tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62013880719825450842024-03-13T16:34:24.910-04:00Highway 10 Revisited.Big ol' wisdom nuggets - freshly squeezed and ripe with brain nutriments.Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-81084279323114628042017-04-11T16:11:00.000-04:002017-04-11T16:12:21.566-04:00The Captain Science Power Hour: Young Kev D's Musical AdventuresIt's been a while, no? I'm sorry I can't write more. And even this, isn't really me writing more, it's just me saying "HEY GUESS WHAT I DID CHECK IT OUT".<br />
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I recorded a lot of music in my younger days, and I recently went through the exercise of "remastering" some of these recordings and compiling a greatest "shits" of sorts.<br />
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If you are at all interested in the type of music that this idiot may have produced back when he was in college, here it is, for your listening pleasure.<br />
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<a href="https://hxrmusic.bandcamp.com/"><span style="font-size: x-large;">https://hxrmusic.bandcamp.com</span></a><br />
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That's all. I'm hoping to actually return to some proper writing soon...<br />
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<br />Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-3708502237590383982013-01-21T11:00:00.000-05:002013-01-25T11:46:44.800-05:00PTSD: Public Toilet Stress Disorder.<br />
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Hello Everyone,</div>
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For the courtesy Flush to even work AT ALL with regards to smell, you have to flush a little ahead of the game. You have to time the flush so that as soon as the flood gates are opened, the evacuated materials are sucked immediately down the chute.</div>
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Also, if you wait too long for the placement of this courtesy flush, not only does it do nothing towards the elimination of potentially offensive aroma, but, it allows the surrounding area (e.g.: the dude in the stall next to you (e.g.: me)) to hear sounds that he can never un-hear.</div>
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These sounds may include but are not limited to:</div>
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A) Heavy breathing and/or groans and/or whispered "oh my god"s.</div>
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B) Plopping sounds.</div>
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C) Much fartage.</div>
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D) The sound of friction between your back door and </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">WHATEVER YOU ATE TO MAKE WHATEVER DEAD SKUNKS AND SPOILED MILK JUST CAME OUT OF YOU.</span></b></div>
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I am one uncomfortable experience away from bringing earplugs and a gas mask to the office.</div>
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That's it.</div>
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Kev D.</div>
Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-37560236397204525272012-11-06T14:00:00.000-05:002012-11-06T14:00:02.945-05:00Stand Up and Be Counted.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-36039608360096448242012-09-04T10:45:00.000-04:002012-09-04T11:41:59.715-04:00Epilogue.<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Given that I have only managed to write a couple of tiny blurbs here in the last year (and NEVER fulfilled the promise that I made to myself when I wrote a post called "<a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2011/12/where-cheese-at.html">WHERE THE CHEESE AT?!?!?!?</a>") I feel that it's time to just put this sucker out of its misery. It is time to officially put this mother on indefinite hiatus. <br />
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Now before you cry TOO MUCH, I'm not disappearing / haven't disappeared from the blogging community, since I am still actively and furiously ridiculing zombie films left, right and center at that other place, <a href="http://www.zombiehall.com/">Zombie Hall</a>. Have I mentioned <a href="http://www.zombiehall.com/">Zombie Hall</a> before?<br />
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Anyways, speaking of <a href="http://www.zombiehall.com/">Zombie Hall</a>, do me a solid and check out <a href="http://www.zombiehall.com/">Zombie Hall</a> if you have not yet checked it out.</div>
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Outside of some other non-blogging writing that I'm trying to actually work on, that (<a href="http://www.zombiehall.com/">Zombie Hall</a>) is where I do all of my writing now. Well, <a href="http://www.zombiehall.com/">Zombie Hall</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/highwayten">Twitter</a>, but <a href="https://twitter.com/highwayten">Twitter</a> hardly counts, what with the whole short snippet nature of it all and all that TRENDING HASHTAG FOLLOW FOLLOW FOLLOW caca.<br />
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But feel free to give that a look too, if such a thing tickles your fancy.</div>
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<a class="twitter-follow-button" data-show-count="false" data-size="large" href="https://twitter.com/highwayten">Follow @highwayten</a>
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Is there a chance that someday I will pick HXR back up and resume with my often shallow observations about life? Of course. But I'm not making any promises. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a bajillion zombie movies to watch. </div>
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Turn on, tune in, drop out.</div>
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That's it. Thanks for paying attention.<br />
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<a href="http://www.zombiehall.com/">ZOMBIE HALL!</a></div>
Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-87232771022142447092012-04-21T20:56:00.002-04:002012-04-21T20:56:30.096-04:00Writer's Block, Vol. SOMETHING.<br />
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It’s 2012. People. It’s time to learn that at the traffic light, when the light is red, ADVANCE ALL THE WAY TO THE FUCKING LINE. Rule of thumb: If I can parallel park a regular sized sedan between your front bumper and the stop line, you’re a fucking asshole.</div>
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Is there a driving instructor somewhere teaching people to do this? Or is it just passed down generation to generation from one shitty driver to the fruit of that shitty driver’s loin?</div>
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“<i>Woah, hold up a second! Don’t get too close to that there line Billy! This traffic light might be on one of them sensors, and wouldn’t you rather just wait here forever?</i>”</div>
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“<i>Sure would Pa’, sure would.</i>”</div>
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“<i>Now, check all your mirrors, Son.</i>”</div>
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“Gee, t<i>here’s an angry man in my rear view mirror, oh wait, never mind, he just exploded. From rage.</i>”</div>
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Do they originate from a town somewhere where elephants or really fat people often and randomly cross the street in front of them and need the extra wiggle room? Are they hoping for a parade? Is there a ghost car in front of them that only they can see?</div>
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All of these questions whiz through my head as I sit wondering if my car has enough power to push their SUV up to the line. Or into oncoming traffic, whichever.</div>
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That’s it, I’m leaving the car here, I can walk the rest of the way.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-82474498506020412582012-01-20T22:45:00.000-05:002012-01-20T22:52:21.125-05:00Good On Paper.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G2UcbnPdtjg/Txo2VlHX9RI/AAAAAAAAAjU/LJV1iat1Y0k/s1600/ALPACA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G2UcbnPdtjg/Txo2VlHX9RI/AAAAAAAAAjU/LJV1iat1Y0k/s400/ALPACA.jpg" width="387" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Often you will hear that something is ‘<i>good on paper</i>’. This means that while it would seem like a delightful idea in theory, once you actually play it out, it doesn’t quite live up to the beautiful list of benefits that may or may not have once listed onto some sort of paper at an earlier moment in time. There are things out there which are more obviously ‘<i>good on paper</i>’ but ‘<i>bad in practice</i>’, such as Communism, Adult Diapers, Napping, Water Beds, or Unprotected Sex. However, some things are much more covertly ‘<i>bad in practice</i>’. Leave it to me to assist you in avoiding the following list of ‘<i>good on paper – bad in practice</i>’ things and shit and whatnot that may otherwise take you by surprise.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Smelly Candles.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Who wouldn’t like fresh cookie smell? Or pumpkin pie smell? Or laundry smell? Or Christmas Tree? The thing is if you have a bunch of good smelling candles lying around, at some point, you’ll end up lighting one up before sex, or, on the opposite side of the spectrum after taking a huge dump. And given how connected smell is to memory, over time, the given smell will act as a trigger. Which means that this particular smell will either make you pop a boner or completely relax your colon, neither of which are very desirable when you are standing at ‘Mrs Fields’ at the mall, or cutting down the Griswold family Christmas tree, or eating dessert with the In-Laws, or folding clothes, and so on and so forth. If you are female, replace ‘pop a boner’ with the female equivalent.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Digital Cameras / Camera Phones.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I realize that this is old news, but I wish that I could have prevented this one, and warned so many people of what was to come. On paper, it reads that “I <i>can </i>take so many pictures!” In practice it becomes “I <i>must </i>take so many pictures” or “I <i>need </i>to take pictures of <b>everything forever</b>” and everyone ends up with a never ending library of photos that no one will ever look at. I’ve covered this before, though (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/02/picture-perfect.html">Picture Perfect</a>). I guess I’d just love to go somewhere, ANYWHERE, and not see people taking pictures of everything. Just once please.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Netflix.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Again, I’m far too late to have prevented this, but on paper, we all love the ease of use, the accessibility and the huge selection that Netflix and the like have to offer. In practice, however, there are no more movie stores and I miss browsing. And fuck Redbox too, especially since the one at Shaw’s was busted tonight.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Drinking Eight Glasses of Water per Day.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">On paper – I’ve never felt so alive, hydrated and healthy. In practice – I’ve never peed so much. I can’t commit to a one hour meeting, out of fear of pissing myself. The commute home becomes a race to not pee all over my car.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Stalls with Walls that Go All the Way to the Floor.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I learned this on a recent business trip, where the office building I visited had bathrooms equipped with stalls of this kind. I know what you’re thinking “<i>but Kev, what about the added ankle privacy?</i>” While it is true that no one will be able to figure out who you are by the crumpled up pants and shoes normally put on display, it is also horrifyingly true that every smell that has ever been in the stall up until that point will be trapped in this poorly aerated stall, possibly forever and ever. The smells all mingle together to create some sort of perpetual super smell mixture. Stepping into the stall is like being slapped in the face by an old sweat sock drenched in piss, chock full of shit, and sprinkled with some sort of onion-garlic-curry hybrid. Too much?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Ice Makers.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I agree that the old school method of having to fill little ice cube trays is both tedious and slow. And I <i>ALWAYS </i>spill water on the floor when travelling from the sink to the freezer… But I don’t think I’ve ever had ice cubes from an ice maker that didn’t smell funny. And not ‘ha ha’ funny. I prefer my ice non-smelly.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Alpaca Sweater.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I honestly liked how it looked on me at the store. It was slimming, it was warm. So, dagnabbit, I bought it. What I didn’t know about an Alpaca sweater, and you should know, is that little fluffs fly off the sweater and go everywhere. The floor at home – covered. The floor at work in and around my cubicle – also covered. Belly button and ass crack – full to the brim. But seriously, my little fluffs are all over the office. You can actually tell where I have been. And forgive me for once again bringing up the workplace poop, but I left more than just trace amounts of Alpaca on the floor in the stall. HENCE, EVERYONE KNOWS WHERE I’VE BEEN – the frequent trips to the kitchen area and to the bathroom. Alpaca Sweater makes my workplace routines completely transparent! It didn’t take me long to throw it away. I felt like taking it back to the stupid GAP where I bought it. I don’t remember seeing fluffs on the floor around the display. FALSE ADVERTISING. They must have had someone armed with a ‘Ghostbuster’ backpack style vacuum cleaner to run out and clean house every five minutes while no one is looking. Damn you GAP, your Alpaca sweaters and your stupid staff of vacuum ninjas.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, I’m sure there are plenty more examples rampaging out there and maybe I will get to them one day. For now, I think that is a good start. You’ve been warned.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. My Alpaca just came out of the dryer and I need to use the potty.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-79963034342820483672012-01-05T12:05:00.002-05:002012-01-05T12:23:02.318-05:00Writer's Block, Vol. VI.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pyn5GmBalKA/TwXWQDkpY_I/AAAAAAAAAiY/Ldz7u5q7BLk/s1600/WritersBlockVI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pyn5GmBalKA/TwXWQDkpY_I/AAAAAAAAAiY/Ldz7u5q7BLk/s320/WritersBlockVI.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I recently took a huge dump at Barnes & Noble. Anyone who knows me, or has read enough of the things that I write will know that browsing leads to photo finishes in the restroom. Bookstores are the worst for this, especially since I usually end up with a coffee in my hand, which is yet another of my favorite and most effective laxatives. So there I was, racing from the bargain bin to the lavatories, desperately hoping that my usual stall was free.