March 14, 2008 Ridiculous News Stories

I originally had another topic planned and ready to go for today, but the stars aligned this week and God/Allah/Buddha/whatever PC stuff you can get away with calling a religious deity slapped this one on me: “Woman sits on boyfriend’s toilet for two years.”

Two years?! Something like that just boggles my mind. I’ve had a better time understanding the intricacies of nuclear fission than I’ve had trying to comprehend how someone could sit on a toilet for two years. I mean, if I’m on it for more than 10 minutes my legs start to tingle.

Something else to consider: This couple had been dating for 16 years, two of those were spent with her on the toilet. Wouldn’t he want to jump in earlier noticing the lack of quality time spent together? What do they do for anniversaries? No more dinner and movie dates? Things to ponder. Oh, and on a small unimportant side note . . . there’s no more sex life! Two years of that? Does that not strike you as weird? Maybe a red flag pops up here and there? Nah dude, that’s normal. Seeing that they live in Kansas, I’m sure he found some alternatives. I heard his sister lived down the street. Maybe there was a farm nearby with some farm animals too. Maybe I’m just really optimistic for the guy.

There are just so many things with that story that could be commented on. What the hell do you do in a bathroom for two years? (Aside from the obvious). How do you bathe? (Yes she’s in a bathroom, but she can’t use the shower because she was actually STUCK to the toilet; her skin legitimately grew around the toilet seat). I apologize if your breakfast is now on your keyboard after that one.

This just goes to show that women really do spend more time in the bathroom than men.


Song of the Week: “Zeppelin” by The Jonbenet

Quote of the Week: “Not working is so much better than working.” – Brian. In the words of a friend, “Simple, yet profound.”

Random Fact of the Week: Sitting on a toilet for two years is not a good idea. Your legs will become atrophied and your skin will grow around the seat.

Picture of the Week: guys, take note

Until next week, CANNONBALL!


Fred

March 7, 2008 Hangovers

We’ve all been there. Most of the time they’re awful, some of the time they’re actually pretty interesting. There are all sorts of hangovers. There’s the vegetable hangover, when you’re basically useless to the world and can only sit in one spot and recover. There’s the basic headache hangover, and there’s the “I feel like I’m on illegal drugs, but I’m not and it’s only alcohol so I don’t have a guilty conscience” hangover. This is the one I most commonly get. I might have to consider myself fortunate. I almost never get headaches; I just get some serious low blood pressure, so I feel like I’m kind of spacey and floating around all day. I don’t know if any of you have ever taken Percocet for anything, but it’s basically like that. Be jealous, it’s ok.

What interests me most about hangovers is our ability to quickly forget what they feel like. As a little kid, when you touch the hot stove, the next time you’re near it, you remember, “Oh hey, that hurt like a sonofabitch, I’m not going to touch that again.” But as adults, when we get hangovers, we always go back to them. It’s as if we are children again but with the memory of a goldfish. “Ow, damn that’s hot . . . let’s try again, shit! That was REALLY hot . . . but maybe . . . jesus, that’s hot. One more try . . . Damn! That stove is really hot! Nobody touch the stove, it’s really hot! But maybe if I try one more time . . .” Nope, we never learn. You think we’d catch on quicker or something.

The absolute best part is when we sit there and think/say, “I’m never drinking again.” We’ve all said it. We’ve all been there before. And did you drink again? Yes you did, and it was usually just a few days later. Then it happens again, and you swear someone broke into your room and went DeNiro all over your ass with a Louisville Slugger.

Though, if you play your cards right, hangovers can be the best thing in the world. Wake up, feeling hungover? Grab another beer. Pop a little whiskey in that coffee. Not only will you lose the hangover, you’ll catch yourself a hefty little buzz pretty quick. Cheap, easy, boom goes the dynamite. Call me on Sunday, I’ll let you know what stage I’m at.

Song of the Week: “False Idols Fall” by Comeback Kid.

Quote of the Week: Please refer to the picture.

Random Fact of the Week: Venus is the only planet that rotates clockwise.

Picture of the Week: Are you kidding me? THAT was what tipped you off?!

