Here's a fun thing to do. The next time you are addressing a person, either via e-mail, or in a face to face conversation, only refer to them by some random initials. I've found, to my absolute delight, that if you call somebody by random initials, they always think that you are making fun of them in the meanest way possible.
Person: Hey there, how've you been?
You: Pretty good B.A., I've been doing pretty good.
Person (thinking): B.A., what's B.A.? Oh no, he's noticed how big my ass has gotten lately! He's calling me "Big Ass!!" AAAHHHHH!!
So then Big Ass runs down to the nearest Big and Tall store and buys out all the muumuus, just because you called him B.A. His self esteem is shot and he now only dates really mean, unattractive women who all call him "Big Ass" because he made the mistake of telling them that people call him B.A. which he thinks stands for "Big Ass" but it actually stands for nothing. See how fun this can be??
When you get bored with using only two initials try using more. See what dirty secrets you can cull from them. People usually have a lot of dirty secrets..
Person: Hey there! Long time no see, Hombre!
You: What's happening M.A.C.? Good to see you!
Person (thinking): Uh oh. Is it possible that he knows that I Molest Autistic Children?? Or that sometimes I go to the zoo and Munch Animal Crap?? Or that I am the one who Murders African Clerics?? Does he know about the embarrassment of my Muddy Anal Caking?? AAAHHHHH!!
One note of warning. Don't do this to a person who might be mentally unstable enough to kill you if they believe you know their dirty secrets. That would qualify as a joke that backfired. Otherwise, go forth and multiply.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
How badly do You want a boner?
Here's a good party question for you. Let's say that you suddenly stopped getting boners (this question only works if you are a boy) and you turned to Viagra, or Cialis, or Ramitall or whatever for help. Then let's say you started getting the serious side effects occasionally associated with these wood inducing pills. Would you still use them, or just give up and be a bonerless wonder?
What if you started getting a painful erection lasting more than 4 hours, sometimes called a priapism? Would you stop taking the pills or would you just block off a large portion of your day where you avoided all people you didn't want to scare or have sex with, or, at least, wear Zubaz or MC Hammer pants all the time so people wouldn't notice your out-of-control erection?
What if you started getting more serious side effects? I saw an ad that said to call a doctor immediately if you start having loss of vision or loss of hearing. Would that make you stop taking them. What's more important to you, seeing and hearing, or boning Helen Keller style?
What if there was a 1 in 1000 chance that after you took the pills your penis would spontaneously explode off of your body and fly around the room deflating and making a high pitched squealing noise like a balloon with the air being let out? Would it still be worth the risk?
Finally, what if there was a very miniscule chance that in taking the pills you could accidentally open the gates to hell and all sorts of scary monsters would leak into our world and eat your family + the people you wanted to hump? Would that make you think twice? Would it even make your pill induced Viagra boner go down?
This is what I was wondering this morning. What were you thinking about?
What if you started getting a painful erection lasting more than 4 hours, sometimes called a priapism? Would you stop taking the pills or would you just block off a large portion of your day where you avoided all people you didn't want to scare or have sex with, or, at least, wear Zubaz or MC Hammer pants all the time so people wouldn't notice your out-of-control erection?
What if you started getting more serious side effects? I saw an ad that said to call a doctor immediately if you start having loss of vision or loss of hearing. Would that make you stop taking them. What's more important to you, seeing and hearing, or boning Helen Keller style?
What if there was a 1 in 1000 chance that after you took the pills your penis would spontaneously explode off of your body and fly around the room deflating and making a high pitched squealing noise like a balloon with the air being let out? Would it still be worth the risk?
Finally, what if there was a very miniscule chance that in taking the pills you could accidentally open the gates to hell and all sorts of scary monsters would leak into our world and eat your family + the people you wanted to hump? Would that make you think twice? Would it even make your pill induced Viagra boner go down?
This is what I was wondering this morning. What were you thinking about?
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Brian sees a Labia.