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yeah, I have a <i>usual </i>stall.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yeah, I <i>am </i>worried that the Barnes & Noble people refer to me as “The Shit Guy” or “Mr. Poo Dude” or “Maybe we should just stop serving him coffee”.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So I did my business. I won’t get into graphic details, but let’s just say I lost about five pounds. As I was pressing the little flush handle (by the way, I love that they haven't switched to those automatic flushers yet, because it allows me to better control courtesy flushing, as well as the timing of everything as I stand up to wipe), someone who must have recently entered the bathroom (like a ninja, I must say, since I didn’t even hear the door open) shouted something out to me. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"<i>CAREFUL</i> WITH THE FLUSH IN THAT FIRST STALL." </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was too late, I had already flushed, but everything seemed to go down correctly. When I exited the stall I saw a guy, probably in his twenties, holding a wrench, and wearing some sort of tool belt. He looked at me and said, "Sorry for yelling, I wasn't sure it would flush right, I'm here to fix that one" as he walks past me and heads directly into the stall I just annihilated with a few days’ worth of bad eating (Chinese food, pizza, brie… some kind of onion soup… many eggs).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I turned around to advise him against immediate entry into the danger zone, but I was too late. So I say to him, "Well, in that case, let me apologize for the air quality in there." I was tempted to add in a “That skid mark on the bottom was <i>totally</i> already there when I arrived.” Also worried that he might lift up the seat, I could have potentially added “Any below the seat markings were <i>probably </i>not from me.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Anyways, before I could add anything else onto my apology (for what had to be a brutal scene), without skipping a beat, this is what the guy says to me, from his <i>KNEES </i>in the stall, <i>FACING </i>a toilet that I had just destroyed. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>"Welcome to my office."</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It sounded so HARD and so wise. The dude was twenty-something, but clearly, as my brother said, "When you work a shitty job like that, you grow up <i>real </i>fast." I don't think my brother actually said 'SHITTY' job, but I felt the pun worked rather well. Sorry big brother, if I misquoted you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I realize that the holidays are over, and many of us are bummed that we have to wake up early again, go to the office, and pretend to work for eight hours. Well, the next time you go to the washroom, any washroom really, and are face to face with a clogged poopy toilet, just remember, <i>THAT </i>could be your office. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Suddenly the cubicle seems pretty nice, doesn’t it?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That's it. I need to go look at books, I’m pretty backed up from all that holiday eating.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-36059636769564635492011-12-23T11:05:00.006-05:002012-09-04T11:42:43.173-04:00Where the Cheese At?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dearest Readers of HXR,<br />
<br />
As you may have already noticed, I have been spending less time writing for your beloved Super Happy Fun Blog, Highway 10 Revisited, and spending lots and lots of time writing for my <a href="http://zombiehall.blogspot.com/">Action Packed Full to the Max Blog, Zombie Hall</a>.<br />
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I have still been writing comedy and Highway 10 material, albeit mostly in my mind, and will document some new stuff in the Newest Year of all recent New Years in memory, 2012.<br />
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Here are a few thoughts that will likely work their way into some upcoming material:<br />
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- Why I stopped going to Open Mics<br />
- Alpaca sweaters are awesome but the worst too<br />
- Where did my pants button go?<br />
- Yankee Swaps are fucked up<br />
- Who buys this shit?<br />
- Who watches this shit?<br />
- Newt Gingrich? More like Shit Sandwich (and similar remarks for all of those candidates)<br />
- Real Adventures of Kev D. in Public Restrooms<br />
- But I don't FEEL 30...<br />
- Never juice an onion<br />
- Don’t try the hot sauce<br />
- I’ve never had an ‘AH-HA’ moment, and I don’t know what it feels like<br />
- Where jokes go to die<br />
- Grown men look stupid in sunglasses, especially indoors<br />
- Warm sheets good, warm toilet seat bad<br />
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And so on and so forth.<br />
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Happy Holidays and all sorts of hugs and shit,<br />
<b><i>Kev D.</i></b><br />
<br />
That's it. I should probably start writing some of that stuff.Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-68259524530297968852011-10-13T23:00:00.005-04:002011-10-14T06:40:04.199-04:00Expert Opinion.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TYEOepaUUQg/TpeoYsfftnI/AAAAAAAAAb4/mmjuznK_aJ8/s1600/ExpertOpinion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TYEOepaUUQg/TpeoYsfftnI/AAAAAAAAAb4/mmjuznK_aJ8/s400/ExpertOpinion.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">People tend to have different passions in life. What bakes one person’s beans might not, in fact, bake someone else’s beans to quite the same level of bakedness and/or bakeosity. Some people don’t even like beans. Some people eat beans and get all gassy and smelly. The point is, beans are pretty awesome, especially if you put hot dogs in them. Wait, no, that’s not the point. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Allow me to start over. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I see people obsessing over sports and don’t really understand what the big deal is (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/03/sporting-chance-to-complain-about-stuff.html">Color Commentator</a>). I see people loving cars, and think, what a waste of time and energy. Just like some people may not understand why I know so much about obscure zombie films (see: <a href="http://zombiehall.blogspot.com/">Zombie Hall</a>… no seriously… If you’ve been wondering where the hell I have been, I have been writing there lots…). Some people try to keep up to date with all of the newest gadgets and iDildoes, learn about fine wine, or eat all sorts of soft cheeses. I sort of get it, but who has the money for that? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Some people go bird watching. No comment.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The point is everyone wants to be a buff of <i>some </i>kind. I fancy myself a music buff, and a bit of a film buff, but if you are looking to be a buff and have not yet chosen something to buff on, allow me to present you with a buff list (which I guess makes me a <i>buff </i>buff), of what I feel are underrepresented hobbies and passions that surely must exist in the world today, somewhere. Be a buff like <i>these</i>, and you’ll really stand out as a one-of-a-kind buff.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>The Urinal Buff</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I would imagine life as a Urinal Buff would be exciting and full of non-stop action, especially if you’re a woman. Imagine being able to stop at a random rest area somewhere like southern New Hampshire and come out cheering.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>Honey, they have the new Falcon 4000! Limited edition! What a swirl! Get the camera!</i>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sure, people might look at you funny when you enthusiastically piss, but every public urinal pee would be an educational experience. You’re probably thinking that there isn’t much to know about urinals. Maybe the Urinal Buff could also have vast toilet seat knowledge. You don’t know. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You don’t know because you’re not a Urinal Buff. By the way, the Urinal Buff prefers to be called Whiz Kid. I bet the Urinal Buffs would have all sorts of inside jokes slagging guys that sit down to pee, or prefer the comfort and privacy of a stall.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Other types of buffs along these lines could be Toe Nail Clipper Buff (“<i>I just got the new model Trim</i>”), Shower Curtain Ring Buff (think John Candy in “<i>Planes, Trains</i>”), Ceiling Fan Buff (“<i>It’s got eight speeds!</i>”), or Late Eighties’ Microwave Oven Buff (“<i>You can cook a whole turkey to the max</i>”) just to name a few.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>The Crayola Connoisseur</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Outside of the weird kid who ate crayons in class, few people seem to have a real appreciation for crayons, and I think that’s a shame. I think a true Crayola Connoisseur would be able to take a crayon that is missing its little rolling paper and still be able to name which color it is, likely based on its smell and texture. They’d probably get confused between Mahogany and Shit, though. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>Smells like Magenta, but has a bit of a Fuchsia aftertaste.</i>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">They’d actually understand the purpose of that built in sharpener on the box too. Also, let it be known, that the Crayola Connoisseur wouldn't respect people who know a lot about markers, because, markers and marker experts are bullshit. You ever smelled those smelly markers? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>Uh, yes well, the last time I checked, the color pink does not actually smell like bubble gum</i>” said the Crayola Connoisseur, quite condescendingly.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>The Firework Enthusiast</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fully grown humans enjoying fireworks have always, to me, seemed a little bit ridiculous. I often like to blurt out things like “<i>classic Pinsky formation</i>” or “<i>I wasn’t sure if they’d bring it home, but then BAM, double Fapperwheel!</i>” because I’m so silly like that, and to me, that joke never gets old. But imagine someone who actually knows the terminology of fireworks. You’re probably thinking that there isn’t a terminology. Well, probably not. But I’d assume that the fireworks enthusiast would invent his own glossary of firework related terms and maneuvers. I bet ‘<i>bouquet</i>’ and ‘<i>finale</i>’ would totally mean something.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know you’re out there and I’m dying to meet you. Probably you’re good friends with someone who knows all the techniques for making various styles of paper snowflakes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>Check this one out! I only used three scissor cuts.</i>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Dental Hygiene Assistant Fanatic</u></b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you think that they would only know about the famous ones, you’d be wrong. They’d know about the local up and comers too, and they’d have trading cards, like baseball cards, that have their stats printed on the back. You know, like Cavity Assists, Cleaning Time Average, and Drool Handling?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>I’ll trade you a ‘Melinda from Springfield’ for your ‘Peggy from Rochester’ rookie card.</i>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Seriously, if we throw other healthcare professionals (nurses, pharmacists, the person that operates them fancy machines in the hospitals, etc…) into the mix, we could have whole talk radio channels centered on them. I’d listen to that.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>Welcome to ‘You Can’t Handle the Tooth’, I’m your host, Barry Jogbar, let’s go to the phones.</i>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>Yeah, hi Barry, long time listener first time caller, what do you think Portland Charlene’s chances are at being called up to big show this year?</i>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>After yesterday’s veneer performance, I think they are pretty strong. Pretty strong indeed.</i>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Honestly, they are already wearing colored uniforms. We might as well organize the color scheme a little more and make them form teams. Besides, they’d certainly be better role models than people in ‘<i>US Weekly</i>’ (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2011/07/keepin-it-real.html">Keepin’ it Real</a>). Think of the children, people.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Cigar Aficionado Aficionado</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’ll leave it up to you the reader to decide what exactly this would be. It’s kind of like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure, minus the horrific cover art and the fact that I always die on purpose. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>To jump off the cliff and end your adventure, turn to page </i><b>SET BOOK ON FIRE</b><i>.</i>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Most likely a Cigar Aficionado Aficionado involves some kind of parallel universe. I believe that it has very little to do with cigars.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I wanted to add Muzak Lover to this list, but when I did a quick search on that there Google thing, sadly, it turns out that this type of buff exists already and will therefore not make this list. In any case, don’t feel the need to follow something on this list <i>necessarily</i>. I’m simply trying to get your brain motivated to get out there and be creative. Go become the first <i>SOMETHING </i>Buff. The world needs buffs of all kinds. Except illegal stuff, or stuff that involves a lot of eating. There are enough of those buffs as it is. Also, don’t confuse Buff with Fetish. You should like something, not <i>like</i>-like something. Big difference.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. My office building got the new Falcon installed and I need to go try it out.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-65218367319529078822011-09-08T22:00:00.000-04:002011-09-08T22:08:07.453-04:00Impulse Drive.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DeIeePd8SME/Tmlxig69pNI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/TrALeMPTE8o/s1600/CASH4GOLD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DeIeePd8SME/Tmlxig69pNI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/TrALeMPTE8o/s400/CASH4GOLD.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We've all seen the commercials and billboards for them. And, sure enough, they are sprouting up everywhere you turn. Otherwise desolate strip malls are now decorated with bright yellow signs promising you cash for all of your unwanted gold. The ads all sort of start out the same, implying that most of us have extra sacks of pirate booty hiding in our attics and under our beds just waiting to be melted down and cashed in on. Are you sick of carrying around dead stinky grandma’s stinky old dead jewelry? She’s dead and you’re poor, so get rich! Get rich <i>now</i>.