March 14, 2006

• Neuti-What?

   

  I thought the scented tampon was the stupidest thing ever invented.  I was wrong. 

   

  

   

  Is this:

   

  A.  A jellybean; or

  B.  A testicular implant for dogs.

   

  If you answered B, you get a gold star.  Neuticles: absolving the guilt from chopping off your dog’s nuts.  Thanks to Heidi for the link.

   

  You can also purchase Neuticles merchandise HERE.  FYI – my birthday is in August.   

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  My Attention-Whoring Started at a Young Age

  My mom recently came across this letter from the publisher of the Guinness Book of World Records, which, apparently, is a response to a letter I wrote:

  

   Click on image to enlarge.

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  Free Advice (worth every penny)

   

  If you dribble your drink on your pants, just urinate on yourself.  People may think that you‘re incontinent, but at least they won’t know you’re a sloppy drinker.

   

  

   

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  Co-worker: What did you get for lunch?

  TheGoddess: A tuna salad sandwich.

  Co-worker: Ew. Your office is going to stink!

  TheGoddess: Good. Maybe the tuna will cover up the fart smell.

   

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  Jordansmorgasborden: The Funniest Niece on the Planet

  Age 10  

   

  

   

  Jordan:  I know a kid who got cut by a rusty nail.  I’m not sure if he needs a Tetris shot or not.

   

  Heidi: I spy . . . something red and white and bulls-eye like.

  Jordan: The Target sign!

  Heidi: Yep.

  Jordan: Or the other Target sign!

  Heidi: Could be.

  Jordan: Or someone with Lyme’s disease!

   

  There is a radio commercial where a guy is having difficulty saying the phrase, “abominable snowman.” Once it was over, Jordan says in her best you-are-such-a-dumbass voice, “It is ABDOMINAL snowman!”

   

  (Jordan is in the tub) 

  Jordan: Mom, come watch this. (She is spitting water in the air like a fountain)

  Heidi: Great.  Jordan, I can see your boobs.

  Jordan: So? I don’t care.

  Heidi: You don’t care if people see your boobs?

  Jordan: Nope.

  Heidi: Okay.  I’m going to take a picture and show them to everyone.

  Jordan:  Fine, just as long as you tell everyone that they’re Britney Spears’s boobs.

  Heidi: No one is going to believe that.  Britney Spears has big boobs – she bought herself some fake ones.

  Jordan: Well, tell everyone that they’re her original boobs.

  Heidi: Yeah, they might believe that.

  Jordan:  Okay then.

  Heidi: Jordan, I am not taking a picture of your boobs.  That’s completely inappropriate.  You’re not supposed to show people pictures of your private parts.

  Jordan:  Well then, I guess I can’t ever get my camera published.

   

  Heidi: Cheaters never win and winners never cheat

  Jordan: That’s right.  Spoken like a true . . . person.  And I said person because I couldn’t think of another nice word to describe you.

   

  “I’ll have you know that that’s two days’ worth!” – Jordan’s response to Heidi’s disgust at Jordan’s soiled underwear.

   

  (Heidi thinks she heard Jordan say something that sounded like “eat shit.”).

  Heidi: Did you just say ‘eat shit’?!?!?

  Jordan: NO!!!  I said, “I say what she says.”

  Heidi: That’s not what it sounded like.

  Jordan: I swear!

  Heidi: Uh-huh…potty mouth.

  Jordan: I swear on your grave!!!

   

  (trying to explain the word ‘pimp-slap’ to Jordan)

  Heidi: Well, a pimp is a man who is a flashy dresser and sells women’s bodies to other men.

  Jordan: Ew. Why would they want to dissect somebody?

   

  Jordan: Just a question… is Judge Judy on the Supreme Court?