Until next week, what’s the worst that could happen,


Fred

February 29, 2008 Post-Vacation Depression

This past vacation has probably been the best and worst thing to happen to me in a very long time. For references as to why it was the best thing, please refer to the previous February 22nd post. Why it’s the worst thing? Post-vacation depression.

It’s almost like just getting out of a serious relationship. There are some incredible times (skiing 11,000 foot mountains, carving down slopes with 70 degree pitches, boarding off of houses, knee deep powder, 10 kilometer trails) and some really bad times (countless hangovers, boarding on 2 hours of sleep max . . . mixed with numerous hangovers, getting hit on at a bar buy a gay European (I wasn’t the only one it happened to though)). The only thing I can think about now is: when will it all happen again? I spent an hour yesterday looking at pictures on the website from our trip, which is very bittersweet. It brings back the great memories, but makes it harder to move on from.

And then there’s the work aspect. Motivation has been at a minimum. Production has been even lower. Unless you’ve actually experienced one recently (relationship or vacation), it’s impossible to describe to others your feelings about the “insanely insane” experience you’ve had. They have so many drugs out there for crazy made-up diseases and problems, you think maybe they’d have something for this. “Do you commonly space out and day-dream through hour-long meetings thinking about how insane your recent vacation was? Do you find yourself spending lunch breaks looking at flights to far-away mountains and travel spots? Take our new pill RealitiChek to help ease your transition back to the real world.” Next stop: Big Sky, Montana . . . and a serious does of Reality Shock.

Song of the Week: “Transatlanticism” by Death Cab for Cutie. I enjoyed the tune for what it was worth, until I actually listened to the lyrics this morning, and made it all the more applicable for this post.

Quote of the Week: “I feel like Beetle Bailey after the Sarge gets through with him.” – A guy from the trip commenting on a mix of hangover, lack of sleep, jet-lag, and alcohol withdrawal.

Random Fact of the Week: Our eyes are always the same size from birth, but our nose and ears never stop growing.

Picture of the Week: OH NO!

Until next week, if you don’t live for something you’ll die for nothing,


Fred

February 22, 2008 The Austrian Adventure

So instead of bragging about the incredible trip I just had in letter format, I thought I'd share just a few pictures of my adventure.

(Note: This is not a post-card or professional photo. This was the view from where I sat at lunch)

February 15, 2008 TURN OFF THE CAPSLOCK

Let’s discuss the art of capitalizing letters in the form of written/typed communication to express excitement or anger. We’d all have to admit it really does the trick. Nothing expresses excitement like a capitalized “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” Or some serious frustration like “YOU’VE GOT TO BE F***** KIDDING ME.” In a fairly expressionless medium that is email and online chatting, sometimes it’s difficult to express intense emotions.

Sometimes you might hit the capslock button by accident when talking to someone; it can completely change the tone, making you look like an idiot. Even subconsciously now, we read it in our minds as if the person is yelling. It brings a whole new meaning to the term getting capped. “Dude, I got so angry I totally cappsed her when I told her how disappointed I was that she didn’t cook my steak right.” You’d have to be careful who you said that around, I’m sure cops or feminazis wouldn’t be too fond of “capping” someone. Especially via text messaging. There are some things you just don’t do. You don’t cross the streams, you don’t covet thy neighbor’s wife, and you don’t have arguments (with caps) via text messaging.

Let’s not even start with people who use more than three exclamation points after a statement to express how excited they are. As if each exclamation point better exemplifies their excitement. I’d be excited in saying, don’t do it. IT MAKES ME SO ANGRY!!!!!!


Song of the Week: “Blizzard” by Nicolay & Kay

Quote of the Week: “If you don't want to work, you have to work to earn enough money so that you won't have to work.” – Ogden Nash

Random Fact of the Week: Google's name is a play on the word googol, which refers to the number 1 followed by one hundred zeroes.

Picture of the Week: Probably a sound fiscal decision.

