The Price of Freedom is Ebay

I know I haven't been on here in a while, but a few things have happened since my last little spec-of-existence piece, but I have good excuses; some of which are in foreign languages, chewed by a rabid duck, and swallowed by somebody that's not grossed out by a duck.

Since my last post, I got laid off from work. Apparently, I and about a hundred others lowered the profit margin, go figure. I assume foolishly that as soon as the economy picks back up, I'll be back like canvas shoes and once again more Geico commercials featuring cavemen that didn't sell too well on television. I really did like working there, but I got laid off on the same day as someone who's been there almost the length of the company itself, so no hard feelings.....not even chubby feelings.
So, that being said, in my spare time, I've been selling like crazy on Ebay, finally getting the hang of it. My wife wanted the chance to work, so I gave up the role of the crouton winner and became Mr. Mom, the stay-at-home, super-powered jackass, as opposed to the regular run-of-the-mill jackass I usually provide. I'll be sure to contact the people that expect me to, so pull your pants back up, I'm not coming over tonight, I have a baby to feed.......and a doily to sell.

Sarcasm is Best Used in Absence

I found this sign at the BP station along with some kind of advertisement about a stronger engine. Here's the problem. Do you see any signs of muscles on this so-called arm protruding from an invisible orifice on the side of the outdated gas pump shown here? I sure as hell don't. In fact, I just see a big 'ol fist with an apparent gleam in its.......eye? This sign doesn't say to me "stronger engine" This sign clearly says, "OUR GAS WILL F *%#ING PUNCH YOU!!"

It really doesn't matter what condition your engine is in right now. With the gas prices at an all-time "suck it America", even merchandise at Big Lots is scratching it groin from financial herpes....and that's pretty serious.


However, apparently you can take your moped to the drive-through now. I thought it was just for whiny flannel wearing hippies, but I guess.....wait.......never mind. That is a whiny flannel wearing hippie. Why the hell didn't I ever get into truck driving or Tim Allen sitcoms; I could've been wearing flannel too. I suppose I'll just stick to buying holiday decorations at Big Lots. I don't even know why they call it that anyway. The store aren't exactly big and I don't remember ever seeing lots being sold there. The name makes about as much sense as Abercr.........Aber.........damnit, you get what I'm trying to say. Big Boy has a "big boy" outside, Dunkin' Donuts has donuts inside, The ABC store has Protestants, and Big Lots is a tiny glorified K Mart with seasonal ass matter and 3 dollar DVD's.
One thing's for sure though... at least they won't punch you.

Can't Understand Normal Thinking.....and Boobs.

For an interesting discussion, I'm going to bring to light my personal views on gay animals.; but today I'm talking about breast augmentation. Tell me have you noticed how common it is in conversational pieces, whenever boob jobs (less commonly known as "making the fun bags funner") are the topic at hand, women who don't have them, talk them down; men who's wives don't have them talk them up, and last but not least, everyone refers to them as "fake".



Let me give you a little comparison that I've been contemplating like a sick beaver with a chair leg in its mouth. Let's say you're a burn victim. Your face has been completely and utterly deformed in the melding of your eyebrows to your neck. Would you consider skin grafts to surgically restore (or enhance for argument sake) your face? Of course you would. Why? Because this world is filled with people that put way too much value on physical appearances. Of course you might think that maybe I'm being a little harsh and making a really bold comparison; but if your face was melted of by a bacon grease fire while you were distracted by your drunk friend trying his hand at blowing fireballs with Everclear and dribbles enough out of his mouth to burn his face off, you deserve every minute of your foolishness and cosmetic surgery could very well be considered selfish and 'dodging the bullet', so to speak in this case. This argument being made, Does not a boob job only alter, or enhance your physical appearance? Don't tell me that corrective surgery is necessary on a life or death matter, like the Hulk's Five gallon bucket jock strap. If you had no materialistic appearance issues whatsoever, you would be content with a Dark Man/ Freddy Krueger face.
Or you could always just wear this new apparel that advertises your favorite disease.