I was at the gym just now. I had intended to lift some weights but mostly what I did was sit around and yawn and listen to my IPod. Not very productive. Anyhow, while I was lifting and yawning and listening to my Ipod, I noticed a woman nearby me.
The reason I noticed her was because she was dressed like Jane Fonda from those 80's workout videos. She was wearing a spandex wrestling singlet with a white leotard or something underneath. The spandex wrestling singlet was pulled tightly up almost through her crotch in the shape of a "V". Also she had really pointy hair. It pointed downwards and out from her head, sort of in the shape of an upside-down "V".
So while I'm not lifting weights, but instead staring at this woman and trying to figure out which geometrical figure she most closely resembles, she sits down and begins doing that one exercise where you sit on a machine and open and close your legs several times, and that's the exercise. It's called the "Hip Adductor" or "Thigh Abductor" or something like that. It's an exercise that is only done by women and 80-year-old men, so my knowledge of it is fairly limited.
Anyhow, when she begins this exercise, I notice something. Every time she opens her legs to flex, her right labia pops out. (Notice I said "labia". Thanks to Wikipedia, I now know correct terminology. Before I would have said her "right crotch" or "that puffy thing.") Now it doesn't actually pop out through her leotard (that would be impossible), but still, you can definitely tell that something funny is going on. Then when she contracts, it goes away. After about 5 reps of this, I look to my left and see that another woman has noticed this wardrobe malfunction as well. I am much more inconspicuous than her. She is staring slack jawed at labia woman, while I am merely staring with a regular type jaw. The strange thing is, labia woman seems totally oblivious to all of this. I can tell you with a pretty good degree of certainty, that if my ball kept popping out of my underpants, I would notice and correct the problem.
Eventually labia woman stops doing that hip exercise and leaves. And me and the slack-jawed woman glance at each other with a look that can only be interpreted as "Damn, that bitch's puffy thing was popping out!"
The reason I noticed her was because she was dressed like Jane Fonda from those 80's workout videos. She was wearing a spandex wrestling singlet with a white leotard or something underneath. The spandex wrestling singlet was pulled tightly up almost through her crotch in the shape of a "V". Also she had really pointy hair. It pointed downwards and out from her head, sort of in the shape of an upside-down "V".
So while I'm not lifting weights, but instead staring at this woman and trying to figure out which geometrical figure she most closely resembles, she sits down and begins doing that one exercise where you sit on a machine and open and close your legs several times, and that's the exercise. It's called the "Hip Adductor" or "Thigh Abductor" or something like that. It's an exercise that is only done by women and 80-year-old men, so my knowledge of it is fairly limited.
Anyhow, when she begins this exercise, I notice something. Every time she opens her legs to flex, her right labia pops out. (Notice I said "labia". Thanks to Wikipedia, I now know correct terminology. Before I would have said her "right crotch" or "that puffy thing.") Now it doesn't actually pop out through her leotard (that would be impossible), but still, you can definitely tell that something funny is going on. Then when she contracts, it goes away. After about 5 reps of this, I look to my left and see that another woman has noticed this wardrobe malfunction as well. I am much more inconspicuous than her. She is staring slack jawed at labia woman, while I am merely staring with a regular type jaw. The strange thing is, labia woman seems totally oblivious to all of this. I can tell you with a pretty good degree of certainty, that if my ball kept popping out of my underpants, I would notice and correct the problem.
Eventually labia woman stops doing that hip exercise and leaves. And me and the slack-jawed woman glance at each other with a look that can only be interpreted as "Damn, that bitch's puffy thing was popping out!"
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Stupid Cliches.
Recently a person told me that my daughter was "cuter than a bug's ear." At first I was offended, and I almost responded to the women, "Well, you're about as cute as a dragon's taint!" But then I realized that she was being complimentary so I didn't say that. But when you think about it, bugs don't even have ears, at least visible ones. The closest thing to ears they have are probably those feelers things that are sticking off their heads (I think they're actually called antennae, but in my family they were feelers), and those aren't cute. They're actually kind of creepy. I got to thinking about how many stupid cliches there are just zooming out of people's mouths from time to time.
