It's Tuesday. Let's look in the funbag and see what's inside. Oooh! Big League Chew! Man, do I love Big League Chew. It's like tobacco, but for children! Do I chew the entire pack all at once? FUCK AND YES, I do. Oh, and there are some letters in here. Let's read them.
If the Catholic Church is so concerned about priests abusing kids, why not just castrate would-be priests?
Well shit, that's a jim dandy idea. Can I assist in this task? Fetch me the poultry shears.
There's no reason not to do it. You're a priest. Your balls can only get you in trouble. If you're a priest and you DON'T want your balls cut off, then that tells me you plan on using them for sinning. Which means you really DON'T want to be a priest. You want to be a priest with benefits. NO DICE. I say the Vatican should pass out a questionnaire asking if priests want their balls cut off. Anyone who answers YES gets their balls cut off. Anyone who answers NO is a fucking pederast, and should be punished by having their balls cut off.
Dr. A. Brown:
What kind of shitheel writes computer viruses? I mean really, how do you wake up in the morning, have a shower, eat breakfast and devote your life to breaking other people's things? What's the point? You're not there to witness someone's humiliation, which if I remember grade school correctly, is the whole point of causing trouble like this. Are these people bound by ideology?
People who do this should be chemically castrated and have their hands cut off and their tongues cut out so they can't type or use voice activated typing software.
I have no evidence of this, but I think most of the cyberanarchists who create computer viruses come from remote parts of Scandinavia, specifically Finland. Because it's dark all winter and light all summer and that will really fuck with a man's head. There's a reason most death metal bands come from Norway and shit. These are the kind of people who create computer viruses and watch dead squirrel insertion porn.
But these are also the people who take care to post entire new albums on MegaUpload and Rapidshare, and upload any number of important movie clips to YouTube for me to embed should I require them. So there are benefits to having nutjob Finnish rogue computer programmers in this world.
Also, I think many computer viruses are designed to take your info and give it back to the programmer so they can rob you or sell your information. So it's not just anarchy they're all about. There's that Hans Gruber element to it as well. I'm terrified of identity theft. That's why my real name isn't Drew Magary. It's Yngwie Malmsteen. Any time my computer screen blinks or does something funny, I think to myself, THEY'VE INFILTRATED. They will now crawl out of my computer screen and steal all the ice cream sandwiches from the freezer.
Is it weird that I get an unhealthy sense of satisfaction whenever I empty the lint trap? I actually pray that the person who used the dryer before me was rude and left the trap full. It's like peeling out a soft, multi-colored piece of heaven.
And it peels off so cleanly! That's what I like about it. You'd think the dust would be all loose and messy. BUT NO! Those little lint bits join together and fuse into a little a mini-scarf. I love how it does that. Is it magic, OR GOD'S WILL?
My buddy is petrified of snapping his Achilles. He said he would pay 5 bucks a month for the rest of his life to know it could never snap. Would you do it?
No. I don't feel this way anymore, but when I was a kid, I used to always be jealous of kids who had major physical injuries. There were kids at my school who had torn ACLs and I wanted one of my own. Totally would have made me feel like a real athlete. "Nah, man. The ACL tore completely. I planted wrong when I was dodging seven defenders at the 45-yard line. That's the price you pay for being speedy and gifted. I AM A FUCKING WARRIOR." The injured kids were always hanging out in the training room with the hot trainer chicks and going around on crutches with people asking them why they're on crutches. One chick I know had people carrying books for her. Looked like the fucking sweet life. Of course, I'd rather fucking die now that suffer a broken bone. But back in the day, when I had jack shit to do? I'da taken a snapped Achilles.
I love fucking with other people's crutches. Ever have a friend with crutches and you bogart them and play with them for 20 minutes while they sit helplessly in the corner? The gimp can't do shit about it. Sheer joy. They're like mini-stilts! Look at me launching myself forward! WHEE!!!!