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At an open mic’ once, a very funny guy was on before me, and did an entire bit about leprechauns and ‘cash for gold’ advertisements. I don’t remember exactly what he said, or what his name was, but I figured that I should give him a cosmic nod of some kind, and telepathically thank him for warming up the audience for me that night. There’s no way that my bit about inflatable mattresses was <i>that </i>funny.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, anyways, we can all agree that the ads are already ridiculous enough. But a few weeks back, I saw a closed down gas station that had recently been converted in to a ‘cash for gold’ temple, with a rather large sign obnoxiously advertising what they are all about. In case you were wondering, they give cash for gold. Right underneath this sign, a poor sap standing in one hundred plus degree heat was holding a big arrow that read ‘CASH 4 GOLD’ and was pointing it to the store directly next to him. To top it off, he was wearing a Mr. T sized gold medallion. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Makes me think of the dudes standing outside of the strip club asking me if I like boobs and/or pussy, as if I am going to suddenly stop in my tracks, unaware of what lay beyond yonder walls.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Wait, wait… <i>you </i>have the beaver to <i>cure </i>my fever? Finally! Thank God you were out here to let me know what was available in your fine establishment. It wasn’t clear from that naked woman on the neon sign. Now, just so I’m clear, your establishment features <i>both </i>breasts and vaginae? Honey, you go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now, aside from the ridiculousness of holding the arrow (and playing air guitar on it) directly below a Buick sized billboard, one must wonder how many extra customers are coming in thanks to this roadside arrow. Ordinarily this type of sidewalk luring is meant for drive-by impulse buys. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“How will I ever make it up to Cindy for that pesky 'whoops wrong hole' incident? Oh, hey now, <i>FLOWERS</i>!”, thought Gerald, as he whizzed past the lonely clown holding a sign indicating where one might buy roses. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And then there is always the classic ‘sexy girl car wash’, or something involving free hot dogs. I mean, who wouldn’t pull over for that? But how many people are actually driving around with treasure chests of doubloons in their trunk, just in case they have an impulse to sell?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Cash for gold <i>eh</i>? Why not!?! Get the good gold out of the glove compartment, we’re going in.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Is it often enough to warrant having him out there? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“We were on our way to the grocery store and thought, well, since we have all this unwanted gold hidden in our seat cushions, we may as well pull over. We just couldn’t resist the sweaty fat guy with the arrow. Say, how much for my wedding ring?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And why do these signs sometimes try for some cheap play on words? It’s insulting to my intelligence. Granted, we are a nation of people that need to be told to ‘<i>click it or ticket</i>’. Yeah.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I saw the sign, and didn’t want to miss my ‘<i>golden </i>opportunity’. Now, do you guys have pliers? I have some teeth to rip out.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You think any alcoholics have ever brought in their peepee and poopoo after a night of binging on Gold Schlager? ... Too far? I’m just thinking that <i>that </i>would certainly be unwanted gold.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps the sidewalk charmer is aimed at criminals fleeing the scene of a crime. Although, unless their crime was a gold heist, I don’t see what good it would be. Maybe if they robbed another ‘cash for gold’ place. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“This way! Hurry! Follow the arrow!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think about these things when I should be more focused on the road. Even as all of this raced through my head, I was still tempted to pull over, because I thought it would be a solid joke to go up to the guy holding the sign wearing that enormous medallion and say, “Hey man, that’s an awfully big medallion. Is that gold? I’m pretty sure there’s a place around here that would pay you good cash for that... Not sure where though... Any ideas?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Moving right along.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My realization in seeing Goldenboy McNecklace-Chest is that if the place needs to dress a guy up in a bunny suit or tutu or whatever to try and lure you into the store, it’s probably a store and product that you can do without. This realization, in turn, got me thinking about what the worst impulse buy situations would be (other than cash for gold), and whether they could even employ a sidewalk goon or not. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In general, you shouldn’t impulse buy at all. The most tempting, and often easiest, impulse buy to give into is food, because after all, you definitely need to have that brand new sandwich. But, if you see any of the following examples, or anything like them being advertised on the side of the road, or being dangled at you so seamlessly in front of the checkout, you really need to just move on.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Colonoscopy</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Granted, if they had a sidewalk guy and his sign said 'ENTER IN REAR' or something of the like, I would still have to pull over just to give him a high five, you know, in the name of comedy. As long as he’s not the one administering the procedures, because then maybe just a fist-bump, followed by a lot of hand sanitizer, might be better. For the record, most medical procedures are not recommended to be purchased purely on impulse (unless the purchase is Emergency Medicine that you suddenly need due to bleeding from the head or something).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Foreign Babies</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know it seems like celebrities pick these up on a whim, but if a place is advertising with a guy on the street, you might be better off just calling the police. I know you want to be like <i>Brangie</i>, but the babies here won’t be the quality foreign babies you’ve come to appreciate in such magazine photo shoots as ‘US Weekly’ or ‘In Touch’. Not sure what that magazine is in touch with. Definitely not reality, or ethics.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Cult Membership</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Never pay money to join a cult, and certainly not on a whim. I guess don’t join one for free either, even if they promise cookies. Especially if they promise cookies. The expression ‘Drink the Kool-Aid’ exists for a reason. How do you think they got so many people? Arrow signs. I’m telling you, look it up. No don’t. Lifestyle changes should be discussed with your wife / husband / family / brain before you just proceed on an impulse. Same for those Timeshare deals, which are rather cult-ish. Just give me my free gift and take me back to the strip, and no, <i>Steve</i>, I don’t care how often you went skiing last year.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><b>Christmas Tree</b></u></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Especially if you already have one, or it’s not Christmas, or you don’t celebrate Christmas. Seriously, it’s a tiny apartment, where the hell would we put it? This goes for all holiday-related gear. No, Halloween is not a holiday. Nonetheless, avoid those Halloween superstores. Forever. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“But the bags of fake cob web are on special, buy eighteen get one free!!!” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yeah, exactly. If you collected everyone’s unused Christmas and Halloween decorations, you could probably build a tower to the moon, or at the very least, you could probably bury a lot of really annoying people.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Drug Trial</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is a special one, since it’s not so much an impulse buy as an impulse sell (much like the 'cash for gold'). What you are selling, of course, is dignity and potentially your overall well-being. A respected clinical trial place might not be so bad, and you might only end up with the more traditional diarrhea side-effect, but do you really want to even risk having a story that ends with “and <i>that’s </i>the story of my exploding left testicle”? And you <i>really </i>don’t want to know what non-traditional diarrhea looks like. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Anything at a Mall kiosk</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Face it, if you really needed it, they would have an actual store. They are hoping that you hate yourself enough that you just can’t resist their redundantly shitty product. Excuse me sir, do you like [ <i>face cream / toy helicopter / funny slippers / cheap sunglasses </i>]? No. But not nearly as much as I dislike you. I realize that this is getting away from the idea of sidewalk people, but then the mall will go and have a sidewalk sale, so they can pretend to have a sidewalk with which to lure you in, as well as sidewalk people who are all “50% off everything! Except what you might want to buy!”. Seriously, that's not on sale? Fuck you, mall.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Haircut</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The cheaper the place, the more likely they are to have a guy on the street, and the worse off your hair will be. Well, unless you want to look five years old again. Even a good haircut is the worst, because you have to go to work, and everyone is like, “hey, <i>new</i> haircut?”. So imagine a bad one.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In conclusion, I’m sure there are some important impulse transactions that I am missing, but if you go directly after the more obviously bad impulse buys like <i>PROSTITUTES</i>, <i>ANOTHER BOOK from THE BOOKSTORE</i>, <i>SKINNY JEANS</i>, <i>GAMBLING</i>, <i>NEW CAR</i>, <i>HOME OWNERSHIP</i> or the Godfather of all impulse buys, <i>PETS</i>, you probably deserve whatever grief you are currently feeling.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In conclusion part two, never listen to people on streets holding signs, unless they are the police or one of those old lady crossing guards with the big lollipop stop sign. In those cases, I will leave it up to you to decide if you want to buy what they are selling.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. I’m going to go drive around and see where my impulses take me.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-40447996485547862182011-08-19T11:15:00.008-04:002011-08-19T11:22:16.269-04:00Writer's Block, Vol. V.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t452gIyZSiA/Tk5-4tFQXBI/AAAAAAAAAZY/uh2zgI4QKZo/s1600/writers_blockV5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t452gIyZSiA/Tk5-4tFQXBI/AAAAAAAAAZY/uh2zgI4QKZo/s320/writers_blockV5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The end of a vacation is always so bitter sweet. Sure, I’m glad that my cat’s not dead and seems to remember that I’m the guy that feeds him. It’s also nice to be back in my own bed, where my pillow smells like my old gym socks and my wife and I know exactly how to angle the fan for a refreshingly pure and blissful sleep. But that last day of vacation, when I’m back home and unpacking has that awful feeling that Sundays always had when I was a kid.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">How can I enjoy today when there’s school tomorrow?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Whenever I get to work after a vacation everyone just seems so content in their office cocoon. I feel like I’m missing out. What do they know that I don’t?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s kind of like how growing up, all the other kids seemed to like ‘Winnie the Pooh’, but I found the entire ‘Pooh’ world to be thoroughly depressing. Seriously, 'Eeyore' makes me want to kill myself. I have vivid recollections of watching the cartoons and feeling sad inside. James Taylor has the same effect on me. Some people sit there finding his music toe-tappin’ and smooth, I find it pants-shittin’ and moldy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And all the 'back-to-school' paraphernalia out there this time of year isn't helping. On top of my current vacation withdrawal, my brain is flashing back to the dismal feeling of wonderful summers coming to a close and returning back to school, where I can get in trouble for speaking English in the halls.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Still, complaining about <i>having </i>a job definitely qualifies as complaining with my mouth full. So I’ll shut up now, as it is rather impolite to talk with my mouth full, even if I’m still not sure whether or not I like the taste, or whether or not this particular mouthful will give me a heart-attack someday. Or make me choke, right now.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m still hopeful that in the long run it makes me poop gold.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. My cubicle calls.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-16053290033955583952011-07-28T13:30:00.002-04:002011-07-28T13:49:47.457-04:00Survival Horror.<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xmUra3reSao/TjGde66ly8I/AAAAAAAAAZI/HflUKs_7mgc/s1600/Zombi2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xmUra3reSao/TjGde66ly8I/AAAAAAAAAZI/HflUKs_7mgc/s400/Zombi2.jpg" width="400" /></a>Because of my own personal obsession with the Zombie genre (see: <a href="http://zombiehall.blogspot.com/">Zombie Hall</a>), and the fact that I have recently found a tick on me <b>TWICE</b>, and had a brush with poison ivy (like they say "Leaves of three, Kevin you <i>SUCK</i>"), I have come to the conclusion that in an apocalyptic survival scenario, I’m as good as dead. You may be thinking the same thing yourself. I’m no boy/girl scout, and probably, neither are you. Well, I’m here to help. Whether it’s Zombies, World War a Million, The Rapture, Alien Invasion or The Jersey Shore that come to get us, the following preparatory steps will help you out when civilization reaches its breaking point. I won’t get into the obvious ones like 'FIGHTING', 'HUNTING', 'BEING IN SHAPE', 'AGRICULTURE', 'MAKING SHELTER', 'MAKING FIRE', or 'WHAT BERRIES CAN'T I EAT' because those are clearly the least important.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>01) Eat Garbage.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s good for the immune system, and eventually, it’s all that will be left, so better get used to it. To be fair, the average American already eats garbage, so this is no stretch. Anyways, practice with <i>actual </i>garbage, not just Happy Meals.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>02) Jogging Pants.