The fact that most people call them fake is pretty ignorant; kind of like yelling "touchdown!" at a baseball game. There is no part of the outside of the breast (no part that you can see anyway), that's made of anything synthetic or unnatural. If a doctor inserted a metal plate in your head, would you have a fake head? Would you have a fake bloodstream because you take insulin shots? I suppose with the definition of "fake" alone, if you have a pacemaker, you're not really alive. Take a look at this and tell me you won't ever give a second glance at it and I'll introduce you to a world of square circles and teeth at Waffle House.



Viagra is one of the best examples of physical "enhancement". Take one of these and you now have a fake penis. Your happy humper just got jacked up by a pill that's even more synthetic than the saline that goes into the breasts. If it isn't crazy to see things this way, then I don't have views on gay animals.

If Only I Had Running Shoes...

Imagine if you will...you're wearing a slimy sock, you run around in it for an hour or two, then all of a sudden, you're foot gets smaller.

That's what a condom's like.
Happy Tuesday.

What to Drink When You're Bleeding From the Crotch.

What exactly is this blog about tonight? Look back up at the title. In case you haven't guessed it, I'm about to speak about something we men know nothing about and yet are punished by it every 5 to 7 days out of the month. I've recently discovered that secretly, women around the U.S. have been scheming ways to infiltrate the psyche of the average, below average, and below Nicholas Cages of our generation. They've even slipped their "medicine" by us primitive males at the office in hopes to quiet us down in our blathering ways about how our wives almost killed us at home; but not anymore. We've managed to take out one of their operatives (we call 'em 'on the ragheads') while getting coffee.....hey, we're subtle.
I give you the cure for your wife, mother, co-worker, wife's mother, girlfriend, wife's girlfriend...........(you get the picture) 's FEMAgina:










I know what you're thinking. Actually, you're probably laughing your ass off...I was. A friend of mine at work made it a priority to show this to me in the lounge at work. I thought to myself.........( still talk out loud when I think to myself, for future reference), "self, (and yes, I say "self") when the f*%# are they supposed to drink this s*%t?!?! (.........I swear a lot when I talk to myself out loud, I'm in a group) Do they drink it to stop shaking, or just before someone dies? If they were suppose to indulge in this most excellent of teas ( I know it's excellent because it has flowers on the box) while on said shaking binge, they would call it "MS Tea"; but no, it's PMS Tea!! It needs to be ingested before, nay, way before the flow chart shows the death toll rising to an all-time high. Let's just say, well three days before. Give me a break I didn't read the back, I was too busy laughing at the period tea. Ok, three days... Is there a stopping period?....(no pun intended). Does it stop affecting you when you start affecting self esteem in those around you? Are prepubescent teenagers required to drink this crap before their special friend pays them an introductory visit? So many questions, so many gullible people.
The best part of this is that little circle after the title of this must-have product of the ages. Someone actually copyrighted this stuff. "uh, hey! This tea is great, it makes me want to bleed less in a metaphoric sense from my vagina. What do we call it"

"How about, now hear me out here, PMS Tea® "

(awkward silence)

"Wow, that's a great name, I can't wait until three days before my period."

"Damn it Steve, you don't have periods."

"Well, at least I don't pay for pain pills with pork chops"



(by the way, these pork chops WERE actually payment for pain pills, but I'm sworn to secrecy that it was NOT by anyone that I myself know personally............at all.......)






Someone must have thought to themselves, damn I better trademark this product. I don't want anyone to steal the name.
Look, If you feel like a b......bad person, don't drink tea, read witty remarks on the internet.

Eat Your Heart Out Ann Frank

Sometimes you wonder where you went wrong in your irrefutable influence on the opposite sex. We were at the generic version of Best Buy the other night, called "Fairly decent Purchase". Hey, it's better than shopping at "Q-Mart". Every time Q-Mart has a sale, you can't even see the prices due to the "black light special". We could have gone to J.C. Nickel's, but apparently the name brand store is cheaper by about 20%.

