Eventually I am going to be telling jokes in this vein, so hang in there with me.
America loves giving things to undeserving people. Food samples, tricked-out cars, makeovers, and most things Presidential, all of them given to people who prob'ly don't really have the faculties to properly process their blessings and the tag-along responsibilities.
Free food causes the most laconic of shopper to head-turn and eye-perk with the fervor of a Terrier hearing jangled car keys. Totally derails the person's afternoon, no matter how boring or disgusting the kibble. One second you're heading for some Axe Bodyspray... wha?... next thing ya know, you're nodding your approval of the Calamari-Black Licorice mini-quiche. Can't get the team together at work? Bring in food. People can't return vital e-mails or calls within 36 hours, yet they're Jedi-tuned in to a plastic knife diving through a sheet cake at a half-click.
Tricked out cars. Wellsy... it's been done to death. Long story short, if the car's driver had the maturity and intelligence to be able to afford what is being done to the car, they probably wouldn't choose to do THAT to the car. Enjoy your purple Brat, Tyler. Now you're a douche nozzle.
Makeover shows. Wow. People play negligently ignorant to improvement of the self for their entire lives, and BINGO, here come a gaggle of people who "just want to help!" People lose their motivation to work out or develop, you know, other personality muscles in hopes of getting ugly enough to be on TV. I'm addicted to these shows. The state of Washington has turned out 4 of the 20 women on The Swan's first two seasons.
As for the Presidential thing, hell, that's easy. Encourage voter turn out with free food.
"So you're telling me that I voted for Nader... just by tossing back a paper cup of GORP at PCC? Son of a bitch... BRILLIANT!"
=======================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Just to the Left of The Last Of The Straws
Yasser Arafat may be dead. He's in a French Hospital, and lord knows if the French know anything, it's how to keep a Jew-hater alive. Thank you Anti-Semitic Humor, I'll be here all rally.
I was accused recently of getting drunk at a work party, which was 100% WRONG.
I was drunk at lunch and it carried over to the party, so NYEAH. :^p
I got gas today. Thank you, Cabbage & Airport Sushi, for this horrendous squealing below the belt-line. It's a Biblical, Act of Nugent heat happening here. Somebody's gonna have to kill me before I kill again. I know this is immature to speak of, but there's really not much else going on with me today. I can't very well WHOA, gotta go.
-------------
(cont'd)
As if Tim Eyman weren't enough of a reason, THIS is a damn fine reason to haul your ham to Costa Rica: Freddie Prinze, Jr. To Star In TV Sitcom
Exhibit 27,452,910-B in the argument FOR making the following point: America loves giving things to people who are undeserving.
Kids are going hungry in this country, yet Carson Daly is STILL on the air nightly. And you thought W.'s re-election was the beginning of the end...
U.S. Forces Pound Parts of Fallujah. Fallujah's sister waits her turn.
Okay, this is kind of cool. Brother & Sister convicted on charges of felony spamming. How did it come down like this: We-ull...
"Prosecutors compared Jaynes and DeGroot to modern-day snake oil salesmen who use the Internet to peddle junk like a "FedEx refund processor" that supposedly allowed people to earn $75 an hour working from home. In one month alone, Jaynes received 10,000 credit card orders, each for $39.95, for the processor."
AND
"David Oblon, representing Jaynes, argued that it was inappropriate for prosecutors to seek what he called an excessive punishment, given that this is the first prosecution under the Virginia law. He also noted that his client, a North Carolina resident, would have been unaware of the Virginia law."
I highlighted that last statement because it is indicative of what shit-piles lawyers can be. "Virginia Law," like most state judicial systems, carries an implicit contract written in King James-style patois: Thou shall not be a jackhole and rip people off. And Spamming crosses all state and emotional boundaries, just like Tony "AssFlush" Moser's jokes.
So what did Jaynes get for his fleecing?
Jurors recommended that Jeremy Jaynes, 30, be sentenced to nine years in prison and fined Jessica DeGroot, 28, $7,500 after convicting them of three counts each of sending e-mails with fraudulent and untraceable routing information.
Of course, that's just their recommendation, not the sentence. Going to jail for Spam & Fraud, felony-style. Yeah, holmes, that's some straight-G shit raght thurr. Unh, YE-UH.
===========================================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
I was accused recently of getting drunk at a work party, which was 100% WRONG.
I was drunk at lunch and it carried over to the party, so NYEAH. :^p
I got gas today. Thank you, Cabbage & Airport Sushi, for this horrendous squealing below the belt-line. It's a Biblical, Act of Nugent heat happening here. Somebody's gonna have to kill me before I kill again. I know this is immature to speak of, but there's really not much else going on with me today. I can't very well WHOA, gotta go.
-------------
(cont'd)
As if Tim Eyman weren't enough of a reason, THIS is a damn fine reason to haul your ham to Costa Rica: Freddie Prinze, Jr. To Star In TV Sitcom
Exhibit 27,452,910-B in the argument FOR making the following point: America loves giving things to people who are undeserving.
Kids are going hungry in this country, yet Carson Daly is STILL on the air nightly. And you thought W.'s re-election was the beginning of the end...
U.S. Forces Pound Parts of Fallujah. Fallujah's sister waits her turn.
Okay, this is kind of cool. Brother & Sister convicted on charges of felony spamming. How did it come down like this: We-ull...
"Prosecutors compared Jaynes and DeGroot to modern-day snake oil salesmen who use the Internet to peddle junk like a "FedEx refund processor" that supposedly allowed people to earn $75 an hour working from home. In one month alone, Jaynes received 10,000 credit card orders, each for $39.95, for the processor."
AND
"David Oblon, representing Jaynes, argued that it was inappropriate for prosecutors to seek what he called an excessive punishment, given that this is the first prosecution under the Virginia law. He also noted that his client, a North Carolina resident, would have been unaware of the Virginia law."
I highlighted that last statement because it is indicative of what shit-piles lawyers can be. "Virginia Law," like most state judicial systems, carries an implicit contract written in King James-style patois: Thou shall not be a jackhole and rip people off. And Spamming crosses all state and emotional boundaries, just like Tony "AssFlush" Moser's jokes.
So what did Jaynes get for his fleecing?
Jurors recommended that Jeremy Jaynes, 30, be sentenced to nine years in prison and fined Jessica DeGroot, 28, $7,500 after convicting them of three counts each of sending e-mails with fraudulent and untraceable routing information.
Of course, that's just their recommendation, not the sentence. Going to jail for Spam & Fraud, felony-style. Yeah, holmes, that's some straight-G shit raght thurr. Unh, YE-UH.
===========================================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
What Did You Expect?
Well SHIT.
Once again George W. Bush has won a Presidential election by a very narrow, questionable margin. The question I have is this:
Why the fuck is everyone I work with, and most everyone in general, talking about politics like they know what the hell is going on? I honestly doubt they know jack about the workings of the Senate floor, because if they did I'm sure I would have seen them at an Open Mic at some point. Lord knows they are cracking themselves up, as I am hearing ballot box-loads of nervous "This is supposed to be funny, so I will now laugh instead of allowing this person's feelings to be hurt" laughter.
We needed to ask ourselves a simple question before voting yesterday: In what positions, as U.S. citizens, are we most comfortable being royally fucked? If you thought we'd wake up with Kerry as President and all the wars having wonderously ended shortly before your RootyTooty Fresh&Fruity order being placed, you gotta straighten up. I have read and heard and sifted through enough information to know that neither Kerry nor W. would have been able to unfuck the fuck-ed-ness of America's stature in the world.
Bush has run our country's economy (read: White People's jobs) into the ground. Since taxes are the retail charges our Governmental Strip Mall has to charge for the Orange Julius and Priceless Pretzel you just picked up, if they drop their prices (read: tax cut), then quality will eventually suffer (read: fewer paid jobs OR the same jobs for lower wages). But we do love a bargain in America. And we got a President who knows all about slashing prices. But hey, he's "tough on Terrorism," which is a way of saying "he'll shoot from the porch, then check it out in the morning." Terrorism is not an "-ism." It's a religious movement, people. It's a beards-out war on American interests and symbols designed at getting our government's attention. Those prayer-crazy fig-logs are cutting the heads off of people working as contractors for American companies. That's DECAPITATION, Homey, and it ain't guillotine style. How do you deal with that?