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the end of the world rolls around, you’ll want the comfort of elastic waistbands and cottony delightfulness, so better to start creating a stockpile. Plus you don’t need underwear with jogging pants. Matching hooded sweatshirts are a nice touch as well. If you have enough for some friends you could be a gang, the Comfort Gang. Whether or not you go with the elastic at the bottom of the legs is entirely up to you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>03) Poop Outside.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I don’t see there being toilets, so start practicing. Although be careful when choosing a wiping leaf ( as they say "Leaves of three...", “Please tell me that’s not how you recently had a brush with poison Ivy, Kevin.”, “No, it’s not.”).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>04) MacGyver.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Watch episode after episode, because I’m sure most of his inventions are fundamentally sound and would work in real life. If you can make a solar powered laser beam from a pistachio, a soiled prophylactic and your own eyeball, trust me, you’ll do fine in THUNDERDOME WORLD.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>05) Learn Guitar.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You could totally be the next Bob Dylanesque folk hero in the Post-Apocalyptic uprising (assuming that you are uprising against some type of force, like Pod People, or Snooki). Hmm… maybe learn the Ukelele or Harmonica though as they're more portable. Or invent your own instrument with the skills you’ve learned watching MacGyver.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>06) Hide and Seek.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Although, it’s mostly the hiding part that you will need after the end of the world, unless you’ve taken to cannibalism, at which point, maybe you’re a seeker. Oh, also play with other adults, because kids are <i>AWFUL</i> at hide and seek.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>07) Home Brew.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You know, because the MOONSHINE guy is always loved in the Post-Apocalyptic community.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>08) Monologue.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Start being comfortable talking to yourself, because you might be the only one around for long stretches of time. And be ok with it. Don’t create yourself a lover named Wilson from a ball used in the sport Volleyball. A <i>volleyball</i>, if you will. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>09) Nick Name.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Figure out what you want to be called after the apocalypse, because people named Kevin don’t last long. People named SOLITAIRE or DESTRO or TRIXIE or DYNAMITE or NITRO or MALONE can survive a long time. Do <i>not </i>use names like TARGET or GONER.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>10) Catchphrase.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Have a catchphrase, like “<i>thrill </i>me”, or “I’d buy <i>that </i>for a dollar”, because if someone is shooting a documentary about the aftermath, you’ll <i>totally </i>get more screen time. It might be good if you have a theme song too. It’s even better if you wrote it (see: Step 5 - Learn Guitar).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>11) Hoarding.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Have enough to be ready, but not enough to end up on 'A&E' with that psychiatrist with the huge forehead (Dr. Fivehead, as she is called in our household). Or just rob an Extreme Couponer. Have you <i>seen </i>those stockpiles? That’s a lot of green beans.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>12) Be Nice.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You know, to people, in general, because karma is a bitch. Especially in a flesh eating scenario.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know a lot of these steps seem drastic, but you really never know when the big change is a comin’, so you’re better off having these things ready. What’s that saying? “The best preparation is awesome preparation”. No wait, it’s “the best prepared people are prepared for the worst”. Is that a saying? If it is, it’s kind of a bummer. Fuck that.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m probably missing some vital preparatory steps, but this is a good start.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. MacGyver Season three… GO!</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-44946812835828004392011-07-15T10:30:00.006-04:002011-07-15T10:49:00.963-04:00Judgement Day (a.k.a. Panel of Judges 2).<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SfSHRGOWm44/TiBOWTbg3dI/AAAAAAAAAXo/ZnLQCf34Q3A/s1600/PitStain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SfSHRGOWm44/TiBOWTbg3dI/AAAAAAAAAXo/ZnLQCf34Q3A/s400/PitStain.jpg" width="327" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Often times they say that you should not judge a book by its cover. I think more realistically it should be that you should not <i>always</i> judge a book by its cover, but that sometimes it is ok, especially when it has a buff pirate on it and you can see his nipples. You know what that book is going to be about. Who holds a sword like that? Come on. Anyways, this can also sometimes be true of people (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/03/panel-of-judges.html">Panel of Judges</a>). But the ridiculous clichés like “<i>You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes</i>” as I previously discussed, or something equally absurd like “<i>You can tell a lot about a person by the company that they keep</i>”, you will find, are not accurate barometers of personality and character. Like I discussed when I dissected the shoe argument, there are probably cases where the latter argument could still ring true. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When someone hangs around a bunch of snobs, it can <i>sometimes</i> be safe to say they probably are themselves rather snobby. However, just because someone lives within a society of mountain gorillas, it does not mean that they, in fact, are a mountain gorilla. Maybe they don’t even like mountain gorillas, maybe they spend most of their time talking about the king and queen gorillas behind their backs to the plantains. You don’t know.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Anyways, if 'shoes' and/or 'company kept' are off the table, but you still would like to effectively try and judge a book by its cover, then here are a few accurate ways to gauge someone’s personality, just by observing some random thing about them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">You can tell a lot about a person by…</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>the number of cats that they have.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m still working on the algorithm a little, as well as the graphs and flow chats and whatnot, but essentially depending on the number of cats, this is what you are saying to the world:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>1 Cat</u>: “I love <i>my</i> cat, cats are awesome.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>2 Cats</u>: “I love <i>ALL</i> cats, I’m a cat person.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>3 Cats</u>: “I love my cats, probably a little more than I like people.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>4 Cats</u>: “Sparky and Mittens are my babies and they will <i>never</i> leave me, not like my lousy kids.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>5 Cats</u>: “Last week I knit myself seventeen Christmas sweaters, all with cats on them. <b>My cats</b>.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>6 Cats</u>: “The local kids say my house is haunted. It is.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>7 Cats</u>: “I speak cat… MEO<i>oooooW</i> Rehhhrr!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>8 Cats</u>: “The urine that you smell is mostly feline, but also mine, mostly.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>9+ Cats</u>: “SHMARGLE GLUB! Darrrrrr, Gabaraga WEE dee fwaaa? Hahahaa<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">aaa</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">aaa…</span>”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It also says a lot about a person if they claim that they are striving to become the crazy cat lady / man / hermit / wildebeest. Mostly it says 'stay away' or 'keep away from children'.<br />
<br />
Increase in cats, increase in crazy, which, if you have a cat, makes total sense. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">You can tell a lot about a person by…</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>the size of their pit stains.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You can tell if they are nervous, have recently exerted themselves, or whether or not they are wearing antiperspirant. Depending on how far down and widespread the stain is, you can tell how long they have been feeling anxious, warm or physically strained.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There’s a scene in ‘Superman 3’ (or maybe it was number four, there’s no way for me to remember, really) where Superman is lifting an enormous ice block or person or something and has atrociously large pit stains all down the sides of his best blue tights. I’m not sure that Superman actually <i>would</i> sweat, and especially not when he is somewhere in Antarctica like he was in this particular scene. What this tells us is that this ‘actor’ is not <i>actually</i> Superman. Now the fourth wall is broken and I’m back to reality. Thanks a lot, Hollywood. Next you’ll tell me that the mall Santa Claus is not the real Santa. Well, then how did he know I wanted a pony? How did he know?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">More importantly than all of that, if someone is wearing a light gray shirt on a hot humid day, so that it clearly accentuates and highlights the tremendous pit stains, you can tell that they do not have much in the way of foresight.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But seriously, how was I supposed to know the office would be this warm today?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">You can tell a lot about a person by…</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>whether or not they plug their nose when they jump into a pool.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">People that do this may as well be wearing one of those bathing cap bonnets like in those old synchronized swimming videos (with the rubbery flowers and the metal snap button strap across the chin). No matter a person’s age, when you see them doing this, they immediately look about four years old. For the record, at four, I already did not plug my nose. I already knew that I did not want to look like a weenie (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2011/02/weenie-roast.html">Weenie Roast</a>). Get your shit together! One thing you can tell about these people is that they clearly are not comfortable in the water, and they’ll be the first to go when the whole world floods. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hopefully when it does happen, it will be less like ‘Waterworld’, and more like ‘The Little Mermaid’, what with the musical numbers and magically delicious crabs. Seriously, Sebastien would make a sweet crab roll. Hot buttered soul.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Either way, the nose-pluggers are fish food.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, that, along with my previously stated guidelines (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/03/panel-of-judges.html">Panel of Judges</a>), ought to get you started along a path of judging books by their covers, only when it is completely acceptable to do so. Or not. You be the judge.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. I’m going home sick, these are gargantuan pit stains.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-32172499845689118302011-07-08T09:00:00.038-04:002011-07-08T09:34:22.101-04:00Keepin' It Real.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-54G9u8hgXvE/ThcBb4jCI4I/AAAAAAAAAXU/ZZA0mjJ7yeU/s1600/theyre-here.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-54G9u8hgXvE/ThcBb4jCI4I/AAAAAAAAAXU/ZZA0mjJ7yeU/s400/theyre-here.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s no secret that the majority of young (and probably old too) people in America think that the surest way to success and happiness is by being famous, by being on a reality show or some kind of rock star, or actress, or whatever. It’s everywhere. Even a lot of people writing on the cyber spaces think that they’ll be plucked for their writing gift and sent on a whirlwind book tour with movie deals and celebrity encounters. When did becoming famous become the end all solution to life? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">People are force fed extreme drivel twenty four hours a day with shows like the ‘Hill People from Jersey’, or the ‘Real McWives from Buttfuck County’. These same people then idolize the insanely undereducated ‘<i>funny</i>’ and ‘<i>quirky</i>’ people that they see on television, mostly because they all seem to live a life where all they do is inject themselves with chemicals, spray themselves orange, drink martinis and own dogs. I'm pretty sure children are accessories. There are at least one million reality shows at this point, so who can blame kids growing up thinking that that is what life should be? Do nothing, bitch about stuff and then talk about it live on ‘Bravo’ with that guy who looks stoned all of the time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I wouldn’t mind peoples’ obsession with reality shows so much if the shows focused a little more on <i>actual </i>reality. And don’t think that if shows were centered on ‘<i>regular</i>’ people that it wouldn’t be as entertaining, because that’s total crap. Think about it, think about how many people you know that are one billion times more charismatic and hilarious than <i>ANYONE</i> on these reality shows.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now if I could just get the attention of stupid people that own networks, we could work on getting all the ‘Following Around Rich and Wannabe Famous Assholes with Cameras’ shows cancelled and replace them with real flesh and blood people (I’m convinced that some of the ‘Housewives’ characters are refurbished animatronic robots from a closed down Chuck E. Cheese restaurant somewhere). The thing is that, in order for it to <i>stay</i> authentic, the real people featured would have to <i>not</i> get paid for being on the show. In fact, we would have to prevent them from making any kind of profit from being on the show. Otherwise, we are right back to square one, following rich assholes around with cameras. Also, the ‘I Wanna Be Famous’ instinct would kick in the minute that they know that the cameras are focused on them, so we would have to tape the shows secretly, without them knowing that they are even on television (this would only work for one season, so only one season is allowed), like they did with those special hidden cameras that they used to tape ‘Planet Earth’. Also, the old dude from Jurassic Park could narrate. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Welcome… to Jurassic Park.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Anyways, I’m pretty sure the animals didn’t see a dime from that program, and they stayed all animally and humble.