We Know More About Dino Sex Than Mitts Taxes

I think I officially love The Huffington Post. They ran a story today called "19 Things We Know More About Than Mitt Romneys Tax Returns". Here's a little bit of back story for those who have had their head under a rock. Presumed Republican Presidential nominee Mitt Romney has so far refused calls to release his tax returns, even though they're a matter of public record.

You know the T.Rexs are married cause they don't look
at each other while having sex

Included in this list is:
What space smells like
The language of prairie dogs
What dinosaur sex looked like

It's a pretty ridiculous list of things we know more about than Mitts taxes. Admittedly it's a mostly unnecessary list that is definitely politically biased, but it's a funny list.

Youtube Monday: Lets Go To The Mall

It's Youtube Monday again. There has been a drought of posts lately as I've been concentrating on other things but I could never forget the glory of Youtube Monday. Here is a wonderful music video I found from early '90s Canada. It features Canadian teen superstar Robin Sparkles singing about what I assume is her favorite activity.

So for those who haven't figured it out, this is actually a clip from How I Met Your Mother. Robin Sparkles is actually Robin Sherhoweverthehellitsspelled, the annoying perpetually single female in the group. For those who grew up in the 1980's however, this is a throwback you'll never forget.
Anyway, I'm currently working on a couple short stories that I hope to share with you all. Enjoy life.

Gold Medal

Hey look I wrote another story. I call this one "Gold Medal".

                “Come on! I can do better than that!” Chris yelled at the tv. He couldn’t do better than that woman on the U.S. Volleyball team. He couldn’t do better than a cheerleader with a limp, much less an Olympic level volleyball player. The team had a real chance at the gold this year.

                To put it nicely, Chris was a douche. He was a talentless loudmouth who spent his days on his in a cubicle. He was between five-foot-four and five-foot-six and nearly five pounds per inch. Chris was a pig in all respects. He always scared her and bought her forgiveness with clichéd romance. And that was the worst part. It was who he was doing it to.

                Lily was an amazing woman. She was the smartest and kindest woman who had ever walked those halls. But she had left and the vacuum could not be filled. That was when Bruce knew he loved her. Bruce had been a teacher at Cambridge Polytechnic. That’s where he met Lily, during her year away from home.

                Lily and Bruce were best friends almost immediately. This concerned Chris but he was too far away to do anything about it. At first there was nothing physical but the more time they spent together, the more tension built. It helped that it was a hot day in Cambridge the first time they made love. They both immediately knew it would be forever. Lily decided that she will visit home in a couple weeks and break up with Chris.

                At this point she had been home for a few days and seen Chris more than once. Lily was just too nice; she didn’t want to hurt Chris. So she found herself watching Olympic volleyball with Chris, trying to find the right words to break up with him. She loved Bruce and couldn’t lie to anyone anymore, including Chris.

                Chris was transfixed by the US Womens Volleyball Team. There was a slight lear on his face.

                “We have to break up” Lily blurted out. She instantly regretted her words. She may be in love with Bruce, but she still cared enough about Chris to not want to hurt him.

                “What?” Chris quietly asked, obviously taken aback by the sudden gust of emotion.

                “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I just think it’s best we stopped seeing each other.” Lily was on the verge of tears. She had never done anything so heart-wrenching.

                “What did I do?” Chris sounded hurt, like a child finding out his parents are divorcing.

                “It’s not you “Lily couldn’t believe how clichéd she was about to sound so she checked herself. “I just don’t love you like you love me and I don’t see the same future you do. I’m really sorry”

                “You’re sorry? There’s someone else isn’t there? It’s that Bruce guy isn’t it?!” He was hurt, he was angry. He had every right to be.

                Lily bit her lip. She found it harder and harder to look at Chris. Her eyes had filled with tears and were about to burst. But she held it back as best she could. She knew the one in real pain here wasn’t her. Worst of all was that he was right, it was Bruce. But how was she going to say that?

                “I’m sorry.” Lily squeaked out, choking back her tears. She still couldn’t look at him but she knew Chris was crying. She just wanted to get out of this situation. She wanted to run. “I’m so sorry”

                Chris couldn’t speak. He was choked with rage and tears. He wanted to find Bruce and hit him. Hit him again and again. But he knew that wouldn’t get Lily back. He was flooded by the sudden realization that it was over with the woman he thought he was going to marry.  He wanted this moment to end so badly. He wanted to be alone. He wished this cold bitch would get out.

                Lily couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to get out. “I’m sorry”, she let out as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door, thanking god that she didn’t need a ride home. The only question she had was whether to call Bruce on the way home or wait until she stops crying.

                Ultimately she knew she had made the right decision. She loved Bruce and he loved her. They were a pair. Lily cried all the way home, looking forward to talking to Bruce over Skype, sorry for the pain she had caused.

               

                Bruce was watching the US Olympic Volleyball Team playing against the Chinese. He had no idea what was going on, but Bruce was just watching while he waited for Lily to come home. She was stuck at work and it was Bruces turn to make dinner. The lasagna was baking slowly in the oven. The US led by 4. It was starting to look like they would get the gold.

The Olympics: Thoughts and Observations

Not having much to do besides not playing video games, I've tuned in to this years Olympics more than ever before. So far, here are my thoughts, numbered for my own convenience.
1. Go 'Merica.
2. Geographically speaking, England is such a miserable place that their best beaches are indoors. Team USA has a player that looks like Lex Luthors gawkier younger brother. And why the hell is beach volleyball in the Olympics to begin with?
3. On that note, there are some sports that do not deserve to be in the Olympics. This is literally the fourth American Volleyball team that I've seen. Maybe pare that down to two. 
4. Mitt Romney was at the opening ceremonies because he owns a horse that's in an equestrian event. Think about that when it's voting time.
5. Why are we so fascinated with swimming? The difference between winning a gold in 100m freestyle and winning a gold in 200m freestyle is very little. Just because someone wins 8 of them, some relay style, does not make him or her (it's a him) the greatest Olympian ever. First off, thats Zeus. And second, he's not winning gold in swimming, sprinting and gymnastics.
6. Speaking of gymnastics, I have two main thoughts. The first is damn, that is some cool Spiderman stuff. The second is more disturbing.
Little girls are in very tiny onesies that are so tight and sparkly, you can tell which of the girls has flowered into a woman. Of course the answer is none because they're gymnasts. The point is that their uniform really does border on naked in places. I understand it needs to be tight and that does not bother me. What bothers me is the 15 year-old in panties flipping around the tv. Pedophiles everywhere are glued to their tvs. 
The men don't have it much easier. They might be able to cover up their upper thighs and butts, but their uniforms are so tight you can see who's circumcised. I'm pretty sure one guy on the German team has three balls. 


