Friday, November 30, 2007


I walked into the breakroom today to scarf down my greasy lunch to find the womenfolk of the office watching Oprah. While I crammed the burger and fries from Five Guys down my gullet I was subjected to seeing The O "interview" Vince Gill and Amy Grant. Even after watching that I still couldn't pick either of them out of a lineup.

The good news is while watching Senor Gill croon one of his shitty songs I was reminded of William Murderface. I am so happy that Metalocalypse is in a second season that it got me through lunch with Oprah. Gill reminded me of Murderface in the episode this year where he tried his hand at songwriting.

The problem is that I now have the song stuck in my head. I like this song, but it sucks having it stuck in my head because I can't sing it aloud without fear of a harassment suit. Here is the song in its entirety.

A million miles from nowhere, a dragonlance burns hot.
While the fire of a horse's ghost; a minnow would be lost.
Mmmmm, tits. A fish. A fish with tits.

Untitled - W. Murderface

The difference between Murderface and Gill is that Murderface can make a poorly written song awesome. Murderface has zazz and all Gill has is suck.

The legacy of lunch doesn't end there. The amount of grease consumed is making its presence known. I don't normally have that much grease and I am now considering bringing a travel roll of Charmin Ultra Strong into work.

I just need this fucking week to end. My plans for next week are as follows.

1. Do nothing
2. Drink
3. Repeat

Man I love weeks off work with no plans. I wish I could have scraped up enough funds to join the bloggers in Vegas but it was not to be. If any of y'all out there feel like extending the dial-a-shot I keep a bottle of Jager in my freezer at all times. At all other times next week I plan on being in a bar.

Or, if you are in the ANTA and feel like making your liver take a contract out on you give me a ring. Or, if you are in the ANTA and are handing out bags of cash please give me a call.

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Wednesday, November 28, 2007

TP for me

Where's the "and" key?

-One of my kids when I told him to reboot his Pocket PC by pressing CLEAR, H, and GO.

The recent rage seems to be regaling folks with Empire and Da Bruisers misfortune in the continuing series Tales From A Transient Neighborhood. Naturally, I need to take it in another direction.

Should I talk about the game last night where my straights were gold and flopped boats always lose? Should I remark about how winter is here so I must prepare to not be able to breathe through my nose for the next four months? An explanation of my football team's implosion and possible candidates for the head coaching vacancy? Maybe a well thought out treatise on the current political situation we are in?

Nah, better stick with what I know.

So I've found a new toilet paper that I absolutely love. I written in the past about how quality TP is very important to me and how it tells you a lot about a person. After years of searching I have found the perfect combination of strength and softness.

I had just taken a BFS and was dealing with the necessary anus maintenance. I first noticed the difference between this TP and my former brand while tearing the first four sheets along the perforation.

A quick side note. I have a method. The first wipe is four sheets folded down to a pad the size of a single sheet. Wipe, fold, continue until there is no way to fold and not sully the hand. The second wipe is three sheets. Any subsequent wipes (if necessary) are also three squares. More on why this is important later.

There was some bulk to those first four sheets. The felt heavy in the hand, much like a perfect clementine does (or any other quality citrus). They folded easily and had a nice feel.

The sheets caressed my dirt star and did and admirable job of ablution. Much like a fine wine had a good mouth feel this paper had a good ass feel. The second assembly of paper was taken by habit, but not really needed!

This stuff was great! It was more than simple, pedestrian toilet paper. This was like laving your chocolate dot with the napkin from a fine dining restaurant. Ass linen, if you will. Maybe even a kind of toilet papyrus.

I imagine if one had the opportunity to use the wrappings from an Egyptian ruler's mummy to lustrate their hairy hole it would feel this good. I felt like I should have annointed my tootsie roll lacuna with precious oils afterward.

I was so moved by the experience that when I vacated my throne I dug through the trash can for the discarded shrink wrap from the 12 pack. I had to know what was going to be my brand of the future. Charmin Ultra will now the the only guest accompanying me as I drop the kids off at the pool.

I look forward to a time when I can clean myself up after a round of the Pabst Shits and not worry about breakthrough and possible contamination. A lavatory paper that can stand up to some serious Dutch Piss (urban dictionary is your friend) is nothing to be scoffed at.

There is also the conservation angle. I'm not going to go all Sheryl Crow on you bitches, but it will enable me to use less squares. The first wave is being cut down from four to three soldiers. I have a proposal before the committee to take the subsequent (if necessary, say after a Mexican meal) waves whittled down to two sheets.

Hell, if there is a cleanly pinched loaf I may even be able to pull of holy grail of wipes, The Uno. I'll keep you posted.

Now back to work and swearing to never buy a JVC product because those motherfuckers are dildoes (or is it dildos? I'm not googling the proper spelling while at work).

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Sunday, November 25, 2007

Y chromosome required to read this post

I know all y'all out there have been waiting patiently to find out which platform I would go with for my cordless power tools. After years of deliberations with Dewalt, B & D, and Rigid I've made my decision. The dark horse of Ryobi has lured me away with their ONE+ 18V system.