Now when I mean influence, I'm saying just that. SinisterDan dwelt on my finger just a tad longer than even I expected last time, but said finger is not the culprit in this case. My wife's is though.






Say hello to the greatest game in Hebrew history. "Jew Quest III"(Not to be confused with Jewel Quest III). What happened to Jew Quests I & II, you may ask? Well.........they.......didn't quite make it; so now we're traveling the world in search of one Jew. Which one? Eh........doesn't quite matter really. All you do is a search for lawyers or accountants on Google and the game's pretty much finished. Indiana Jones? No. The Mummy? Close. This is raw mathematical and monetary gameplay with penny-pinching hi jinx at it finest. Bob and weave your way through the gas chambers and get passed the camp gates to American freedom; sit down and log into the world wide web, discover Google, and make your way through one really, really, really, really short level.
Not even good ol' Hitler could "beat" the competition that you experience every time you do that Google search...........
Okay, so it's obviously boring as hell; but that's what you get from the bargain bucket in the corner of the basement at Fairly Decent Purchase. With 385 Gigs of required memory space......to do a search on the internet.......which you already have.......you can't go wrong!

Never gonna change my mind....You're never gonna Jew me down. Oh no. I got to keep on movin'.

Confucius say: Diss Racism Kirring Me.

If I could be a nun, I would warn blind children about the adverse effects of masturbation on kids that can see perfectly well. "Sick and sinful little perverts touch their tiddlywinks and become like YOU!!" Although I would be too busy contemplating my life in sudden rewind as I ponder exactly why I became a nun instead of a priest, but I'm not a gay pedophile, so cross-dresser I suppose could be considered the lesser of two evils.......wait. I'm not Catholic. Oh, good; now I can finish my book about stupid people.








Now, you may be asking yourself, "Self, what the hell is this?" This is a tapestry painting on the wall at our local Chinese restaurant. I stared at this for a few minutes and when my wife asked me why, I said, "because there's a huge ass on it, but I'm trying to figure out what exactly is coming out of it. Maybe he's just sitting on a really tiny stool. Maybe it's not a he at all and we can only see half of the stool..."

Yeah......this is how I see the world.

People still get embarrassed when I shout out "FIE DAHRA!!" every time we eat at an Asian restaurant, but you can't beat good ol' prejudice. Chinese teenagers are usually urged not to smoke pot for fear that their eyes will close up compreetry. most of you know what I'm talking about) Anyway, I'm cutting it short because I need to go blind for about 30 seconds and then take a nap........on a stool.

Revenge of the..........that's just Weird...

This is a turtle. He's no ordinary turtle and he's not a ninja (I think he did know the Samurai Pizza Cats, though). Just a harmless, cartoonish turtle on the bathroom counter, waiting to teach my daughter how to count. Unfortunately this little underachiever in God's aquatic reptilian bestiary has one of those disorders that most people like to call disorders to keep from calling their children retards. This little guy here only knows one number...









Behold, the number 8. Not only has this fellows decal been put on cock-eyed, his ass has a hinge on it. Now, I don't want to poke fun at the less fortunate, but this thing is pretty pathetic. First of all, we don't even know the turtle knows how to speak, let alone knows how to count. I can just imagine some drunk executives somewhere saying to each other,

"Hey (*belch*) I got an iddddea. Let's make an animal with a number inside it. The kids will have to pry it open to learn what the number is....(*hiccup*) and then we'll put the stttticker on lopsided."

"What number?"

"8"

"Why 8?"

"That's how many times my father beat me."

"..........

ooooookay....... what animal?"


" A turtle"

"Don't tell me your father beat you with a turtle."

"What? No, you pervert. I just like to have sex with them."

"........................I'm not drunk anymore."


And that's pretty much how it would have to play out in order for society to come up with something as obscure as this. and that's the last time I get drunk at work.