   

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   Amusing Google Searches That Brought People to This Site

   

  Bea naked shirt

   

  Bea Arthur naked pictures

   

  Why make scented tampons

   

  Dolly Parton math equation boobless

   

  Extremely hot quotes for xangas

   

  Tampon smell

   

  Fear of sperm

   

  Little Red Riding Hood menstruation

   

  Lois Griffin nude

   

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  GUEST BLOGGER: SPARKY

   

  My friend Sparky read my blog and got inspired.  I think it was all the talk about pooping, which, I admit, is very inspiring.  Sparky is too lazy to create is own goddamn blog, so he suggested I post the following tidbits in my blog. It’s not like I’ve been writing shit here lately, anyway.  I should warn you, however, that Sparky is my same person who thought it would be a great idea to hang a fixture with sixteen candles directly underneath a smoke alarm:

   

  

   

  Sparky looking appropriately embarrassed and shameful.  

   

  1.         Stop-n-Chat Etiquette

   

  In case you live on Pluto, you probably know that a “Stop-n-Chat” occurs when a person is minding their own business and walking some place when someone, whom they know and either (a) don’t know particularly well or (b) don’t like particularly much, approaches to initiate meaningless banter (credit for this concept originally belongs with Larry David, one of the great geniuses of the 20th century, alongside Krusty the Klown and Glen Quagmire).  I wonder what the rules are when you have a Stop-n-Chat with someone that you really strongly dislike.  I feel like the available responses to such a situation include:

   

              A.         The gouging out of one of your enemy’s eyeballs.  However, this technique requires restraint, as you must leave the other one unharmed so that your nemesis will live the remainder of his days being forced to witness the horrible disfigurement that you have inflicted upon him.

   

              B.         Suggesting that you are late for your doctor’s appointment and that you think his concern about your recent diagnosis of the HN-5 strain of Avian Bird Flu and the suggestion that it has “gone airborne” merely reflects his having been brainwashed by the liberal media, who are naturally in bed with their “big Pharma” allies.

   

              C.         Farting.  Loudly.

   

  Are there any other choices?  I think I’m all tapped out.

   

  2.         Proper Procedure for when a Man is Stalking You and Threatening to Kill You

   

  I live a blessed existence.  I really do.  For example, about a week ago, I was speaking to a colleague of mine named Scott and walking near 16th and K when a fine looking gentlemen approached me (hereinafter, “Deranged Bum”). Deranged Bum was dressed in all black garb (including black tee shirt and black trench coat).  He wore headphones, but I surmise that he wasn’t listening to anything as the headphones weren’t connected to anything (except, perhaps, the voices in his head).  Finally, he carried a small leather bound book which contained either (a) a list of people whom he has decided to murder or (b) Martha Stewart’s latest collection of crepe recipes.  I did not communicate with this man in any way (or even look at him).  To this day, I have no idea why I appeared to have been placed amongst the elite group of those whom he has marked for death.

   

  As our drama unfolded (hereinafter, the “Lunch Hour Standoff”), I was speaking with Scott on my cell phone and walking up the street in a vain effort to locate one of the eighteen Cosi’s within six blocks of my office.  As best as I can reconstruct, the “conversation” took place as follows:

   

  DB: I’m going to fucking kill you.

   

  SPARKY: [stunned silence and continues walking up street]

   

  DB: Listen to what I’m sayin’ man.  You’re going to die.

   

  SCOTT: What the hell is going on?  Is that guy talking to you?

   

  SPARKY: [whispering into the cell phone] Don’t you fucking hang up on me right now!  If I die, I will make sure to curse your seed for a thousand generations.

   

  Our hero walked for several more minutes, all the while being threatened by DB.  After two blocks, our champion decided to stop at the corner of 18th and L with the goal of allowing DB to fly over (similar in many respects to the technique made famous by Maverick in Top Gun).  Unfortunately, unlike the hapless Mig-21 fighter pilot who overflew his target and met with an abrupt end, DB did not fall so easily for such a trap.  He merely stopped 10 feet behind me, at which point our dialogue resumed:

   

  DB: I’m going to kill you and your whole family.