Until next week, laces out, Dan,


Fred

February 8, 2008 Chain Mail

We’ve all received them, and we’ve all ignored them before (I hope). These pesky little emails that tend to tell sob stories, or contain love advice. Sometimes they tell a story; sometimes it’s more of a personal experience (good or bad) that people feel they should pass on to others. Some are just outrageous. Rare ones do contain some sort of PSA that may be useful down the road; I’ll read the occasional chain letter (only from the madre though).

I love how at the end of them, they tell you to pass them on to a certain number of people. It’s like they need to give you some lame incentive to get you to pass their crap on around the web-connected world. For each number bracket increment that you send it to, the better your luck will turn out. “If you send this to 50 people, you’ll find the love of your life in 2 weeks!” Listen, I’ve already found the love of my life, she’s on TV, so I don’t need any help finding out who it is. Does she know who I am? Hell no she doesn’t, but that’s ok with me. “If you don’t forward this to at least 20 people, you’ll have bad luck for the next seven years!” Oh shit, better find 20 people I really don’t like and clutter their email box with junk mail. All my friends are Irish anyways (with the occasional spattering of an Ital here and there), I’ve got luck out the ass, I’ll take my chances buster.

Here’s an ending I’d love to see one of these days:

“Send this to 1-5 people, and you’ll get a dope slap. Send this to 6-10 people, and you’ll get a kick in the stomach. Send this to 10-20 people, someone will knife your tires. Send this to more than 20 people, and someone will pour gasoline on you and smoke a cigarette while standing next to you.” I’d hate to be the guy that forgets to read the instructions at the end.


Song of the Week: “Can I Kick It?” by A Tribe Called Quest

Quote of the Week: “Size does matter.” - The “Breaking News” headline that CNN used yesterday while covering Mitt Romney’s announcement that he was suspending his campaign. They basically took a comment he made about McCain’s number of delegates completely out of context, and chose to summarize it with that line. There’s no way they didn’t know what they were doing when they wrote that.

Random Fact of the Week: Nearly 91% of all senior citizens rely on prescription drugs on a regular basis.

Picture of the Week: why? . . . WHY?!

Until next week, you’ve gotta fight for your right to party,


Fred

February 1, 2008 Dope Slaps

Sometimes you want to give them, sometimes you get them. It’s the way the world works. If there’s one thing this world is lacking, it’s not food, it’s not money, it’s not Hello Kitty backpacks . . . it’s dope slaps. For those not familiar with what a “dope slap” is, I’ll lay it out for you in laymen’s terms. It is when you hit/are hit in the back of the head, in such a manner that the deliverer of the hit does so not hard enough to cause permanent physical or mental damage. Usually it is done with an open hand to the back of the head; when done right, it will cause the recipient a bout of shock, not due to the actual hit, but due to the loud noise and slight ringing of the ears it causes. The object is not to cause retardation, but to quell it.

Something I’ve noticed is a lack of these slaps in the world. Too many PC moms running around spouting off their ideals. But let’s all be honest here; sometimes people need a good slap to straighten them out. We all know someone that could’ve used one recently. There comes a time when words don’t solve problems . . . slaps do. Instead of war, we should just have slap fights. Just line up 10,000 volunteer “soldiers” on each side, and have them slap the shit out of each other. It can be a last man standing type of deal. Rules are, if you bleed, or cry, you’re automatically out. No closed fists though! I'd pay to see that, might be a good revenue generator for countries. Now everyone will be declaring war on each other. South Africa vs. Iceland. Imagine how dejected you’d be going home to your family, girlfriend, wife, friends, and having to tell them that you lost in the America vs. Uraguay Slap War . . . because you cried. I’ll bring over the divorce papers right away. I could support something like that. Thank YOU sir, may I have another.

Moral of the story: Respect your elders.


Song of the Week: “I’m So Glad I’m Living” by James Cotton

Quote of the Week: “Why is American beer served cold? So you can tell it from urine.” - David Moulton

Random Fact of the Week: Donald Duck's middle name is Fauntleroy.

Picture of the Week: If this bull was a dinosaur, it’d be named Tear-anus-aurus Rex.

Until next week, the cream always rises to the top,


Fred