I purchased a new “personal groomer” last week to prevent my “personal” areas from looking like a 70’s porno. Like a lot of items these days, it was sealed up nice and tight in a clear plastic clamshell package. I took one look at this packaging and realized it was going to be a while before I started trimming the yard.
By the way this thing was sealed shut you’d think it was a time capsule containing all the secrets of mankind meant to be shot into space. Without exaggeration, I would estimate that it took me about 13 hours to get it open.
There’s a difference between seeing Jesus in a potato chip and believing it really is Jesus in your potato chip. I had a marble when I was a kid that had a blob in the exact shape of the Virgin Mary but even as a kid I realized it was a random, meaningless blob. Although, wouldn’t it be amazing if it really was a sign from God and I totally ignored it? Shit, where is that marble?!?
There’s a phenomenon called pareidolia in which a person tries to find recognizable or significant subject matter in random objects. Like when a tree looks like an old man or a cloud looks like a kitten. It’s just human nature to attempt to find familiar objects, especially faces, in random shapes. But believing that face in your Hot Pocket was sent to you by our lord and savior is an entirely different kind of crazy. Why the hell would Jesus choose to make his big comeback in the form of a nacho chip rather than exploding through the clouds on a flaming unicorn?
Here in Chicago we have a famous water stain under an expressway that for several years still attracts hundreds (thousands?) of people who bring flowers, light candles and stare at a crack in the wall. I honestly think it’s incredibly sad to see people praying to a water stain but I’m guessing they find it sad that I don’t.
This is a case where I almost feel a little guilty and start to wonder why so many things bug me. But who cares, I just hate people who took the time to learn how to unicycle. It’s such a “look at me, pay attention to me” kind of thing to do (unlike blogging). It’s bad enough when someone rides a normal unicycle but then there are those turds who ride the super tall unicycles. They are the worst people in the world. The only thing that could make the unicycle scene worse would be if they held their own critical mass and rode around in traffic juggling and looking smug.
Yes, I had a wart. Shut up. It was on the side of my pinky finger and I probably got it at the gym when I was blasting my triceps and looking awesome.
Here’s the thing about warts, it took me one full year to get rid of it. A FULL YEAR! I tried everything. I started with a Compound W gel that really just turned the wart white but did nothing. Then I was forced to buy this wart freezing stuff from a super attractive young female pharmacist. That was fun. It froze the wart and hurt like hell but did nothing. I would pick at it with a pair of tweezers and there were a few times I thought it was gone only to watch it slowly grow back.
After about 10 months of trying to eat it away with gels or freeze it off with cold air and after wearing a fucking band-aid on my finger every day for almost a year, I decided to try something crazy that I heard about. Duct tape. Apparently it is a miracle cure for warts but it just seemed too crazy to try. I am happy to say as of last week I am wart free and it was the God damn duct tape that did it!
You will find a lot of duct tape wart removal tips online but here is what worked for me. First of all, there is no magic substance in the glue that kills the wart. Instead, keeping your wart covered in duct tape for several days seals it and keeps it moist and gooey. I would keep a square of tape on my wart under a band-aid for 3 or 4 days at a time. When you remove the tape the skin underneath is white and soft, like you are a corpse floating in a river! Soak it in hot water for a few minutes and then eat away at the wart with a sharp pair of tweezers. Make sure you yank as much of it off as you can. Then, simply repeat several more days/weeks until it looks like the wart is gone. It isn’t, trust me, so keep doing it. Keep taping and digging. The wart will look dark while your “normal” skin will look white. Keep those tweezers munching on that dark stuff until it no longer appears. Don’t forget to sterilize your tweezers each time you use them so you don’t spread the virus.
Is there anything duct tape can’t do? Well, it’s actually pretty bad at sealing ductwork ironically.
Dude, did you get the new Scent Stories disc, “Farmer’s Market?” Yeah, it came out today. It fucking rocks!
Oh brother. Really? Please tell me there isn’t a single person in the world who has fallen for this weirdness.