She's as happy as a clam- Am I to believe that we are so enlightened as a scientific community, that we can actually tell the moods of mollusks. I don't believe so. Clams aren't happy or sad, they're just clams. If the cliche was "happy as a bearded clam" that would make a lot more sense because, as we all know, they are always smiling. Or at least gaping.
Any publicity is good publicity- This is dangerously untrue. Let's say, for instance, you get arrested for raping puppies. It's all over the news and the papers. From then on, you are known as "Steve the dog pounder." You get scornful looks wherever you go, and some overzealous group of PETA enthusiasts burns your house down so you have to move to the projects where people rob your house every other day and sic their pit bulls on you. That is not good publicity.
No news is good news- Sort of goes with the one above. Let's say you were passed out in your room after a night of drinking Everclear and shooting heroin, and your rolling meth lab explodes and starts your trailer on fire. If nobody tells you that news, you suffer a fiery death, and I don't think that can ever qualify as good news.
Don't cry over spilt milk- What if you're in a bomb shelter with your cat, and the cat's company is the only thing keeping you alive while World War III rages on above you, and the only thing keeping the cat alive is milk? Then you spill all the milk which dissolves into the ground because you were too lazy to build a bottom to your bomb shelter because you incorrectly assumed that the only thing you'd ever use it for was to store beer in. Wouldn't you start to cry knowing that, in essence, you had indirectly doomed yourself by spilling milk because now your cat was going to starve to death, which in turn would make you die because the only thing keeping you alive in this post-apocalyptic mess was the companionship of your stupid cat??? I would definitely cry. Then I'd probably eat the cat.
That rubs me the wrong way- Ish. That's just gross!
A "Call for Action"- This is one of those things people say when they are too lazy to actually do anything about a problem.
Guy: I can't believe people keep stealing my children.
Other guy: I'm putting out a call for action right now.
Guy: Good, let's go home. America's Biggest Loser is on.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder- No it doesn't. Absence makes the heart forget about you eventually. You ever know anybody that died? The longer they stay dead, the less you think about them. By the time they've been dead for about 6 months, you barely remember who that person even was. A better cliche would be "Abstinence makes the weiner grow fonder." Everybody knows that's true. Some people will hump a hole in the couch after about a month of abstinence.
So there you have it. Let's all come up with some new cliches that actually make sense. You will be doing your language a great service if you do. And I'll be happier than Michael Jackson at a Jonas Brothers concert.
She's as happy as a clam- Am I to believe that we are so enlightened as a scientific community, that we can actually tell the moods of mollusks. I don't believe so. Clams aren't happy or sad, they're just clams. If the cliche was "happy as a bearded clam" that would make a lot more sense because, as we all know, they are always smiling. Or at least gaping.
Any publicity is good publicity- This is dangerously untrue. Let's say, for instance, you get arrested for raping puppies. It's all over the news and the papers. From then on, you are known as "Steve the dog pounder." You get scornful looks wherever you go, and some overzealous group of PETA enthusiasts burns your house down so you have to move to the projects where people rob your house every other day and sic their pit bulls on you. That is not good publicity.
No news is good news- Sort of goes with the one above. Let's say you were passed out in your room after a night of drinking Everclear and shooting heroin, and your rolling meth lab explodes and starts your trailer on fire. If nobody tells you that news, you suffer a fiery death, and I don't think that can ever qualify as good news.
Don't cry over spilt milk- What if you're in a bomb shelter with your cat, and the cat's company is the only thing keeping you alive while World War III rages on above you, and the only thing keeping the cat alive is milk? Then you spill all the milk which dissolves into the ground because you were too lazy to build a bottom to your bomb shelter because you incorrectly assumed that the only thing you'd ever use it for was to store beer in. Wouldn't you start to cry knowing that, in essence, you had indirectly doomed yourself by spilling milk because now your cat was going to starve to death, which in turn would make you die because the only thing keeping you alive in this post-apocalyptic mess was the companionship of your stupid cat??? I would definitely cry. Then I'd probably eat the cat.
