Saturday, April 06, 2013

This tickle

This tickle may spell doom for our hero! 

Sunday, March 03, 2013

Egg on your face

An acceptable egg sandwich requires at least one napkin. A good egg sandwich requires several. A great egg sandwich requires a shower.

Monday, February 04, 2013


I'm not hating, but I really just don't understand the appeal of butt sex. Just saying.

Saturday, November 03, 2012

The Funniest Thing I Typed Today #2

I had a vasectomy, so there's no reason for a vampire to suck my dick except for the joy of sucking my dick.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Funniest Thing I Typed Today #1

God, I'll feel terrible if they cause some sort of catastrophic boob stability failure.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Naptime makes for weird dreams.

It is terrifying what my girlfriend is capable of doing to a man's head with a katana. Central Africa is scary, but she always takes such good care of me.

Saturday, June 23, 2012


The word root has several meanings. One of which is a vulgar verb meaning sexual intercourse. This interpretation makes the song Take Me Out To The Ballgame way more interesting.

So, let's root, root, root for the hooooome team.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012


Whenever I see the word quiche, my brain changes it to douche, just for a second. Most small coffee shops seem to serve broccoli or spinach douches.

Friday, April 06, 2012

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Rise of the Planet of the Apes (ROTPOTA? Nope, still too long. Henceforth: Rise) was pretty good. Rather good, even. I genuinely liked it, and that only made it more disappointing that they missed a chance for a truly legendary film reveal. All they had to do is change the name and keep the fact that it was a prequel under wraps. Just think how satisfying it would have been to reveal at the end of Rise that you've just watched the story of how the Planet of the Apes came to be.
The movie could have carried itself. The concept is sound: super smart chimps are fucking scary. The cast is better than sound, with that guy who makes us all feel not only unattractive and uncharming but also lazy and dumb. The trailer was awesome, and made me want to see it up until the title card. I feel like, with the nice, subtle little background references to the Icarus, that this was originally written to just hint at being a prequel with a big reveal at the end. Opportunity missed.

Wednesday, March 07, 2012

That's not rain.

So, I just realized something. Urine is slightly denser than water (according to the magic knowledge place, the specific density is around 1.003). Now, I'm guessing that urine's surface tension properties and such aren't much different from fresh water. In fact, I'd venture to guess that urine splatter patterns and shape are exactly the same as water. This, as near as I can tell, means the urine has a very slightly higher terminal velocity than rain.

Urine falls faster than rain.

Monday, March 05, 2012

Your Fake Name on Facebook is Annoying

OK, here's the deal. Facebook, to me, exists to create the most opportunity for light engagement with people with the least investment of effort. It's not for maintaining close friendships. It's not for proving that you care about people. In fact, it's kind of the opposite. It's there so that I can keep up with people and maintain some small relationship with them that I wouldn't be willing to overcome barriers of distance across space and time to overcome. I want to be able to keep up with people that I don't care enough about to actually keep up with, and I want to provide others the same opportunity. I know that the girl with whom I hung out in a few classes and at parties doesn't give two shits about making an effort to hang out with me. I don't mind that, just like she shouldn't mind that I don't care. Facebook gives us the chance to not have to put any effort in. A problem is being solved here.

The wrench, though, is thrown in when you obscure who you are. If you have a fake name on there, I have to work to figure out who you are, even if that's only clicking on your name to see your face. If you've got a fake name and a picture that isn't you, well fuck it, I probably don't care enough to figure it out unless there's an inordinate amount of contact going on. The same goes for people who just have pictures that aren't of them, too. I don't remember everyone's name out of context, especially when names keep changing as you people seethe all over each other marrying and divorcing and dropping puppies and whatever else you're doing out there. This goes for pictures of your children, by the way. They may have become a huge part of your identity, and that's great. They're still not your fucking face. unless you've had some weird surgery.

Here's how I see it, though. When you've got a fake name and fake picture, what you're doing is expecting me to keep straight who you are. I think, then, that you're probably being a jerk, especially if you change it often. Take that shit back to MySpace. 

Weird People at Starbucks 1

So, this guy just carefully went through all of the little shitty wooden stirrers and eventually settled on four that were, I'm guessing, the most perfect in the stirrer holder thing. He then used all four at once to stir his coffee twice and threw them away and walked out.

Update, a statement stemming from discussion of this guy:
"I think that weirdos are way more fun than obsessive-compulsives. I don't feel bad laughing at weirdos."

My Time With Paul

Scene opens with Paul McCartney appearing, as if by magic, on my couch, comfortably seated and fully nude.

Bill: Huh? The fuck is going on?
Paul only shrugs, and we sit in silence for a moment.
Bill: So, uh, hey Paul. Wanna borrow some pants or something?
Paul: Nah, I'm good mate. So, what's on TV?
Bill: Oh, I'm watching a movie, but the Grammy's are on if you want me to change it to that. You're my favorite Beatle, by the way.
Paul: No, I've been wanting to see this movie. I don't understand baseball, though.
Bill: Nobody does, Paul. You want a beer? Glass of wine?
Paul: Sure, wine would be good.
Bill: So, uh, Paul. Don't take this the wrong way, but I wish you were my girlfriend. No, no, I don't mean like. . . no, I mean that my lady, she's not exactly my girlfriend, really, but I wish that my lady had teleported here naked instead of you. I mean, I'm really happy to meet you and all, it's a big honor, but, you know, you're really old and your balls are creeping me out.
Paul: Yeah, mate, everyone tells me that my balls are creepy.
Bill: How many people see your balls?
Paul: What, like, per week? I'm a fucking Beatle, man, what do you think?
Bill: Oh, right, Beatles. Gotcha. I'm Bill, by the way.
A moment
Bill: So, Paul, I would ask for your autograph on a Beatles record, but I don't have, like, any physical records or anything here. All digital music. So, uh, can you sign this box of Golden Grahams?
Paul: You know, Bill, more people actually get me to sign breakfast cereal than records. Maybe it's because I'm constantly teleporting around the world, nude and out of control. It happens every time I poop.
Bill: Dude, wait. . . . so, you teleport when you poop? Does that mean that I've got Beatle shit on my couch?
Paul: No, mate, the poop isn't part of my body anymore, so it stays back where I came from with my clothes.
Bill: That's. . . . that's really weird, Paul. I think I might be hallucinating.

Friday, February 10, 2012

The Big Plan

I want someday to own a tombstone dealership. Not like the pizza, like the pieces of rock that you put over dead people after you bury them.

I want to have this huge showroom and front yard full of display models of tombstones, and on every one I want my damned name and date of birth. When people ask about it, I intend to tell them that if I die, (that's right motherfucker, I said if), if I die I want dozens of graves to have tombstones with my name on them, under only one will be my mouldering bones.

The fact is, I don't want my enemies to know where my corpse is. I don't want anyone to know where my corpse is, because everyone will know that buried with me is the secret, the key to finding my treasure. And nobody will ever find my treasure.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012


Here's an article about how self-defense shootings are through the roof in Detroit as the police force has been massively cut and response times are more than double the national average. My brother's reaction was best, I think:
It's interesting how close we all are to Lord of the Flies. Like two paychecks.