And NO, he's not tough on Terrorism, and the Patriot Act has nothing to do with Patriotism. If Bush were truly TOUGH on Terrorism, he would have ex-fuckin'-scused himself from storytime back on 9/11/01 when he heard a hijacked plane went flight-deck first into an American financial beacon. I hope that story was funny enough to sit through.
One thing is for sure, you don't say "Okay, whatever you want. We'll look the other way." Next thing you know you're having trouble understanding the guy "helping" you fix your computer or selling you a pizza-tube at 7-11... oh shit...
I hoped for the Bush victory because I hope his administration will have learned from their mistakes with Iraq before we go any further. Saddam had to go, but he's been gone a year now, and we're still hanging around.
However, Bush led every company he's ever run directly into bankruptcy, with a bravery that can only be likened to "gross negligence." Bush also took over a heat-stroked economy backsliding after the celebratory drunken knee-&-palms-&-chin scraping known as The Internet StartUp Downfall. And President Bush courageously threw a rope to that faltering economy as it tumbled down the hillside of ShortSighted Capitalist Peak. He then launched himself off, screaming "BUNGEE JUUUUUUUUMP YEEEEHAAAAAW!" Nobody's holdin' that rope, W. Really should have had somebody tie that off.
Boring-story-slightly-longer:
Please God, watch over the leaders of this country. Don't let the Bush Administration fuck this up like that Halliburton thing, or the Enron bail-out, or the 3 companies that W. forgot to feed. We're all a little freaked out right now, especially those of us who voted for Nader. Amen."
----------------
Had Kerry been elected President, would we have been more comfortably fucked? Would he take care of OUR needs as the fuckees? It sure sounded like it. It's so easy to trust a man wearing a "LiveStrong" bracelet and a $2,500 suit. It's much easier to be on the side of a man who's second, yes, SECOND wife's family is well known for their ability to cover things up and hide mistakes, and yes, sometimes make it all a little tastier.
I hoped for the Kerry victory because he wanted to make it almost impossible for this nations corporate giants to send jobs overseas and/or offshore. A few blogs back, a comment left by Peter Johnson, a.k.a., "PJ," made key points about the proliferation of offshoring, not the least of which was a subtextual allusion to the "freaky hump style" of the foreign gals that PJ like so much. You have to read between the lines. It's there.
I shouldn't blog when I'm this jet-lagged. Okay, so this is what we have to work with. Keep reading and talking and thinking about politics. Don't let this go away. I wish I could throw down something that would make you feel better about the overall election day, which went nearly the exact opposite of everything I had hoped for. I wish I had words of encouragement and hope and direction. But I'm avoter, not a politician. I don't know squat about politics, other than I love the word "gubernatorial."
And mozzarella, fucking LOVE the motz.
=======
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Once again George W. Bush has won a Presidential election by a very narrow, questionable margin. The question I have is this:
Why the fuck is everyone I work with, and most everyone in general, talking about politics like they know what the hell is going on? I honestly doubt they know jack about the workings of the Senate floor, because if they did I'm sure I would have seen them at an Open Mic at some point. Lord knows they are cracking themselves up, as I am hearing ballot box-loads of nervous "This is supposed to be funny, so I will now laugh instead of allowing this person's feelings to be hurt" laughter.
We needed to ask ourselves a simple question before voting yesterday: In what positions, as U.S. citizens, are we most comfortable being royally fucked? If you thought we'd wake up with Kerry as President and all the wars having wonderously ended shortly before your RootyTooty Fresh&Fruity order being placed, you gotta straighten up. I have read and heard and sifted through enough information to know that neither Kerry nor W. would have been able to unfuck the fuck-ed-ness of America's stature in the world.
Bush has run our country's economy (read: White People's jobs) into the ground. Since taxes are the retail charges our Governmental Strip Mall has to charge for the Orange Julius and Priceless Pretzel you just picked up, if they drop their prices (read: tax cut), then quality will eventually suffer (read: fewer paid jobs OR the same jobs for lower wages). But we do love a bargain in America. And we got a President who knows all about slashing prices. But hey, he's "tough on Terrorism," which is a way of saying "he'll shoot from the porch, then check it out in the morning." Terrorism is not an "-ism." It's a religious movement, people. It's a beards-out war on American interests and symbols designed at getting our government's attention. Those prayer-crazy fig-logs are cutting the heads off of people working as contractors for American companies. That's DECAPITATION, Homey, and it ain't guillotine style. How do you deal with that?
And NO, he's not tough on Terrorism, and the Patriot Act has nothing to do with Patriotism. If Bush were truly TOUGH on Terrorism, he would have ex-fuckin'-scused himself from storytime back on 9/11/01 when he heard a hijacked plane went flight-deck first into an American financial beacon. I hope that story was funny enough to sit through.
One thing is for sure, you don't say "Okay, whatever you want. We'll look the other way." Next thing you know you're having trouble understanding the guy "helping" you fix your computer or selling you a pizza-tube at 7-11... oh shit...
I hoped for the Bush victory because I hope his administration will have learned from their mistakes with Iraq before we go any further. Saddam had to go, but he's been gone a year now, and we're still hanging around.
However, Bush led every company he's ever run directly into bankruptcy, with a bravery that can only be likened to "gross negligence." Bush also took over a heat-stroked economy backsliding after the celebratory drunken knee-&-palms-&-chin scraping known as The Internet StartUp Downfall. And President Bush courageously threw a rope to that faltering economy as it tumbled down the hillside of ShortSighted Capitalist Peak. He then launched himself off, screaming "BUNGEE JUUUUUUUUMP YEEEEHAAAAAW!" Nobody's holdin' that rope, W. Really should have had somebody tie that off.
Boring-story-slightly-longer:
Please God, watch over the leaders of this country. Don't let the Bush Administration fuck this up like that Halliburton thing, or the Enron bail-out, or the 3 companies that W. forgot to feed. We're all a little freaked out right now, especially those of us who voted for Nader. Amen."
----------------
Had Kerry been elected President, would we have been more comfortably fucked? Would he take care of OUR needs as the fuckees? It sure sounded like it. It's so easy to trust a man wearing a "LiveStrong" bracelet and a $2,500 suit. It's much easier to be on the side of a man who's second, yes, SECOND wife's family is well known for their ability to cover things up and hide mistakes, and yes, sometimes make it all a little tastier.
I hoped for the Kerry victory because he wanted to make it almost impossible for this nations corporate giants to send jobs overseas and/or offshore. A few blogs back, a comment left by Peter Johnson, a.k.a., "PJ," made key points about the proliferation of offshoring, not the least of which was a subtextual allusion to the "freaky hump style" of the foreign gals that PJ like so much. You have to read between the lines. It's there.
I shouldn't blog when I'm this jet-lagged. Okay, so this is what we have to work with. Keep reading and talking and thinking about politics. Don't let this go away. I wish I could throw down something that would make you feel better about the overall election day, which went nearly the exact opposite of everything I had hoped for. I wish I had words of encouragement and hope and direction. But I'm avoter, not a politician. I don't know squat about politics, other than I love the word "gubernatorial."
And mozzarella, fucking LOVE the motz.
=======
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Sunday, October 31, 2004
The Blog About What I Saw On Halloween
First Off:
Yesterday I watched a long-ish clip from the new Osama B-Laden 12", "Yo, America." Not sure what it was called, it's pretty underground shit. Check it.
Ted Koppel V-Jay'ed the track, and in this mufugger "The Beardy Weirdy" as he's referred to in the undersand DJ circlez, layed it down like this:
"If we so hate freedom, as is said by your President Bush, why have we not attacked Switzerland?" Ah hellz, that's some JadaKiss rhe-to-rizzical inquiry.