Keep watching the Olympics, god knows somebody has too.

Youtube Monday: Learn To Fly

It's Youtube Monday and I don't give a damn about the Olympics. Honestly, there are no sports at the Olympics that I watch and enjoy. So here's an unrelated video today. I hope you enjoy Learn To Fly by the Foo Fighters.

I'm personally fond of it for the cameos by Tenacious D. Gotta love the multiple Dave Grohls.:

Death Is A Cool Guy, Part Five

Not a lot from me this week, I know. It's somehow been a very busy week. But I present to you the fifth and final part of my story Death Is A Cool Guy. Still need to change that title. Hope you enjoy it.

We had been sitting in silence for what seemed like hours. It was hard to if the ambiguity of time was due to the event we just shared or the pot we smoked to try to forget it. It didn’t work. I knew there would be no forgetting this.

                Ted Greenfield. That was the dead mans name. I saw it on some mail on the way out. I’m not sure how we got back to my couch, things were kind of a blur. I kept seeing the fear in Teds eyes. If his heart could beat, I’m sure it would have been racing. There was something else that was bothering me but it was hard to put my finger on it.

                It took a few more minutes for it to hit me. We were standing in Teds apartment for almost five minutes before he saw us. We were standing not six feet from him, talking to each other. Yet Ted had no idea that we were there until his heart stopped. The question was just in front of me but I was still forming it, still trying to figure out what the question was.

                “Hey Death, can I ask you something?” I finally spoke. I honestly had no idea how long the silence had lasted.

                “You just did.” It was funny but I felt like he knew the question I wanted to ask and was avoiding it. “No, I’m just kidding, go ahead.”

                “Well, that guy couldn’t see us until his heart stopped. But I can see you. I see you all the time.” I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to notice the oddness of my situation.

                “That wasn’t really a question but I see what you’re getting at. Usually people can only see me when they’re close to death. That instant between when they die and when I collect their soul. But we’ve been hanging out for a couple weeks now” 

                For some reason I got the feeling Death was holding something back. Up to this moment I had never imagined Death as being able to lie, outside of telling a joke. I had to call him on it. This is my life we’re dealing with.

                “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked him.

                “Are you sure you want to know?” He asked in return. This is not the first time he’s asked me this. I thought for a moment about the gravity of that situation. Did I really want to know this time? I paused to think about it but I knew my curiosity wouldn’t be able to not know.

                “Tell me”

                “You shouldn’t have been able to see me that first time. I could see that you were coming close though. It was still too early for you to be able to see me. But you seemed cool with it so I figured we could hang out before you…”

                “Died” I finished. I was furious. I considered Death a friend and he seemed to do the same. How could my friend lie to me about this? What an asshole.

                I suddenly realized I was calling the Grim Reaper an asshole for keeping this secret from me. I was mad at Death for jeopardizing our friendship. Then I saw Death for the first time, fully. His head was held down a bit and he was avoiding my face. His body language is screaming shame. This wasn’t a physical anthropomorphic representation of death, this was a lonely man looking for a friend. I felt a flash of power, knowing that I could hurt Death. Then immediately it was replaced by guilt because he’s my friend.

                I started laughing at the absurdity of my situation. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Death looked surprised at first and then joined in the laughing. I’m not sure if he knew what it was I found so funny, but given that he could read minds, I’d say there’s a good bet.

                After a solid five minutes of laughing, I finally wiped my eyes and casually asked “So how much longer do I have?”

                “Hard to say exactly” If he was surprised at my sudden question, he hid it well.

                “Will I get to say goodbye to my wife?”

                “I’m pretty sure. I’d say you have at least another week. Are you going to tell her?”

                I opened my mouth to answer and nothing came out. I honestly wasn’t sure. I love my wife and I wanted to spare her from the pain of that knowledge. But she’s my wife, she deserved to know. How do I tell her? How do I explain that I found out I’m dying because I’m friends with Death? Every question led to two more questions. It was like a hydra of anxiety was attacking my mind.

                “I don’t know” I finally squeaked out.

                “I can’t offer any advice on that. But ask yourself these two questions: Would you want to know? And secondly, Do you have the time?”

                Without thinking I glanced at the clock. It was 5:26 pm. I turned my head back to Death to answer him but he was gone. Beyond the void he left on the couch, I could see the door. The knob turned and my wife came through the now open door.

                “Hi babe” She greeted me with a smile, despite her long day at work.

China Is The Leading Manufacturer of Sex Toys

Just when I think China can't get any more ridiculous, they go and prove me wrong. Last week, 18 police officers in Shandong, China spent more than an hour rescuing a woman from the river. It was only upon pulling her out that they discovered it was an inflatable sex doll.

Apparently nobody stopped to wonder why the naked white woman with the expressionless face wasn't responding to their calls. They probably just assumed she couldn't speak Chinese. It would seem that Shandong is a big producer of sex toys for export. Usually they put them in boxes and ship them via mail or cargo ship. They must have been trying a new means of local delivery.
This comes off the heels of last months reporter who mistook a male masturbation toy for a large and rare mushroom (warning: the images on the link cannot be unseen). The young female reporter poked and prodded the toy, noting that one end has a hole and the other looked like a mouth.
After her colleagues at the station realized her mistake (and stopped laughing), they issued a statement of apology, saying that she was young and didn't know the ways of the world. I'm not exactly young anymore, but even I don't know that way of the world.
So todays theme is China's sex toy mistakes and the hilarity it causes. How is it they became the most populous country on Earth with such a poor understanding of sex?

Youtube Monday: Cal Johnson

Damn those weekends go by fast. Instead of boring you with part 5 of my story, I'm going with the regular Youtube Monday. Todays selection is one of my favorites. It's a skit taken from Seth and Alexs Almost Live Comedy Show. Who are Seth and Alex? Well that would be Seth McFarlane and Alex Borstein of Family Guy. The titular Cal Johnson is played by Family Guy regular Patrick Warburton. Without further ado, enjoy.

The sound isn't so great on it, I know. So as a favor, here are the lyrics:

There was a man who shot the man who was the man who shot the man, Cal Johnson.
He wore a hat, his favorite hat, he loved that hat, he hated hats, Cal Johnson.
He was a dad to zero kids and yet he fathered five,
Got shot dead a year ago and yet he's still alive,
He's rich beyond his wildest dreams yet never had a dime, 
A lawman to very end, he led a life of crime. 
In all his years of life on Earth he never fired a gun,
But when it came to Chinese men, he shot down every one.
He had a horse named Bandit and the horses name was Clyde.
Cal Johnson was born the day he died.


