N.S.F.W. – Joe Cartoon

If you are at work, close this NOW, and come back later. Or at least don't do the clicky thing on any of the links. Also, if animated violence and blood upset your tender sensibilities, close this and come back tomorrow for a heartwarming story about how I met a dear friend of mine.

Last week, I wrote about Odd tOdd and how those videos really helped me out when I was unemployed. As you can tell from the big ass picture down there (cheater reading ahead) this is another website from "back in the day."

A few words about Joe. Some of you may have seen the Frog In the Blender. Some of you may have seen the Gerbil in the Microwave. But there is a lot to explore on this site. These cartoons crack me up. And this added the phrase, "I'm cool. Cool like Fonzie." To my vocabulary. And of course, this one ties perfectly with yesterday's post. At times, the sick, twisted 12 year old inside of me needs to be appeased. What better way that Super Fly?

But today, for any of you who have ever had "the boss from HELL", I present you "The Boss". It can be a bit cathartic.

TAINTed Gov: Part II - IMPEACHY-KEEN

You asked for it.

Well, at least two of you did.

This is my sad and crappy attempt to fill your request.



To answer your questions ahead of time:
1) Yes, that's Stripe from Gremlins.
2) It's extremely comfortable, and I wear it often.
3) Yes Gwen, that's an official green ribbon around Stripe's neck.
4) No, I don't think I'll be doing many of these video things. I suck at them. And I worked for no less than 2 hours on setting this up. You think you want your time back from watching it? I want my time back from making it.
5) Yes, I timed a PowerPoint slideshow with the words on my monitor to the original video. But not real well.
6) Reply hazy. Try again.

Look at that, time for my meds again.

TAINTed Gov

I was going to be all ambitious and write a cool post today on a "Not Safe For Work" topic. You know, put it out there on a Saturday, so you had the weekend to read it without "The MAN" watching everything you do at work. That would have been cool of me. Cool like Fonzie.

But then I went out after work, and had to make sure a drunk co-worker made her 12:30 am train (the bar we were in had a freaking 11:30 last call) so I'm tired. I'm hung over. I'm lazy.

So, I'm reading all your posts from yesterday while waiting for the room to stop spinning or a meteor strike to vaporize my hungover ass. Posts like Poobomber's. Posts like Grant Miller's. Posts like Alex's. I had to answer. I had to defend. I had to make the room stop FRAK'n spinning. So, instead of doing the actual work, I decided to plagiarize Chris Crocker instead. (Actual transcript can be found HERE.)

And now, for your enter-TAINT-ment…

How fucking dare anyone out there make fun of BLAGOJEVICH after all HE has been
through!

HE lost HIS aunt, HE went through a divorce. HE had two
fuckin kids.

HIS husband turned out to be a user, a cheater, and
now HE's going through a custody battle. All you people care about is….. readers
and making money off of HIM.

HE’S A HUMAN! (ah! ooh!) What you
don’t realize is that BLAGOJEVICH is making you all this money and all you do is
write a bunch of crap about HIM.

HE hasn’t performed on stage in
years. HIS song is called “give me more” for a reason because all you people
want is MORE! MORE-MORE, MORE: MORE!

LEAVE HIM ALONE! You are lucky
HE even performed for you BASTARDS!
LEAVE B ALONE!…..Please.

Perez Hilton talked about professionalism and said
if BLAGOJEVICH was a professional HE would’ve pulled it off no matter
what.

Speaking of professionalism, when is it professional to
publicly bash someone who is going through a hard time.

Leave
BLAGOJEVICH Alone Please…. !
Leave BLAGOJEVICH Spears alone!… Right now!….I
mean it.!

Anyone that has a problem with HIM you deal with me,
because HE is not well right now.

LEAVE HIM ALONE!

I was going to include the Chris Crocker video, but I have this song stuck in my head now.


My work is done here. I think I hear the meteor coming.