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The people on the shows would all need to fit the following criteria:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">a) Not famous</div><div style="text-align: justify;">b) Not rich</div><div style="text-align: justify;">c) Not crazy</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Because we have reality shows about either rich people, or famous people, or crazy people, or people who are all three. Shows with <i>not</i> rich, <i>not</i> famous, but completely crazy (often diagnosed as such) people seem to be all the rage nowadays, with shows like ‘Confessions of Intervention Hoarders’ or ‘Extreme Pouponing’ or those shows about people that bake gigantic wiener cakes. And I don’t want to see ‘regular’ people put in intense competitive situations either, like ‘Top Loser Survivor All Stars’, or something completely removed from everyday life. No, we need to capture ‘regular’ people in ‘regular’ places, doing ‘regular’ things, secretly, of course.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So who would we ninja-film to best encapsulate the possibly entertaining human condition, as narrated by crusty ol’ Jurassic Park guy? Glad you asked. Here is my list of top ten reality shows that need to happen. The names of the people are purely fictional. Should any of these shows actually come to be in the coming months, expect to hear from my lawyer. Or at the very least expect to hear me shitting my pants from a distance.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>1) Mascots.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Cameras follow around the people playing the different costumed characters at a small town amusement park. At the heart of it all is Glen Speen, who has played Captain Space Squirrel for over 75 years. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> If you can’t stand the heat, take off the space suit.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>2) Test Drive.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Cameras film notoriously unsuccessful used car salesman Jeremy Fapperwheel from a distance, leading up to his eventual termination at the end of the season.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> He’ll take you for a spin.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>3) The Circle.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A stationary camera records the events at an actual Wisconsin community sewing circle where Lynn Ogdenflur is being shunned for all of her juicy gossiping.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> She’s hanging on by a thread.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>4) Hip Hop Hooray.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Career guidance counselor Sean Yonder teaches Hip Hop dancing to pregnant teens on the weekend. This is his story, filmed in black and white from a van.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> Womb! There it is!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>5) Meat Heads.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Helmet cams are placed on those annoying people that are always at the gym but never seem to be working out, except for randomly lifting a few crazy heavy weights here and there and grunting (they are told that the helmets are special workout hats). They’re insanely built but no one knows why or how. We’re about to find out.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> Hanging out with dumbbells.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>6) Tax Season.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hidden cameras are placed all over the IRS during tax season, because you know there are some wacky hijinks going down in there. Amidst a sea of strangely obese people, Paul Doublestraps takes charge and gets shit done. Hard.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> For once, they’re giving something back.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>7) Do You Believe in Magic?</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Filmed entirely on camera phones at children’s birthday parties, this show documents the legendary careers of a local group of birthday party magicians, led by Alfred Humpy (a.k.a. Lightning Hands), in this uplifting tale about following your dreams.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> You’ll be glad they didn’t get a clown.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>8) Master Baiters.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Like the deadliest catch, except it follows a group of retired seniors that go fishing every week at a quiet lake in like, New Hampshire or something. What happens on the lake stays on the lake.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> You’ll be hooked.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>9) The Lounge.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Webcams capture the conversations in a teacher’s lounge at an elementary school. Warning: This show contains vulgar language and makes fun of children, a lot. Honestly, Principal McGraw, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> You’re going to want to stay after class…</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>10) Fresh Prince.</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">From selling door to door to hosting exotic Tupperware parties, Jean Papineau is passionate about keeping your food fresh, and talking to himself. He regularly breaks into song and cries when doors are slammed in his face. Filmed in HD.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u>Tagline:</u> He lives in his car.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, alright so maybe those still sound insane (man, you should see the complete list). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">How about this? How about Hollywood starts fucking writing <i>actual </i>scripts and stories again, and uses <i>actual </i>actors and comedians?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dare to dream.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. There’s a show on about real estate tycoons opening a titty bar in Area 51, gotta go.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-18147184809130079952011-07-01T09:20:00.000-04:002011-07-01T09:23:28.696-04:00Don't Call It a Comeback.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nuixKdfv3JE/Tg3KL7jvrLI/AAAAAAAAAXM/_Yh9PfYzYPU/s1600/sheen_needs_to_stay_gone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nuixKdfv3JE/Tg3KL7jvrLI/AAAAAAAAAXM/_Yh9PfYzYPU/s400/sheen_needs_to_stay_gone.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Some<i>times</i> some<i>thing</i> needs to stay gone.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At times, some people like to fool themselves into thinking that certain things have comeback into fashion. These were the idiots sporting mullets a few years back, and will likely come up with some sort of retired porn-star Burt Reynolds mustache to ride 'stylishly' into the future (probably while drinking PBR). However, much like the mullet, or any form of rat-tail, these people were and are wrong. That doesn’t mean that all comebacks are in the wrong. I was all for the return of bell-bottoms.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Some comebacks involve words and slang, not all of which deserve a comeback (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/12/bad-language.html">Bad Language</a> for examples of slang that should go away NOW and stay gone). Sometimes it can even be a <i>person</i> that makes a comeback, like Bill Murray or the Ninja Turtles. And sometimes, people <i>attempting</i> a comeback should cease and desist, like that bizarre mixture of the New Kids and the Backstreet Boys, where I’m pretty sure they added in a few extra people from a random Sears catalogue photo shoot. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So how can we tell the difference between a good comeback and a bad comeback, you ask, quite annoyingly? Usually you can’t until it’s too late. Something can seem like a good idea for a comeback on paper, like Indiana Jones, but end up being bad idea jeans, like Indiana Jones and the Crystal Wiener Schnitzel or whatever. To be completely frank, it takes an innate sense of awesome to know what is <i>the</i> shit, and what is just shit, when it comes to comebacks.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now, we all have fantasy island comebacks, in the back of our minds, you know, something that you desperately wish would come back into the now and be the norm again, like hearing good music on the radio, or there being television shows that aren’t centered on insane people with plastic boobies and/or questionable morals. Hell, I’ve even argued about trying to make certain expressions make a comeback (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/12/express-yourself.html">Express Yourself</a>). But when a truly random nostalgia wave hits, and something like <b>Pog</b> starts coming back into popularity, you need to be able to declare whether or not you should jump on the bandwagon, or boycott it completely. Incidentally if people start buying Pogs or Beany Babies again, take my advice, and do not jump on that particular bandwagon. The same goes for those hideously frightening Troll dolls.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Anyways, in order to help you hone your skills, I will list a few examples that, should they try to make a comeback, you absolutely should not get on board with, and you can use that as a sort of blueprint for any kind of fashion / culture / food / expression / bullshit <i>thing</i> that may come up between now and forever as an attempted comeback. Well hopefully not forever. I assume in the afterlife, there isn’t really any use for this talent, and that there will no longer be any kind of cyclical trendy caca poopoo. I’m kind of hoping that we’re all bald, wearing the same one piece robe or unitard, and speaking in rhyme. All the time. And I’ll finally stop hearing people say “Like us on Facebook”.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, if you were to see any of the following examples actually attempting a comeback, you must do everything in your power to prevent it from happening. Do not get on board. Also, let me know about it, because it would mean that I am at least part psychic, and that would be pretty rad. I would totally join the Psychic Friends Network (which also should not be allowed to make a comeback).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Hitchhiking across the land.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Because <i>no</i> story that starts with “He was holding a sign that said Headin' West” has ever had a happy ending.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><b>Macauley Culkin and the like.</b></u></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Trust me on this one, Neil Patrick Harris is the <i>exception</i> to the rule. Child stars need to stay gone. Yeah, I’m talking to you too, kid from Sixth Sense and those weird looking kids from Home Improvement.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Pot Pourri.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Honestly, you don’t much hear about Pot Pourri anymore, which is good, because it translates to rotten pot, and needs to stay gone.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><b>Commercials about preventing static cling.</b></u></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I don’t know if static cling still exists or not (or ever did) as a terrible day to day issue in the world, but the commercials need to stay gone. I am so happy to <i>not</i> see commercials where a woman gets to work and has a sock stuck to her ass. That would never happen. I’m all for suspending my disbelief, but that’s just crazy. I'm sure static cling would be awful, if it were real. On the subject of advertising, I also didn’t care much for those ‘Head and Shoulders’ commercials either where there’s a dude who’s all: </div><div style="text-align: justify;">“… but you don’t have dandruff-” </div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>EXACTLY</i>!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I would, however, like to see that same ad campaign applied to ‘Preparation H’. Because the situation where one person has, not only the knowledge, but the nerve to say to the other:</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“… but you don’t have hemhorroids-“</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>EXACTLY</i>!” </div><div style="text-align: justify;">is just very absurd to me, and funny. Shit, I’d buy it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Incredibly pointy shoes.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m sure there are people out there still wearing them, but hopefully, their pointy tips are helping them trip and fall on a busy staircase somewhere, far far away from here. Imagine getting kicked in the nuts by one of those things? Jesus.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Saying something is ‘Money’.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I <i>liked </i>‘Swingers’, but enough is enough. Dear dudes out there, no, you are not actually Mikey and T, the sooner you recognize, the better we will all be. It feels like it finally has mostly sunken in, and that you don’t hear this much anymore, and that’s good. Do me a favor and keep it that way.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>McDonald’s Pizza.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Can you believe that it even held on as long as it did the first time around? I kind of wish Ronald and his entire dizzying array of emergency-diarrhea inducing food would pack it in for good, but I realize that isn’t happening ever. The least that we can do is make sure they never try pizza again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>Chicken Soup books.</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">No explanation necessary. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I could go one for a while, especially if I started listing people that shouldn’t make a comeback, but I think with these examples you get an idea of what to steer clear of. I could even go on listing people and things that need to go away right now, and then subsequently never make a comeback, but again, then we would be here forever.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, if you get anything from reading this, it should be that not all comebacks are created equal, and that you need to be careful out there. Now, take what you have learned and apply it in all of life. Remember, only <i><b>YOU</b></i> can prevent shitty things from making comebacks. Or forest fires.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. I need to go acid wash my jeans.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-67072108003992231912011-06-24T08:00:00.013-04:002011-06-24T08:09:38.408-04:00Get on the Mic.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WAodV8y-GgI/TgR5kHitarI/AAAAAAAAAW4/jfEtpg5mDTI/s1600/isthisthingon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="550" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WAodV8y-GgI/TgR5kHitarI/AAAAAAAAAW4/jfEtpg5mDTI/s640/isthisthingon.