And then of course it ends with the slow head turn.

Death Is A Cool Guy, Part 4

Part 4. I don't mean to diverge from my usual so much, but I've really enjoyed writing this story. I like viewing Death anthropomorphically. Anyway, here ya go.

                I stood at the door fixated on the dull bronze nine. The world had faded into gray fog and all I could see was that nine, thinking that once I’d stepped through the door, a man would die. I didn’t know him, and never would, but I couldn’t help feeling guilty.

                “It’s time” I heard Deaths ethereal voice drift through the fog. I had put it off long enough, I couldn’t keep messing with the course of nature. I nodded silently and Death put his hand on my shoulder. Together we stepped through the closed door. I had momentarily forgotten that we would be walking through it rather than opening it. It felt like walking through a waterfall, thin but heavy with the evenings rain. I closed my eyes.

                When I opened my eyes I was standing inside the mans apartment. The layout was identical to my own, but the furnishings were all wrong. The TV was on the opposite wall and there was no couch, only a Barka lounger with an overweight man sitting in it. The Spartan nature of his home only underscored his ultimate loneliness.

                “Don’t worry, he can’t see or hear us. Not yet” Death said to me, noticing my anxiety at being caught.

                “What do you mean not yet?”

                “He’ll have to see us once I collect him. I’ll try to make it quick.”

                I looked at the TV. Teri Bauer was tied to a chair. I had seen this episode many times so I knew what was coming shortly. The scene cut to Jack Bauer searching the hallways furiously. I glanced at the man. He was riveted.

                “How old is he?” I finally asked. Looking at the man, I guessed he was in his late forties.

                “He’s 51” I was close, “It’s actually a miracle he made it this long. His heart is in bad condition. He doesn’t know it but that small twinge of pain he just felt was the hole in his heart finally rupturing. He’s only got a few minutes now”

                Jack Bauer was cradling his dead wife, grief and vengeance in his eyes. The man in the chair was now grasping his chest. He had a pained look on his face. I couldn’t help but stare. I knew I should turn away but I was entranced by the sight of a mans life draining from his face. My morbid curiosity was locked on to his eyes.

                There was a look of bewilderment in his eyes. He had no idea what has happening, only that it hurt and wanted it to end. Suddenly, a wash of terror flooded across his eyes. He knew what was happening. He knew it was his end. Then his eyes crept slowly up to lock on the two figures standing in front of him. The sudden realization that he wasn’t alone was quickly overcome by more fear when he locked eyes on Death.

                My eyes followed his. Even though there was no expression on the face of Death, I could tell he was hurt. I found myself sympathizing more with this grotesque skeletal figure in black than the man who was dying. And that’s when it hit me. I finally understood why Death kept coming back to me. He needed a friend.

                “This has gone on long enough” Death said as he reached his hand forward. The loose sleeves on his robes receded as he stretched further. He laid his bony hand on the mans forehead. The room grew brighter than a thousand fluorescent bulbs. When I was finished rubbing the spots from my eyes, the scene had returned to normal.

                The man on the Barka lounger was slumped slightly to the side, his right hand fallen from the spot on his chest it was grabbing. His eyes were open but he saw nothing. He was clearly dead. I looked at Death and caught a quick sigh. I said nothing, this was not the time for words.

                “Come on, let’s go do some bong hits” Death finally said with a hint of resignation in his voice.

                Jack Bauer was collapsed outside, crying into his hands. 

Death Is A Cool Guy, Part 3

What's this, part 3? I'm enjoying writing this story and I hope you're enjoying reading it. I still need a better title though.

                I drink a lot. I don’t mean to say that I’m an alcoholic, I mean that I literally drink a lot of liquids. Thanks to some prescription medications, I’m left with permanent dry mouth so I always have a drink in my hand, be it tea or soda or water. I was just finished evacuating the mornings coffee when I returned to the living room to find I had lost my seat.

                “Don’t you ever knock?”

                “No, I just walk through walls.” Death replied as he casually flipped through the channels, looking for something worth watching.

                “No I mean, wait a minute can you really walk through walls?” Curiosity about Death is infectious. Half the time I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. Walking through walls seemed plausible enough.

                “Yup. I can also levitate and move things with my mind, among other things. You have any chips?”

                I did so I grabbed the bag of Price Chopper brand potato chips and sat down next to Death. At this point, I was getting less and less creeped out by him. The more we talked, the more I got to know Death as a hard-working, sardonic individual who just happened to usher souls into the afterlife.

                “Not that I don’t mind you stopping by, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped surprising me like this. If I hadn’t just done it, I would have pissed my pants”

                “Ok, but I don’t have a cell phone” I wasn’t sure why this surprised me.

                “What brings you by today?” I asked, sure that he was saying hello after collecting a soul.

                “There’s a soul to collect and I’m here a bit early” I was so close “A guy in building 4 has a heart condition and is spending the day marathon watching the first season of 24.”

                “Good show” I added.

                “It is a good show. Anyway, he’s not gonna take Teri Bauers death too well. To be fair though, he is out of shape and a heavy smoker. He might quit smoking if he knew about the hole in his heart.” He said all this with a hint of regret, as if he didn’t want to collect his soul. “It’s a shame, he could avoid seeing me if only his doctor had found the defect.”

                I was struck by the emotion in his voice. It was subtle, but he clearly felt for this man. I started to suspect that Death didn’t enjoy his job as much he let on.

                “So how does it usually go down? The soul collecting I mean.” I finally asked. The question had been rattling around my head for days. I had been looking for an opportunity to ask and had finally found it.

                “Do you really want to know?” I nodded yes, of course I wanted to know “It’s never exactly the same but it’s usually pretty peaceful. Most people are aware of their impending death. When you’re laying in a hospital bed with tubes keeping you alive, even if you’re in a coma, you know what’s coming. Every now and then I meet someone who  greets me with a smile and asks what took me so long. But most of the time there’s just a lot of crying. Then there are the fighters”

                “Fighters?” I asked.

                “Some people just aren’t ready and want to keep living. They get angry at me, like it’s my fault. You’d be surprised how many of them take a swing at me. Funny story, I was the one who collected Bruce Lee. I was sweating bullets, not literally cause I don’t have skin. I was so scared that he was going to open up on me. I’d seen Enter The Dragon, who hadn’t? So I got ready, I limbered up, took a few shadow punches, and went to him. He was the nicest guy I’d ever met until that point. I have never seen anyone take their death with such peace and grace. He even taught me a bit about Jeet Kun Do.”