Christmas Art Project

( PowerPoint Approximation of Art Project)

As you all know, my sister* tasked me with doing an art project that she would then GIVE me for Christmas. That's right. I do the work FOR MY OWN PRESENT, and then she gives it to me. And remember how I told you that I was having troubles with it and asked for your help, and not a single one of you stepped up?

No?

Carp! I never got around to writing that post. Frak'n governor goes out and gets arrested to distract me from asking for your help.

Anyway, assuming that you've looked at the mock-up picture at the top of the post, the task was to go out and find "letters" out "in the wild" as it were, and then spell my last name. I had a devil of a time with the 'S'. While you see lots of them, they aren't necessarily ones you want. And I wish my 'C' and 'O' were bigger, too. But since I started the project, I had my mind set on that 'C'. Add to the fact that I only have a 5.1MP point and shoot, so I can't get too fancy with the zooms, which cost me a couple of shots. Thank goodness for Photoshop.

And since I know you care, terribly:

C – "Being Born" VIRGINIO FERRARI – Ohio & Orleans
O – Coke sign 4182 N. Lincoln Ave.
L – Trim work 2450 W. Montrose
L – Tree at 2304 W. Cullom
I – Barber pole 2362 W, Sunnyside
N – Stair rail at 4305 N. Ashland
S – Swing link in Welles Park 2350 Montrose**

I have hung the picture at the end of my hallway, were I can see it every time walk in.
And while I was working on this, I was totally starting to think of doing this with letters off signs, or different things.

* Not that you even know this blog exists, but happy birthday Sis. I wrote this on Saturday, but it kept getting delayed due to more time sensative material. Funny how that worked out.

** Those of you paying super close attention will notice that the 'S' is slightly different. My sister had a swing link that I liked a little better because of the background wasn't all snow, but I didn't have that file for the mock-up.

...Which Nobody Can Deny!

In case you were unaware, an obscure blogger in West Chester, PA is having a birthday. The shy, quiet, and bashful person that he is, I'm probably going to get chewed out for even mentioning it here. But he's such a good guy, I just have to. Fates be damn.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DR. ZIBBS!

Any readers who have not done so yet, please go to his blog and wish him a happy birthday. And click on one of his ad links, if you are feeling generous. He won't mind.

Dr. Zibbs, assuming that you are a Phillies Phan, we at SCOPE-TECH have whipped up a little gadget for your birthday. And what says "FUN" better than an idiot in a carpet firing high velocity casing meats.



Enjoy. You deserve your special day.

Male Restroom Etiquette

SouthernBelle started it. Please read her, first. Today, while at a urinal, my Blackberry went off. It was ignored until after the hand washing, and I had cleared to interior door and was in the vestibule.

No talking is allowed*. You may not even make eye contact. Any conversation that was in progress is suspended while in the restroom. Mid-sentence. Mid-word. Hit 'PAUSE'. It can then resumed when you have left the restroom. Not at the sinks like certain degenerates believe. If accidental eye contact is made, the only acceptable response is "the nod."

If you find yourself in a stall without paper, you are NOT permitted to ask the neighbor to "spare a square." You must wait until such time as the restroom is empty, then Charlie Chaplin over to full stocked stall (WARNING: If you are caught, ritual suicide is your only out) or to sacrifice a sock or underwear to the greater good.

This video should clearly explain why using the facilities for any purpose other than those intended, is wrong, and my well lead to the end of civilization as we know it.



To see if you've learned anything from this lesson, please take the quiz posted HERE.

* If in a stall, it is acceptable to:

1) Provide a "courtesy flush" to someone in a neighboring stall to signal your presence, so they don't start bashing the banana like a deranged spider monkey.
2) Stomp your foot on the floor and howl as if it were coming out sideways to provide "comic relief." This must be followed by uttering "Corn, when did I have corn?" or "Look at all that blood! I'm gonna need a transfusion after that."
3) Yodel.