I hate it when everybody sobers up while I'm trying to pitch an idea.

Nut-Pals to the Rescue!!

Are you tired of not giving your child the nutritional value they need to blow bubbles and slobber all over the place while at the same time providing the utmost twisted and perverted humor that a parent could instill on their young? Look no more parents and children who are also parents (children who are also parents found only in select locations: Virginia, West Virginia, Alabama, and Cleveland; void where prohibited, offer only valid with welfare and stretch marks), this is your lucky day!

Oh....wait, that's another product. Let me adjust that a tad...





Introducing Nut-Pals! The wacky fun time action drink complete with a safety oriented monkey. Everyone should have one of those.

Oh yes, one finger can change the world. It's unfortunate for me, I can't convince my wife to stand down



Click on this and bring me back up in the ranks....the monkey would do it....safely.

The Power of Wood Compels You

Last night we took a drive to the local drive in theater down the road from my wife's parents house. The Mummy and Hellboy II were playing and those were actually two movies that I'd been waiting to see. Hellboy I really didn't have much to say for. Sure, it was weird, like being drunk and singing a sad song next to a giant fish stick; but I wasn't impressed and I impress easily. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emporer I thought was a slightly better movie. It had little Asian girls and a happy ending....for me....about an hour into the movie. During the rest of the movie I was kind of sleepy.
One of the first scenes (don't worry, no spoilers) was narrated, describing the Emperor's powers as having power over, "fire, water, air, wood, and metal" or something to that effect. I thought to myself...."I have that power"(I talk aloud when I think to myself). My wife said, "which one?". "Air."
"I thought you were gonna say wood, followed by some perverted comment about your junk." "No honey, that's your power".
Of course one thing led to another, then finally....she ran to the restroom with diarrhea. I heard, "I have to go and I don't know how long I'm going to be."
At this moment right now, she's looking at me with those eyes only a husband could love, so I better change the subject before I become a fish stick.

I would recommend going to the drive in whenever possible. For us, it was $7.00 per carload, if you have to pee, you're already outside, plus all of the kids are uglier and much, much fetter than your own, so you can at least feel good about that part. I get new experiences every time we go to the drive in. Last night I saw more Earnhardt stickers than ever before in my life. I saw muffin tops galore, more chins than a Chinese phone book, the filthiest bathroom in southern North Carolina, and more condoms on the ground than inside Courtney Love's stomach. It was a veritable book of records in a mere two or three acres.

For the eleventh or twelfth time in my life I realize how good I really have it. I don't have a mullet and a collection of Budweiser hats, so I'm still ahead of the game.

Dionne, Rosie, & Me....& a Unicorn

My wife asked her sister if "plumpy" was a word. She said, "of course it is". "Use it in a sentence."
"Rosie O'Donnell is very plumpy." Her speechless reaction simply said to me, "Either I'm a moron or she is". I'm joyous over that. I have something to keep her occupied with while I scheme an outline on how I can convince her that paper cards with drawings of really weird crap can tell the future, especially if you cut the deck. I hope no one's thought of that yet.

What ever happened to psychic friends? I had a few that said they cared....about my ongoing phone service, but if they were really my friends, they'd call me once in a while. I haven't heard from Dionne in years. I wanted to be a psychic friend, but of course I'd have to do it my way. I would have the best gimmick that $2.99 per minute could buy. I'd be a mime with anger issues. I could totally cuss people out and they'd stay on the line to keep asking me what I said. Of course eventually the customer would hang up, but I'm a mime, I'm above that.


Mimes don't need people to approve of their lifestyle. We have a dignity and self respect that surpasses that of normal individuals. We can climb ropes, pull things toward us, and be trapped in a box in a single afternoon. Plus, we don't even need the first amendment. We even pretend to cry just to get the sympathy of children and their lower middle class parents, so we can brag to our friends at the coffee shop in the middle of their poetry and bitching about the government........

until one day....



we're impaled by unicorns.