In case you have a job and don’t watch soap operas, I will explain this madness. First, you buy a giant Febreze “disc player” and place it on the shelf next to your figurines and collection of novelty glasses. Then you choose from an exciting selection of discs with names like “Boardwalk” and “World Treasure” which you put in your pretend air freshener computer. Now you simply sit back and soak in the artificial stink of the boardwalk while your new disc takes you on the world’s saddest journey. Maybe, just maybe, if you close your eyes you can actually smell sweaty chest hair and the urine of 100 homeless guys.
When I see shit like this I feel like I might be stuck in the matrix or possibly from another planet.
PLEASE watch this clip of Shania Twain contemplating suicide while she pretends to give a shit about Scent Stories! I have never seen a more defeated person. She also likes that “it’s EASY” unlike those impossibly complicated candles!
(you have to sit through 45 seconds of nothing to get to the good stuff)
After last night’s election I’m still having a hard time feeling negative about much BUT this morning I had to suffer through something so horrible that it almost ruined the historic day. Much like dropping my keys, I find the simple act of performing a basic three point turn around in the middle of a street to be torture. When I realize the only parallel parking space available must be reached by a quick turn around in the middle of the block I start to seriously consider just driving away until I reach a new town where I can start a new life under a different name.
Is there anything worse than that awkward pause after putting your car in reverse when the transmission is just not ready to move in a new direction yet? You press the gas pedal but the car sits there and does nothing as if to say, “fuck it, I don’t feel like it right now.” Even if you are in the middle of Death Valley the street will suddenly become filled with cars waiting to pass while you inch back and forth like a turd in the middle of the street. They stare at you and judge you with their judgey eyes. STOP LOOKING AT ME, I’M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN!
It’s tempting to want “the other side” to stay home and not vote on election day but I would much rather see every person who is eligible get off their complacent asses and vote! The voting turnout in our country is shameful and embarrassing.
If you are an eligible voter and do not exercise this right then you are an idiot and you better keep your fat, dumb mouth shut on any subject pertaining to politics. You had your chance to speak up on election day but you decided to say home with a bag of Zesty Taco Doritos sitting on your tummy watching a “Cheaters” marathon. So keep your Dorito hole shut pal.
Like most comforts and freedoms in America, too many people take the privilege of voting for granted. And guess what? Casting a vote feels good. It feels GREAT! So get out there and vote your sweet ass off America, no matter who you are voting for. (but honestly, you should vote for Obama)
If you were a little kid in the 70s, or even up to the mid 80s, you probably have similar Halloween memories to mine. You would start planning your costume around November 3rd shortly after eating five pillowcases filled with candy over the previous three days and when Halloween finally did roll around you would trick-or-treat for hours. I easily, without exaggeration, walked about 140 miles while trick or treating each Halloween. Keep in mind, if my costume called for it I would walk these long miles in bare feet (i.e. barefoot hobo, barefoot zombie, barefoot cowboy, barefoot Batman).
My parents would remove the window from the front door to more easily hand out candy to the never-ending line of trick-or-treaters who would show up on our stoop all night until they finally were forced to turn the porch light off at 10:30 or 11:00. They always, ALWAYS, ran out of candy and my dad would quickly drive to the store to buy more.
It was Halloween motherfucker and it fucking RULED!
Sadly, tragically really, those days are over. Last year I moved to a house after living in an apartment the city for 15 years and I was ready for a long night of answering the door to a chorus of little voices screaming “TRICK-OR-TREAT” in unison but the doorbell rang twice, exactly TWICE! First, four cute little kids dressed as Spidermen and princesses rang my bell, YAY! Then an hour later two teens dressed as two teens rang the the bell and demanded candy. Happy fucking Halloween.
I ran into my 9 year old neighbor today and asked if she was excited about Halloween. She shrugged. I asked what she was dressing up as and she said “we are not allowed to dress up at our school.” I curled up into a ball and cried until my tears formed a puddle around me.
I know I sound like an old man complaining about “my day” but come on, what’s the deal? I know what the deal is, parents think their kids are going to be poisoned or razor bladed or whatever. This fear is baseless and not anchored by fact whatsoever. Creepy loners don’t put razor blades in apples and they don’t hand out poisoned candy. It just does not happen.
I honestly feel sad for these kids. Halloween was second only to Christmas when I was growing up. Maybe someone should create an “Extreme Trick-or-Treat” game for Xbox so kids can sit at home on their fat asses all night.