Candy Covered Fashion

With Candy possibly on injured reserve for a day or two, I thought I would step up and do a fashion post for ya'll. Unlike Sass, I have lived the last few years of my life constantly looking around for Clinton and Stacey to bust me and put me on What Not To Wear. I have been a fan of the show since season 1 when Stacey was paired with this mook. Clinton is much better, even though he went to BC. (Since they haven't done a guy in forever, I feel somewhat safe.)

In fact, during the Sabbatical, (I told you that year was going to keep coming up) I busted a WNTW "contributor" (that's what they call their victims) who was not keeping it up. I was in Cost Plus World Market there on North Avenue, right by my old apartment. It was mid spring. I was planning a special night with Elinore, so I was in buying some candles and carp, to help me pitch some serious woo. Anyway, being unemployed, you 1) Shop in the middle of the day to avoid the rest of humanity. 2) Watch a lot of daytime TV, which SUX!

Anyway, I had just seen the episode with Shannon (Turbo) from Chicago about 2 days before, and low and behold, who was standing in front of me checking out? Shannon. And she was SO not representing. Baggy sweat suit. Ball cap. Ugh. So, I muttered under my breath loud enough for her to hear, "What would Clinton and Stacey say?" "They'd probably kick my ass," she responded. And then we went back to my place and… (Wait, channel Candy, not Dr. Zibbs!) She paid for her placemats or whatever, and left. End of exchange. Granted, I wasn't all that snazzy, but my ND pull-over was fine. And I had not been on a nationally televised show call "What Not To Wear" with my episode still in rotation.

Anyway, the two items in my closet that I was sure were going to land me on the show.

Sadly, the dogs playing poker shirt I bought when I was running marathons, so it no longer fits. However, the pepper shirt. It's a favorite among my friends.

You can find the dog shirt HERE but I can't seem to find the pepper shirt. But I got it down by the riverfront in Savannah 10 years ago, so if you sweet talk SouthernBelle…

Answer Honestly

Sunday, as I was watching football, a thought struck me: "Answer honestly, would you prefer to clear you debt or have a 1 in 4 chance of winning $5 million?"

Okay, it was written on the back of my Molson CANADIAN bottle, but still, an interesting question.

Now, I would have to say, "Clear my debt." I just bought this condo, and owe over $300,000. Clean that off the books and I am a happy man. I know that statistically, you should choose the 25% chance at the $5 million, but for me, the upside of the clean slate outweighs the downside of the risk.

Now, a year ago when the only debt I had was that month's credit card charges, I would have had to roll the dice.

And what about you? Even if you don't comment, please take the poll over there -->

Dorkus Minorkus

On Saturday, I got an email from an ex-coworker to dinner at her place with a few people. I RSVP'd. Cool, something to do Monday night at 6:30. Had to figure out the logistics, since I've got a Dr.'s appointment, but I should be able to get home, and change before getting to the dinner.

Did I mention that her husband is the CIO of my big ass law firm? Yeah, dinner at the bosses. But, I have cat-sat for them, and actually have keys to the condo, so not exactly as scary as it sounds, but close enough.

So, Sunday evening, I'm getting ready to do some laundry and start watching "24: Redemption" when the Crackberry rings with the tone from the work account. Yes, it is set up to only buzz when one of YOU replies to a blog post, but scream HOLY MURDER when I get a work email. She said, "Are you coming?" I responded back, "Yes, didn't I reply yesterday?" Then I got an email from her husband, "Where are you?" CARP! Is something wrong with my systems at work? "At my condo" I reply. It then takes a phone call from a buddy and ex-coworker, "Howie*", saying, "Are you coming tonight or not?" for the light to click on.

The invite said, "tomorrow" which I translated into Monday. I was already half and hour late, and was in no shape to leave the house. I quickly showered, set the DVR for 24, and started the laundry I was sorting out, and I was the door less than 10 minutes later. I flew! They live about 2 blocks from my old place, so I know the quick ways to get there, and I was there in less than 20 minutes from leaving home. Hair was still wet, but I'm a guy, and I am blessed that a simple 5 swipe comb job does the trick. 7 swipes if I'm feeling fancy.