That rubs me the wrong way- Ish. That's just gross!
A "Call for Action"- This is one of those things people say when they are too lazy to actually do anything about a problem.
Guy: I can't believe people keep stealing my children.
Other guy: I'm putting out a call for action right now.
Guy: Good, let's go home. America's Biggest Loser is on.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder- No it doesn't. Absence makes the heart forget about you eventually. You ever know anybody that died? The longer they stay dead, the less you think about them. By the time they've been dead for about 6 months, you barely remember who that person even was. A better cliche would be "Abstinence makes the weiner grow fonder." Everybody knows that's true. Some people will hump a hole in the couch after about a month of abstinence.
So there you have it. Let's all come up with some new cliches that actually make sense. You will be doing your language a great service if you do. And I'll be happier than Michael Jackson at a Jonas Brothers concert.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
The Crazy Baby Sneeze Phenomenon
Here's a strange phenomenon I can't quite explain, but I have a really well researched theory about. I have a few kids (2 I think) and as we were sorting pictures the other night to stick them into albums it struck me that in the vast majority of pictures of the kids when they were babies they look like they are either about to sneeze, or just finished sneezing. Then I looked at some other pictures of babies (did you know they have a bunch of random babies' pictures on the internet? What a country.). Same thing. What's the deal with that?
I think it has something to do with the flash. My kids have this disease where whenever they turn lights on in a dark room they begin sneezing voraciously. I think babies have some sort of baby ESP that allows them to know that a bright light is about to be flashed in their eyes and so their brain automatically activates the sneeze reflex. I think this phenomenon is closely related to how I automatically start to gag when I am near smelly old ladies before I even smell their smelly barn odor.
My Brain: (Uh oh, checkered red pants stained brown with a confused look on her face. ACTIVATE GAG REFLEX!!)
Me: HACK KACK BRRRACK!!
My Brain: (Target out of range. Cease fire. Cease fire.)
Anyhow, if you ever cut a baby's head open (which you shouldn't do under most circumstances) I would bet that you would find that a large section of the brain was solely responsible for sneezing. I would imagine the breakdown would be 40 percent sneezing, 30 percent pooping, and 30 percent crying. Again, I'm not a pediatrician or a pedophile so I can't really be certain that these percentages are accurate, but I bet I'm close.
I think it has something to do with the flash. My kids have this disease where whenever they turn lights on in a dark room they begin sneezing voraciously. I think babies have some sort of baby ESP that allows them to know that a bright light is about to be flashed in their eyes and so their brain automatically activates the sneeze reflex. I think this phenomenon is closely related to how I automatically start to gag when I am near smelly old ladies before I even smell their smelly barn odor.
My Brain: (Uh oh, checkered red pants stained brown with a confused look on her face. ACTIVATE GAG REFLEX!!)
Me: HACK KACK BRRRACK!!
My Brain: (Target out of range. Cease fire. Cease fire.)
Anyhow, if you ever cut a baby's head open (which you shouldn't do under most circumstances) I would bet that you would find that a large section of the brain was solely responsible for sneezing. I would imagine the breakdown would be 40 percent sneezing, 30 percent pooping, and 30 percent crying. Again, I'm not a pediatrician or a pedophile so I can't really be certain that these percentages are accurate, but I bet I'm close.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Don't EVER listen to me.
So I've been reading Wikipedia a lot lately. It's a pretty helpful source for just about anything, although I'm not sure how accurate it always is because the other day I was reading about Roger Clemens and under "Personal" it said that Roger Clemens sucks a fart out of his own butt every day, and I don't know how anybody could possibly accurately know that, with the possible exception of Roger Clemens himself, and I doubt he'd want that information made public. (Although it might deflect the attention away from the steriods allegations.)
