What I Want for Christmas

-- Barbie Dream Plastic Surgery Operating Room Playset. Complete with real silicone! Stick-on scar tissue! Inflatable breast balloons! Ken Psychiatry Outfit with comfy couch!

-- A REALLY smartphone. No, a GENIUS-phone. I want a phone that automatically calls people that I’m thinking about or that I may have dreamed about one night and then tells me why. “Hey! I didn’t want to call my estranged stepfather!” “Oh, didn’t you?” Genius-Phone says with a raised eyebrow and a half-smile.

-- Blow-snower. Snow-blotter. Blow-thrower. Show-bomber. I’m so drunk.

-- Santa Claws

-- This thing which tells time

-- I want to have a romantic comedy filmed that doesn’t involve two people who would never otherwise love each other fall in love. I want the opposite of this: “He’s a crack addicted janitor. She’s the President of Chile. In a world where crazy happens, watch love happen in ‘Chile Willy.’ This time, it’s for cocaine.”

-- Defecating with the Stars. “This week, Danny Bonaducci and Willie Aames compete in the final bowl showdown! Will the notoriously stingy judges give out any 10’s this week? Did anyone have corn for Thanksgiving? Find out Wednesday on ABC!”

-- Cadbury Turkey. An entire Turkey filled with that stuff that is in Cadbury Eggs. You want me to be thankful at Thanksgiving? This would go a long way. Get it done.

-- A bowl full of mush

-- An old lady whispering “Hush”

-- An episode of “Oprah’s Favorite Things” where she gets the crowd frothing at the mouth for some expensive giveaway and then just gives them directions home and a kick in the teeth for being so greedy and materialistic.

-- Black Monday through Friday. I think every week day the stores should open at 3AM and have an entire section of expensive stuff on sale for a dollar each. Give out nail-studded clubs at the door. Eventually, the idiots will be sorted out and the strong will survive (with three hundred TVs each). You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.

-- Re-release of the lost classic: “How the Grinch Stole Labor Day”

And all of the Who’s all snug in their houses
Dreaming of Labor Day wazzles and wowzes
While the Grinch snuck down in his mean Grinchy way
And with his dog Max de-Labored their Day

But the Who’s didn’t need what the Grinch took and more
Perhaps Labor Day didn’t come from a store?
Perhaps Grover Cleveland put reconciliation with the labor movement as a top political priority and fearing further conflict, legislation making Labor Day a national holiday was rushed through Congress unanimously and signed into law a mere six days after the end of the Pullman Strike.
I’m paraphrasing here.

-- Alternate version of “Charlie Brown’s Christmas” where the final “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” sing along with the Peanuts gang was dubbed over with “Kung Fu Fighting” by a drug-addled staff member. He was caught trying to animate Snoopy giving a round kick to Lucy and immediately incarcerated. The 60’s, am I right?

-- Kind of related to the last one, I would like a box of the most dangerous dessert known to man: Kung Fudge

-- Peace on Earth Goodwill to Men. Well, not all Men. Just the good looking ones. So, Peace on Earth goodwill to Attractive Men. Don’t care what you do with the uglies. Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Hot Men, Indifference to Uglies and Extra Goodwill to Supermodels. Wait. Peace on Earth blah blah blah forget the uglies and Super-human steroid enhanced strength to Supermodels to make them beautiful and scary as shit and prone to rage blackouts. That.

That’s How Much I Love You

I have cheated on you twenty-five times in the past ten years. That works out to under three times a year, which is well below the national average.

That’s How Much I Love You

I went to see Twilight with you and disguised my vomiting by putting my entire head inside the super sized popcorn bucket so you could still enjoy looking at Taylor Lautner’s abs.

That’s How Much I Love You

I opened a checking account in your name and filled it with wishes from my heart and smiles and fluffy things. When the clerk asked me if I was going to put any money in it, I said “Love has no price you simple minded barbarian” and gave him the old “How’s Your Family” (don’t ask).

That’s How Much I Love You

I chased a dog through the streets of Manhattan so I could tell him how the dimples in your cheeks make we want to stuff them with kisses. The dog bit my scrotum and urinated on my shoes.

That’s How Much I Love You

I High Five everyone I meet multiple times regardless of what they are currently doing. I was impaled by my dentist’s drill as a result.

That’s How Much I Love You

I would write your name in the stars every night if I could, but my penis doesn’t reach that high.

That’s How Much I Love You

I detained the mailman for thirteen hours because I thought he had a picture of you, but it turns out it was a pamphlet from the Church with angels on the front of it.

That’s How Much I Love You

I put cocaine in your eggs every morning and pot in your brownies every night so you have enough energy to get through the day and enough slacker-ass laziness to get to bed on time.

That’s How Much I Love You

And finally, I stopped sending you flowers pursuant to the court mandated restraining order you had filed against me.

That’s How Much I Love You

Quick Hits

I decided today, after many long hours of contemplation, that I am a “torso man”. I love a long torso; at least a 3:1 torso to leg ratio.

Please post your ratios so I know what I’m dealing with here.

My wife has an amazing ratio, which is why I married her of course. No other reason. It’s important, OK? If your ratio is sub-standard, there are many stretching exercises you can do. Work on your ratios.

One of the first questions on my submission form for my summer camp is “What torso:leg ratio are you, and are you planning on lengthening that ratio in the near future”.

Don’t be left out in the dark with a weird head-connected-directly-to-legs body.