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Good morning or something! Rather than just admitting to the fact that I have been mostly lazy and uninspired for the past few weeks, I will list all of the things that got in my way recently and prevented me from writing new material. Some are reasons, some are excuses, and some are just thoughts that passed through my head. I will not list laziness, because that would be too honest. I seem to have problems writing routines when my actual daily routine gets upset. It's <i>DEFINITELY </i>not because I haven't had the time. So here they are, in no particular order, my list of excuses.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Packing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Moving.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Doing taxes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Clipping toe nails.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- What's my wife watching? Jersey Shore? I should probably study it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Eating.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Watching zombie movies.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Writing on a Wednesday seems wrong.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- I'll write tomorrow.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- But I currently need to poop!</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- The sun is still up.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- The sun just went down.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">- Umm...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">...</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Wait a minute... I just realized that this shtick is pretty much lifted from David Cross's "I Drink For a Reason". But that's ok. The main reason for writing this was to get my head back into it, and to assure anyone out there in TV Land that I have not died, stopped making observations, or worse, decided that I had nothing left to say. I promise not to take any long breaks ever again ever, even though I can't promise that, since, at anytime I could wind up dead, stop making observations or decide that I have nothing left to say. Anyways, I've made that promise before (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/08/unclogue.html">Unclogue</a>), so I guess I'm all about empty promises. But this will be a NEW new chapter. Chapter three of Highway 10 Revisited starting... NOW. Ready? And... Break.</div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. Welcome home Kev.</div></div></div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-16843487284057768092011-05-17T11:00:00.021-04:002011-05-24T14:28:54.864-04:00More Bad Language.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Du6FMzEGXBg/TdKGKLHg2gI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/4LpgiLeeid8/s1600/noshizzle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Du6FMzEGXBg/TdKGKLHg2gI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/4LpgiLeeid8/s400/noshizzle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I've never really liked the expression ‘buzz word’. And ‘buzz word’ is kind of a buzz word in itself. Honestly, fuck any snooty word that works on multiple levels like that. You may think that I would like that kind of thing, but, surprisingly, I don’t. You know who likes buzz words, and saying “buzz word”? The same people that say Happy Tuesday (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/09/celbrate-good-times-come-on.html">Celebrate Good Times? Come On</a>). These can sometimes be the same people that say ‘<i>[BLANK]</i> is in the hoOOoouuuuse’. Sometimes they may say ‘hizzle’ or ‘heezie’. Sometimes they even go the extra mile and shorten it to ‘hiz’, as in “<i>Douchebag</i> in the hizzz.”<br />
<br />
Honestly, if anyone follows any type of ‘shizzle’, ‘hizzle’ or ‘drizzle’ with ‘my nizzle’, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal <i>not</i> to kick them in the nuts and/or muff (unfortunately, even <i>hermaphrodites</i> are sometimes guilty of this) and then run over their foot with a motor scooter (for increased humiliation). The same goes for ‘da bomb’, ‘dope’, ‘fresh’ or ‘tight’.<br />
<br />
Yes, I <i>do</i> realize that often times these expressions are spoken in an attempt at ironic humor, like “check <i>me</i> out, I’m <i>lame</i>, it’s so lame that it’s funny”. It’s not. That angle is played. So played.<br />
<br />
These are the same people that do ‘air quotes’. <br />
<br />
If you don’t stop them now, they will keep repeating these atrocities the way that modern restaurants repeat the word chipotle.<br />
<br />
“The Chipotle Pizza is prepared with a blend of chipotled chiplote cheeses and generously topped with chipotlish chipotles of chipotley chipotle. The chipotle sauce, is to <i>chipotle</i> for.”<br />
<br />
I think you are starting to understand the type of people and expressions that I mean. Almost everything that people like this will say, should not be said. Watch an episode of 'Jersey Shore' and you'll get what I am saying. Scratch that, please <i>don't</i> watch an episode of 'Jersey Shore'. And anyways, I have discussed these types of expressions and people previously (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/12/bad-language.html">Bad Language</a>). At that time, however, I really only scratched the surface. <br />
<br />
The following is a continuation, an addendum if you will, of a couple more things to absolutely never say anymore, and to discourage everyone else in the universe from ever saying. These tend to be said by anyone and everyone, not <i>just</i> people that look to Snooki as the voice of their generation. So read carefully, take note, and prepare to make some changes.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Foodie.</u></b><br />
<br />
I don’t understand why this has become so popular, and how it has managed to propagate and become so widely used. The first time that I heard it, I assumed it was some kind of group of people with a weird sex fetish. You know people that like to bang each other with strap on submarine sandwiches or make love to a pizza bagel or something? But no, it’s people who just <i>like</i> food, and feel that they like it enough that, somehow, they need to distinguish themselves from the rest of us, who <i>also</i> like food.<br />
<br />
Is this where we’re at? Making up creative names to categorize us for qualities that come naturally to every human / animal / organism? How shitty is the non-eating section of your life that you’re defining yourself by something that we all do, innately, for survival?<br />
<br />
“I love eating, I’m a Foodie.”<br />
“Oh well, I like food too, so, doesn’t that make me a Foodie too?”<br />
“NO! I WANT TO BE <i>SPECIAL</i>! I <i>NEED</i> TO BE SPECIAL! <i>YOU’RE</i> NOT SPECIAL LIKE ME!”<br />
<br />
I got news for you, we all like food. You’re not special. Honestly, what’s next?<br />
<br />
“I’m an Airy. I don’t know what I would do without breathing. I mean, I just can’t live without my air.”<br />
“Yeah… that sort of goes for all of us.”<br />
“No, but I’m special, I know a lot about breathing. More than you. I know where the best air in the city is. By the way, I’m a Watery too.”<br />
“Yeah, so’s my cat. He peepees and poopoos in a box.”<br />
<br />
In the end, it kind of seems like a more friendly way to describe people with a food addiction. Although, calling a fat person a Foodie sounds sort of mean, doesn't it? Does this mean we should call a sex addict a Sexy?<br />
<br />
“Roger needed to go get some help, he checked himself into a Sexy Facility.”<br />
<br />
Sign me up. Or maybe it <i>is</i> more about the level of knowledge that they have.<br />
<br />
“Roger has the biggest porn collection I’ve ever seen! What a Sexy!”<br />
<br />
I like taking dumps. And I could talk about poop for hours. Maybe I should be a Dumpy, or a Poopy. But alas, as fun as making up bullshit titles for ourselves clearly is, we need to put a stop to it now, before this gets out of hand. Sorry Foodies, it’s time to find a new special talent, and to stop using that word.<br />
<br />
While we’re at it, let’s completely stop trying to make random snappy expressions by adding ‘Y’ or ‘IE’ to words. What are we, five fucking years old?!?!?!<br />
<br />
“She’s my Besty!”<br />
“Hey, guess what? You’re the fucking Worsty.”<br />
<br />
The most offensive ‘IE’ word out is when people deliciously call premature babies ‘<i>PREEMIES</i>’. Is it supposed to make it sound cuter? Well, it sounds gross, and frankly, I feel like it downplays the whole situation quite a bit. No offense to all the Preemies out there. Also, it rhymes with ‘creamy’, and somehow, that’s really fucked up to me.<br />
<br />
I think the original hip and cool ‘IE’ word was ‘Hippies’, and seriously, don’t we all just hate hippies? Not just for the smell, but because they’re awful? So why follow that blueprint?<br />
<br />
In conclusion, fuck you, self proclaimed Foodies.<br />
<br />
But before I close the topic of these so-called food experts, for the love of God, everyone stop saying ‘Fast-Casual’. It’s fast food. Just because it costs more and looks nicer, doesn’t change what it is. It is food, given to you fast, that you eat fast. Afterwards, you feel shame (and a little bit of pre-diarrhea tummy rumbling). <i>That</i>’s fast food.<br />
<br />
<b><u>It is what it is.</u></b><br />
<br />
Of all of the ‘non statements’ out there, “it is what it is” is by far the most vague and useless. It is applicable in virtually any situation, and yet, brings absolutely nothing to the table. Why not say “it isn’t what it isn’t”? Or “it does what it does”? Or “it schnooblers what it schnooblers”? <br />
<br />
The same people that over use “it is what it is” also seem to flock to the expression “that being said”, which is another choice ‘non statement’. I call these ‘non statements’ because you could replace them in the conversation with complete silence or even with a mild, possibly nervous, fart, and pretty much have the same impact.<br />
<br />
“I know it sucks, but, it is what it is.”<br />
<i>VS.</i><br />
“I know it sucks, but… [sque<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">eeee</span>eeeee<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">eeee</span>]…”<br />
<br />
No difference to the listener. Except smell. If anything, the nervous fart has <i>more</i> impact.<br />
<br />
“They sure do use the word ‘chipotle’ a lot. That being said, the Chipotle Pizza is delicious.”<br />
<i>VS.</i><br />
“They sure do use the word ‘chipotle’ a lot… [sque<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">eeeeee</span>wawawawaw<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">pwent</span>]… The Chipotle Pizza is delicious.”<br />
<br />
It actually feels more from the heart, with that big ol’ mild and nervous fart<b>*</b>.<br />
<br />
So, join me in boycotting these expressions. If we continue to work on ourselves, and avoid such annoying expressions, eventually, we may be able to all unite together as one gigantic happy family. Someday, one day… That being said, I don’t see it happening anytime soon. It is what it is.<br />
<br />
That’s it. I'm late for my Foodie tour of the city!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><b>*:<i> from ‘Highway 10 Revisted: The Musical’</i></b></span>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-455943419171479042011-04-18T23:30:00.035-04:002011-04-18T23:58:44.091-04:00Time of the Signs.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HlE3v1HaaQY/Ta0CV71ZUuI/AAAAAAAAAWM/tm2uxNAwDCY/s1600/kevSign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HlE3v1HaaQY/Ta0CV71ZUuI/AAAAAAAAAWM/tm2uxNAwDCY/s320/kevSign.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">"Hey everybody! It’s Mindy’s birthday on Tuesday, so we will be passing around a card for all of you to sign! Then we’ll have a mandatory lunch time party on Tuesday! It’s not actually mandatory, but if you don’t go, people will just correctly assume that you’re an asshole! And everyone will awkwardly sing Happy Birthday to someone that they don’t really know anything about! Except that her name is Mindy! It will ruin your usual lunch time routine of eating alone in the parking lot! And there will be one random guy who’s really into it!"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Alright, so I’m exaggerating quite a bit. And to be honest, I don’t mind the forced socialization and the free shitty cake. I think what really pisses me off is the passed around group card. You know the kind with the lame joke and the cheesy picture?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Depending on <i>when</i> you get the card, it can be annoying for different reasons. If you’re the first to get the card, unfortunately, you know that you’re setting the bar for everyone else. You’re declaring the emotional tone, the level of jokiness and the overall desired length of each individual message. Suddenly you have become the blueprint for how everyone else is supposed to feel about Mindy. You’re a Mindy barometer, and you don’t even know what she fucking does at the company.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You may even sign the card and then realize at the party that you were thinking of someone else. Plus, no matter what you do, you know everyone who gets the card after you is going to read your message.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Did you guys see what Johnson wrote? What does that even mean?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Getting it last isn’t much good either, because all of the good standard messages are used up, which doesn't really matter because there’s no space left to write an actual message anyways. You end up writing “YAY” and signing a shortened version of your name, followed by a little smiley face, if space permits. And now Mindy thinks that you don’t care.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Which you <i>don’t</i>, but you’d hate for her to find that out based on a group card.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If you get the card somewhere in between first and last, there is usually room to write something, but as I have said, all of the standard messages are used up. You read through everyone else’s to get ideas, and end up judging them, like you feared you would be judged. And like future signers of the card will do unto you.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Adam wrote ‘loose’ instead of ‘lose’? Who still does that?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Alright, enough of that, you need to get back to figuring out what to write, Mr. Grammar Police.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Let’s see, I’ll put Happy Birthday Sue… wait… shit no, that’s been done already, ok… how about Best Wishes? … Damn! Carl already wrote that, I fucking hate Carl.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You contemplate scratching off Carl’s name and writing your own, but somehow, you feel like you would get found out. You would, and the consequences would be severe. Well, maybe not severe, but you might not get cake, and that’s probably not a risk that you want to take. So you rack your brains trying to figure out something short and sweet. And it sucks. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Let’s face it, eventually everyone just starts randomly slapping words together in a nonsensical way, just so that it doesn’t say <i>exactly</i> what the others say, but still conveys the same general message.