                “So you’re saying Bruce Lee taught you Jeet Kun Do?” Of all he had just said, that was the first thing I asked. I felt like an idiot.

                “Yes. The Living lost a good one with him. But for every Bruce Lee, there’s a thousand Neros. He kept going on and on that he was immortal and the Caesar couldn’t die. Even challenged me to a fiddle contest”

                “Really” Again, not sure if he was joking or not.

                “No, I’m just messing with you. I love that song though.”

                It was a good song. Suddenly my mind was flooded with Charlie Daniels Band when I was hit with the ultimate question. I wasn’t sure I sure ask but my curiosity was too much to ignore.

                “Can, can I come with you for the next one?” My heart was beating so fast I was sure Death could hear it.

                “Are you sure you want to? It’s not easy for everybody.” I heard a hint of concern in his voice. This only poked at my curiosity more.

                “I do. I think I need to”

                “Very well, it’s about time anyway.” Death rose and reached out his hand. For the first time I was actually touching Death. I felt the bones in his hand. They were lighter than air, yet felt strong enough to bend steel. If he was so inclined, Death could have crushed my hand with no effort. I took a deep breath. This was going to change me and I knew it.

Youtube Monday: We Miss You Orson

Somebody recently told me it's Youtube Monday. I thought we'd go with something classic today.  Orson Welles is widely regarded as one of the most brilliant, groundbreaking filmmakers of all time. His magnus opus, Citizen Kane still sets the standard for drama and was responsible for pioneering many filmmaking techniques.
As the years went by, Orson Welles got fatter and drunker, something to be expected from someone named Orson. Eventually he started doing commercials and voice-overs. Here we see Orson trying to nail a take for Paul Masson Wine. Nobody told him that he's not supposed to actually drink anything while filming.

At one point, post-take he fell off his chair and broke the floor. No I'm kidding, he didn't fall. But he did break the floor with his pounding ponderous footsteps and low pitched cries for frozen peas. His only joy that day, besides being wasted, was when he found a chicken wing in his beard.

Death Is A Cool Guy, Part 2

Well, here is part two of my short story "Death Is A Cool Guy". I still haven't come up with another title, nor have I decided how far I want to take this.

When you’re unemployed, the days run together. The only reason I ever look forward to the weekend is because my wife will be home and I won’t have to spend my days alone with the dog. The weekend when by quicker than others, perhaps because I kept wondering about the night I talked to Death. I still wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not.

                Before I knew it, it was Monday and I was alone again. I woke up late, close to noon. There was no point in getting up early when the biggest part of my day was making dinner. I had just finished watching yet another repeat of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. It was the one in which Detective Stabler imprinted his own children upon a victim and got really aggressive towards the suspect. I was feeling hungry so I decided to heat up some leftover pasta.

                I was shoulders deep into the refridgerator, smelling the pasta to make sure it was still good. It wasn’t. I closed the fridge door, resigned to peanut butter sandwich I was forced to eat. When I stood up I saw him. It startled the crap out of me. So much so that I dropped the peanut butter, popping the top off. The dog ignored the tall figure in the black robes and went straight for the exposed Skippy.

                “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you” His voice seemed to echo through my head. He looked down at the dog lapping at the peanut butter. “I hope you weren’t planning anything untoward with that”

                It took me a moment to get his meaning. I half cringed and half laughed. “Well, it’s how I usually get my wife to do it”. Death seemed to chuckle at this. It was hard to tell. “Who are you here for this time?”

                “Nobody. I just found that chair very comfortable and it’s been a long few days. Did you hear about that plane crash off Martha’s Vineyard?”

                I had. “Yeah, I heard there were no survivors.”

                “At least not when I was done with them. You got any more of those Qingdaos?”

                I chuckled “No, sorry man. I have some pot if you want to hit it” It took a minute to hit me that I was offering to smoke weed with the anthropomorphic personification of Death. 

                “Hmm, I haven’t smoked pot in ages. Why not?”

                Thirty minutes later we were both on the couch, surrounded by a thin haze, watching another episode of Law and Order: SVU. This was the episode where Det. Benson almost gets raped but doesn’t. The dog still hadn’t acknowledged Death’s presence. It was as if Death had no image. No smell, no voice. But the dog clearly felt a little comforted by his presence.

                “Is it weird that I’m finding Detective Benson very attractive?” Death hadn’t spoken in about 10 minutes, absorbed as he was by this gripping network cop drama. The words took a minute to make their way through the smoke in the air. When they arrived at my ear, the words were trailing smoke.

                “That depends” I eventually answered, “Do you have a penis?” All of a sudden my curiosity was very piqued.

                “I certainly have a bone for her” I was started to learn that Death could be quite raunchy. But it was honestly too funny not to laugh at. We ended up giggling so hard that my eyes teared up. I couldn’t tell if Deaths eyes were as red as mine. I still couldn’t tell if he had eyes.

                “You know, you seem to have a lot of free time for the Grim Reaper” I blurted out after we had recovering from our giggle fit.

                “A Grim Reaper”

                “Pardon?”

                “I’m A Grim Reaper, not The Grim Reaper. There are a lot of us. Come on, there are almost seven billion people on this planet, one Reaper isn’t enough.”

                “So there are a whole group of Grim Reapers? Is there a Grim Reaper HR Department?” I said with an equal mix or sarcasm and curiosity.

                “Yeah, there’s a whole Administration. But we call our HR Department something else. We call it Collections” He looked at me slowly, waiting for me to get his joke. It took me a minute and, like most things with Death, I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not. “Seriously though, Soul Collection is a big Administration. There are thousands of Reapers”

                I couldn’t help but picture a big office building, shining brightly from the reflections off its glass walls. Cubicles were packed tightly onto the floors with the wide open design intended to stimulate workers. The cubicles are filled with skeletons, some in slacks and polos and other in sundresses because it’s Casual Friday. Skeleton interns were making copies and rushing between the cubicle aisles. The picture made me start giggling again. This made Death start giggling as well.

                We spent the next hour on the couch playing Call of Duty. It turns out Death plays all the time and is even in a league with some of his coworkers. I was sure to get his Gamertag before he left.

Too Creepy To Title

Oh my. NASCAR is finally the creepiest "sport" in America. Linda Chase of Jackson, Michigan kept her roommates body for over a year. She said she would watch NASCAR with Charles Ziglers dead body. I'll give you a minute to go throw up.