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I was recently on a family vacation in a scenic location with a touristy town-type area. While walking through this touristy area, I walked past a bar that had an altercation in progress. The owner of the bar was in the process of kicking out a kid that looked at least 4-5 years underage to be drinking anything other than Apple Juice. The conflict rapidly got heated and the last thing I saw was the kid grabbing his balls and exclaiming over and over again:

“I’m from QUEENS! I’m from QUEENS! You don’t know what you dealin’ with! I’m from QUEENS!”

I immediately grabbed my balls and was about to exclaim:

“I’m from JERSEY! Garden State Bitch! I’m from JERSEY! You don’t know what you dealin’ with either! NEW JERSEY TURNPIKE!”

In reality, I was shivering in a garbage can for fear of getting punched in the kidneys. Plus my balls hurt because I was holding them too tight.

*******************************

Lindsay Lohan got out of jail today.

You can exhale now.

She was in tears for the entire two weeks of her 90-day sentence because the Starbucks barista in her cell didn’t know how to make a Double-Venti Frappa-Whappa. Charles Manson has been crying about the same thing for over thirty years, so this is a common prisoner complaint, I suppose. Plus, the cocaine in her daily celebrity packet was low-grade Colombian instead of the good stuff.

Stay in school, y’all.

*******************************

I used to play soccer as much as possible (football for anyone outside the U.S.). Lately, I look more like a soccer ball than David Beckham, but I’m starting to get back into shape (the shape of a Beach Ball OH SCHNAP!)

Running is a very uninteresting pastime. Running on a treadmill is the most uninteresting of all activities. Have you heard of this thing? It is a machine, really. A machine that has a big rubber band that

Just.

Keeps.

Going.

I mean, stop going already! I’m sweating like Moses here! I tried running outside, but the hills! And the weather? Oy Vey!

To mix it up, I tried running on all fours like dogs do, but I quickly found out that dogs are better at it than me. I also freaked the fuck out of my neighbors when I came shuffling past their driveway on all fours and sans-clothing (that’s French for ‘sexy as hell’).

*******************************

Five Four things I want to accomplish this week (knocked something off the list this morning already):

1. Lengthen torso.
2. Write a letter to my congressman regarding my proposal to have all rain clouds seeded with Skittles. If they can do it in the commercials, they can do it in New Jersey.
3. Assassinate Snooki. Did you know Snooki is making more money per year than all teachers in New Jersey combined? Hurray! If you see your 11 year old daughters sizing up ill-fitting one-piece bathing suits and spray-on tanner, detonate your television with all the explosives you can find. Thank me later.
4. Bedazzle Scrotum.
5. Karate moves in public on my way to see my therapist. Don’t mess with the bull, son; you’ll get the horns.

22 things you didn’t know about me…until now.

1. I’m a wild bitch when I get anywhere near a Donkey Kong arcade machine.

2. The toes on my left foot all bend toward the south no matter where I’m standing. The toes on my right foot don’t bend at all. The toes on my hands bend on their own, all the time. I didn’t get a lot of dates in high school.

3. I have a tattoo of a bull’s eye on my left butt cheek. That serves as a reminder to all the haters to show them where they can plant a big sloppy kiss! Oh. Snap. No. He. Didn’t.

4. I am fluent in one language: Kung Fu.

5. I like to run through water parks screaming “IT’S URINE! IT’S ALL URINE!”

6. I frequently call antique shops and ask them if they “have it” in a quiet voice. If they answer me with a quiet “yes” then I know where to send the police.

7. I wore my hair in a “mullet” style until 2007. It was then I discovered hallucinogens. I now wear my hair where my pants used to be. Just in case.

8. I invented the “num lock” key on all standard keyboards. Before me, numbers were unlocked and just running free all over the countryside, shitting all over everything. Keep them locked, for the sake of Mother Earth.

9. I attended Princeton University and graduated in 15 minutes. By “attended” I mean I visited their finest rest room. You can probably figure out what “graduated” means. In this case.

10. I like to walk down crowded streets flexing my muscles to deter any would-be muggers. I also consider the penis to be a muscle.

11. I once met the president of Africa and asked him “Hey, what’s up with all the Lions and shit?” He laughed and had me jailed for 15 years. I never did find out what was up with all the lions…

12. Every time I see a homeless baby begging for change, I give them a quarter. I know they will probably take it right to the liquor store, but I’m a sucker that way I guess.

13. Growing up, I had an imaginary friend named Charlie. He left me when I was six because I wouldn’t share my birthday cake with him. The last time I saw him, he was a male prostitute working the corner of 6th and Madison. Once in a while I’ll drive by and throw a piece of cake at him, just to remind him how much his life could have been different.

14. My eyes are the exact shade of blue that exists only in Heaven. Or in your dreams about Heaven.

15. I like to read books about reading books. I never know when they are finished though.

16. Every time I watch Titanic, the ending just gets funnier and funnier. The next time I watch it, I will probably combust from laughter.

17. I had a Siamese twin named Hundreds of Atoms Man who was separated from me at age 5. He was a little fella, but a hell of a good cook.

18. My pectoral muscles are, quite frankly, God-like.

19. I made just over one million dollars in one night in Atlantic City. I played the nickel slots for like ten seconds, said “Fuck this noise” and robbed a bank.

20. Every time I hear the song “Single Ladies (put a ring on it)”, I blackout and piss my pants. By the time I am revived, I usually can’t remember who I am for an hour. For this reason, I have not been invited to any weddings or sweet sixteen parties in the past year.

21. I have only owned one pet in my life: a parakeet. That parakeet tried to kill me with a poorly timed chop to the throat. R.I.P. Beaky.

22. For the first seventeen years of my life I claimed I was Alfred Hitchcock. My first birthday party was patently bizarre at best. I fooled everyone by telling a made up anecdote about the movie “Psycho” (The ‘shower scene’ was filmed using a live pig’s blood). The kids in my daycare were scared shitless any time I walked into the room.