Diner was good, and I still have a job.

I totally blame her though, because she sent it as an email instead of as a calendar invite.

* Howie's girlfriend is the one who left the picture on my phone last time we were out together. And while I love to switch around names, his really is "Howard" not that anyone calls him that.

Gross-eries

In an effort to actually have food in the house, I started my car for the first time in 2009 and ventured out for these things called "groceries." I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and he's going to scare me with blindness and losing a toe if I don't eat better and lose some weight. To soften the sting of the deserved bitch slap that is heading my way, I figured I'd better go get some real food. Here are some random observations:

- Why didn't my local chain grocery, Dominick's, have any 2 liters of Coke Zero? And it wasn't like there were empty shelves for it. If I wanted Diet Coke, I can get that for $1.09 at the Dollar General down the street, I'm not paying your $1.59.

- Thanks for the offer of the help out, but you have already provided me with this fine, wheeled cart, which will make transporting these goods to my vehicle easy enough for me to handle. Want to help? Ride shotgun with me back to my place and help me cart them up. (In actuality, I have Rubbermaid tubs, a dolly, and an elevator, so it is pretty easy on the home side. But they don't know that.)

- Every time I walk into Trader Joe's, I expect to set off some kind of "Anti-Hip" alarm. Not that the store is off putting or tries to be too cool. It's the other customers. I'd bet cash money I was the only person in the store that still had Sausage McMuffin with Egg on his breath. (Give the condemned man a last meal.) Still, I great place to get frozen fish.

- I am always surprised that Trader Joe's does not carry Malkin's jam. I hear it is now "Canada's Pure Jam" but still comes in the steel can. Childhood memories of bringing back loads of this stuff after visiting Grandma Collins in Winnipeg. Love the raspberry and the saskatoon. I'm slowly working my way thru a can of raspberry right now, in fact.

- I should just laze out and do Peapod. They deliver.

The "B-Word": B-A-C-O-N!

I went to the Drysdale Awards A earlier in the week. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I enjoyed myself. There were about a dozen people there, and while I didn't really know any of them, we move in similar blog circles, and for the most part, I knew them / they know me more by comments left around than be reading each other. All in all, a really good group of people, who didn't seem too out of place in decent society. I'm sure the others will get around to recapping the event, so I'm going to focus on one person specifically: Bacon Lady from Better Living Through Bacon.

For her profile, click her name above (duh) but otherwise, long brown hair, petite, rocki'n a black "Bacon Is A Vegetable" T-Shirt. Cool mom with a house pass. (Nothing like the picture, but it came up on a Google search and was too funny not to use.)

We started talking and she lives "down state" which to all ya'll not from these here parts, is anything outside Chicago. Rockford, geographically NORTH of Chicago, is sometimes referred to as "down state" in the "US vs. THEM" of Illinois. But I grew up down state, so I can relate. In fact, in order to establish my "cred" as it were, I told her that my prom date, Maria, used to do the news in her town.

That led us thru a whole series of central Illinois chatter, which included "Mary, from Good's". Once I finally mentioned my small town, she asked me if I knew "Slim MacTrillian". Yeah, he was in my brother's class in high school, and they ran around together. I baled hay for his dad once. His sister was the Maria's best friend in high school. Yeah, I knew "Slim" about as well as you'd know anyone 4 years younger than you in school.

Turn's out, he's a really good friend of her husband's. It's a small world, after all.

That will forever be known as my "Bacon Lady / Kevin Bacon" moment.

At the end of the evening, we split a cab north. Her to the friend's where she was staying, and I continued on to my place. All-in-all, a very pleasurable evening, meeting fine folks.

And since some of you are new, I will now repost this video from my previous bacon flavored post.

Odd Todd

During my Sabbatical, two of the things that kept me going was that others had been thru it before, and a sense of humor. One guy / site that wrapped all that up and put a bow on it (vague seasonal tie-in) was Odd Todd of www.oddtodd.com.