Okay, so the governmental bodies that be (read: Ann Coulter and Lisa Welchel, Google it ya self) are peering at this site by now, seeing as how it mentioned the Big O. Personally, I'd say the guy's deeply misguided, preaching hate against American involvement in the Palestine/Israeli conflict. That's what he said on the video. I would rather he never peeked his gaunt and spiteful face out his mother's hookah, but the f*cker's in our grill and he's gotta be dealt with. The music, frankly, was a steaming pile of breakfast burritos, but what he said, who the Fallujah knows if we can take it for hairy-face value? The guest VJ's with Koppel mentioned this fact, and one of these guys was Muslim:
Old Beardy Lankster WANTS George W. Bush in the White House because it galvanizes America's enemies. W. is the lightning rod that attracts the discharged hatred of millions of trained and angry people who want to blow the candy corn out of anything who can tell you who Toby Keith does commercials for. Just say "Saturn," you'll be cool.
Anyway, yeah, that's what some experts said. Paraphrased, of course, but FAWK people, the track was in some foreign tongue. The subtitles, for all I know, could've been typed in by the underground control room running the media.
VOTE GEORGE W. BUSH AND GEOFF LOTT WILL BE ALLOWED TO LIbceaS40-=[o
Holy crap, I blacked out for a second... wha happa?
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Yesterday I watched a long-ish clip from the new Osama B-Laden 12", "Yo, America." Not sure what it was called, it's pretty underground shit. Check it.
Ted Koppel V-Jay'ed the track, and in this mufugger "The Beardy Weirdy" as he's referred to in the undersand DJ circlez, layed it down like this:
"If we so hate freedom, as is said by your President Bush, why have we not attacked Switzerland?" Ah hellz, that's some JadaKiss rhe-to-rizzical inquiry.
Okay, so the governmental bodies that be (read: Ann Coulter and Lisa Welchel, Google it ya self) are peering at this site by now, seeing as how it mentioned the Big O. Personally, I'd say the guy's deeply misguided, preaching hate against American involvement in the Palestine/Israeli conflict. That's what he said on the video. I would rather he never peeked his gaunt and spiteful face out his mother's hookah, but the f*cker's in our grill and he's gotta be dealt with. The music, frankly, was a steaming pile of breakfast burritos, but what he said, who the Fallujah knows if we can take it for hairy-face value? The guest VJ's with Koppel mentioned this fact, and one of these guys was Muslim:
Old Beardy Lankster WANTS George W. Bush in the White House because it galvanizes America's enemies. W. is the lightning rod that attracts the discharged hatred of millions of trained and angry people who want to blow the candy corn out of anything who can tell you who Toby Keith does commercials for. Just say "Saturn," you'll be cool.
Anyway, yeah, that's what some experts said. Paraphrased, of course, but FAWK people, the track was in some foreign tongue. The subtitles, for all I know, could've been typed in by the underground control room running the media.
VOTE GEORGE W. BUSH AND GEOFF LOTT WILL BE ALLOWED TO LIbceaS40-=[o
Holy crap, I blacked out for a second... wha happa?
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
The Blog About F*ck If I Know
I write to you from the Dell Tower Of Power in my cousin B-Rock's bedroom. He's 22 and I am wearing latex gloves. This kid is deviant. I feel weird using his computer when he's in the room. I feel like I should wait until that girl on top of him leaves, but Blogging waits for no tryst, even if it's illegal in most states between consenting Community College students. NO, I am not looking at them. Directly.
Hold on, gotta change camera angles.
He keeps getting IM'ed by somebody named, and I wish I were kidding, "kyssyfur meow. " Latest message:
RUT? Wanna see a movie l8r? I tootsied and it smells like cotton candy LOL!
$100 says that's a Jr. High science teacher named Orville wearing knee-garters and al dente schmeckel.
Last night was my cousin Sonya's wedding. She's about 6 months younger than I am, which makes two of my female cousins, younger than I, who have tied the knot. It's been all kinds of interesting to watch how this all goes down, the wedding planning. I think the divorce rate is so high in this country
(JadeFox90210 has signed off)
because people don't diversify their thoughts between the Wedding and the Marriage. 6 months to 1 year to plan a Wedding, which is one day of getting stared at by yet another relative with an oxygen tank, who knows you're part of the family, but can't remember if you're Rupert's kid or the one with the bent spine they adopted from Sierra Leone. The Marriage is FAR more important, that's where all the best sit-com material comes from.
Did you drink last night? I bet you danced sick, huh? Where RU? LOL!! ;)
So as my cousin B-O'Tard sits a few feet from me loading the clip of his .9mm Ruger... I'd rather be filming illicit movies... and testing the batteries in his stun-gun. He's really excited to go try his new rounds, which are like hollow-points but filled with a high-impact polypropylene ball that will keep the slug from exploding on impact, causing a much larger entrance wound.
I feel like getting crazy later? Do you want to come to my clas... come to my fort? LOL, MF'ER!
I feel the worst/best for Jeff, my cousin Jenniefaffer's new beau. This guy ROCKS. A successful lawyer at the age of 27, a truly good human being,
(AdoreableAmanda82 has signed on)
and has a great family surrounding him, he's being tagged by every other person he comes in contact with as the next to marry into the family. The guy rocks, my cousing JoonieFlapper kicks much cakes, so that's something that I give full blessing to.
In the meantime, where the hell was I going with this?
Oh yeah...
No matter if you're getting IM'ed by vapid dad-haters with more looks than brains, hey, you're 22, play the field and enjoy the game.
No matter if you're getting ready to go to Mexico in a month, and you ARE going, with some of your favorite people in the world, go for the stories and the sun and the fact that there will be friendly and unnoticed nudity cabana-wide.
No matter if you're 30 and 2500 miles away from your comfort zone, use the means you have available to communicate with those you miss and love.
No matter if you're setting up a date with KyssyFur Meow for your cousin, make sure you use the words "Halloweener," "Jack O'Lickern," and "Statutory of Liberty."
Trick or Treat.
Smell my feet.
Change the camera angle again.
BTW, my cousin B-Rat got shit-housed last night at the wedding and tounge-rooted a bowling alley waitress. He's all class.
---------------------
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Hold on, gotta change camera angles.
He keeps getting IM'ed by somebody named, and I wish I were kidding, "kyssyfur meow. " Latest message:
RUT? Wanna see a movie l8r? I tootsied and it smells like cotton candy LOL!
$100 says that's a Jr. High science teacher named Orville wearing knee-garters and al dente schmeckel.
Last night was my cousin Sonya's wedding. She's about 6 months younger than I am, which makes two of my female cousins, younger than I, who have tied the knot. It's been all kinds of interesting to watch how this all goes down, the wedding planning. I think the divorce rate is so high in this country
(JadeFox90210 has signed off)
because people don't diversify their thoughts between the Wedding and the Marriage. 6 months to 1 year to plan a Wedding, which is one day of getting stared at by yet another relative with an oxygen tank, who knows you're part of the family, but can't remember if you're Rupert's kid or the one with the bent spine they adopted from Sierra Leone. The Marriage is FAR more important, that's where all the best sit-com material comes from.
Did you drink last night? I bet you danced sick, huh? Where RU? LOL!! ;)
So as my cousin B-O'Tard sits a few feet from me loading the clip of his .9mm Ruger... I'd rather be filming illicit movies... and testing the batteries in his stun-gun. He's really excited to go try his new rounds, which are like hollow-points but filled with a high-impact polypropylene ball that will keep the slug from exploding on impact, causing a much larger entrance wound.
I feel like getting crazy later? Do you want to come to my clas... come to my fort? LOL, MF'ER!
I feel the worst/best for Jeff, my cousin Jenniefaffer's new beau. This guy ROCKS. A successful lawyer at the age of 27, a truly good human being,
(AdoreableAmanda82 has signed on)
and has a great family surrounding him, he's being tagged by every other person he comes in contact with as the next to marry into the family. The guy rocks, my cousing JoonieFlapper kicks much cakes, so that's something that I give full blessing to.
In the meantime, where the hell was I going with this?
Oh yeah...
No matter if you're getting IM'ed by vapid dad-haters with more looks than brains, hey, you're 22, play the field and enjoy the game.
No matter if you're getting ready to go to Mexico in a month, and you ARE going, with some of your favorite people in the world, go for the stories and the sun and the fact that there will be friendly and unnoticed nudity cabana-wide.
No matter if you're 30 and 2500 miles away from your comfort zone, use the means you have available to communicate with those you miss and love.