Is this a "thing" or have I just had the misfortune of never being with a woman who answers her cell phone when you need her? My wife leaves her cell phone at work during lunch, or accidentally sets it to silent. The thing is, she has an iPhone and she is almost constantly using it, so when she doesn't answer I go through several stages of emotion:
* Frustration at not being able to reach her
* Anger at the cost of a cell phone she doesn't appear to use for its intended tasks
* Back to Frustration, but this time ANGRY Frustration
* Finally, I get to the insane worrying. "What if she has her phone, and was in an accident? OHMIGOD WHAT DO I DO NOW!?!?!? SOMEONE SHOULD KNOW TO CALL ME!!!!"
Compounding this is the fact that I'm a cell phone freaking nazi. If I get to work and realize I forgot it at home, I go right back home and get it at my first opportunity. Am I justified with my frustration/rage or am I just an ass?
Justified. I fucking hate people that don't answer their cell phones. You know who never answers his phone? Leitch. Not once has that man ever picked up his cell phone on the first ring. He's too busy smoking, or filling out some goddamn scorecard. Most people have their cell phones on them at all times. So I KNOW damn well that the other person is present on the other end of the line and actively not picking up, and that pisses me off. NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU, AM I? WELL YOU CAN CRAM IT WITH EGGSHELLS, BUDDY!
I have another friend who not only never answers his phone, but his phone is fucking OFF all day every day. You call him, and it goes RIGHT to voicemail. It doesn't even bother to ring. And this will happen when I'm, like, trying to meet him at a bar and shit. TURN ON YOUR FUCKING PHONE, JEREMY.
My wife just told me that she and our 16-month old son (our only child) are going to Omaha to visit her girlfriend over a long weekend in May. My question to you is this - What should I do with the 72 hours of bachelor life that I will have in store for me? I don't know what I will do with myself for that length of time. Before you answer, I cannot leave town because we do have a dog that needs to be tended to, so that would be out. I will most likely buy a nice bag of weed and a bottle of bourbon, but that's all I've got.
First off, you need to know that there is nothing you can do to prevent from becoming bored. You WILL be bored to death by that third day. I'm around my wife and kids so much that I can no longer function properly without them. I always think I'm gonna enjoy my alone time, then that second or third day arrives and I want to hang myself, I'm so clueless as to what to do. I mean, even I can only masturbate so much. Anyway, you need to make it a point of doing shit you can't do with them around. In my case, that means…
WATCH VIOLENT MOVIES. I haven't seen "Inglourious Basterds" yet because my wife hasn't been away in a while and she hates violent movies. Next time she leaves the house, I'm getting that flick, and the most violent Korean octopus rape horror movie I can find and watching them concurrently. My wife went to dinner with friends a while back and I got to see "District 9". I've never been so happy. The violence quotient in that movie is delightful.
EAT HORRIBLY UNHEALTHY FOOD. When I was single, eating an entire package of Hillshire Farm kielbasa counted as a meal. There was no need to fuss with vegetables and starches and all that bullshit. Just me and a sausage and a homemade sauce I made out of half spicy mustard and half Frank's Red Hot that made my asshole cry blood. BLISS. Anyway, I can't do that anymore unless the wife and kids are gone.
WATCH SPORTS. Oh, yeah! This is what playoff basketball looks like!
DRINK UNTIL YOU DON'T REALLY KNOW WHY YOU'RE DRINKING ANYMORE. I'm 33, which means I'm at the point where I'm drinking a fifth glass of whisky at midnight and staring at it and asking myself, "Why am I still drinking? Oh well. FUCK IT." And then I just keep on drinking.
DO SHIT WITH FRIENDS. If you have them. I don't really have any. This is why I don't go shooting clay pigeons when the family's away. I would totally do that if I had friends.
Why is it so difficult for my girlfriend to understand that I can only have one big task in a day? We cleaned out my crawl space last weekend, and we found a bunch of papers that needed shredding. When I flat out refused to also shred the papers on the same day, she got pissed. I explained that I had already done my big task for the day, and that was good enough. Why do I need to keep finding things to do??