Fun things to do when you are bored

1. In a crowded public place, turn towards a particularly large group of people, shout “Hey Joey!” and start walking toward the crowd smiling. Instead of stopping and greeting someone, just keep walking and looking into the distance saying “Joey! How are you! Wow!” until you are completely through the crowd. Just keep on walking. You would be amazed at some of the reactions you get. Some people will put their hand out as though you are going to greet them, even women who couldn’t possibly be named Joey. Some people will duck. Some will look nervous. Some will tentatively smile. Some will inexplicably look angry. It is a great experiment. Try it sometime.

2. Eat as much pudding as you can in 1 minute. The flavor isn’t important, but you better plan on having a ton of pudding at your disposal. That shit is tasty.

3. Try to balance a prostitute on your nose. Tougher than it sounds.

4. Sit on the floor with your legs straight out in front of you. Now, slowly take one foot and try to bring it up behind your head. Now slowly take your other foot and bring it behind your head also. If you made it this far, bend forward and kiss your own ass you jive turkey.

5. I am a big fan of Hospital Emergency Rooms (who isn’t? The lights, the spectacle, the music!) Walk into an emergency room very slowly looking as melancholy as possible. Speak to the nurse, and when she asks you what the problem is, tell her that Suzie broke your heart and that you were hoping a doctor could mend it. If the nurse nods knowingly and writes your name on the sign in sheet, then make sure you avoid Suzie at all costs, wherever she may be. She is obviously a whore.

6. Do Math. Do Math until your sides hurt from laughing so much.

7. Snort cocaine like no one is watching, dance like you have never been in an asylum, work like you have never been fired and live like there are approximately 354 tomorrows. I think that’s how the quote goes…

8. Call up homeland security and say in a low voice “There is a bomb in my toilet.” Wait 10 seconds and say “courtesy of Taco Bell! High Five!” Warning, you may not have time to pause 10 seconds before the hilarious punch line. Homeland doesn’t exactly have a “department of humor” if you know what I mean.

9. Lead a marching band through your local supermarket. Smash every watermelon you see with your oboe (please tell me you have an oboe). Hey, I don’t know where you can get a marching band! I’m the idea guy, do your own leg work!

10. The next time you have to renew your driver’s license, when the time comes to take your picture, jump up and try to get your ass in the frame. Then, speed home as fast as you can and hope you get pulled over by a police officer. Get ready for hilarity as the officer sees your new license! If he can stop laughing long enough, I’m sure he will pat you on the head and send you home without a ticket for being so innovative.

There, ten solid ideas for you to do the next time you are bored! Wait, I just did a top ten list. I hate top ten lists. Let me give you one more (top 11 list! Copyright, trademark):

11. Get into a crowded elevator. Say out loud very seriously, “Hey everyone, do you hear that? If you listen really closely, you can hear the ghost of Tom Jenkins telling his sad story. He used to work here until he fell down the elevator shaft and died tragically. Listen. You have to be very quiet. Shhh.” Then fart as loud as you can. Someone will probably scream in terror, but that’s OK. Ghosts are scary.

My Holiday Wishes

I wish that I never hear another Tiger Woods “hole in one” joke. Why couldn’t Tiger have been a bowler? Oh, 7-10 split. Never mind.

I wish that laughter really was the best medicine because this cough syrup tastes like distilled ass.

I wish that the secretary on the public address system here at work would stop saying “decks” instead of “desk”.

I wish that the Webster’s dictionary people would get together and have the word “redonkulous” removed from our vocabulary. You have no idea how annoying that word is until you work with people in the computer programming arena. “This egg McMuffin is redonkulous!” Is it? Is it really?

I wish that the man in the cubicle next to me had a sense of humor, or even one social skill. He just had the most awkward conversation with a coworker, transcribed here for your discomfort:

Awkward Man: “Do you know what the Beatles original name was supposed to be?”
Disinterested Co-worker: “Um, no. The Bugs maybe?”
Awkward Man: “Do you want to phone a friend!” (very loud, laced with guffawing laughter)
Even More Disinterested Co-worker: *laughing politely* No, I guess I don’t know what the Beatles were almost called... *trailing off*
Loud Awkward Man: “Do you want to ask the audience!”
Even More Disinterested Co-worker: *small cough then silence*
(Wait for it…you know what’s coming)
Loud Awkward Man: “50-50?!?!!” *now laughing hysterically*
(then I hear a thump as the co-worker passes out from the weight of the awkward interaction crushes her spirit and her body)

I wish I could open my mouth and eject a forceful jet stream of Jelly Beans. I know I would scare the shit out of everyone, especially kids, but I think once everyone realized it was Jelly Beans, they would hail me as their new freakish hero.

I wish my kids had British accents.

I wish I could travel in time. My first act, of course, would be to save Michael Jackson. My second act would be to rethink that act and kill him myself. My third act would be to go a little farther back and save him again so he could teach me how to moonwalk. My fourth act would be to kill Macaulay Culkin.

I wish that 99 percent of people who come to this blog weren’t looking for help with Clubbed Thumbs. I had no idea how serious this problem was until Google started redirecting everyone to my dopey post. I get 5-10 searches a day with keywords like this:

“Why do I have clubbed thumbs”
“Where do clubbed thumbs come from”
“clubbed thumb sex”
“club thumb bad for my hand”
“my club thumb talks and makes me kill people”
“clubbed thumbs and fat feet”
“if club thumb is bleeding do I hit it with hammer again”
“how do clubbed thumbs control the weather”
“clubbed thumbs and ballet dancing”

I wish for peace on earth and good will towards hot women but only if you are single and trying to get them to sleep with you. Otherwise, I wish for peace on earth and cool indifference towards hot women.

