apparently it wasn't going to get any better either.
*sigh* I think I've just got to start buying more shit on DVD and skipping TV all together.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Too Much

For reasons ranging from lack of money to lack of time to lack of interest I haven't cut my hair in ages. It's probably been well over a year. It's actually gotten pretty long again (It was down past my waist for years and then I hacked it all off) and I'm starting to remember some of the draw backs to long hair. Namely, the fact that I have a lot of hair.
Washing my hair takes up most of my shower time. And today I broke yet another elastic trying to tie it back. (I've gone through hundreds, the ones that don't break just get stretched out to the point where they're useless.)
I was up late last night, so I wasn't up and in the shower at the crack of dawn. But it was only just after 11.30am when I was getting dressed for work. So you can imagine my surprise when at 10.45pm remove my elastic to find that most of my hair is still wet.
Gee I can't wait until it's -45 outside and my hair starts freezing into hair-cicles.


What the fuck is wrong with some people? (Yeah, I ask that a lot.) I know that some people are depressed (I count myself amongst them) and suicidal. I feel for them, really I do. But these fucking people who go through this attempted suicide bullshit over and over again, no. No I do not. It's not a cry for help any more, it's a cry for attention. It's emotional blackmail and it makes me sick.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Happy Birthday, Groucho!

117 and I still love him more than nearly everyone. I'd sell the souls of my friends to have "You Bet Your Life" on DVD. And just for today I went out and bought "An Evening With Groucho" on vinyl.
So happy birthday, Groucho. Here's hoping that wherever you are there are plenty of good cigars, the women are hot and the drinks are cold.

Before You Panic

If the streets are deserted, before you start to panic about the Zombie Apocalypse or setting extra places for the four horsemen, check the calendar. Is it Sunday?
If it is, you're fine. The world is not coming to an end.
Everyone is at Superstore. And though their manners may make them easy to mistake for Zombies (from any movie, some are the slow moaning ones that are fairly ineffectual and some are the crazy running screaming hardcore ones), don't worry your silly head. They're just assholes.
On an unrelated note, there is nothing I need badly enough to ever make me try "just running in to grab a few things" on a Sundday again. (If I run out of toilet paper, I'll hold it until Monday.)