   

  SCOTT: He knows your family dude?

   

  SPARKY: [silence]

   

  DB: Your whole family!

   

  SCOTT: You should kick this guy’s ass for talking about your family.

   

  SPARKY: [recalling that morning's press reports describing in graphic detail a knife attack that had occurred in Lafayette Park, approximately 8 blocks away] I don’t think that’s advisable in the present circumstances.

   

  During a moment like this, when one believes that death is imminent, the human mind can be a finicky thing.  In this case, the little grey matter resting beneath my ears made the decision that the safest course of conduct was not to enter into a store, which could close off my escape routes, limit my visibility and hamper my full execution of the repertoire of hand to hand combat techniques at my disposal.  Rather than enter a store (or ask for assistance from a stranger), it was decided that the best decision was to cross the street halfway, stopping in the middle of traffic and pretending like I was confused.

   

  DB, upon seeing this tactically brilliant maneuver, quickly fled the field of battle.  In the After Action Report, it was determined that DB must have concluded that either (1) I was the superior combat strategist because I was forcing him to cross several lanes of downtown traffic in order to render the killing blow, and thus, his proposed death match with me was no longer in his self-interest; or (2) I was even crazier than he was and, as a result, DB owed me respect and could not in good conscience continue to threaten my life.

   

  I’m having my team of experts break down the “Lunch Hour Standoff” and I anticipate their Summary Memo within a week’s time.

   

   

  

   

  Gratuitous photo of Sparky’s crotch.

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  These Xangans Are Funnier Than You

  (Yes, some of these are really old, but I haven’t posted in 5 months!)

   

  It’s not important how my penis got stuck in a porpoise’s blow hole, all that matters is that the surgery was a success. – otherbrotherdarrell

   

  I no longer need a “key master”.  It’s kind of morbid but my friend told me about it.  My friend would leave a set of his house keys in the top drawer of his desk.  He tells a co-worker (the assigned “key master”) to check on his house if he doesn’t show up to work for 3 days – just in case he died at home.  Well, that’s the serious side of bachelorhood and living alone.  Whoopee! Now my wife gets to find my rotting corpse at home. – pmanmeister

   

  The one thing I’ve learned while working in my current job is that I have got to be the most horrible Solitare player ever. – grisashubby

   

  Seriously, what is better than dancing… on rollerskates.  Clearly nothing. – lawlessgoddess

   

  This is the time of the year when I lose all faith in humanity when I see two women fighting over a dish on sale for $9.99 because it’s the last one with a box.  And though I’m tempted to say “you know, Mikasa is Japanese for middle-class crap, right?” I drop it on the floor instead so they will both stop fighting about it.  The one nice thing I can say about my employers is that they don’t make me pay for items I damage. – BettyDoesLife

   

  It feels like an underwear up the ass day today. – Literature_Chick

   

  The only good clown is a dead clown. – ToxicNed

   

  Usually after a few drinks, i tend to talk about my vagina… alot. - SueTalksTooMuch

   

  I soon realized that there was a reason to have tv shows on a cable movie channel: they could show boobies.  – akathatoneguy

   

  In an effort to rid the world of drugs, I’m going to start doing all of the drugs in the world. – ryan_jl

   

  I have always wanted to have a word of the day… not like on Pee Wee’s Playhouse where everyone screams when they hear the word of the day (but this could be fun in a bar) but like a new word that I learn and have to use that day in a sentence. I just worry I would get bored with the idea and start going with the word “fuck” for each day. Maybe I already have? – JaneEliz

    

  I’m thinking of instituting Islamic law when it comes to driving.  If I see you driving stupid, then I get to chop your driving foot off.  Then I’ll put the feet on a necklace and wear it around.  Because you don’t mess with the guy with a foot necklace. – troydetmer

   

   

   

  • 9:54 am
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