No matter if you're setting up a date with KyssyFur Meow for your cousin, make sure you use the words "Halloweener," "Jack O'Lickern," and "Statutory of Liberty."
Trick or Treat.
Smell my feet.
Change the camera angle again.
BTW, my cousin B-Rat got shit-housed last night at the wedding and tounge-rooted a bowling alley waitress. He's all class.
---------------------
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Blog About Potilical Simepplings
Gonna have to vote in a week. Go do it. It's your right as an American to vote. It's a right that was fought for by millions of people over the past 230 years. It's not a fun thing, per se, which is why they oughtta open all voting booths near food establishments. Christ, America is all about Capitalism and Special Interests anyway, go put a booth in a Krusty Krepes and people will turn out like a mid-70's Who concert.
Rock For Change campaign's running strong. Springsteen's stumping with Kerry. It's been a Summer/Fall-long run of people attending shows with the agenda of getting Bush out of office. Understoond. Most everyone's got an agenda. This one, however, eesh, I don't know. I am happy that public figures are making pleas to get us 'Mer'cans in the booths, but f*ck if I want a President voted into office by people who thought it was a great idea to camp overnight for a shot at seeing Jackson Browne open for the Dixie Chicks.
You get my point. It's voting for the sake of voting, and that's about all we're gonna get right now. However, I'm hoping and somewhat believing that people are educating themselves more deeply on the "issues" affecting our country: National Security, Health Care, Social Security, Terrorist Insurance, Hymen Rejuvenation, Whatever Tracy Tuffs Is Doing, Low-Carb Diets, and Tax Structures. Iraq does not affect our country. It affects Iraq, and I have no friends there, so I give a shit.
I'm voting to approve I-884, to get money into schools. I'm voting against I-892 so that slot machines won't pop up on every street corner, regardless of revenue opportunities. It cheapens the neighborhoods, the stores, and it's greatly hated by Jackson Browne.
That's a shitty call-back.
===================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Rock For Change campaign's running strong. Springsteen's stumping with Kerry. It's been a Summer/Fall-long run of people attending shows with the agenda of getting Bush out of office. Understoond. Most everyone's got an agenda. This one, however, eesh, I don't know. I am happy that public figures are making pleas to get us 'Mer'cans in the booths, but f*ck if I want a President voted into office by people who thought it was a great idea to camp overnight for a shot at seeing Jackson Browne open for the Dixie Chicks.
You get my point. It's voting for the sake of voting, and that's about all we're gonna get right now. However, I'm hoping and somewhat believing that people are educating themselves more deeply on the "issues" affecting our country: National Security, Health Care, Social Security, Terrorist Insurance, Hymen Rejuvenation, Whatever Tracy Tuffs Is Doing, Low-Carb Diets, and Tax Structures. Iraq does not affect our country. It affects Iraq, and I have no friends there, so I give a shit.
I'm voting to approve I-884, to get money into schools. I'm voting against I-892 so that slot machines won't pop up on every street corner, regardless of revenue opportunities. It cheapens the neighborhoods, the stores, and it's greatly hated by Jackson Browne.
That's a shitty call-back.
===================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
The Blog Where I Realize How Much Work I Must Do
So what is "hack" in comedy, according to other comics?
Pretty much everything on this list, and I'm sure I've done all of them at some point or another.
Well, I'm gonna be in the lab a lot longer than I thought. G'night.
I am off to Michigan to see my cousin get married off. I wish her the best of love and growth and warmth in this new stage of her life.
Thank you God, for open bars.
===========================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Pretty much everything on this list, and I'm sure I've done all of them at some point or another.
Well, I'm gonna be in the lab a lot longer than I thought. G'night.
I am off to Michigan to see my cousin get married off. I wish her the best of love and growth and warmth in this new stage of her life.
Thank you God, for open bars.
===========================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
The Blog Full of Schwag
I would watch nothing but C-Span if it were anything like Taiwan's Governmental Debates.
"You've got no shame!" screamed Chu Fong-chih of the opposition Nationalist Party, after throwing a take-out box of chicken and rice at Chen Tsung-yi, a legislator from the ruling Democratic Progressive Party who backed the special budget.
As it stands now I feel like I keep hittin' the 984 minute mark of Rep. Gerry Manderbustin's filibuster on the evils of low-rise tube socks and short-cropped hair on the female children. Let's see a person from the right throw a left hook, then MAYBE we'll talk. Until then, I'm voting the Green Curry line! Get it! OH MAN, DOES THE FUN EVER START?
==========
I've Been This Excited Before
Puss And Boots. Two people get caught in a rainstorm, break into a shoe store, feel frisky, and get it on amongst the boots. It's gross. They were both drifters.
==========
And Now For Head's Up - 7Up
I think I'm on the Teacher's side here. Parent arrives in classroom, teacher and parent get into brawl, parent goes to hospital, teacher goes to jail. See Teacher Run. See Teacher Get Pepper Sprayed.
==========
Probably Because God Hates Gay Sports
I'm not sure if anybody saw it, but there is video going around of a figure skater being dropped on her face after her partner stumbled and dropped her on her face. I want this video to share with you, but all I can find is news of Lindsay Lohan on the come-back from a high-fever. If you've seen the video you know the devastation of which I speak. I plan to implement it in my upcoming arm-wrestling match with Tony "Mousey On Jam Shorts" Moser.
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
"You've got no shame!" screamed Chu Fong-chih of the opposition Nationalist Party, after throwing a take-out box of chicken and rice at Chen Tsung-yi, a legislator from the ruling Democratic Progressive Party who backed the special budget.
As it stands now I feel like I keep hittin' the 984 minute mark of Rep. Gerry Manderbustin's filibuster on the evils of low-rise tube socks and short-cropped hair on the female children. Let's see a person from the right throw a left hook, then MAYBE we'll talk. Until then, I'm voting the Green Curry line! Get it! OH MAN, DOES THE FUN EVER START?
==========
I've Been This Excited Before
Puss And Boots. Two people get caught in a rainstorm, break into a shoe store, feel frisky, and get it on amongst the boots. It's gross. They were both drifters.
==========
And Now For Head's Up - 7Up
I think I'm on the Teacher's side here. Parent arrives in classroom, teacher and parent get into brawl, parent goes to hospital, teacher goes to jail. See Teacher Run. See Teacher Get Pepper Sprayed.
==========
Probably Because God Hates Gay Sports
I'm not sure if anybody saw it, but there is video going around of a figure skater being dropped on her face after her partner stumbled and dropped her on her face. I want this video to share with you, but all I can find is news of Lindsay Lohan on the come-back from a high-fever. If you've seen the video you know the devastation of which I speak. I plan to implement it in my upcoming arm-wrestling match with Tony "Mousey On Jam Shorts" Moser.
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
The Blog About Moses On Jamba Juice
He's at it again.
You probably have no idea who I'm talking about since he's mostly diapers with a car.
Tony "Moses On Jamba Juice" Moser is up in the grill of yours truly, making attempts to rattle my gilded mic stand. I've tried to listen to the underlying message of his rantings about me. I've let the words fall aside and squinted so that I may look not at the mirrors, lava lamps, and smoke drifting from Moser's breathing holes, but at the intent of those words. Well I saw that intent my friends. And it was blank.
He was basically typing just to hear himself type. He's now taking credit for the songs written by bands such as Poison and Slaughter. He's stealing. He's plagiarizing the work of these men he so very much desires to look like in order to, basically, steal the clout of one Bradford Whitcomb Ainsely Undersworth Brake III. Keep trying, Mose.
I'm admit, I am NOT in Tony's league. I skipped it on my way to "confoundingly astonishing" at 3 months into this whole comedy thing. Tony sees me outside of his league, but he's so backwards that he believes he's looking behind him and there he sees me, but actually, I'm AHEAD of him, and he's forgotten what the future looks like. He's living in the past. Actually, he's living in a dreamworld populated by aromatic midgets, and he thinks it's the future. In reality, he's living in his mom's closet again. Nice pants, Gay Lord.
Deal with Moser any way that you must, but remember this: He is only out to please ONE PERSON; And when that woman of ill repute comes along Tony will finally quit comedy and become her lap dog. And maybe THEN, she'll realize what a real man it takes to do it the way it's done by Bradford Ainsmob Whitforth Underpants the Broken VII.