No clue. As I've said before, no man likes doing surprise chores. I know I have to take out the trash and do the dishes. I know I have to fix that dimmer switch on Sunday. That's fine. But when I'm done fixing the dimmer switch, don't you fucking DARE come and spring some other bullshit task on me. "Can you also clean out the file cabinet?" FUCK AND NO, I can't. It's 3:30PM. I'm done for the day. I'm drinking and sitting in a chair, and you can't stop me.
Women are so fucking active. It can get irritating. My wife can't sit still and watch a TV show. She always has to be doing shit, and that drives me nuts because I'm trying to relax, but I can't relax fully because SHE isn't relaxed. Will you just sit down and watch this show, missy? You're making me all neurotic.
When I was a kid, I used to stare at the sun until I had those little spots on my eyes and would then look around and blink furiously and pretend I was Superman burning down trees and shit with my sun powered laser eyes. To this day I still maintain perfect 20/20 vision and looking back now I wonder if this exercise strengthened my eyes.
It's like you vaccinated your eyes against BRIGHTNESS. I suggest we do this with all kids to heighten their sensory abilities. Have them stare at the sun. Take them to Slayer concerts and have stand by the amp stacks. Lock them in a room with a pile of mixed animal feces for a week. They'll be virtually superhuman by the time the course is over. THAT'S SCIENCE.
Now that I'm living with the woman, I've been demoted to dishwasher boy for every meal (is there any worse thing in the world than washing dishes after an awesome meal?? That's a topic for another day).
No, no. Let's make that a topic for today, because doing dishes after a great dinner (particularly one with good alcohol also consumed) completely fucking ruins it. It's like being asked to fix a toilet after sex. It's awful, and it ruins every Thanksgiving.
(NOTE: This does not apply to good breakfasts or lunches if you are a parent. That's when the kids are still awake, and I'll always take dish duty over make-sure-the-kids-don't-murder-each-other duty. Not even close. Doing the dishes is like a little vacation in those instances. I can think about poop. I can quietly sing "Fade To Black" to myself. I can take five minutes to rinse each plate. It's as close to a week in the Bahamas as I'll get, and that is so terribly sad.)
Anyway. Stanley goes on:
Anyway, the one bright spot is that I get to try to build architectural marvels in the Drying Rack. I'm putting all the dishes, pans, pots, silverware, glasses and cooking utensils in that thing, figuring out which plates provide the best structural integrity for this Gaudi-esque masterpiece and seeing how high I can get it before it comes dangerously close to toppling over. I call it Drying Rack Jenga. But the day it does topple over.....she's gonna be PISSED.
I also NEVER dry the dishes in the rack. Far as I'm concerned, I did my part. The dishes are washed. Some other chump can put that shit away. I'm incapable of drying anything in the drying rack. I'll try and dry a wineglass and the dishrag just gets soaked and spreads the water around the glass. Fuck that. Let that shit dry overnight. Evaporation is my friend.
Is there anything better than when a song pops up on iTunes that you had forgotten you had/didn't know you had?
That is a nice feeling, because I'll be sick of all my music, and then something will pop up and I'll be like, "Oh hey! I'm not sick of THIS!" Then I'll play that song a dozen times in a row and be sick of it.
I'm a terrible music binger. I like a song, I play it 90 times in a row, often restarting before it's even over. Then I have no use for it a week later. I wish I was more judicious in repeating listens, but I can't help myself.
I think its so weird when people hand you your credit card back and say, "Have a good day, Chris." The Subway guy now knows my name? What the fuck?
Yeah, but it's great when they address you as Mr. You give your card to the waiter, and then he comes back and says, "Thank you, Mr. Manfredjensen." That's great. Makes me feel like a rich person. As always, I support anything that makes me feel like a rich person.
Years ago I received an application for a job from a woman who sent her resume, which had (I assume) a typo. She listed under Hobbies at the end "I enjoy fine wines and good cocking." She was completely unqualified but here is my quandary...should I have: #1 Said nothing. #2 Discretely let her know she had a typo in her hobbies? #3 Asked her in the phone interview to read me her hobbies from her C.V. to judge if it was a typo? Or #4 asked her out on a date?