I wish that snow was cocaine, and that cocaine was sugar, and that sugar was salt. That would take care of the drug problem and automatically salt the roads every time it snowed. It would make cookies taste like absolute balls, but that is the price you pay in the war on drugs.

I wish someone had told me that Brussels’ Sprouts don’t actually come from Brussels. I flew all the way there and was all like “Please give me your finest sprouts” and they were all like “What the fuck are you talking about?” and I was all like “America Rulez!” and they were all like “What?”

I wish I had Million Dollars. Hot Dog!

Lastly, I wish for you and all of my friends out in the blog world, and your families and their families families and pets and babies and mistresses and “paid escorts” to have a wonderful holiday season and make sure you remember the true “reason for the season”.

Which would be buying things and giving things to other people.

And wandering around aimlessly and saying things like “I need a list” to people you know.

And going to malls and buying five dollar cups of coffee while waiting in lines of people holding giant television boxes and looking sick about it.

And taking your kids to see Santa when Santa doesn’t want to see your kids and they don’t want to see him.

And opening a present from your mother in law which turns out to be an ugly sweater, which you then have to hold up and tuck under your chin with your arms holding the sleeves straight out to the sides so everyone can see an approximation of what it will look like when you actually wear it one day and then everyone can say “Oh, I like that sweater a lot, very nice!” while you sit in your chair looking like a palsied scarecrow with lock jaw and a sweater stuck under your chin.

Be safe, drink lots of egg nog (why aren’t there any other kinds of nogs), and I’ll see you in ’10.

Facebook Quizzes

I recently took a quiz on Facebook titled: ‘What crazy bitch are you?’ My result was Sinead O’Connor, which makes sense because I have a shaved head and I once tore up a picture of Mickey Mouse outside of Disneyworld to protest the fact that the Disney Corporation wouldn’t let me publish my book ‘It’s a Small Girl After All’: my semi-autobiographical account of the world’s first midget transvestite. I guess ‘Mr. Toad’s Wild Gay Parade’ and ‘Space Mountain: A look at the heart of Colombia’s heroin trade...and roller coasters’ are out of the question.

 I have so many unpublished books.

The quiz reminded me of an awesome day when I went to McDonalds and ordered two “Quintuple Cheeseburgers”. The drive thru attendant responded by saying ‘What kind of crazy bitch are you?’ to which I responded, ‘the fat kind, now make with the quints.’ Although I may have been banned from that particular location, the other McDonald’s eateries are still ‘Open for Business’ as they say.

Facebook is awesome. I found out so many interesting things about myself through seemingly hundreds of quizzes and tests set up by Facebook experts. For instance, I found out the following:

--What kind of pee are you? (Canary Yellow)
--If your entire body were one big fist, what surface would you strike first? (Sinead O’Connor, which is so ironic in at least two or three ways)
--What kind of ass are you? (Jack. I was pulling for “Horse’s” but I think question 4 had a racial bias...)
--If you were a character in the Facts of Life, which character would you be? (Tootie, which I already knew, but it’s nice to have it confirmed in an official capacity)
--What crazy periodical element are you? (Berylium, but that’s a no-brainer. Tell me something I don’t know, Facebook!)
--If hair was free, how much hair would you have? (100 pounds. The questions seemed to have nothing to do with hair, but ‘In Facebook We Trust’. Ah, if only hair were free. Facebook is like a fantasy wonderland.)
--What kind of morose sad sack are you? (This quiz had no questions. Somehow I think the quiz question itself was the only question)
--If Facebook had to borrow some money, how much money could Facebook borrow from you? C’mon, you know Facebook is good for it, right? (I don’t know, a hundred bucks I guess?)
--What internet abbreviation are you? (‘QT’. A lot of my friends were ‘CUL8R’ which is so them!)
--What cup of tea are you? (Earl Grey, which delighted me to no end!)
--What bone are you? (Fibula)
--What candy corn are you? (Candy Corn. *shrug* I don’t know what I expected.)
--What kind of wild accountant are you? (Tax extension processor. Aw yeah!)
--What sort of freakish librarian are you? (Cardigan sweater wearing.)

Go take some quizzes and report back so I can learn something about you. I’m especially interested in hearing which characters on the A-Team you all would be.

Surfing

I propose that we all stop using the phrase “Surf the Internet.” I have suggested this to the new President and he gave me a pat on the head and sent me off with a glass of milk. I think he was trying to avoid the subject. Surfing is a dangerous, athletic sport that requires unparalleled balance and stamina. Going to a website requires a working finger (or barring a working finger, I suppose one useable toe would suffice). Don’t fall into the trap of feeling like maybe you did some exercise that day because you “Surfed” for 5 hours. I think in the end America’s fitness issues are in part hampered by this phrase. Many people claim exercise due to “surfing all day” which we all know to be false. Have you ever moved your mouse a few inches and then put your arms out dramatically to either side of you shouting “WHOA!” like you almost lost your balance? If you have, then go see a doctor because you probably have a serious inner ear infection. I worry about you. Plus “surf” and “web” don’t even remotely go together. That is like saying “Paddle the Limo”, “Ski the Golf Course” or “Eat the Brussels’ Sprouts”. Total nonsense.

I propose we use one of the following new phrases to replace the old “Surf the Internet” abomination. Please vote and I’ll forward the results to the following authorities: God, Octomom, Lauren Conrad of 'The Hills', Keenan Ivory Wayans, the other 74 Wayans Brothers, Fred "Rerun" Berry, Thomas the Tank Engine and Madonna.