The first of these cartoons came out as we were starting our downsizing and really gave me a smile when they were hard to come by. With the economy as it is, there are a few folks reading this who need to "Bee + Positive" and many more who may know someone who needs to laugh to laugh to keep from crying.

And yesterday's post can be found HERE on his site, incase you're wondering. Which you weren't. Because there's now way for you to have known. So, I guess this makes for part III of an unintentional stream of consciousness post string.

Off to the salt mines.

Great Balls Of Fire!

This is an unintentional follow-up to a post from a few days ago. But Candy's talk about Aunt Flo yesterday made me have to counter with a time I was not feeling so fresh, "down there."

Back in high school, I played basketball, and one time, kinda tweaked the muscle on the inside of my thigh. So, before going to bed, I took a good three finger dip into the tub of Icy/Hot, and rubbed it into the problem area, pulled up my shorts, and went to bed.

I figure that when I was pulling up my shorts, some of the goo must have transferred from my leg to the shorts to my scrotum, because suddenly little beads of sweat formed on my upper lip as a mild burning sensation set in. As the intensity increased, my eyes started watering, and panic set in. I jumped up out of bed, and tried to scrape the burning acid from my sack. Remember the part about the "three finger dip"? Well, I hadn't washed that hand I guess, so I'm just applying more fuel to the fire. To make matters worse, as if the sensation of an Icy/Hot fire roasting your nuts wasn't bad enough, somehow, some of this demon gel managed to get on my urethra (pee hole), and start working its way down that one-way street!

Now in pure panic I run down to the shower and wash and wash and wash the effected area. After about 15 minutes and a good pee to flush the pipe (thank GOD I didn't get "stage fright"), the fire was out.

I went back to bed (wearing different shorts, of course), and in the morning, pitched the tub of Icy/Hot into the trash.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year, Everybody!

May 2009 be your year to SHINE!

New Year's Eve

MFF, Scope, & Dolly Dutchass 2006-12-31

I'm not a New Year's Eve person. Rarely go out. Sometimes, but not every year. The last NYE that I did anything big for was 2 years ago. And this was a GOOD night.

The players:

MFF (My French Friend) who you've met here and here.

Dolly Dutchass - her friend. Going thru a divorce also. Tall. Attractive. Southern accent smooth as butter. Sweet rump.

MFF and I had planned to get together on NYE. I was set to fly down south in the afternoon of the 31st, then we'd check in at one of the big hotels down town that was running a shuttle to the party, Dolly would swing by (first meeting), the girls would get ready, then off to a pre-party, and then go to the big charity thing downtown in the warehouse district.

The plans go off without a hitch*, we go to the party, and have a good time. But, since we are part of a larger group (and not a couple) MFF and I aren't joined at the hip, and we both wander around the various rooms, socializing and having many cocktails. About 11:50, MFF sends me out on the dance floor with a fairly drunk Dolly. We dance two songs (cue white man's over bite), but then hear "10...9...8...

No MFF. She's gone. But, I am holding a very sweet, very attractive woman in my arms, so ...

The kiss was, "invigorating". If you ever have the chance to be the first guy a drunk hottie kisses after filing for divorce, I highly recommend it. But it was just one kiss. And that is the peak of the evening, and it started heading downhill from there. On RAILS!

Long ass story short, omitting 100 boring details (none of which involve sex or the police): I spend the rest of the night playing "Babysitter" to an extremely drunk Dolly Duchass who apologizes profusely and spills her guts (literally and profusely) out on the sidewalk. (I hold her hair. I am a gentleman.) I also play "Cat Herder" for MFF who is having a legitimate good time, and doesn't want to leave the party.

All told, one of the better New Year's Eves of my adult life. Sad, but true.

Everyone have a wicked good time, spring for the cab ride (or some other D.D.), and see you back here tomorrow. ("See you next year" is like finger nails on the chalkboard to me.)

* Do you really want to hear the part about me leaving my reception after my step-grandfather's funeral and racing 150 miles across Illinois to just catch my flight? Didn't think so.