I feel like I'm missing a joke about a NASCAR zombie starving.
Get it, cause they eat brains.

Back with me? Good. Ms. Chase (yes, I'm assuming she's not married) said she kept him because she was sick of being alone and he was the only person who was nice to her. The only thing sadder than that would be if she was a puppy with a limp. It's getting hard to see the screen through the tears in my eyes. Never has pathos been stronger.
It keeps getting sadder when you take into account that Mr. Zigler died 18 months ago and his family didn't bother calling to check on him until recently. Ms. Chase says that Mr. Zigler died peacefully in his sleep.
Is this an indictment of NASCARs boredom factor or its appeal. On the one hand, the events are so dull that they are literally making people bored to death. On the other hand, it's viewership is so loyal that they keep watching after death. Does this define the phrase "die-hard fan"?

Is All Politics Like This?

Here is the most interesting thing to happen to Jordanian politics since well, ever since Jordanian politics don't interest me. I barely care about American politics. But when political interview shows are this exciting, I'd give it a chance.
Earlier this week, member of parliament Mohammed Shawabka was on with Jordanian Wolf Blitzer. Opposite him was activist and journalist (?) Monsour Sayf al-Din Murad. If your interest isn't already piqued, then check your pulse. The two men started arguing until Shawabka takes it to the next level.

Kojak gets political

First he takes off his shoe and throws it at Murad. In the Arabic parts of the world, throwing a shoe or hitting someone with a shoe is considered one of the greatest insults. It's on par with the American idea of teabagging.
Having missed with the shoe, Shawabka took out his gun. I'd like to say that a Matrix-style gun battle ensued while the participants yelled politically relevant arguments at each other. Instead the host, Jordanian Wolf Blitzer intervened and got Shawabka to put the gun away. The credits then rolled, presumably followed by the above-mentioned gun battle.
I would totally watch Meet The Press if there was a chance of Arianna Huffington pulling a knife on Sean Hannity. I don't know what satellite network I have to get to watch Jordanian Parliamentary Debate Show #29, but I'm willing to switch to Dish for this kind of entertainment.

The Booby Bandit: Followup

You know what I love? I love self-referential humor. It creates a feeling of consistency and continuity of humor. I also love boobs. Today, we're covering both. Last week I told you about Australias best robber, the Buxom Bandit. Well she has reportedly turned herself in.
Her name is Tonee Walker, which apparently passes for a name in Australia. She says she put her boobs on display so that the people she was robbing had "something to look at". What a thoughtful thief she is. I know when I rob gas stations, I like to leave one of my balls hanging out for the same reason.

Yeah, this doesn't look like it's off her own amateur porn site.
Not that I know what amateur porn sites look like.

No word yet on why she robbed the gas station but I'm guessing it was to get bra money. It's still undetermined if she she is indeed the Buxom Bandit since she turned herself in. There's just as good a chance of it being a random attention whore trying to kick start an acting career.
This is part of the Paris Hilton/Kim Kardashian school of marketing; show your boobs (and more) and you'll be famous for it leading to a career where you make millions traveling the world while demonstrating why we as a species are dead inside. All that said though, boobs are awesome.

By the way, tomorrows post will be late if it comes at all. I'm heading to my brother-in-laws and I have no idea when I'll be home.

Youtube Monday: The Stars Wars That I Used To Know

It seems it's Youtube Monday once again. And just in time for Monday too. You may notice that todays post is super early for me. That's because I made a deal with my Good Lady Wife during a game of Monopoly to spend all day doing laundry. Ultimately, it wasn't worth it because I still ended up losing the game.
Anyway this weeks entry is a fun cover of Gotye's Somebody That I Used To Know. Who the hell is Gotye? Give it another couple months, nobody will remember. This song has been blasted from everything with a speaker. If you haven't gotten sick of it yet, trust me, you will. But this is a good parody about Star Wars. Enjoy.

Take that George Lucas! Stop ruining our beloved movies! Han will always shoot first!

Death Is A Cool Guy, Part 1

         I thought I'd take a break from the norm today and present something a little different. I started writing a short story and decided to share the first part of it with you. I hope you enjoy it. I'd also love to hear your feedback. It is currently titled "Death Is A Cool Guy"

       I don’t even remember what we were fighting about. I guess that’s how most arguments go. We were laying in bed talking about what jobs I applied for that day. It had been almost nine months since I lost my job. Well to be fair, I didn’t lose it. I still know where it is, it just isn’t mine anymore. Unemployment benefits had run out and I was officially contributing nothing to the household. Nine months without a job had taken its toll on me. To say I was depressed was too obvious.

                I was constantly on edge and the more we talked about my job situation, the angrier I got. In retrospect, I was probably out of line. So it was no surprise to her when I grabbed my pillow and headed for the couch. I laid on the couch stewing for about an hour before I finally drifted off into an angry sleep.

                It was around 3:30 when I awoke to the sound of the fridge opening. From my spot on the couch I could see the warm glow of the refridgerator light illuminating a figure. It wasn’t like my wife to get up during the night for any reason so I kept an eye open out of curiosity. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest when I saw a tall gaunt figure in a long black robe emerge from the kitchen with my last Qingdao in his bony hand.

                The figure sat down on Uncle Rays chair, the orange one that the dog usually sleeps on. I was always a bit hesitant to sit in it because Uncle Ray reportedly died in it. As comfortable as it is, and despite the fact that I think my wife told me that to mess with me, I always thought twice before sitting in it.

                At this point both of my eyes were wide open and my heart was beating faster than an marathon runner on the 21^st mile. There was just enough light coming through the venetian blinds from the streetlight outside to reveal the strangers face. I suddenly became sure I was dreaming. His face, I assumed it was a “he”, was hard, literally hard. I could see from eight feet away that it was just exposed bone with a sinister permanent smile. Somehow, the thought that I was dreaming calmed me down.

                “You’re not dreaming” the figure said, causing my heart to speed up again. How did he know what I was thinking?

                “Among other things, I’m telepathic” he said. Now I was starting to freak out. The more he talked, the better look I got at him. He was an especially bony figure in an oversized black robe that fell down to his feet. Sitting as he was, however, I could see his feet. They were almost transparent. I could see the bones within as the skin seemed to flicker in and out.

                “Are you the Grim Reaper” I managed to squeak out.

                “I’m A Grim Reaper” His voice was strange. It was so deep I felt in it in my chest before I heard it. But at the same time, it had a lyrical quality, almost relaxing.

                “Are you here for me?” I asked, almost a bit hopeful.