Anyhow, via the vast knowledge of Wikipedia, I have found, to my shock, that I don't know anything about most everything. Let's take, for example, female anatomy. Man they got a lot of stuff in there. I didn't know what any of it was for. I always just assumed all these different names were just synonyms for the word "Crotch." Not true. Before I boned up (heh heh) here would have been my definitions for the following body parts assuming I was taking a test or something:
Cervix- No idea. Possibly something skinny and slimy. It's a good thing if yours "looks great!"
Clitoris- (Too busy giggling to provide answer)
Phillipine Tubes- Everything has a tube. It probably diposes of waste and stuff. I'm pretty sure these are the "horns" from that Junior High sex education class drawing. You know, the one where the female reproductive system looks like a Texas Longhorn head.
Labium- Rock & Roll group from the 70's. Bee Gees sold better.
Ovaries- Either an enclosure that a bird lives in, or I don't know. But I think I have 4 or 5 of them because they hurt sometimes, especially after I eat burritos.
Uterus-I think this is where fetuses live, maybe all the time, or maybe just when you're pregnant. I'm not sure.
Vagina- Hmm, it's Vagina and not Bagina? I'll be darned.
Vulva- A crappy Swedish car?
So anyway, I guess that what I'm trying to say is that I have no idea what I'm talking about most of the time, so when I talk to you, you'd be better off staring out the window, or humming a song in your head. Whatever you do, don't assume what I say is based on anything factual, and maybe you'll wind up OK.
Anyhow, via the vast knowledge of Wikipedia, I have found, to my shock, that I don't know anything about most everything. Let's take, for example, female anatomy. Man they got a lot of stuff in there. I didn't know what any of it was for. I always just assumed all these different names were just synonyms for the word "Crotch." Not true. Before I boned up (heh heh) here would have been my definitions for the following body parts assuming I was taking a test or something:
Cervix- No idea. Possibly something skinny and slimy. It's a good thing if yours "looks great!"
Clitoris- (Too busy giggling to provide answer)
Phillipine Tubes- Everything has a tube. It probably diposes of waste and stuff. I'm pretty sure these are the "horns" from that Junior High sex education class drawing. You know, the one where the female reproductive system looks like a Texas Longhorn head.
Labium- Rock & Roll group from the 70's. Bee Gees sold better.
Ovaries- Either an enclosure that a bird lives in, or I don't know. But I think I have 4 or 5 of them because they hurt sometimes, especially after I eat burritos.
Uterus-I think this is where fetuses live, maybe all the time, or maybe just when you're pregnant. I'm not sure.
Vagina- Hmm, it's Vagina and not Bagina? I'll be darned.
Vulva- A crappy Swedish car?
So anyway, I guess that what I'm trying to say is that I have no idea what I'm talking about most of the time, so when I talk to you, you'd be better off staring out the window, or humming a song in your head. Whatever you do, don't assume what I say is based on anything factual, and maybe you'll wind up OK.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Brian Finds a Dollar
I love finding change on the ground. It makes me feel like I'm getting away with a really small scale robbery of some sort. I always hope that the change I've found belonged to some rich guy and now because I have his change he can't buy gum at the store or something. The bigger the amount of money I find, the happier I am. One time I found a 5 dollar bill in the grass. I was as giddy as a pedophile at a Hannah Montana concert for the whole day.
Me: YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!!
Some Guy: It's only 5 bucks
Me: Yeah, I suppose......YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!!
So one day I was walking downtown and I saw a Sacagawea dollar laying on the sidewalk. I immediately started to salivate, get a boner, and bounce around with excitement simultaneously. The reasons for this are many.
1.) It was a dollar
2.) It was gold colored which made me think for a split second that maybe a pirate had been walking around downtown and dropped a gold doubloon on the sidewalk. Since I've watched The Goonies many times, I knew that if I possessed a doubloon, I'd never have to sell my house if some jerks wanted to turn it into a golf course, which is nice.