------------------------
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
You probably have no idea who I'm talking about since he's mostly diapers with a car.
Tony "Moses On Jamba Juice" Moser is up in the grill of yours truly, making attempts to rattle my gilded mic stand. I've tried to listen to the underlying message of his rantings about me. I've let the words fall aside and squinted so that I may look not at the mirrors, lava lamps, and smoke drifting from Moser's breathing holes, but at the intent of those words. Well I saw that intent my friends. And it was blank.
He was basically typing just to hear himself type. He's now taking credit for the songs written by bands such as Poison and Slaughter. He's stealing. He's plagiarizing the work of these men he so very much desires to look like in order to, basically, steal the clout of one Bradford Whitcomb Ainsely Undersworth Brake III. Keep trying, Mose.
I'm admit, I am NOT in Tony's league. I skipped it on my way to "confoundingly astonishing" at 3 months into this whole comedy thing. Tony sees me outside of his league, but he's so backwards that he believes he's looking behind him and there he sees me, but actually, I'm AHEAD of him, and he's forgotten what the future looks like. He's living in the past. Actually, he's living in a dreamworld populated by aromatic midgets, and he thinks it's the future. In reality, he's living in his mom's closet again. Nice pants, Gay Lord.
Deal with Moser any way that you must, but remember this: He is only out to please ONE PERSON; And when that woman of ill repute comes along Tony will finally quit comedy and become her lap dog. And maybe THEN, she'll realize what a real man it takes to do it the way it's done by Bradford Ainsmob Whitforth Underpants the Broken VII.
------------------------
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Monday, October 25, 2004
The Blog About Travel and Self-Censorship
I fly out to Michigan on Wednesday morning. Not sure which airline it is. I usually don't look, care, or pack until an hour before I'm leaving for the airport.
That's not true. I'm past that phase of life. I have had those trips where I'm f*ck off until the last 3 hours before I am supposed to be at the airport, sweating my way through packing useless items. I am 30 years old, for crying out loud, I should know that I need at LEAST a toothbrush, a t-shirt, one pair of underwear, and a decent book for a week away from home. I can do that. And I'm flying which means I'll be packed in a tube of "who's who in day tripping."
I think I'm going to fake some sort of 'tard so that I can get whatever I want on the plane. Nothing violent, but if someone is leaning all over me, I'm gonna get in their pie face and tell them in hushed tones "This is the last time you will ever fly if you don't quit coloring in that book, f*cksock." It seems that I go on every flight with an air of adventure and loving travel, and everyone else gets on it with "F*CK THESE PEOPLE, I AM GOING TO JAM THIS CARRY ON AND THIS LAPTOP AND THIS DOG AND THIS INCAN MATRIMONIAL HEADDRESS INTO THIS COMPARTMENT WITH MY BALLBAG ON THIS GUY'S SHOULDER BECAUSE I HAVE THE RIGHT TO!" AAAAH, there's where people 'tard themselves, their "Rights."
To have a "right" means you are justifiably allowed to do something. I think a lot of people confuse their "rights" and their "opportunities." Just because one may have the opportunity to neck-chop a 90 year old man staring at the cashier who just asked him "Paper or plastic," well, you don't really have the right to the aforementioned choppage. You have the right to make money for performing tasks, but you may also have the opportunity to steal from your employer. Even if it's just ONE time, giving away a handjob makes for a angry peeimp. na NA na NAAAH!
I feel privileged to fly, because it's not as cheap as it seems to be when you're going cross-country with a stop in Minneapolis. Not everyone can fly, especially if they are well-mannered and without a 3 year-old colicky snot monkey who wants "Seb-up NOW!" Seven Up? Severance Benefits? Spongebob? Don't know. Don't care. Quiet the kid down. So, do I have the right to a comfortable flight, where comfortable means "surrounded by people at 6:45am who just want to SLEEP GAWDDAMMIT?!?! I feel I DO have that right. So I'll make sure to get a notebook in order to manage my thoughts as I tell people to put their seatbacks up, wash their pits, and point out, quite loudly, that their ballbag is resting on my fake baby.
Have a great Tuesday, my friends.
=========================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
That's not true. I'm past that phase of life. I have had those trips where I'm f*ck off until the last 3 hours before I am supposed to be at the airport, sweating my way through packing useless items. I am 30 years old, for crying out loud, I should know that I need at LEAST a toothbrush, a t-shirt, one pair of underwear, and a decent book for a week away from home. I can do that. And I'm flying which means I'll be packed in a tube of "who's who in day tripping."
I think I'm going to fake some sort of 'tard so that I can get whatever I want on the plane. Nothing violent, but if someone is leaning all over me, I'm gonna get in their pie face and tell them in hushed tones "This is the last time you will ever fly if you don't quit coloring in that book, f*cksock." It seems that I go on every flight with an air of adventure and loving travel, and everyone else gets on it with "F*CK THESE PEOPLE, I AM GOING TO JAM THIS CARRY ON AND THIS LAPTOP AND THIS DOG AND THIS INCAN MATRIMONIAL HEADDRESS INTO THIS COMPARTMENT WITH MY BALLBAG ON THIS GUY'S SHOULDER BECAUSE I HAVE THE RIGHT TO!" AAAAH, there's where people 'tard themselves, their "Rights."
To have a "right" means you are justifiably allowed to do something. I think a lot of people confuse their "rights" and their "opportunities." Just because one may have the opportunity to neck-chop a 90 year old man staring at the cashier who just asked him "Paper or plastic," well, you don't really have the right to the aforementioned choppage. You have the right to make money for performing tasks, but you may also have the opportunity to steal from your employer. Even if it's just ONE time, giving away a handjob makes for a angry peeimp. na NA na NAAAH!
I feel privileged to fly, because it's not as cheap as it seems to be when you're going cross-country with a stop in Minneapolis. Not everyone can fly, especially if they are well-mannered and without a 3 year-old colicky snot monkey who wants "Seb-up NOW!" Seven Up? Severance Benefits? Spongebob? Don't know. Don't care. Quiet the kid down. So, do I have the right to a comfortable flight, where comfortable means "surrounded by people at 6:45am who just want to SLEEP GAWDDAMMIT?!?! I feel I DO have that right. So I'll make sure to get a notebook in order to manage my thoughts as I tell people to put their seatbacks up, wash their pits, and point out, quite loudly, that their ballbag is resting on my fake baby.
Have a great Tuesday, my friends.
=========================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
The Blog Regarding The Wrong Joke At The Wrong Time
Here's a joke I did this past weekend that each crowd groaned on.
"I enjoy my status in life, every now and again being treated to a dinner of exotic foods. Tonight we sat down to eat and had, let's see, Crab-stuffed Lobster Tail... then we had Veal-stuffed Lamb-shank, and for dessert we ate a black baby."
People groaned for one reason only.
They thought the baby was ALIVE. NO NO NO. It was dead, unlike those monkies whose brains are eaten while they kick away under the table.
I was upset they groaned, because they didn't even seem to register that I had never eaten a black baby before. Not that I particulary enjoy the dessert baby, but perhaps it was that I was eating a baby with dark skin, which would make them racist to think THAT is why I ordered that child. I did NOT. I have eaten babies of all ethnicites in the past, really mowed through them at all hours of the night. How come nobody groaned about the Caucasian shorty? What of the Laotian infant who met it's fate in the winter of '97? Succulent, yet not sympathized over. That crowd was racist.
I also snuck the word "wigger" in, but shyed away from material on "fisting," "anality," or "religion."
============
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
"I enjoy my status in life, every now and again being treated to a dinner of exotic foods. Tonight we sat down to eat and had, let's see, Crab-stuffed Lobster Tail... then we had Veal-stuffed Lamb-shank, and for dessert we ate a black baby."
People groaned for one reason only.
They thought the baby was ALIVE. NO NO NO. It was dead, unlike those monkies whose brains are eaten while they kick away under the table.
I was upset they groaned, because they didn't even seem to register that I had never eaten a black baby before. Not that I particulary enjoy the dessert baby, but perhaps it was that I was eating a baby with dark skin, which would make them racist to think THAT is why I ordered that child. I did NOT. I have eaten babies of all ethnicites in the past, really mowed through them at all hours of the night. How come nobody groaned about the Caucasian shorty? What of the Laotian infant who met it's fate in the winter of '97? Succulent, yet not sympathized over. That crowd was racist.