No, it had nothing to do with the ridonkulously low price at the Depot of Home. I swear. OK, yeah it did. I would have preferred to buy a combo set that had a reciprocating saw but I can't pass over the opportunity to buy a circular saw and 1/2" drill for the price of only one of the items (plus a flashlight and some weird radio dealy). Also, the combo that had the reciprocating saw was four times the price.

To show my allegiance to my new corporate partners I also purchased a 6" bench grinder. Why do I need a bench grinder? I really don't know, but I do know it was twenty bucks. Do you have a bench grinder? I didn't think so, so next time you need something ground on a bench don't come crying to me.

The most amusing thing to me is that I only went out to get a propane torch. No, not only for making creme brulee. There are plenty of other brulees out there to make. The Maillard reaction is a wonderful thing.

Wait! I meant that I bought it for soldering or some other manly enterprise. Like, um....FIRE GOOD! ::grunt grunt grunt::

I think American Express might think that I'm setting up a torture chamber. Pretty much all I would have had to tag along with my purchase would be some bamboo. Well, that and a plane ticket to Gitmo.

This may have been my most mantastic purchase ever. I hope to upgrade one day and buy a riding mower and a 90 inch flatscreen, or my own football team/strip club. Until that day, though, this day wins.

Thursday, November 22, 2007


Happy Turkey Day motherfuckers. I'm doing my good deed for the day and cooking a turkey breast to take over to vegetarian Thanksgiving. Y'all out there in interwebland remember to do your good deed and give thanks for a day off work.

Except for those poor fucks that have to work today, like the entire staff of my neighborhood Kroger. Man, that fucking place was packed. I just needed some extra stock to make gravy, but it looked like pre-hurricane conditions there.

People were queuing up in the parking lot for spaces and behaving generally like assholes do in crowded parking lots. Inside it was a war zone. Hipsters and single fathers trying to figure out what all is needed for a Thanksgiving dinner. I had to keep from cringing when I overheard an assertion that you really didn't need to use fresh herbs and that dried were just as good.

But I will applaud whoever is in charge of the Edgewood Kroger. It was fully staffed and nobody seemed too pissed they were working on a holiday. The staff looked a lot better than all the patrons with thousand yard stares.

Seriously, if you are buying a turkey (possibly frozen!) after noon on Thanksgiving you are truly fucked. If you are comparing disposable roasting pans you are boned. Give it up and order Dominoes. Trust me, the kids will appreciate it.

Of course, there is no guarantee that my turkey breast will turn out well. I haven't cooked a turkey in a couple years much less tried to make my own gravy. Hell, the gravy is a spur of the moment thing but I thought I would try something new. The carnivores at Veggiegiving will hopefully appreciate the effort.

Well, I need to go baste the breast again. Good luck Falcons, you fucking need it.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Like there was ever any doubt

Monday, November 12, 2007


I was in cab number 1337 on Saturday night. Too bad my cameraphone can't take pictures worth a fuck.

Thursday, November 08, 2007


Well, another tired internet/blog meme type thing is making the rounds. Kuro, that motherfucker, tagg'd me so by the hippobloggic oath I must participate.

Here's the rules:
A). Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog...
B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself...
C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs...
D). Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog...

I don't remember what I did last time this tag hit me, and I am far too lazy to go into my archives and look it up. So, if there are any repeats, you can eat the peanuts out of my corn encrusted shit.

1. I'm an asshole. Have you read Confederacy of Dunces? Yeah, like that. Imagine Simon Cowell with an impacted colon or Dick Cheney with a yeast infection. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before, but you can suck my taint.

2. I've worn corrective lenses since I was seven, but they still have yet to give me lenses that correct my astigmatism. Either that, or my right eye is possessed by a blurriness demon.

3. I am extremely lazy. You can reference my beer bath posts on that one. Think Hedonism Bot from Futurama crossed with Comic Book Guy crossed with a sloth crossed with a park bench aspiring to be molasses in January.

4. I can't commit to a tattoo. I'm not even sure I would want one, but I think I should at least have something in reserve in case it comes up sometime (maybe a blind date activity). The best I've come up with so far is a pitcher of beer with a halo over it. However, while discussing it the problem of having that tattoo during an AA barbecue on the beach in 20 years seems weird. Maybe we will have the flying cars we were promised by then, so it's a good trade off.

5. I also can't commit to Atheism. I just don't see much of a difference in Atheism and any true Deism. That kind of rock hard belief I reserve for tangible things like porn and cheeseburgers. I find preachy atheists just as annoying as my bible thumping uncle. The good thing is I can be rude to them and still get tasty vittles at Thanksgiving.

6. My testicles are a perfect 1:256^66 replica of a KBO in the Kuiper Belt (a periodic comet I believe) that I have nicknamed "Lonestarr".

7. My morning breath reminds all who smell it of kitten farts.

Can you tell I ran out of steam at the end there? Anyway, on to the tags.

That guy from that episode of Friends that you liked
Jean-Paul Satre

Ok, that's enough. I have to finish my reports here at work and then clock out.

P.S. Bacon is life.