3.) Sacagawea is by far the hottest girl to ever be put on a coin. (All apologies to Susan B. Anthony and her family, but she just never ignited my inner flame the way Sacagawea did. I'm sure she was a really nice person, but Sacagawea had that ethnic thing going for her. Didn't you want to lay your head in her lap and have her feed you maize? I know I did.)
Anyway, after bouncing around and slobbering all over for a while, I bent down to pick up my dollar, and to my shock and horror, I could not move it. Some evil, diabolical person had glued my Sacagawea dollar to the sidewalk. I looked around to see if I could see this person hiding behind a street lamp or a mailbox snickering at me so that I could go over there a stab him in the eye with my pen, but I could see nobody suspicious. So then I went back over to the dollar and started kicking at it to try to dislodge but this didn't work either. Then I kneeled down and started jabbing at it with my keys. People were staring at me as they walked by, but fuck 'em, eyes on the prize, always eyes on the prize. Finally after 10 minutes I gave up and went to work. I was angry all day. I want my Sacagawea dollar.
The next morning I brought a large flathead screwdriver with me and when I got to the Sacagawea dollar, I really went to work on it. This is the part of the story where people begin looking at me funny, as if to say, "I can't believe this idiot was chopping away at the sidewalk for a dollar." One time someone offered me a dollar after I told the story. It was a less than altruistic gesture. I wanted to gouge him with my screwdriver, but it was like 6 months after the fact, and the screwdriver was at home again. So, indeed, I was whacking away at the sidewalk, and eventually the dollar came loose and I won. It had a chunk of sidewalk still attached to it, but it was mine.
So let this be a lesson to all of you: If you want something bad enough, don't be afraid to grab a screwdriver and stab the shit out of it to get it. Here ends the lesson...
Me: YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!!
Some Guy: It's only 5 bucks
Me: Yeah, I suppose......YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!!
So one day I was walking downtown and I saw a Sacagawea dollar laying on the sidewalk. I immediately started to salivate, get a boner, and bounce around with excitement simultaneously. The reasons for this are many.
1.) It was a dollar
2.) It was gold colored which made me think for a split second that maybe a pirate had been walking around downtown and dropped a gold doubloon on the sidewalk. Since I've watched The Goonies many times, I knew that if I possessed a doubloon, I'd never have to sell my house if some jerks wanted to turn it into a golf course, which is nice.
3.) Sacagawea is by far the hottest girl to ever be put on a coin. (All apologies to Susan B. Anthony and her family, but she just never ignited my inner flame the way Sacagawea did. I'm sure she was a really nice person, but Sacagawea had that ethnic thing going for her. Didn't you want to lay your head in her lap and have her feed you maize? I know I did.)
Anyway, after bouncing around and slobbering all over for a while, I bent down to pick up my dollar, and to my shock and horror, I could not move it. Some evil, diabolical person had glued my Sacagawea dollar to the sidewalk. I looked around to see if I could see this person hiding behind a street lamp or a mailbox snickering at me so that I could go over there a stab him in the eye with my pen, but I could see nobody suspicious. So then I went back over to the dollar and started kicking at it to try to dislodge but this didn't work either. Then I kneeled down and started jabbing at it with my keys. People were staring at me as they walked by, but fuck 'em, eyes on the prize, always eyes on the prize. Finally after 10 minutes I gave up and went to work. I was angry all day. I want my Sacagawea dollar.
The next morning I brought a large flathead screwdriver with me and when I got to the Sacagawea dollar, I really went to work on it. This is the part of the story where people begin looking at me funny, as if to say, "I can't believe this idiot was chopping away at the sidewalk for a dollar." One time someone offered me a dollar after I told the story. It was a less than altruistic gesture. I wanted to gouge him with my screwdriver, but it was like 6 months after the fact, and the screwdriver was at home again. So, indeed, I was whacking away at the sidewalk, and eventually the dollar came loose and I won. It had a chunk of sidewalk still attached to it, but it was mine.
So let this be a lesson to all of you: If you want something bad enough, don't be afraid to grab a screwdriver and stab the shit out of it to get it. Here ends the lesson...
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