                “No”

                My mind raced as panic set in. I was still mad at her, but not enough to wish her any harm. She was still my wife after all, the love of my life. My eyes darted to the bedroom wall.

                “No. Not her, take me instead”

                “Relax, I’m not here for her either. And no, I’m not here for the dog. I came for the old lady in apartment 9. Figured I’d stop in for a beer. I haven’t had Qingdao in years”

                I was confused. Very confused. “I’m confused” I admitted.

                “Well the only other choice in brew was Bud Light. I might be a walking skeleton caught between life and death with no tongue to speak of, but even I have standards. Besides, something drew me here” He took another swig of beer.

                “Yeah, I’m guessing the dead lady is what drew you here” Did I just make a glib joke to the Grim Reaper?

                “Good one. No I mean something drew me to your apartment. I just had a feeling I’d find something good here. I hope you don’t mind that I took your last Qingdao. Where did you find this anyway?”

                We spent the next hour talking about my time in China, focusing of course on my exploits related to Qingdao Beer. It turns out he had spent some time in China during the 60’s. I didn’t bother asking which century he was referring to. I don’t remember him leaving. The next thing I knew, my wife was waking me up as she prepared to go to work. I chalked it all up to a really lucid dream until I saw the empty Qingdao on the floor next to Uncle Rays chair. Never in my life had I been so sure that I was going insane.

The Booby Bandit

Boobs. That should be enough of a post but I'm told I should expand on my reasons. Several days ago a gas station was robbed in Gold Coast, Australia. Since we're American, who gives a crap. But if you harken back to the first word of this post, you should be able to put two and two together. A woman, who is now being referred to as the "Buxom Bandit" held the gas station up at knife point. 

What you see there is a still from the security camera footage. As you can see the nickname is well earned. She made two major mistakes. First, she didn't wear a mask. Second, having not worn a mask, she should have just not bothered wearing a shirt. That way, nobody would notice that she's not wearing a mask. 

The Buxom Bandit is still at very large (prepare for boob jokes). The gas station was the only thing being held up that day (get it, cause her boobs are bouncing around). She may not left fingerprints, but she certainly left an impression. She reportedly drove into the gas station, no word on if the top was down on her car but I'm guessing it was at least very low. 

I'm trying really hard (giggidy) to come up with more boob jokes but I have to admit that I'm a little distracted. Not by the boobs, but by the clear crime problem in Australia. It's almost as if the country was founded centuries ago by prisoners kicked out of somewhere else. Also boobs. 

Two Dongs Don't Make A Right

I'm starting to get concerned. The zombie apocalypse may be upon us, for real this time. At this point we've all heard about the Miami Zombie. Well it didn't take long for a Chinese rip-off to hit the net. Last week in Wenzhou, a drunk Chinese man attacked a woman and ate part of her face. Hang on a sec while I run to the bathroom to throw up.
Anyway, Mr. Dong (I swear that's his real name) reportedly stumbled into the street where Mrs. Du was driving. She stopped short at which point Dong jumped on the hood of the car and started pounding on the windshield. Mrs. Du got rightfully spooked and tried to jump out of the car and run away. But we all know you can't run from a drunk Dong.
Dong tackled Du and started biting her face. It took several people to pull Dong off of her and when they did, her face was bloody. Doctors so far have stated that she'll need at least 2 surgeries. Dong was apprehended by the police and was captured "alive". I use the term loosely since he will now be known as the Chinese Zombie.
Reports are that he drank almost a liter of baijiu. For those who don't know, baijiu was created by the devil in an attempt to destroy mankind. Unfortunately the Chinese developed a taste for it. It averages 40-60% alcohol and can strip paint off a boat. I know I like to be colorful in my descriptions but baijiu really is as bad as I make it out to be. Anyone who says they like it is either a raging alcoholic or they want people to think they're cool.

Baijiu was involved in the creation of this photo

I have had to be poured into a taxi after drinking a fraction of that much baijiu. Dongs friends (who we shall refer to as Balls) were later found all passed out, a common reaction to baijiu. Dong is currently being held for aggravated assault, but I feel like that's not descriptive enough for him. Attempted Zombification sounds better.
To my reader I tell you this, stock up on clean water and dehydrated foods. Arm yourself but don't rely on guns. Most importantly, stay inside and barricade the doors and windows. It's time.

Youtube Monday: The Puppy and the Crab

It's Youtube Monday and I love puppies so it's officially time to question my sexual orientation! I stumbled across this video originally on The Huffington Post. It's of a 2-year dachsund meeting a little crab on the beach. Adorability ensues.

If you are not watching this, punching your leg and yelling "awwwwww" you have no soul and I feel sorry for your empty existence. Seriously, if this doesn't melt your heart that is because you have none.  The puppy is having the time of his life, as evidenced by the fiercely wagging tail. The poor crab however is terrified for its very existence.
So we have learned that the recipe for cute is curiosity + terror.

Study Guides That Need Proofreading

Apparently it's Thursday which means it's about time for me to rant about something. I've been studying for the MTEL. For those who don't know, which I suspect is most of you, the MTEL is a licensing exam in Massachusetts to be a teacher. Why teach? Because my application for astronaut was rejected. Something about no more trips to space.
Anyway, a while back I picked up a book to help prepare for the exam. As I'm reading through it however, I'm noticing more and more grammar and syntax mistakes. It wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't a study guide for the Foundations of Reading test.
I'm not saying that it is a useless tool. On the contrary, I'm sure it will do me a world of good. But I can't help question the efficacy of this book when I'm correcting mistakes on every other page. Did anyone proofread this thing? It's like finding that a math textbook has non-sequential numbered pages. Or an  engineering textbook that doesn't open the right way. Or a cookbook that recommends that you just eat out.
Am I being too critical? I don't think so. Does a sentence that ends in an exclamation point also require a period? Definitely not. Is asking questions and then answering them immediately a hackneyed writing technique? Debatable.

"Art"

Art is in the eye of the beholder. And if you were art, I beholding you! Hah! Now that that's out of the way I want to tell you about a story I've been tracking for a while. Over the last couple months, "artist" Michael Heizer made the news for his latest work-in-progress Levitated Mass. For the uninitiated, the installation is a 340-ton boulder. That's it.