I also snuck the word "wigger" in, but shyed away from material on "fisting," "anality," or "religion."
============
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Sunday, October 24, 2004
The Blog About The Weekend and Such
I saw a license plate that read "HOUSE4U."
Is it odd, to anyone else, that the word "house" is a conjugation of "ho use?" That's how it all started.
~~~
Did she fake it?
~~~
All of this past weekend's comedy was fun. 2 sets that were amazingly fun to have storked for the paying customers. 2 sets that were thrown sideways a bit by other people, one by my decision, one by fum-lucking-duck.
This past weekend I participated in a "showcase contest" where the winner was chosen by the audiences. We paired off 8 comics to go "head to head" over 2 nights, open game, winners vs. winners, and so on as it continued until there was one comic voted to have had the best set of the two with the most wins. Also referred to as "Round Robin."
I guess I can't write this as a recap. I had a set on Saturday night, first show, that defined what I'd like to get to as far as performances. The seats were sprinkled with high school-age kids in fancy dress, on their way to a dance of some sort. Cool. For them. I launched my mind out of my body and felt like I flew aroud the room as I told these kids that, even though they felt very powerful, it's aaalll bullshit. High School, the American Dream, Popularity, it's all crap played up by movies and people who, after high school, will see their popularity quickly fade. I know that I wasn't saying anything ground-breaking or sea-parting, in the big picture, but that room full of people were happy that I was going so loudly and heartily into it, face to the wind, weaving in and out just for show. So why reflect so masturbatorially on this all?
Because in that moment I was totally myself, unhinged and uncorked and fully loaded. A forward-thrusting expression of ad-libbed verbiage sprung forth like a kite in the wind, balanced by a tail with knots of pre-determined punchlines to jokes written many sets ago. All I could think of as I saw those kids walk in, besides "Where were these chicks when I was in High School? Oh right, the 2nd grade"... all I could muster inside myself was to tell them that the grades matter to people who never got out of school. School provides opportunities to relate factual information into daily life. But open eyes and hearts get us much further, faster, than walking around with a copy of Dostoyevsky under one tribally-inked arm, and a CD player held in their other hand, blasting Linkin Park's latest recipe for empowerment through revenge.
I got beat by 3 votes. It's never felt so great to be unpopular.
By the way, Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote, among other things "The Brothers Karmazov." I've never read it because I haven't ever made a conscious decision to seek and take in the work. Glancing about a bit, I found a number of his texts on line. Existentialist. I should take time and check those out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Here's this turd log trying to throw the "Rock On" sign. Does she understand that nothing about her music rocks? Should people stabbed for doing this? I think so.
Is it odd, to anyone else, that the word "house" is a conjugation of "ho use?" That's how it all started.
~~~
Did she fake it?
~~~
All of this past weekend's comedy was fun. 2 sets that were amazingly fun to have storked for the paying customers. 2 sets that were thrown sideways a bit by other people, one by my decision, one by fum-lucking-duck.
This past weekend I participated in a "showcase contest" where the winner was chosen by the audiences. We paired off 8 comics to go "head to head" over 2 nights, open game, winners vs. winners, and so on as it continued until there was one comic voted to have had the best set of the two with the most wins. Also referred to as "Round Robin."
I guess I can't write this as a recap. I had a set on Saturday night, first show, that defined what I'd like to get to as far as performances. The seats were sprinkled with high school-age kids in fancy dress, on their way to a dance of some sort. Cool. For them. I launched my mind out of my body and felt like I flew aroud the room as I told these kids that, even though they felt very powerful, it's aaalll bullshit. High School, the American Dream, Popularity, it's all crap played up by movies and people who, after high school, will see their popularity quickly fade. I know that I wasn't saying anything ground-breaking or sea-parting, in the big picture, but that room full of people were happy that I was going so loudly and heartily into it, face to the wind, weaving in and out just for show. So why reflect so masturbatorially on this all?
Because in that moment I was totally myself, unhinged and uncorked and fully loaded. A forward-thrusting expression of ad-libbed verbiage sprung forth like a kite in the wind, balanced by a tail with knots of pre-determined punchlines to jokes written many sets ago. All I could think of as I saw those kids walk in, besides "Where were these chicks when I was in High School? Oh right, the 2nd grade"... all I could muster inside myself was to tell them that the grades matter to people who never got out of school. School provides opportunities to relate factual information into daily life. But open eyes and hearts get us much further, faster, than walking around with a copy of Dostoyevsky under one tribally-inked arm, and a CD player held in their other hand, blasting Linkin Park's latest recipe for empowerment through revenge.
I got beat by 3 votes. It's never felt so great to be unpopular.
By the way, Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote, among other things "The Brothers Karmazov." I've never read it because I haven't ever made a conscious decision to seek and take in the work. Glancing about a bit, I found a number of his texts on line. Existentialist. I should take time and check those out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Here's this turd log trying to throw the "Rock On" sign. Does she understand that nothing about her music rocks? Should people stabbed for doing this? I think so.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
The Blog Next To Tony's
So Tony "Moses On JambaJuice" Moser is at it again, trying to rattle my pots and pans. Ain't gonna happen.
See, I have a secret weapon. Last week I befriended a man who shall be referred to as "Dirt McGirt," or Dirt. You may remember him as Old Dirty Bastard, or Big Baby Jesus, from The WuTang Clan. Yeah, he my boy.
So I aks Dirt, "Hey Dirt, a lot of fools are trippin' on me lately, trying to run a pace that outspeeds they own shortcomings of paranoida, disempowering, and egotisticness and trying to step on my game, numsayn motherf(beep)ker? What da f(beep)k I'm a do?"
Dirt says to me, "First off, we need to work on your vocabalary and methods of communication. Second, it's important to remember that people are the products of environments that have longs since passed by. What you see now is like the starlight you see in the night when y'all know the words and the time is right. That light you see is what burned off that star a long time ago. It's getting to you now, but it can't hurt you, enjoy the burn, bruh. Just understand that you keep your head up, and you'll see starlight, you'll see your name in lights, and sometime you see up a ho's tights, word?"
I says "Word, Dirt. Word."
And then I hit the "Next Blog" button on Tony's screen and I got THIS, which throws down on Tony and everyone else but me like you would not believe. Holy crap. Check THIS OUT!
===============
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
See, I have a secret weapon. Last week I befriended a man who shall be referred to as "Dirt McGirt," or Dirt. You may remember him as Old Dirty Bastard, or Big Baby Jesus, from The WuTang Clan. Yeah, he my boy.
So I aks Dirt, "Hey Dirt, a lot of fools are trippin' on me lately, trying to run a pace that outspeeds they own shortcomings of paranoida, disempowering, and egotisticness and trying to step on my game, numsayn motherf(beep)ker? What da f(beep)k I'm a do?"
Dirt says to me, "First off, we need to work on your vocabalary and methods of communication. Second, it's important to remember that people are the products of environments that have longs since passed by. What you see now is like the starlight you see in the night when y'all know the words and the time is right. That light you see is what burned off that star a long time ago. It's getting to you now, but it can't hurt you, enjoy the burn, bruh. Just understand that you keep your head up, and you'll see starlight, you'll see your name in lights, and sometime you see up a ho's tights, word?"
I says "Word, Dirt. Word."
And then I hit the "Next Blog" button on Tony's screen and I got THIS, which throws down on Tony and everyone else but me like you would not believe. Holy crap. Check THIS OUT!
===============
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
The Blog About Regularly Scheduled Blogging
Damn, what a week.
The Bostonian Buttplug at my work is off his head. Twice this week I've asked him to keep it down, but it's not working. His Boston RedSox are tied up in the ALCS with the Yankees, so he's strutting around like he's at least 5'5". Then the Patriots beat the Seahawks last week so he's been trying to sound like he's a proud father, but humbled all the same.
"Yeah boy, we really showed you guys what Championship football looks like."