--Spin the Spiderwebs (spooky and mysterious...)
--Ride the Info-Coaster (Ups, downs, occasional vomiting...)
--Screw the Library (Self-explanatory.)
--SOAP: Search Out Animal Pornography (NOTE: Remove this before posting. IMPORTANT!)
--Be Awesomely Anonymous (BAAAAAAAAAA!)
--Walk the Light-Rope (Fiber optics? Light based data delivery? It’s a stretch, but I’m counting on you to stretch with me. And if you read the stuff on here regularly, you are going to have to stretch more than Elastic Man.)
--Mouse Trap! (Exclamation points always make things sound better and more exciting. Also, Mouse Trap is an awesome game I used to play when I was a kid, so double bonus points for this one.)
--Sausage Links (I’m starving.)
--Sweet Potato Link...Fries...Web (*looking around for some Ritz Crackers or something*)
--Hitchhike on the Pancake Superhighway (Ok, I have to go get something to eat.)
--Linky-Loo (My kids both love this one, for some reason.)
--Orbit Planet Uranus (*giggle* Forgive me, this is supposed to be serious.)
--Orbit Planet Linkatron (There that is much more serious.)
--Burn up the Floojit (Floojit? It’s pronounced “Stop asking so many questions about the words I use.”)
--Skydive into Link Heaven (OK, I may have written that one while I was “under the influence” (of pancakes)).
--Wear a Heavy Coat (That isn’t a suggestion for a new phrase; it’s just a friendly reminder. It’s cold out.)

I am welcome to other suggestions as well. Please help me redefine the internet and the way the world sees it. Now pardon me while I go “Vigorously lift weights” the “Television”.

Google Trap

I have had quite a few Google hits from people searching for information on “Clubbed Thumbs” due to this entry I wrote last year: Clubbed Thumbs. Currently, my “Clubbed Thumbs” blog entry is the eleventh result in a Google search on “Clubbed Thumbs”, believe it or not. I was flattered for a minute and then I realized the sad state of affairs for Clubbed Thumbers when my ridiculous post is the eleventh most pertinent web entry on this medical condition. I picture poor people searching Google for legitimate information and help, instead stumbling into this buffoonery. That being said, I want more people getting stuck here while searching for legitimate help (who wouldn’t?). Therefore, I am littering this post with some (hopefully) common Google searches and some other medical conditions besides Clubbed Thumbs making this post an official Google Trap. So, without further ado, here we go (despair, for there is no escape):

MALE PATTERN BALDNESS

ERECTILE DISFUNCTION

CLUBBED FEET

HARELIP HELP AND INFO

PIGEON TOES AND THE PEOPLE WHO LIVE WITH THEM

KELLY CLARKSON

PINKEYE

HEART PALPITATIONS

TATTOO REMOVAL

OCTOMOM

REMOVE WRINKLES FOREVER

PENIS ENLARGEMENT

OPRAH

GROW A FOOT TALLER IN 10 SECONDS

TYRA BANKS

TURF TOE

WART REMOVAL

WART ENHANCEMENT

MAKE GOLD IN YOUR BASEMENT

MONEY TREES AND HOW TO GROW THEM

SEX

Bring them to me, Google. I command you. Bring them to me.

Me-Bot

I decided that by the year 2030 I want to have a Robot created that is an exact duplicate of me. By then I think we should have the technology available to get this done. Naturally, if I’m getting a robot built, I’m going to make a few modifications. Here is a working list of what I want to include in my robot-self:

-- Laser eyes that can shoot through any solid surface.
-- The ability to sing the entire soundtrack from “Phantom of the Opera” note-perfect.
-- Flight.
-- Flame-producing fingertips, with an optional lightning add-on.
-- The ability to judge everyone on their flaws, and have those people thank me-bot for the effort.
-- The audacity to wear clashing colors and get away with it.
-- TV Screen in the chest-plate that plays constant reruns of “Arrested Development”.
-- Knee and elbow joints that have 360 degrees of flexibility so me-bot can perform psychotic dance moves that no one else can even hope to attempt.
-- Voice module that can reach a volume level of 250 decibels so that me-bot can always be heard when attempting to tell everyone what the real deal is.
-- Bulletproof Ass (coincidentally, also the name of the first band I was in).
-- Hair generator that can instantly restyle itself into any hair style I choose. Default hair style: Pete Rose.
-- A Metallic Eagle attached to me-bot’s shoulder that screeches piercingly every time anyone gets within 100 feet.
-- The ability to scream in 35 different languages.
-- Increased memory to allow the ability to instantly recall anyone’s face and make fun of it.
-- Wheeled feet that let me-bot roll at speeds up to 130 miles-per-hour to allow for high-speed chases and general freakish behavior (or ‘behaviour’ for our friends from Great Britain).
-- Explosives concealed in the palms of me-bot’s hands so that I can use me-bot to take over a third-world country, who would confuse me-bot for a God with a few well-timed claps and some ear-splitting screeches from the Metallic Eagle.
-- Edible Underwear.
-- Double-jointed hips so that me-bot can put a hand on its hip, jut it out to the side a little, and say “Oh no he didn’t!” while waving a finger with its other hand and shaking its head from side to side more and more dramatically until the head just starts rotating in place quicker and quicker until whoever was telling their silly story just leaves us alone.

I’m guessing you never considered having your own robot built in your likeness, but are now salivating at the thought of a robot that does the things I just mentioned? I thought so. I’ll let you know how the testing goes.