ABC Family's Ping Pong Ball Trick

My wife was strangling me to the tune of ABC family last night. After she helped me up and stitched up my knife wound, I got the privilege of watching the baby while she embedded her reminiscing eyes on teenagers in high school making sweet love to Miley Cyrus albums; so of course I watched intently....until I heard one of the children talk about one of the cheating guys and referred to him by coining the phrase "giving him oral". (The name of the show is called The Secret Life of the American Teenager. ) Here's my dealio and allow me to explain myself at an arms length. Fist of all, this is ABC Family. The only thing a drama depicting a pregnant teenager is doing for the family is expanding it. Secondly (and this is how I think outside the Styrofoam container), This girl is around fifteen years old or so, I haven't looked that far into it. We are witnessing on ABC Family the after effects of child pornography. So I guess it's a sickness to watch it, but it's a FAMILY issue to talk about it?!?! Let me get down to the inner workings of my head for a minute (and I'm about to defend the super geeks of America). So let me get this straight, a little girl that got her pooter diddled at the supple age of 15 or 16, is somewhat seen as morally wrong, but is supported because she has a sh*tty life ahead of her (that's how sellfish people see it anyway), but a 35 year old man that lives with his parents and has no sex life (outside www.cheeksforgeeks.com ) and especially no kids as a result, is frowned upon somehow because he has a sh*tty life ahead of him. This country is a sexist bastard. Anyway, I'll leave you with this image...



Getty Lee nude on a leather couch spreading mustard and rice patties all over Ving Raimes for three dollars.

Your welcome.

Pantera Bread Beats Crapplebee's

Ah, Pantera bread, my favorite place to get my Phil of some of the best Vinny Paul Bread bowls I could possibly get for a Dime Bag. We drove by this place tonight. Apparently I wasn't the first person who thought of the idea, but I shopped the picture, so make sure to order the Planet Caravan hair grease and microphone spit burger, before they run out. Or come on back in our VIP section where we offer up a room chock full of virgins and invite you to "cherry pick" the selection. But what about Rex, you say? The hell with Rex. We only named the cold, stale rolls we bring out as appetizers after him.

He didn't come to the team meeting.




This morning was an inside and highly embarrassing moment for myself and the Mrs. when I remembered that today was our anniversary at around 10:30 or so. We both forgot, but I get extra points because I'm a guy and I remembered before she did. I am now the "Mickety Man", or Charles Kuralt . One of them definitely. We went to Applebee's, and I'm guessing I ordered the chewy pubic steak, because that's what I got. She apparently ordered the "we peed on your chicken".
I like Applebee's because they claim to serve both men AND women....or they are men and women; and that's a plus. Restaurants should always have people in them. They're even nice enough to leave you completely alone and at peace when you come through the door.........for about ten minutes or so. The employees walk by and pretend that you're not there, but that's all part of the act. I heard it was one of those places where everybody kids around like that. One of them told me they didn't care about the customers, but I know better. I just giggled at his joke. Odd how he kept a straight face though. The only thing I couldn't figure out was the welcome mat...
















I wonder what it means.






Don't be a douche. Give me a smiley face!....Or at least leave a comment for your local Pantera Bread solicitors. We care a hell of a lot more than Applebee's or we'll break your f#!&ing arm!

Turning a Blind (Brown) Eye

One of my dream jobs is to do sketch comedy. I would absolutely love to get some people together and start a web show; but please, no more blind people. They always break the fourth wall. I don't know how many times I've told these people the script is on the computer and they suddenly have a slight problem because they can't read braille on a monitor; which I suppose leads me to my subject for the day. Have you noticed lately how many inappropriate places braille is actually conveniently put these days? The other night, we drove up to an ATM and the keypads had braille on them......ahem.....a DRIVE THROUGH ATM!!! who the hell is driving and how do they know the braille is even in English before they get there?! Do we have super blind people now that can see perfectly? Shouldn't we just call them "people"?!