I hate the pronouns people use when talking about sports teams. "We." I don't remember the Pats ever calling a play that went to a 5'3", 219lb fartback with emphysema and Samsonite eyebags. "You guys." Right, like the guys from Network Security suited up for the game. Right after their 2nd French Bread pizza and 4th handful of Halloween M&Ms. Then again, we got f*cked into paying for the stadium, so I think each week at least one tax-payer should be allowed to suit up and make the average pay of the team, and then take liberties with a hotel concierge.
Man, who keeps ripping in the elevator? I think it's in the metal work now.
I'm out for now.
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
The Bostonian Buttplug at my work is off his head. Twice this week I've asked him to keep it down, but it's not working. His Boston RedSox are tied up in the ALCS with the Yankees, so he's strutting around like he's at least 5'5". Then the Patriots beat the Seahawks last week so he's been trying to sound like he's a proud father, but humbled all the same.
"Yeah boy, we really showed you guys what Championship football looks like."
I hate the pronouns people use when talking about sports teams. "We." I don't remember the Pats ever calling a play that went to a 5'3", 219lb fartback with emphysema and Samsonite eyebags. "You guys." Right, like the guys from Network Security suited up for the game. Right after their 2nd French Bread pizza and 4th handful of Halloween M&Ms. Then again, we got f*cked into paying for the stadium, so I think each week at least one tax-payer should be allowed to suit up and make the average pay of the team, and then take liberties with a hotel concierge.
Man, who keeps ripping in the elevator? I think it's in the metal work now.
I'm out for now.
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Friday, October 15, 2004
The Blog About Why I Was Up All Night
Last night's comedy pursuit quantum-leapt me to Marysville. This city is weird. It's got all the small town feel of Hoquiam, sans history. Do they sell drugs in Marysville? Can't say, didn't buy any there. Do the MAKE drugs in Marysville? Can't say, didn't swap recipes with the locals. What CAN I say? How about this:
When in Marysville, you can drive to a local convenience store and buy a scale. Saw it on the way out of town. Yeah. Not a bathroom scale. Not a produce scale. A druggin' scale. And yet, like so many of their mysteriously "late" girlfriends, nobody in Marysville acknowledges the issue.
Shawn Cain MC'ed the evening, dressed like a Shaolin Monk. I had to snatch the mic from his hand to do my set. Bob Lindsey did 3 minutes that did really well. Bob's biggest snafu is not knowing how to get off stage. Not that he's a stage hog, but he truly says "Okay, I guess I'm done, so I should go now and yeah, okay, thanks for laughing, okay... Shawn?" To that effect. I hope Bob keeps it as his calling card. It's actually pretty funny. I feel bad for saying "How about Bob, huh? I used to buy crank from him" when I got on stage, because that's NOT FUNNY. Bob, white pants? You're not supposed to wear white pants after Labor Day of the year 1926.
I had a good set at JR's Steakhouse. As good as it's gonna get there, from what I was told. I realized that when I am performing in a room that serves as a pool hall, dance floor, and vomitorium it's best to stick to the joke material, and not the story-line jokes. At least for me. The crowd that listened was with me. The ones who talked were, at first-through-15th glances, the kind of dudes who "ain't gonna listen to nobody no how, got it, FAGG*T???" I closed on 8 minutes of religion and politics, getting 3 applause breaks during one new bit on Advertising and Christianity. That's one I will have to deliver with a wrinkly brow and winky eye. People tighten up around the Lord.
James Inman headlined and did a great job, resurrecting his Wal-Mart bit that I friggin' love. It's one of the first I've ever heard him do. Yeah, uh huh, you don't hear THAT at Wal-Mart DO YA? NO! Nice work James, for the 20 minutes I saw of it. Then I had to go and comparison-shop the scales. I got some product to move.
Of course, it would have been GREAT to get home and fall asleep. Aaah, yes, that would be the way it's supposed to work out, no? Get home and be lights-out at 12-ish. SUPER. Couldn't happen though. Nope. Started getting really tired about 12-ish, get in bed to read... upstairs neighbor's TV is on. But I figure it'll go off in a bit. 1:30am, I'm knocking on the hog's door to get her to turn it down. Nothing. No answer. Lights on and all that. 2am, back up there, knocking. 2:30, knocking. Leave a note to let her know
A) She's ugly
B) Her TV is too f*cking loud. I even wrote down what show she was watching, and two lines from it. Does "Matlock" EVER go off the air?
5 minutes after my last trip upstairs, I hear her galumphing over to the front door. She likely got the note. The TV was off 5 minutes later. Silence at nearly 3am. Either she was stone-walling me or she's half-deaf. I once fell asleep listening to Metallica's "And Justice For All" on 8 in my headphones, so my hearing isn't THAT sensitive. Then again, I'm getting older and would prefer to not "nap" when my body demands 5 - 5.63 hours of sleep each night.
Some woodsy, tie-dyed sandal jockey is wearing toe-bells at work today. This also the same woman who raises llamas. Llama pictures at her desk. Llama sweaters, shirts, kerchiefs. To each their own, of course. But wow, it's unhealthy. It's not a hobby, it's an obsession. TINA, COME GET YOUR MEDS!
-------------------------------
"Can you turn off 'DAT FAN' ovah dayuh?"
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
When in Marysville, you can drive to a local convenience store and buy a scale. Saw it on the way out of town. Yeah. Not a bathroom scale. Not a produce scale. A druggin' scale. And yet, like so many of their mysteriously "late" girlfriends, nobody in Marysville acknowledges the issue.
Shawn Cain MC'ed the evening, dressed like a Shaolin Monk. I had to snatch the mic from his hand to do my set. Bob Lindsey did 3 minutes that did really well. Bob's biggest snafu is not knowing how to get off stage. Not that he's a stage hog, but he truly says "Okay, I guess I'm done, so I should go now and yeah, okay, thanks for laughing, okay... Shawn?" To that effect. I hope Bob keeps it as his calling card. It's actually pretty funny. I feel bad for saying "How about Bob, huh? I used to buy crank from him" when I got on stage, because that's NOT FUNNY. Bob, white pants? You're not supposed to wear white pants after Labor Day of the year 1926.
I had a good set at JR's Steakhouse. As good as it's gonna get there, from what I was told. I realized that when I am performing in a room that serves as a pool hall, dance floor, and vomitorium it's best to stick to the joke material, and not the story-line jokes. At least for me. The crowd that listened was with me. The ones who talked were, at first-through-15th glances, the kind of dudes who "ain't gonna listen to nobody no how, got it, FAGG*T???" I closed on 8 minutes of religion and politics, getting 3 applause breaks during one new bit on Advertising and Christianity. That's one I will have to deliver with a wrinkly brow and winky eye. People tighten up around the Lord.
James Inman headlined and did a great job, resurrecting his Wal-Mart bit that I friggin' love. It's one of the first I've ever heard him do. Yeah, uh huh, you don't hear THAT at Wal-Mart DO YA? NO! Nice work James, for the 20 minutes I saw of it. Then I had to go and comparison-shop the scales. I got some product to move.
Of course, it would have been GREAT to get home and fall asleep. Aaah, yes, that would be the way it's supposed to work out, no? Get home and be lights-out at 12-ish. SUPER. Couldn't happen though. Nope. Started getting really tired about 12-ish, get in bed to read... upstairs neighbor's TV is on. But I figure it'll go off in a bit. 1:30am, I'm knocking on the hog's door to get her to turn it down. Nothing. No answer. Lights on and all that. 2am, back up there, knocking. 2:30, knocking. Leave a note to let her know
A) She's ugly
B) Her TV is too f*cking loud. I even wrote down what show she was watching, and two lines from it. Does "Matlock" EVER go off the air?
5 minutes after my last trip upstairs, I hear her galumphing over to the front door. She likely got the note. The TV was off 5 minutes later. Silence at nearly 3am. Either she was stone-walling me or she's half-deaf. I once fell asleep listening to Metallica's "And Justice For All" on 8 in my headphones, so my hearing isn't THAT sensitive. Then again, I'm getting older and would prefer to not "nap" when my body demands 5 - 5.63 hours of sleep each night.
Some woodsy, tie-dyed sandal jockey is wearing toe-bells at work today. This also the same woman who raises llamas. Llama pictures at her desk. Llama sweaters, shirts, kerchiefs. To each their own, of course. But wow, it's unhealthy. It's not a hobby, it's an obsession. TINA, COME GET YOUR MEDS!