Danger: Falling Rocks

See, it's just a huge rock perched on a couple of concrete walls. He didn't even carve it or paint it or adorn it with beads or anything. Mr. Heizer could have at least spray painted "Class of '12" or "Don Henley Rocks" onto it.
 It originally made headlines while it was being transported from Riverside County, California to the L.A. Museum of Art. It was an impressive feat of engineering to get this absurdly heavy rock down the highway and into place. However, that's where the impressive part ends.
I know that art is largely subjective but come on people. Putting a huge rock on a pedestal is stretching the definition of art to its breaking point. Don't get me wrong, overall it's an impressive feat of engineering. But calling it art is like shaving a llama and calling it a goat.
It took close to 3 months to get this 340 piece of "art" 105 miles and put it in place. The Druids could have done that in half the time, and they wouldn't be so pretentious as to call it art.

Youtube Monday: You're The Star of the Masquerade

Well wouldja look at that, it's Youtube Monday already. I thought today I'd share one of the best covers of any song ever. Several years ago, Killswitch Engage filmed a cover of Dio's Holy Diver. What ensued was not only an excellent version of an excellent song, but also one of the funniest music videos ever, made funnier by the fact that it's a metal band.

Even if you don't like metal, you can still appreciate the video for its absurdity. Notice how the king/drummer is always eating a giant turkey leg. Admire the beautiful princess/guitarist. I really love this video, it simultaneously cracks me up and rocks me out, a rare feat.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I'm going to go back to playing SimCity Classic.

Don't Go Into The Water

Sharks are scary. Jaws was a scary movie. But living in Massachusetts as I do, sharks aren't normally a problem. Except for land sharks. Anyway it would seem that my days of water safety are over. So far this summer, two great white sharks have been spotted in the general Cape Cod area. Why is the water always so scary?

Anyway, last year some scientists tagged about 7 great whites that were in the open ocean about a half mile out from Chatham. 2 of them have returned. The prevailing theory is that they're here for the seafood, not knowing that steamers are out of season.
Apparently there's a colony of seals nearby that proves just too tempting. And here's the hypocrisy: when a shark attacks a seal, it's considered nature and is filmed for the BBC. When I attack a seal, it's considered cruelty to animals and gets filmed for my upcoming trial that I'm not technically allowed to talk about. All I can say in my defense is that the seal on the video was barking racist names at me.
I went to the beach in Rhode Island last weekend, following the amazing Crosby, Stills and Nash concert. There were no shark sightings but I think I have a great excuse to stay away, besides my tendency to burn in the sun. Instead I will stay on the beach and get my wife to bury me waistdeep in sand, carve two wheels on the side of me, and pretend that I'm FDR. Again.
As long as I'm scaring people with sea creatures, I might as well share this picture of an alligator gar (whatever the hell that is) that some badass in Texas shot with an arrow before wrestling it onto the shore.

This will haunt my dreams for nights to come

I don't know what the hell an alligator gar is but it should be sent back to the hellish pit it came from.
Stay out of the water people. Don't make me keep telling you.

I've Heard of An Urban Jungle But This Is Ridiculous

Raise your hand if you live in a city. Ok, now raise your hand if you're afraid of lions. I'm sure everybody raised their hands for that one. My fear of lions is based off of a heavy dose of respect after viewing numerous nature videos. The only way I could fear/respect more is if they started living in our cities. What's that? They are. Oh crap.

Artists rendering of Urban Lion (Felinus Urbanus)

As the Kenyan capitol of Nairobi is growing, it has been encroaching on lion habitats. This has resulted in urban lions which are exactly what they sound like. So far, more than 2 lionesses have been captured or killed in Nairobis suburbs. Oh yeah and one of them had cubs. As of yet there have been no attacks on humans, but there have been several attacks on dogs. No word on hobo attacks.
To recap, lions have moved into the suburbs of Nairobi and are settling down. To make things worse, these lions aren't even getting jobs. It would be one thing if they moved in and got jobs at 7-11 or as actuaries. But not only are these scary felines illegally living in Nairobi, they are leeching off of hard-working Kenyans.
The lion welfare state has to stop. We have been coddling these animals for too long. What's next, lion food stamps? We already have homeless lion shelters. We call them zoos and those bastards live better than most homeless people.
So to my readers in Nairobi (::sound of crickets::), don't go out at night, don't answer your doors unless you can see a human on the other side. And don't accept any candy-grams, they are a well known trick of the animal kingdom.

There And Back Again: My Adventures At URI

It's a late post today but it's for a good reason. I went on a recent adventure which I will now relate to you. It is a harrowing tale of goblins, fire trucks, and woe. It all began on a pleasant night in Rhode Island...
My brother-in-law has been telling me about this place called the Ocean Mist in Wakefield, Rhode Island. Every Tuesday night they have a reggae night. Five dollar cover charge gets you two drinks and all the reggae you can take. However, last night I was much like Christina Hendricks' boobs, I was the DD so all I had was a single beer. But the music was good and the back porch is right on the beach so you get a nice breeze along with a great view.
Before we got to the Ocean Mist however, we needed food. I will fully confess to loving the food in a college town and my brother-in-law is of course a student at University of Rhode Island. So we started off at Kingston Pizza where we split a "couch potato" pizza. It was glorious. I had nacho cheese, bacon, mashed potatoes, and more cheese. This was followed by a short food coma but I awoke ready for the music.
The Ocean Mist closed at one o'clock leaving us looking for more food. But that's the best part of food in a college town; places are open super late. We ended the night at International Zone, right off the URI campus. Me and my brother-in-law split a Texas BBQ Calzone. Picture a perfect conflagration of chicken, bacon, cheese, and of course bbq sauce. Glory ensued.
All told, I will remember this sojourn not for the reggae music it was originally intended for, but for the food that came along with it. Food in a college town is always available and there's about a million different kinds. On a former visit he took me to an amazing Indian place that is now defunct. Long live the food surrounding the University of Rhode Island.

Good Old Chinese Pollution

Has the apocalypse begun? I don't ask because somebody decided to make a movie about one of our greatest presidents hunting vampires. I ask because of the mushroom cloud over Beijing. Of course the apocalypse would start in China.

Mushroom and fried pork with scallions cloud

No, that's not a still from the beginning of Independence Day, that is a real cloud over Beijing. Not only is it shaped like a mushroom but it is the color of a nuclear explosion as well. The last time I was in Beijing, the air pollution was not nearly as bad as it used to be, but with no international games coming to Beijing for a long time, perhaps they've let the pollution controls lapse a bit.
So far the Chinese government doesn't have much to say about it, besides assuring people that its not from a chemical explosion. A couple weeks ago in Wuhan, my old adopted hometown, a yellow haze descended on the city. Word on the street is that there was a explosion at a chlorine plant, but of course that is being denied.
China has long been known for its pollution. It's quickly replacing kung fu and dumplings as the most recognizable Chinese things. This is taking it to a whole new level though. I give it two more years before the entire country is covered in an unbreathable haze. As it stands right now, it's a common sight to see people walking down the street with masks on. If this continues, in a thousand years the Chinese will either be all dead from pollution or have evolved to be immune to it, making them into a race of superbeings.
God help us all.