Well, who doesn't enjoy fine wines and a good cocking? Of course she's unqualified. No one would put their enjoyment of fine wines on a resume unless the summation of their professional and educational experiences was absolutely fucking barren. Who's gonna give a shit? "Oh, she likes wine! I do too! HIRE THIS WOMAN."
Anyway, your mandate is option 2. Preferably while perusing her resume during a one-on-one interview. "Uhhh, you got a typo in your hobbies there." Then watch her find it and become instantly horrified. I once showed an ad portfolio during an interview and the dude interviewing me said there was a typo in it. Nothing along the lines of, "good cocking," but it's still a horrible feeling, because you know you're fucking doomed after that. I may as well have just packed up and left to get a sandwich.
I just downloaded some porn with an actress who has the same last name as me. I can't wait to rub one out to what might be a slutty distant cousin. Is that wrong?
Not in Arkansas, it ain't.
Sometimes at work, while everyone's at lunch, I'll grab the cold, mostly full coffee pot and take it to the unisex bathroom which is just a few cubes down. There, I'll dump the muddy java directly in to the commode. It looks just like a prize-winning beer-shit. I'll then toss some rolled-up TP in to the bowl as well, for effect. I then slither out and head back for my workstation, to observe the fun.
Oh, that's terrible. I recommend everyone in every office follow Bill's example. It can only make life better for us all. That's what your office deserves for deploying a unisex toilet.
Jelly Bellies are quiet possibly the worst candy ever to just eat a handful of. I just grabbed some off a co-workers desk and I swear I tasted sunscreen in there. Yuck.
Agreed. Jelly beans are made specifically to eat in handfuls, so I don't like it when every handful contains a buttered popcorn and or licorice flavored bean. This is why Starburst jelly beans are the shit.
Do jelly beans make anyone else thirsty? I could drink a lake after eating five of them.
Just wrong...seen in Reston
Our first child is due this week. I've tried my best to be a supportive husband, going to many of her OB appointments. Am I a bad husband for wanting to bang pretty much every single OB nurse that we've encountered? I mean, the ultrasound lady is hot.....the Lamaze instructor is pretty bangable.....the regular nurses that check heartbeats and blood pressure are all hot.
Well then, you got lucky. Because I didn't see an attractive nurse for miles during the childbearing process. In fact, I don't know that I've ever had a hot nurse at any point in my dealings with the US health care system. And that's far greater tragedy than Uncle Jethro not being able to afford his cancer drugs.
All I got was a halfway decent looking baby yoga DVD instructor. She wore a very tight leotard, which made me feel all funny.
Finally, A GREAT MOMENT IN WATERSLIDE FAILURE.
To start with, at the time I weighed about 260. The wife decided the best place for me to take her and the crumbsnatchers while on vacation in Florida was some no-name, generic water park. One of the rides was a "water slide" made of concrete. On each curve (I guess in an effort to cut costs), instead of banking the curve, they had a wooden plank that you just bump into and continue on your way. I should also point out that, while doing this, you were sitting on a plastic mat that was about the size of large birthday card. Anyway, after both of my kids were already on the way down, I'm handed this thing. I didn't want to lose them in the crowd, so away I went. On turn three, I crashed THROUGH the plank on the curve while moving at probably 30 mph and rolled down the hill. To add insult to injury, the 17-year-old, Abercrombie model lifeguard ran up and told me that "you're not supposed to climb off the ride". Bear in mind I am bleeding from every exposed joint on my body, so I respond with "does it look like i got off on purpose, motherfucker?" He calls security, they call management, who in turn calls paramedics. We got free food, drinks, and shit the rest of the day, plus all the free souvenirs we wanted. Not to mention that I was treated like a seagull covered in spilled oil by a hot, blonde paramedic. The ride was closed the rest of the day, while the "barrier" was replaced.
My question to you is: am I the only fat fuck who has ever shut down a theme park ride? Surely not....
Only one I know, kiddo.