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"Can you turn off 'DAT FAN' ovah dayuh?"
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
The Blog That Puts A Knee Into Goldencrotch
Yet another shot has crossed the bow of the Lott Luxury Liner. I am often taking fire from other vessels and light artillery. Firing gives away one's position, however. You know that... you silly, dumb, wee spirit of a man. And again, You have fired.
You see, as I sit at my desk of gainful employment, listening to the perceived "funnies" of people also employed by the 2nd worst-managed company of all time - the first being whichever company Tony will sexually harrass into an early grave during his lifetime - I am reminded that just about everyone believes they can "bring the funny."
The lady obsessed with Smeagol and therefore doing his voice every 2.4 hours? "Funny."
The guy who brought in a squirt gun or 3 to "liven things up?" "Funny."
The Hortense Cumberpatch of a woman who will answer ANY question you have... For a Fee! Does it have to be the Right Answer? "Funny."
The gal who calls the other ladies "girlfriend"s? "Annoying," and "barren," yet to many, "funny."
The fella who laughs at his own quips, yet makes everyone else uncomfortable with his wild-eyed opportunistic jumping-in with a Sandler movie catch-phrase? "Funny."
It goes like this. I could really give 1.8 to 2.3 linear feet of corn-eyed butt trout as to how You get to your funny. But however you get to it, the party is on. Started LONG before I got there. Long before you did, also. So you get your Funny, and you Bring It. Got it? Don't say "Oh I left it in my other career," or "I can't follow Gervin." You put your name on the list, you go on-stage, and deliver funny by the shovel-load into the laps of laughter-horny crowd members.
Until THAT happens for longer than 11 minutes 47 seconds, I will see that Funny is always being Broughten, and therefore you need to take the pressure of Yourself to bring it. It's too heavy for you. Sorry champ. Maybe next set.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a paying gig tonight in Marysville. Boast Toast.
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
You see, as I sit at my desk of gainful employment, listening to the perceived "funnies" of people also employed by the 2nd worst-managed company of all time - the first being whichever company Tony will sexually harrass into an early grave during his lifetime - I am reminded that just about everyone believes they can "bring the funny."
The lady obsessed with Smeagol and therefore doing his voice every 2.4 hours? "Funny."
The guy who brought in a squirt gun or 3 to "liven things up?" "Funny."
The Hortense Cumberpatch of a woman who will answer ANY question you have... For a Fee! Does it have to be the Right Answer? "Funny."
The gal who calls the other ladies "girlfriend"s? "Annoying," and "barren," yet to many, "funny."
The fella who laughs at his own quips, yet makes everyone else uncomfortable with his wild-eyed opportunistic jumping-in with a Sandler movie catch-phrase? "Funny."
It goes like this. I could really give 1.8 to 2.3 linear feet of corn-eyed butt trout as to how You get to your funny. But however you get to it, the party is on. Started LONG before I got there. Long before you did, also. So you get your Funny, and you Bring It. Got it? Don't say "Oh I left it in my other career," or "I can't follow Gervin." You put your name on the list, you go on-stage, and deliver funny by the shovel-load into the laps of laughter-horny crowd members.
Until THAT happens for longer than 11 minutes 47 seconds, I will see that Funny is always being Broughten, and therefore you need to take the pressure of Yourself to bring it. It's too heavy for you. Sorry champ. Maybe next set.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a paying gig tonight in Marysville. Boast Toast.
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
The Blog That Wonders Where That Last Blog Was Going
The comments from the previous blog were good. I think PJ is quite well-read, quite intelligent. Quite. And I'm due for a lesson on the world's economy, especially because I wade through it every day of my life on the way to and from my bed. I'm too close to the unemployment line. I need to step back and see if I am destined for it.
Aggressively stupid? In a blog? This is the most passive-aggressive stupidity there is. I can say anything about anyone here, be it rumor or party-camera-recorded incident, and what people really want is the DIRT. What do I think of him? What's her problem? What do I think of you? What do I want to see happen to them? Does she still drink that much? Who just called? And why?
See how it takes one person's death grip on a topic to spin Funny to Unfunny? Lamarckism? That's retro Darwinism, my friends, before the iguanas came to power. Funnier? I hope the F so.
Anyway, it's economically sound to pay people less to do the same work. Still it's hard to have a price tag slapped on your chest by someone who's already decided you're out of style. Let the new Imperialism begin.
Enh...
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Aggressively stupid? In a blog? This is the most passive-aggressive stupidity there is. I can say anything about anyone here, be it rumor or party-camera-recorded incident, and what people really want is the DIRT. What do I think of him? What's her problem? What do I think of you? What do I want to see happen to them? Does she still drink that much? Who just called? And why?
See how it takes one person's death grip on a topic to spin Funny to Unfunny? Lamarckism? That's retro Darwinism, my friends, before the iguanas came to power. Funnier? I hope the F so.
Anyway, it's economically sound to pay people less to do the same work. Still it's hard to have a price tag slapped on your chest by someone who's already decided you're out of style. Let the new Imperialism begin.
Enh...
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
The Blog Where Darwin Gives A Knowing Look
Double Fatality Closes I-5.
Both men were on foot, crossing I-5 at night. I'd be traumatized if they hadn't been injured. Not that they should be, but it's two guys making yet another thick-headed decision that will negatively affect an innocent person. When will it ever end?
Rhetorical, obviously.
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Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Both men were on foot, crossing I-5 at night. I'd be traumatized if they hadn't been injured. Not that they should be, but it's two guys making yet another thick-headed decision that will negatively affect an innocent person. When will it ever end?
Rhetorical, obviously.
========================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
The Blog Where Accupressure's Getting The Better of Me
Another episode of HAX-TV is in the can. It was organized a notch or a notch-point-seven better than a rugby scrum. I thought it was entertaining. Most entertaining was Tony Moser's finesse at the organ. Insert pun here. Insert. Pun again.
Apparently the term "midwifery" is pronounced "mid-wiff-ery," as properly dictated by a woman who likely hasn't worn makeup since last Halloween. Odd that she hung in through the entire show, snooted it up, then slammed-down her home phone. Home phone? OOOOOH, she's all kinds of RICH!
Thanks to Killorn and Shoogs B for the talented repartee. Rap partay. Kick ass.
I'm going to fight off insomnia tonight with some accupressure patches, little soft-rubber cones placed at the base of my palm to stimullllllllllllllllarte... stim......................... stimulate the sleepy what. I donm'''''''''''''''' think i ts workin
======================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Apparently the term "midwifery" is pronounced "mid-wiff-ery," as properly dictated by a woman who likely hasn't worn makeup since last Halloween. Odd that she hung in through the entire show, snooted it up, then slammed-down her home phone. Home phone? OOOOOH, she's all kinds of RICH!
Thanks to Killorn and Shoogs B for the talented repartee. Rap partay. Kick ass.
I'm going to fight off insomnia tonight with some accupressure patches, little soft-rubber cones placed at the base of my palm to stimullllllllllllllllarte... stim......................... stimulate the sleepy what. I donm'''''''''''''''' think i ts workin
======================
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
The Blog Where I Don't Care For A Bit
I have no desire what-so-ever to be at this job today. I headlined a comedy show this past weekend, and now I'm running over spreadsheets. People say "doing what you love to do and getting paid for it is the recipe for happiness."
Guess what? That's 1/2-true. Getting paid enough to make a living out of what you love to do is the recipe for happiness. I'll work a day job, that's fine, but wow, to deal with a guy who brushes his teeth with his ass after feeling like I'd tapped my higher being? Tell me who that gives me a happy feeling?
Watch HAX TV tonight, Ch. 77, 10pm. Please?
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
Guess what? That's 1/2-true. Getting paid enough to make a living out of what you love to do is the recipe for happiness. I'll work a day job, that's fine, but wow, to deal with a guy who brushes his teeth with his ass after feeling like I'd tapped my higher being? Tell me who that gives me a happy feeling?
Watch HAX TV tonight, Ch. 77, 10pm. Please?
Take Me Home
My Non-Funny Blog.
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