Urgent Questions: Volume 3

When the mailman arrives at your doorstep gingerly carrying a fragile Christmas gift from a distant relative, do you make fun of his silly looking blue half-pants?

When the power goes out in your house, do you crawl under your kitchen table and wait for the inevitable alien invasion, or do you just stand on your front lawn and shake your fist at the sky shouting “Bring it on, you alien suckers! I’ve got 10 knuckles with your alien names on them!”? If more people did the latter, then maybe global warming wouldn’t be such a problem.

If a beautiful Monarch butterfly flaps its wings in Texas, what are the chances that someone is going to try to shoot it with a 10 gauge? I would say, Defcon 1 (only because I’ve always wanted to say that).

Do tigers ever look at their beautiful orange and black stripes, stretch their powerful muscles, and wonder why the hell Oprah Winfrey is famous?

If an apple falls from a tree and hits me in the head, will I be inspired like Newton was when he invented the laws of gravity, or will I just smash that apple into your stupid laughing face?

Wouldn’t it be easier to just fly to work on my golden wings of love and divine inspiration instead of riding my bike because of multiple DUI convictions (alleged)?

How many times can I call the police and report a robbery before they look out the front window of the police station and force me to put my clothes back on?

Will my gentle and forgiving nature one day rise up and strangle me in a fit of rage because it represses everything and doesn’t know how to express its feelings like its ex boyfriend did, and wow was he a lot cuter, and he actually cooked once in a while too?

Couldn’t I get lucky one time, just one time my sweet Lord, and hug a 300 pound bouncer who actually wants and appreciates a loving hug?

How many times have you opened a closet door expecting an inter-dimensional time warp portal to be behind it? And how many times have you punched your stupid pinstriped suit as hard as you can when that portal isn’t there?

Did the 80’s really happen, or did someone just throw a box of parachute pants and Cyndi Lauper into a ceiling fan in 1979?

If the fifty United States had a meeting to decide whether or not to allow prayer in schools, what are the chances that California shows up like a half hour late, minimum? I say 100 percent. Oh, make sure you separate Nevada and Utah; they don’t get along at all. I’m sure Texas will show up and be all like “Yeehaw, lets have some barbeque! Who wants to go to the Ro-day-o?!?!” And don’t even count on Hawaii, I guarantee they are so high right now.

If Billy has six apples, and Lucy has three apples, and Johnny walks up asking for half of Billy’s apples, and one-third of Lucy’s, then who does Johnny think he is? Can’t he just earn his apples like Billy and Lucy did, running guns for the Gambino crime family?

Have you ever sat cross-legged in the middle of a busy highway singing Bon Jovi songs while birds swoop down and peck at your hair (which is filled with birdseed from a wedding you went to) and then Bon Jovi himself pulls up next to you in his limo, leans his head out the window, and sings harmony on “Wanted Dead or Alive” thereby forcing the birds to attack him instead?

Does grass that grows on the moon taste like peppermint? If it does, then get yourself up there on the next shuttle and start eating as much as you can get your hands on. Your breath smells like a gym locker.

Ladies, is it really so hard to put the toilet seat up when you are done sitting on it? Y’all gonna make me lose my mind up in here (up in here).

Would you let Rudolph join in your reindeer games already? He’s really bumming everyone out hanging around the house and complaining about nose-ism (discrimination based on the function of one’s nose), which I secretly think is something he made up just to get some sympathy. I mean, he can fly, isn’t that good enough?

New Blog Titles

‘Millions of Atoms’ was kind of a spur of the moment decision for a title to this blog. I considered changing it to ‘Millions of Adams’, but I think that is too many Adams. So I started thinking of other potential titles. Here is what I came up with (I like making lists):

--Dead-On Balls Accurate: My Life and Times
--Goodnight Moon, Hello Heroin
--A Pen in One Hand is worth Two in the Blog
--Doctor Feelawful
--Fatty Fatty Hamburger Patty
--Blog Cabin Tales and Funny Slapdashery
--One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blog Fish
--Words in a Row (with occasional Punctuation to break up the long rows of words)
--Pimpmaster General Laying Down the Law
--Automatic High-Five Generator
--Distilled Awesome with a side of “Hell Yeah!”
--Lists of Things and Stuffs
--T.G.I. Shut It
--Aiming for Heaven, Shooting my Foot Off
--B.L.O.G. (Bullshit Legend Of God)
--10 pounds of Blog in a 5 pound Blag
--A Tale of Two Shitties
--The Really New Testament
--Absurdity 2.0
--Tripping on Daisies and Hanging my Hat on a Rainbow
--Reflections from the Lake of Wonderment and Beauty
--Bunny Tales and Puppy Years
--Millions of Apples
--The Guiding Force for All Existence in Every Universe
--Lipsmackin’ Fingerlickin’ Chicken Pickin’ Hoedown Shootout
--Cursing in English, Loving in Spanish, Writing in Latin and Eating Chinese
--Bologna Sandwiches; hold the Funny
--The Great Glass Blogavator
--Wish in one Hand and Blog in the Other, see which one fills up first
--It was the Blog of Times; it was the Blog of Blog
--Bloggie Jean is not my Lover
--Ye Olde Bloge
--Fifty Ways to Blog your Blogger
--BlogBlogBlogBlog
--Elemental Jackass: One man’s journey into the world of Forbidden Comedy
--Sequential Horse’s-Assery
--Climbing Mount Hilarious: A Journal of Comical Cuteness and Withering Death
--The Bible

In the end, I’ll probably just stick with what I’ve got; or maybe ‘Millions of Richards’.

