sound

If a mime falls in the woods, does it make a sound?

Friday

So, tomorrow I have two potential nightmare scenarios, each a culinary and polar opposite:

1. My brother is propossing a "meatless" Thanksgiving. To be specific - vegan shepards pie. Ooo, just what I want, tastless, soul-less beancurd, masquerading as a meat product, mushed together into something that may resemble real food, but will be percieved by my taste buds as some cruel sick joke, or...

2. My brother got his hands on an indoor turkey fryer. And as much as I love fried anything, I've been having nightmares about this thing since he told me he got it. And he even posted on his blog how the kitchen counter is too inconvienient, and he plans on putting it on the rickety forty year old kitchen table next time he uses it.

So, tasteless crap, or an oil fire filled with excruciating fiery death for the entire family. Hmmm. I think I'll choose the fiery death. At least I won't have to go to work on Friday.

- Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

credit

So, it's finally happened. I met that special someone. After all these years. I know what you're going to say: "She's too young for me" or "there's the language thing" or even "she's a Russian stripper" but you just don't understand how she feels about me. She said I was nothing at all like the other middle aged pot bellied losers that she is forced to allow to stick one dollar bills up her cootch every Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursday happy hour. And she hates those good looking athletic guys in their late twenties that she screws two at a time every weekend. She's always had a thing for the shy sensitive intelligent type. Like me! She even has a pet name for me: "bolshoi idiot". She told me it's Russian for "handsome intelligent man with incredibly large penis". She likes to wisper it in my ear as I blow through the month's rent for a lap dance. So anyway, I'm walking on air. Tomorrow, right after I throw me elderly parents into the streets, we're going shopping for her new car. I hope my credit's good!

heart

I have a confession. I wouldn't describe myself as psychic, but I do occasionally feel what others around me are feeling. More of an empath kind of thing really. Today, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if millions of voices cried out all at once in unspeakable anguish and torment and then suddenly, were silenced. It was the collective simultaneous screams of all the Mets and Boston Red Sox fans at the final out of the World Series. Oh, how it warmed my black heart. GO YANKEES!!!

loss

Today at work they had a blood drive. They wouldn't take mine. They said it caused crankiness and premature hair loss.

money

I just figured out what I'm going out for Halloween as: middle aged loser. I didn't feel like spending alot of money on a costume.

years

Huh? What happened to my weekend? I swear. It was just here a minute ago? I turn around and pffttt! Oh well, we're due for another weekend in... let's see.... SEVENTY TWO YEARS?!!!

some

Enough. Will you damn kids give the rabbit some fucking Trix already.

apple

Usually I stick to my 100% natural free diet. But today I had a salad. That means I’m safe to eat all the fried chicken, pork rinds, and Doritos I want. Doesn’t It? Next month, I’m going to eat an apple.

bonus

So, at work they’re looking for potential mottos or slogans that could be used for recruitment. I put a few in the suggestion box:

- Abandon hope all ye who enter here.
- My God, my God. Why hast thou forsaken me?

But I really think my third entry will be the winner:

- Arbeit Macht Frei.

Yeah, that’s it. I wonder if I’ll get a bonus?

weekend at michael's

Come on. Everyone knew. They’d pull the body out of storage, spackle in all the holes, slap on a fresh coat of paint and prop him up in front of the cameras. All the while animating him with invisible wires, voice provided by a ventriloquist. Do you really think he talked like that? He died years ago. You don’t believe me? Take a look at some recent pictures. You could see the enamel starting to chip. And every so often a piece would break off. They’d crazy glue him back together and do a few touch ups. They didn’t do a very good job though. You could see the primer bleeding through.

lie

Back in the 70’s , I like other kids was a huge David Carradine fan. But let me see if I’ve got his family’s story straight:

A secret Kung Fu society broke into his hotel room, dressed him in fish nets and women’s clothing. Then hung him with a rope around both his neck and testicles, all while keeping his feet on the floor of his closet.

I don’t get it. What was the motive? Because he was really shitty at Kung Fu? A lousy actor? Didn’t know how to match accessories? Or did he fail some test;

“Grasshopper, when you can cum on this rice paper and not leave a trace, then you will be ready.”

Sometimes it’s best to leave sleeping 70’s action stars lie.

back

What’s happened to New York? Wasn’t just a few years ago that everyone was standing around watching as airplanes were crashing into buildings. People didn’t run until skyscrapers started to fall. In 2001, people were like:

“Holy shit! Did youse see dat? Quick, take my fucking picture.”

Now it’s:

“Look out! There’s a huge blue airplane with the words 'President of the
United States' written in giant letters on the side being escorted by F-16
fighter jets. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!”

What the fuck? Maybe it’s because people think Obama’s a Muslim, the second that no one’s looking he’ll get behind the wheel and crash Air Force One into Rockefeller Center. Christ New York. Stop being such a bunch of pussies and get your balls back.