That's just the dumbest thing in the world. no wait. I take that back. THIS is the dumbest thing in the world...






Shouldn't this little piece of information be on the actual toilet and not on the wall? Some blind guy will walk up and say, "hey, it says toilet, I guess it's right here.", so he starts pissing right there in the hallway while the deaf people point and laugh (of course, someone will have to get their attention by waving their arms frantically). Not only that, this fine establishment is implying that blind people should by default be in a wheelchair. That's pretty damn discriminatory. So you're telling me that this place has a handicapped stall big enough for this poor blind fellow, his wheelchair, and his dog? how's he gonna be able to tell if there's diarrhea splattered all over the seat? Not only that, how would his dog let him know? Most importantly, how will this unfortunate blind cripple get his seeing eye companion to stop drinking out of the toilet so he can tinkle?!?!

Apparently I'm going to have to call in an expert on the subject.




This ol' fart right here.

Like Shooting Fish in the Chest

I'd normally think the fish would have to be dead in order to pull that off. Anyone have any dead fish I could shoot in the chest? Don't worry, they won't feel a thing.....until I make zombie fish. The only problem with organizing a global campaign involving zombie fish is that they're pretty limited as to how much dry ground they can cover. None, actually. I've tried to remedy this little flaw by providing my fish minions with guns so they can shoot right out of the water, but the gun just sinks to the bottom when I drop it in the water, and the fish just swim around. Hell, they don't even have teeth...so they couldn't even bite you if you were in the water.

Alright so it wasn't a carefully thought out plan.


But in all of these "trial and error...and more error...and yet even more error" situations, I've come up with something that will revolutionize the industry of its related field. I call it, "The Garbage Bag Box Bag".

I know what you're thinking: "how does it work?" Well, I have somewhat of a more complex answer than what you might expect from me. There's a very paradoxical qualm that me and my other three personalities experience regarding garbage maintenance, usually around 2:00 in the morning, when I put the voices on their 15 minute break. Have you ever noticed that you buy a box of trash bags, then eventually you run out and so you discard the empty box in the remaining trash bag...which is why I'm inventing the Garbage Bag Box Bag. It's a box of garbage bags that comes in a bag itself, utilizing the concept of what's trash and what's not. See, this way it's not like throwing away the trash bag container in the trash, it's like you're initially just pulling trash bags out of the existing trash. For me it's a lot less confusion, plus you get an extra bag out of it; but I think with at least a few of you, your head just exploded.

If you don't want to have to invent super cool household accessories, then you better start preparing for the zombie fish invasion. A few of them learned how to nibble away crud from in between the toes. They got that goin' for them. I hope that's not Scott Baio's feet. on the left.

Finally, My Dark Knight Review

I guess I'll take a couple of minutes to first describe for you my oober obsession with Batman. Some people get to hear me talk about being a Batman fan. Some people actually get to see it and when I mean see it, I mean you tinkle slightly. Here's a small sample:













I know, I peed a little too. Now on to the review that I'm always late for. I can't believe Bale's arrested already ....anyway. Great f%$#in' movie! I know Batman continuity and it had very little, but the story almost made up for it. Look at what we had to compare it to! I hate you Joel Schumacher.
Anyway. The "pencil trick" for those who haven't seen it, was really quick, but it's obvious where it goes..........Oklahoma. So far, I've seen a guy get hit by a bus, a semi flip a 180, an "English" butler out-philosophy a district attorney, a lawyer incriminate hundreds of people at one time, and a black guy get cut in the mouth. After all of that, Where were the dead hockey players from Dogma?!?! The movie wasn't missing much except for the batcave, strippers with bat nipples, the entire cast of Fame, nachos, Goobers, and an exert from Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. Overall, I'm not giving away anything because some of you would rather see Spiderman (..........) on opening day than little ol' Batman, but see the damn movie. Although Harvey Dent got a pretty nasty sunburn, it shouldn't leave a huge scab.




Click and Win!!