Urgent Questions: Volume 2

Do you ever climb a tree and perch on the highest branch with your hands shaped like claws pretending to be a vicious, vicious tree sloth (with claws) only to find that you are naked, and the tree you just climbed is actually your therapist?

Have you ever been given incorrect change at the grocery store and then swept the leg of the checkout girl? Do you then follow procedure and get her a body bag? Yeah?

Have you ever gone to the movies and softly hooted like an owl while eating popcorn like an owl would until someone shatters your owl illusion by taking your picture and showing you that you are in fact just a human being, admittedly with abnormally large eyes for a human, and not really an owl with owl feelings and owl dreams?

Do you dream in color? If so, can you adjust the color so the red isn’t so red? Thanks, it’s hurting my eyes and I’m mostly color blind anyway, so you can just switch to black and white if you wanted to. Nudity looks the same to me regardless of the color, know what I mean, wink, wink?

Did you ever try to roundhouse kick a daisy and then become frustrated at the sheer resilience and fortitude of such a pretty flower? Man, those beautiful Daisies really have it all figured out.

Have you ever opened a book expecting a horrible demon head to pop out, and then laugh when the only thing that pops out is a little leprechaun scolding you about his tiny pot of gold, which you have yet to return (and really, he’s never going to see any of that gold again, because you blew it all on candy and nuts)?

Have you ever conspired against your dog with your cat? If you haven’t breached the subject yet, your cat would totally be up for whatever you have planned, I swear.

Have you ever used dog excrement like shampoo, just rubbing it and massaging it into your scalp while you let the water pour over you, forgetting all of your troubles while you whistle “Don’t Worry Be Happy”, until you are kicked out of the main fountain in the park for generally acting like a public spectacle and smelling like dog excrement (not to mention frightening an entire busload of Japanese tourists)?

When you do heroin, do you shoot it directly into your veins, or just eat it spread on a piece of bread mixed with peanut butter? Everything tastes better mixed with peanut butter, doesn’t it?

If a question ended with an exclamation point instead of a question mark, then wouldn’t it just be you up to your old tricks, yelling out silly things while high on Vicodin and wishing the clouds were made of whipped cream instead of whatever clouds are made of?

When you drive through a toll booth and throw your change into that large white basket, do you ever have the urge to throw yourself into that basket to see where the change goes (and to maybe beat the system and get that
70 cents back)?

Did you ever want to learn how to play the violin just so you can accompany all the miserable minutes of your life with appropriate music?

If pink is the new black, shouldn’t green be the new who gives a crap?

Do you ever use your elbow to painstakingly type out an email, and then slowly bow forward and send the email using your nose and then sit back and laugh out loud at the wondrous hallucinogenic properties of mushrooms?

If a single blade of grass represented our universe, and each blade of grass in your front lawn represented other universes out in the cosmos, and every lawn on your street represented tiny cosmoses that are part of a bigger cosmos, then shouldn’t you just get a job already and stop getting high all day?

When Lobsters beg for their red-shelled lives in a boiling pot of water, do you put your face real close to the pot and tell them in hushed tones how delicious they will be once they shut up and die already?

If I decided to name my Son “Boy”, would he grow up thinking his father is way too literal? Consequently, if he ever brings it up, I could always tell him that I could have named him “Male Human Being with testosterone generated from his male testicles” which would have been WAY more literal, thanks for asking, next subject.

When babies laugh, does it make you sad to think about all the times you used to laugh until your house was carried away by a giant ant and thrown into the river while you screamed for someone to save your house, but the only creatures nearby were other giant ants that were kind of shrugging and saying “That’s what you get for building your house so close to a giant ant farm dude.”?

Did you ever knock out a punk-ass sucka only to find that they stole your weed earning them another beat down at a later date? Aw yeah, baby.

Have you ever done a baseball slide into your cubicle at work screaming “SAFE! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!”? If so, make sure you take out some of your coworkers so they can’t tag you out. That’s Baseball Strategy 101, man. Get your head in the game.

Would you be guilty of murder if you stole an entire sandwich from someone and just killed that sucker?

Is it crazy to build a giant birdhouse where your garage used to be, or just smart planning in case your distant bird relatives come to visit? Trust me, you don’t want them flapping all over your guest room leaving feathers and bird crap everywhere.

Did God invent questions so that inquiries wouldn’t feel so stuck up and important?

If you took the time to point out to every driver in America how much better their lives would be if they saved the environment by driving a hybrid car, would you be surprised if I kicked you in the back of the head with a giant clown shoe?

If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around to hear it, could you please be under it when it does? You have really gotten on my last nerve today.

Have you ever eaten a dog biscuit only to find that it actually tastes like a dog? And now doesn’t your dog’s goofy smile seem so much more sinister?

How many times have you walked into a room, forgotten why you walked in there, and then urinated in the fish tank to show those goldfish who the real head of the household is? I knew there was a good reason you walked in there.

Have you ever run into a deli screaming like a banshee, just to see how many people drop their sandwiches so that you might get a free sandwich out of the deal?

Do you ever fall to your knees and scream up at the sky “Why, God, Why?” until you remember that YOU were the one who decided to voluntarily get your hair cut like a game show host from 1976.

Do you ever spin in a circle as fast as you can shouting “I’m a deadly tornado!” until you fall on the ground puking your lunch all over an entire bed of beautiful spring lilies, and then sit up laughing saying to yourself “Wow, how ironic, I did manage to destroy an entire bed of lilies, just not in a very tornado-like way”?