Youtube Monday: Don't Let The Name Fool You

So it's Monday again which means it's time for Youtube Monday. I missed Fridays post because I was on my way to Providence to see Crosby, Stills and Nash. For those that care, they still kick ass after 45 years. Anyway, I thought today, in honor of Fathers Day, I'd share my fathers favorite Youtube video. Don't be fooled by its appearance, it is not a nature video.
Video contains some NSFW language.

As you can see, the Honey Badger truly doesn't give a shit. This is one of the most ferocious, aggressive animals in nature. No other animal hunts them, partially out of respect but mostly out of fear. It's a little known fact that the U.S. government uses Honey Badgers to guard their most sensitive and secure sites. They were unable to train them so they just created a no-mans-land and tossed these bad boys in there.
It's long been theorized that the Bermuda Triangle is actually the site of the Honey Badger nation. Anyone who crosses their borders never leaves alive.
You may have noticed that I'm capitalizing Honey Badger. That is because I am honestly afraid that if I don't, one will knock on my door, looking for retribution.

I Love Republicans

God I love Republicans. Not for their politics or their beliefs, but for the fact that they can't seem to go a week without saying or doing something horrible and ridiculous. Today we go out to Utah for this. Utah, the state known for Mormons and desert. Anyway GOP Presidential candidate Fred Karger has had some interesting correspondence lately.

We're here! We're Queer! We want to tax incentives for the top 1%!

Fred Karger is a rare creature. He's Republican, but he's also openly gay, two lifestyles that seem to clash with each other. Even in gay Republican circles he's a long shot though. Well he received an email from Nanette Billings, wife of Washington County Republican Party Chairman Willie Billings. Glossing past their ridiculous names, Mrs. Billings wrote to him to tell him he was a radical idiot and thank god he couldn't procreate.
When asked about this by Yahoo.coms Chris Moody, she responded by saying "my feeling is that the only reason he's running for president is to find more [sexual] partners". So according to Nanette, who is clearly a master of politics and not somebody with a stupid name, Fred Karger is running for president to get laid. I've gone to some pretty extreme lengths to get some action in my life, but I never considered running for president.
Here's a guy who has been involve in politics for more than 30 years, working on various successful presidential campaigns. I thought it was because he cared about this country and wanted to make it better. Now I find out he did it all to get himself some booty. Never have I been so disillusioned in American politics.
Suddenly, so many presidential terms make sense to me. What did Bill Clinton do in office, besides erase the national debt, cut unemployment, win a couple wars and make the saxaphone cool again? He got laid. And JFK, did he put a man on the moon? Nope, he just got laid.
So to recap, any gay Republican is only in politics to find men and Republicans are idiots. Any questions?

The Avengers Are Real

What's today, Wednesday? When did we enter the Marvel Universe? The real life Black Widow a.k.a. Natasha Romanoff is back in the news. You may recall the name Anna Chapman as the unexpectedly hot Russian sleeper agent that was living in the U.S. as a spy. Her spying activities are kind of hazy but who am I to argue?
Well she's back, this time taking to the catwalk. So just to go over her resume, she has a Masters in Economics from Moscow University, was "CEO" of a "realty company" in NY, she was a spy of course, and now she's a model.

The real Black Widow

The Black Widow is best known from Iron Man 2 and The Avengers, being played by the uncompromisingly hot Scarlett Johansson, who was also a redhead. Her fictional resume also included being a model and a Russian spy. The similarities don't end there either. They are both multilingual, they both had multiple aliases, and they both feature prominently in my fantasies.

The fictional Black Widow

All we're missing here is a genius billionaire with a kickass suit of armor and for Samuel L. Jackson to lose an eye. Thor already exists and currently plays center for the New York Jets. Toby Keith is obviously Captain America. As for the Hulk, paint me green and start praising the Dallas Cowboys and you'll see how strong my rage makes me.
Oh yeah, I'm skipping Hawkeye cause he uses a bow and arrow. Come on man, it's the 21st Century, buy a gun already.

Father Of The Year Nominee

Fathers Day is coming up and just in time too. I don't know if it's celebrated in England but if the Prime Ministers recent actions are any indication, I don't think fatherhood is a big priority. It is being reported that Prime Minister David Cameron accidentally left his 8-year-old daughter in a pub. The incident allegedly took place a few months ago but has only just come to light.
The story goes that the family had stopped in a pub for lunch. Little Nancy Cameron went to the bathroom and when she came out, her family was gone. No word on if she washed her hands. The Prime Minister had climbed into one car with his bodyguards while his wife climbed into another car with their other two children who presumably didn't have to use the bathroom. Each parent assumed Nancy was with the other. Nobody noticed Nancy's absence until they got home.
All told, she was left alone in the pub for about 15 minutes, which was long enough to have a couple of pints of Guinness, play a game of darts, and headbutt a guy over the results of a soccer match. Her mother returned to pick her up just in time to pull her off a Liverpool fan before she bit his ear off.

Pic is unrelated...or is it?

All of this supposedly happened on a Sunday afternoon, a convenient story considering the previous Saturday was "Take your daughter out to the pub day". My theory is that Little Nancy drank her PM dad under the table. He then left her there on purpose to teach her a lesson about shaming her father. Little did he know that she would be leading the bar in songs by Queen and making toasted sandwiches for the bar staff. Word is she was found curled up on a table under a Manchester United blanket.
So here's to you Prime Minister David Cameron, Nominee for Father of the Year.

Youtube Monday: Demon in the Circuits

It's been a rough week but we're back with Youtube Monday. After scouring Youtube for almost 8 full minutes I remembered a really cool video from a few years ago. My comments after the video.

We all knew that mobile phones were inherently evil. This is something we see everyday when some jackass cuts us off cause he's on his phone. Or how everybody pulled out their camera-phones instead of helping me stop the bleeding when I got shot in the neck. It would seem it's because there is a demon inside every phone that is just waiting to come out.
There's no word if a phone has to be microwaved to make the demon emerge or if the ambient heat from being in your pocket is enough. I think I figured out why it feels like my phone is vibrating when there's no call incoming. It's just my phone demon messing me or letting me know he cares. There's no rule that says demons can't be caring individuals.