Euphemisms: Chapter 1

Put the Clothes in the Closet
Fire off an Email to the Boss
Keep the Dog on a Short Leash
Mail a Letter to Dear Abby
Put the Lotion in the Basket
Sing the National Anthem
Stick the Landing
Ride the Tilt-A-Whirl at the County Fair
Shovel the Sidewalk
Wash the Dirt off your Shoes
Get Change for a Fifty
Throw Bananas at the Monkey Cage
Fly over the Grand Canyon
Blow up the Birthday Balloons
Add some Chocolate to your milk
Keep your taxes down
Boil the Hot Dogs
Ride the Painted Pony
Add a Dash of Salt
Bolt the Shed Door
Call Out Bingo
Buy a new Garage Door Opener
Be there around 6
Bake some Christmas Cookies
Pick all the Strawberries you can eat
Salt the Driveway
Split the Uprights
Order a Submarine Sandwich
Slide into the Deep End
Grill up some Salmon Steaks
March in the St Patricks Day Parade
Host a Dinner Party
Fire a SCUD Missile into the Mediterranean Sea
Take out the Garbage
Freeze the Leftovers
Take the Cleveland Browns to the Super Bowl

These can mean whatever you think they should mean.

Urgent Questions: Volume I

Do you ever have the urge to just grab a duck and hug him until all his troubles go away?

Did you ever look up at a clear blue sky and think, “Why isn’t the sky red like it is in all of my hellish nightmares?”

Have you ever kicked a midget, and then apologized to a different midget, thinking it was the one you kicked, when really it was a completely different midget that happened to be dining with the midget you kicked?

Did you ever blow on a dandelion and then chase the floating seeds while laughing and skipping across a dew covered meadow that is literally covered in goose crap?

Did you ever punch a wall so hard that your arm goes all the way through the wall into the adjacent room, and then given all of the people in the other room, who were enjoying a nice afternoon tea until Mr. Cranky decided to show up, the finger in that room?

What if God was one of us? Would God look around and say, “Man I hope some one-hit wonder writes a song about me, calls me a slob in it, and then is never heard from again. I think that would be a fitting legacy for my enormous deadly power and widespread influence”?

Have you ever dived into the ocean, only to surface with a mass of seaweed on your head like a perfectly styled seaweed wig? Do you then thank God that seaweed is not only delicious, but it is smart enough to cover the skull tattoo of a giant eyeball on your dumb, bald head?

Why is it that crocodiles are so mean, and panda bears are so genuinely helpful and nice? Is it because crocodiles live in Florida, and everyone knows that Florida’s property taxes are very high and basically the common taxpayer ends up screwed because all the money goes to corrupt politicians instead of back into the community like it should? Panda Bears don’t have to deal with any of this.

Have you ever had the urge to run as fast as you can at a bus and then throw yourself under it, just so you can later tell the paramedics “Wow, I really threw myself under the bus?”

How many roads must a man walk down before he gets accidentally shot by a rogue police officer who recently lost his job and had his wife leave him for another woman?

If Popeye and Woody Woodpecker had a child, would that child be named Poppy Peckeye? (Hint: The answer is yes. The real question is how drunk was Popeye that night? One thing you need to know about Popeye: When he’s drunk, he’s gotta have it.)

If a train leaves New York heading west at 60 miles per hour, and another train leaves Los Angeles heading east at 70 miles per hour, at what point would you hijack a train in the New Orleans area to try to meet them in the middle and cause a horrific three-way train crash?

Have you ever run screaming into a forest and then come out on the other side of the forest arm in arm with a grizzly bear, laughing and reminiscing about all the troubles you just went through together in the middle of the forest?

Clubbed Thumbs

My sister-in-law has an unhealthy obsession with “Clubbed Thumbs”. From Wikipedia: “A clubbed thumb is a term used to describe the genetic clubbing of one or both thumbs. It is characterized by a particularly short thumb that is round in section and bulbous at the end. The thumb nail is very wide and short. The scientific term for clubbed thumb is Brachydactyly type D or BDD". This is a medical condition which gives the person in question unusually large thumbs, almost like big toes on their hands; like when Tom gets his thumb slammed by a giant mallet wielded by Jerry. My sister-in-law is fascinated by this condition, and secretly stares at people's thumbs searching for this rare occurrence in public.

I gave this a lot of thought, probably too much, and I decided that it would actually be a good thing to have clubbed thumbs. Here are some reasons why:

1. People with clubbed thumbs are gold medalists in hitchhiking. They could hitchhike all the way to Mars and back if they wanted to.
2. Guaranteed win in any thumb wrestling tournament. It would be like King Kong Bundy wrestling Emmanuel “Webster” Lewis.
3. Clubbed Thumbers can kick a soccer ball with their hands.
4. If you are ever in a car accident, and the emergency response teams are late with the Jaws of Life, a clubbed thumb-haver can save your life with their built in “Thumbs of Life”. You will be out of any mangled wreck of a car in 5 minutes or under. Every time, guaranteed.
5. Built in movie screen. Just hold your thumb up and project a movie onto your thumbnail.
6. Imagine if Roger Ebert had clubbed thumbs? A “two thumbs up” from him would translate into a 500 billion dollar gross at the box office, just from movie-goers being overwhelmed into attending.
7. No more hidden crib sheets for important tests. Write every math problem ever on the ball of your thumb, and leave the magnifying glass home…
8. Tennis racket optional at the country club.
9. Built in fly swatter. Or in this case, “fly atomic bomb”.
10. Portable puppets.

The list goes on and on. Don’t be so fast to condemn clubbed thumb folks. They have many advantages (listed above, and that is just the tip of the thumb-berg). I think they are endearing, sweet little appendages. Give some love to a clubbed thumber today for the holidays. They may just save your life one day.