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“All the best” – Steve</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Nothing but the best” – Jimbo</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Mostly I wanna say, hey, take some best” – Amanda</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Good luck with all things best forever wishing you the best ‘n shit” – Jennifer</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I CANNOT BELIEVE ALL THE BEST THINGS I WISH ON YOU!” – Carl</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Amidst the confusion it’s only a matter of time before someone forgets what the card is actually for, signs the wrong thing, crosses it off and then tries to make up for it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“<s>Sorry for your loss </s>Get ready for all my best wishes coming your way” – Shawn</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Shawn should have stuck to his guns. At least it would have been original. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Rather than go through all of this torment, why not just think “Seriously, who gives a shit?” and just write the same thing as someone else. Do you honestly think that the person is going to get the card and go C.S.I. on it? Original Vegas, not <st1:city><st1:place>Miami</st1:place></st1:city> or whatever? Also, original cast?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Well Jeremy and Cassandra both wrote the same thing, and, when I brought the card into the lab, clearly, Jeremy’s ink was fresher, wetter, guiltier, thus making him the plagiarizer. Alert the press.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Great work, Grissom!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Why write anything anyways? The card already says what we all want to say. Does anyone get the card and think “well Happy Birthday is <i>clearly</i> printed on the inside and the cover page, but I should probably wait and see what everyone wrote on the <i>inside</i> to gauge what the card is really all about”?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Someone should just write “<b>from everyone</b>” and be done with it, even if it’s one of those ‘BLANK INSIDE’ cards. No, especially if it’s one of those ‘BLANK INSIDE’ cards. Fuck it. They know why we’re here.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“It’s your birthday, here’s a card.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“It doesn't even say anything.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“It’s from all of us.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">That would probably more accurately depict what we all think of each other in an office setting anyways.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’d like to see someone get fired on their birthday, and be thrown a going away party disguised as a birthday, and they only find out when they start reading the card.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Oh thanks everyone! What a lovely birthday party!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<b>OPEN THE CARD!</b>”</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“It says… <i>You’ll be missed</i>… ??? … <i>good luck for the future</i>… ???? What the-”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“The wrapped present box actually just contains all of the belongings from your desk. Security will escort you out immediately.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Can I have some cake?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“No, I’m sorry, it’s for employees only.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Have you ever accidentally not signed a card that everyone else in the office has signed? And when you see the person reading that card in front of everyone, their eyes slowly going through the signatures, you can somehow feel what they are thinking? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Bill… <i>CHECK</i>… Chris… <i>CHECK</i>… <b>[insert your name here]</b>… Oddly absent from the card, and yet, there they are, eating cake, joining in. Watching. Laughing.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">At this point, you might even try some kind of covert operation to get the card back before they leave for the day.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Say Mindy, do you mind if I see that card?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Why? The messages in it are meant for me.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Yeah but you know everyone reads them as it goes around the office anyways so-”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I trust people not to do that.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Well that’s dumb, look, can I fucking see it now?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I already know that you didn’t sign it, and that’s why you’re holding that pen. You’re too late. The jig is up.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Maybe it wasn’t that covert after all. And as everyone’s suspicious whispers begin to grow louder, you jump out the window and throw your two weeks notice at the boss on your way out, written in chocolate frosting on a paper airplane napkin.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“It’s been real. I’m out. PEACE!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">In the end, I suggest just finding a really original way to sign your name, and leave it at that. Just a signature. It’s even better if you get it carved into a custom stamp and use an ink-pad to stamp your mark on future joint cards. It will give you a mysterious edge at work, which will work to your advantage when there is only one donut left in the breakroom, and you are face to face with the overweight guy from sales. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Behind him, the receptionist offers him a word of advice.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Dude, I’d let him have it. He doesn’t even write messages in cards, who can honestly tell what he’s capable of.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Answer: no one. But seriously, it had those toasty coconut sprinkles. It was a big win for me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. There’s no more room left on the card.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-77175266080063870132011-03-28T23:00:00.011-04:002011-03-28T23:02:19.497-04:00Hairy Situations.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e5ISPw7JslE/TZFEXQpUAHI/AAAAAAAAAWI/mj1h1jlsCG4/s1600/hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e5ISPw7JslE/TZFEXQpUAHI/AAAAAAAAAWI/mj1h1jlsCG4/s400/hair.jpg" width="317" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hair is a complex entity. When it comes right down to it, there is really only one place that we consistently like to encounter hair: on our heads. Whether on the body, off the body, on the head, or wherever, hair is generally a tremendous pain in the ass. That being said, there <i>are</i> places that are, hands down, the <i>worst</i> places to find hair. Allow me to guide you through this hairy hall of shame. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">On the Body.</span></u></b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You will have to forgive me, in advance, for my somewhat gender biased approach to body hair and the unfortunate places that one might come across said hair. I am coming from the point of view of a male humanoid, but, please know that, I do agree that women have it <i>way</i> worse when it comes to hair. Oh sure, the male species may, in general, <i>have</i> more of it, but for women, unfortunately, nearly everywhere that hair naturally grows is frowned upon and looked at as undesirable. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We have brainwashed our entire civilization to assume that any hair found on women, other than on the head, should immediately be dealt with in an excruciatingly painful way. We have to train ourselves to see a hairy lady as a beautiful natural beast. Unfortunately, as it is, we see a hairy lady, and we assume troglodyte. Is that <i>fair</i> to the dirty stinky unhygienic she-ogre? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">No. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Armpit hair, leg hair, bikini zone, arm hair… The amount of time and effort that women have to put into the hair on their body is ridiculous. Everything is judged with a fine tooth comb (no pun intended). That being said, allow me to navigate you through what I feel to be the worst places to find hair, on the body. If you are a woman, multiply any of these by a million, in terms of annoyance and grief factor, and burn your bra. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>3) Unibrow</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There’s a fine line between a regular human and a Neanderthal. That fine line is the line that connects two eyebrows together, forming one solid Unibrow. There is a small window of people that can pull off this look, people like Bert (of Bert and Ernie fame). Unless you <i>are</i> Bert, you will most likely need to take care of it. I suggest an awful routine of tear inducing plucking, followed by a healthy dose of cursing your hairy parents, and their furry brows. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Try to stick to only plucking the connection between the two individual eyebrows. Once you start trying to play God and shape your eyebrows into something new and enticing, you run the risk of overdoing it and reducing your eyebrows down to a ghoulish penciled in line (even worse if it <i>literally</i> is penciled in with some kind of makeup marker and there actually is no hair left), causing a perpetual look of confusion and intrigue. This will look far worse than the initial Unibrow, and will likely send you to jail, should you ever be part of a police lineup. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“<i>Definitely</i>, Number 3, just look at those pencil-thin eyebrows and that permanently guilty expression.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;">“What about Number 2?” </div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">“What the guy with the solid line over his eyes? <i>Unibrow</i>? No way, he looks like he collects stamps.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Bert, you’re free to go.” </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>2) Hobbit Feet</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If foot hair somehow miraculously made a person more desirable to the opposite sex, then maybe there would be some case to argue that hairy feet and toes could be a positive physical trait. Unfortunately, this is not the reality that we live in. And really, would you want to be with someone who was into foot hair? <i>Sexually</i>? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You might think that hairy feet would stay warm. You would be dead wrong. <i>My</i> hairy feet are constantly freezing cold, and yet somehow, ridiculously moist and sweaty throughout most of the day. Some might want to blame bad circulation for my cold and smelly feet, but I know better. It’s that damn hair. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">After an entire day of wearing socks, the foot hair actually hurts, kind of like when you wear a baseball cap all day, and then it hurts to move your head hair. And forget about comfortably wearing sandals and flip flops. The hair gets pulled at, and, you have to survive mountains of clever and amusing insults, such as </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Hey, what’s it like living in the Shire?” <i>or</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Don’t eat me, ogre!!!!”, </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">rendering your confidence to an abnormally low level. I can’t even <i>imagine</i> what a hairy-footed lady must have to endure. And the skin on the top of the foot is so thin that trying any kind of hair removal would basically be torture. I don’t recommend torture, so, as a result, it is a constant struggle to decide which is indeed the lesser of two evils: being seen with socks and sandals, or showing off your hairy hooves. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Since stupid science is not yet advanced enough to offer hairy feet people with the option to amputate and replace their feet with sexy smooth robot feet, I’m afraid my only advice is to keep them covered up, until science catches up. Once they do, though, I’m totally paying extra to have guns and rockets put on mine. Science and Mattel still haven’t delivered the Hover Boards that were promised to us by Back to the Future II, but I feel that my eventual jet-powered rocket feet (complete with guns and racing stripes) will more than make up for it. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">For the record, I am not talking about one or two cute little hairs sticking out of one toe-knuckle, or a couple of little strays on the top of the foot. I am talking about a thick concentrated jungle of hair completely connected to the leg hair, creating one uniform and continuous river of fur flowing all the way from crotch to toes. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>1) Nose Hair</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If nose hair would just stick to its primary function and remain hidden within the nostril, it wouldn’t find itself in the top spot. Alas, nose hair frequently ventures out of its home searching for dust and dirt with which to form the finest of snots. Often times, it brings a booger with it on its journey out of the nostril rim, indifferent to how poorly this will reflect on you, during your one-on-one meeting with your manager. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">After giving your two weeks’ notice, on your way home from the office, should you decide to pluck the stray nose hair, you will be rewarded with pain, watery eyes, and the high possibility of forming a dreaded inside-the-nose zit. Also, you’re holding a nose hair, which looks like some kind of mutant insect leg. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Each of these painstaking battles with your nose hair is part of a lifelong war, and honestly, if you look at any elderly person, it is quite clear that it is a war that the nose hair will inevitably win. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Eventually you will give up, and over time you will become nothing more than a filthy bouquet of nose hair, with a face around it. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">I say, embrace it now, and let them go hog wild. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>On the Body - Honorable Mentions:</b> </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Back & Shoulder Hair – <i>care for a banana?</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ass Hair – <i>wiping just got a whole lot harder!</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ear Hair – <i>what is that constant rustling sound!</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Knuckle Hair –<i> I repeat, care for a banana?</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Facial Hair – <i>let’s face it, shaving sucks!</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Genital Hair – <i>no explanation necessary!</i> </div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Off the Body.</span></u></b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now, as offensive and repugnant as unwanted body hair may be, it pales in comparison to finding hair anywhere off of the body. In this case, man, woman, child, or Wookie, we are all in the same nasty hairy boat. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>3) Foreign Shower Stranger Danger</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When you step into a hotel shower, often times, it has been thoroughly cleaned and disinfected, so you likely will not encounter any wild hairs. I’m pretty sure if you find one, you can complain and get free breakfast out of it. Seems fair. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The showers that contain the most offensive wild hairs are shared showers that, unlike hotels, are not washed in between visitors. These are the showers at friends' or relatives' houses, public showers like in a gym, or, even your own shower, if you happen to share it with people that you do not also make sex on (in some cases, the stray hairs of your partner in sexy sex may still disgust you, especially when it is time to wipe that hair catcher drain thing clean - don’t worry, your secret is safe with me). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When faced with this foreign shower stranger danger, there are few ways to help cope. Latex gloves will allow you to touch things such as the shower curtain or faucets without risk of making contact with a hair. Bring your own soap. Because, Lord knows, when a wild hair attaches itself to a soap bar, there is no way of removing it without getting on your skin. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Because the walls may in fact be lined with nasty long or short hairs, you may want to consider wearing some kind of rubber footwear to protect yourself from runaway hairs that could potentially graze your feet on their wishy washy way down to the drain. Shower caps will do in a pinch. You can also wear a full body wetsuit, but it is harder to get that deep down clean you might be looking for, and I keep getting fucking shampoo in the snorkel! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The only sure way to avoid all icky shower hairs is to simply not shower. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I will leave it up to you to decide which is worse: have a bad smell day, or risk touching rabid, loose, possibly diseased, wild hairs. The choice is yours. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>2) Secret Ingredient</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think we all can agree that food is a pretty bad place to find a hair. There are different levels of severity when it comes to food hair, and what we are talking about here is known as the Secret Ingredient. This is when the hair is mixed deep down into the food, like in the center of your mashed potato pile, or mixed right into your marinara sauce. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Not to be confused with the Secret Garnish (a.k.a. The Parsley), which is when a hair is gingerly perched atop your salad, rice or steak, the Secret Ingredient is far worse because you can't even attempt to pick it out, as you only find out about it when it is halfway down your throat. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There really is no advice I can give you, except, if it is a restaurant, the rule is, never go back to said restaurant. If you cause a big enough scene, you might get free breakfast out of it, in which case, feel free to break the rule and go back, because, shit, free breakfast! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If it is the hair of someone you know, who has just cooked a meal for you, kill this person. Don't worry, they'll never convict you. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I plead guilty, but seriously, it was a six incher mixed right into my spaghetti!” </div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Bert, you’re free to go.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>1) Special Seat Sprinkles - Hair to the Throne</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You’re running towards the washroom, number one, number two, either / or, it doesn’t matter, but you need to get there and get things started, stat! You arrive ready to unleash the fury when something catches your eye and interrupts your mojo. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There’s a pube sprinkled on the seat / bowl / urinal / place one does their business. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, a few observations here, how does a hair like this get there? Is there someone who ejects or explodes pubes from their pants as soon as they unzip, like some sort of pube based firework display? Is it actually a head hair, and if so, what is the person’s head doing so close to the pee and/or poo zone? Was there some furious wiping that caused some bum hair shedding? Who looks at the bowl on their way out, sees a bunch of their hairs and decides, “Hey, I’ll leave it for the next visitor”? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">An asshole, that’s who. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The best way to deal with this problem is to always go to the washroom armed with matches, so that you can light fire to the suspect hairs. As an added bonus, it will warm up the seat on those frosty winter morns. Also, it could help with the smell factor, if needed. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you are looking to be inconspicuous, I would say use a regular matchbook, found in most restaurants and bars. If, like me, you are afraid that the short match size might allow the hair to touch you while burning, I suggest those really long wooden matches normally used to light fire to the logs in a fireplace. It is not recommended, however, to attempt to light any logs that you may have dropped in th bowl, they are not made of wood, and will not catch fire. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you are scared of burning yourself, I suggest you use a leaf blower. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Off the body - Honorable Mentions:</b> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">Your Cubicle – <i>someone’s been sleeping in my bed!</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">Treadmill – <i>I bet it’s sweaty too! It is! </i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Seat on the Bus – <i>I wonder where it’s going! Answer, your face!</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Stuck to the T.V. – <i>I knew that wasn't part of the show!</i> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Wall – <i>seriously, how the fuck did that get there, and how is it staying there? </i></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think these are just some of the many reasons why anytime you hear about futuristic alien societies coming to visit crazy rural folk, they are hairless, smooth and shiny. I think all intelligent beings will just eventually evolve themselves out of having hair. We, as a race, just aren’t there yet, which is probably why the aliens never stick around. They get off the Mothership and are like “ewww, there’s fucking hair <i>everywhere </i>here, lets bail.” </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. I need to go draw myself some eyebrows.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-20619830760079665512011-03-21T09:45:00.065-04:002011-03-21T10:07:07.104-04:00Writer's Block, Vol. IV.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vR4RqI9_LQ4/TYdbK9EYECI/AAAAAAAAAWE/2AAxHj4QCT4/s1600/writers_blockV4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vR4RqI9_LQ4/TYdbK9EYECI/AAAAAAAAAWE/2AAxHj4QCT4/s400/writers_blockV4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There I am behind a bumper with a bumper sticker on it that reads “<i>HONK if you like musicals</i>”. I have already declared a hatred for anything stupid to do with automobiles (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/08/stupid-is-as-stupid-drives.html">Stupid is as Stupid Drives</a>), but there’s just something even more special about this one. Now, no matter the massive amount of honks and cries coming from fellow road travelers, this person gets to drive like an asshole, and carry on ignorant and happy, like a child who just shit his pants during brunch at Applebee's. Did I honk at them when they cut me off? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Absolutely, I did. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Do I worry that instead of thinking “<i>Oh curse my awful driving, I may have just pulled some asshole-ish maneuver just now, here in mine vehicle, at the expense of this fine specimen of wonderful driving</i>”, he actually thought, “<i>Oh man, I wonder which is his favorite. Me? Oh I’m an Andrew Lloyd Webber man, as far as I am concerned it just don’t get no better than Phantom, except maybe Grease</i>”? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Even more absolutely, I do.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If Lloyd Webber fan is so damn passionate about musicals, then they need to get a bumper sticker that will make it a little bit easier to distinguish who is honking at them because of their elderly-blind-person driving abilities versus who is honking because they've seen ‘Cats’ forty times and touches themselves to visions of Mister Mistoffelees shoving his tail up their ass. I suggest changing it to something like “<i>Give three brief honks, followed by one long honk, if you like musicals</i>”. Also, depending on the rhythm and panache with which the person carries out this specialty honk, Captain Bumper Sticker can even measure just how musical this other driver is.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Maybe if there is a good enough honk, they can both pull over and break into song together. And that will give me the opportunity to run my car into their heads and/or brains.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Once I passed by the driver, I gave them the obligatory evil glare, and to my delight, it was not an old Asian lady like we all generally assume it to be when we notice someone driving like a four-year-old on the bumper cars at Canobie Lake Park, but a young student eating a breakfast burrito with his big fucking sunglasses on. Hooray world, for proving me wrong.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">While I was glancing at Studious Burrito I ran my car into the back of a Ford Focus, being driven by an old Asian lady. Hooray world, for your delicious irony.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">No, <i>not</i> really. But these are the exciting scenarios that run through my brain when I should be either focusing on the road, or on the work that I am supposed to be doing this very moment. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Maybe it’s just the fact that the mornings are darker and it’s harder to wake up. The nights are brighter, so I stay up later, and that makes the mornings even darker, and even more impossible. But, regardless, please take the damn bumper stickers off of your car, or please go and drive your car off a cliff. Whether or not you are in it as it travels off of said cliff, is entirely up to you. I will trust you to do the right thing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. I've got to go watch re-runs of ‘Glee’.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-47889157649307868772011-03-11T08:00:00.005-05:002011-05-24T14:29:18.025-04:00Express Yourself, Again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hzCVcRszBys/TXocluw5T7I/AAAAAAAAAV8/LQQQQ6D9Obw/s1600/bad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hzCVcRszBys/TXocluw5T7I/AAAAAAAAAV8/LQQQQ6D9Obw/s400/bad.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">While I have previously discussed the idea of awesome expressions that disappear (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/12/express-yourself.html">Express Yourself</a>), I don’t feel like I have even scratched the surface of the world of slang, be it good <i>or</i> bad. Please follow along with me, as I list some more words and expressions and explain why we need to work together to bring them back into circulation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA"><b><u>!) Bad.</u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">I miss being able to say something is bad, to mean that it is good. At some point someone thought bad-ass just made more sense, I guess. Instead of “that’s a bad skateboard you got” it became “that’s a bad-ass skateboard you got”. Why? What is this need to add 'ass' to everything. Don’t we have enough 'ass' as it is (feel free to add whatever mental picture you want, whether it’s some Kardashian, a parade of Biggest Loser contestants, or some reality show about sexy people)? Bad was doing just fine on its own, sans 'ass'. This tends to happen with lots of words though. Cheap becomes cheap-ass, lame is lame-ass and so on and so forth. Drop the 'ass' act people. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">On a side note, do you think it was Michael Jackson that made everyone uncomfortable and in turn made it no longer cool to call something bad? Too soon?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA"><b><u>@) Bumblast.</u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">On the topic of ass, we used to often employ the term bumblast. Now it was generally used in derogatory schoolyard conversations attached to a lot of the other homophobic insults hat were thrown about so hastily back then and perhaps that was why it disappeared. The homophobia needs to stay gone, but it is a shame, really, that we weren't able to hold on to 'bumblast'. Because, rather than use this in a way like “oh yeah, well you and Max like to bumblast each other all night long” we could simply use it in a more adult conversation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">“I’m into anal.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">That doesn’t sound too appealing at all. It sounds all icky and scientific.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">“I’m into <i>BUMBLASTING</i>.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">Hell yes – sign me up, like a rocket to the moon! Now that sounds like fun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA"><u><b>#) Sucks the bag.</b></u></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">When something really sucks, we used to say that it 'sucks the bag'. It’s brilliant because it leaves it up to you the listener to decide what kind of bag it actually is, what is contained within the bag, and how you would go about successfully sucking on it. Is it the bag itself, or what is contained within the bag? So many questions... If you have ever heard Louis CK’s routine about sucking a bag of dicks, you’ll understand the gist of what I am saying here.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA"></span>How could we have let this one fade away? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA"><b><u>$) Poser.</u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">I think poser died along with the grunge movement and the word ‘shaft’. Essentially it means the same thing as phoney, but it just feels more insulting, doesn’t it? I understood why ‘whigger’ died, because frankly, it is offensive on numerous levels, but poser is so wholesome and real. There is something to be said about an insult that sounds so gentle and yet calls to question a person’s entire existence.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">“Nice hat, poser.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">It’s like weenie (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2011/02/weenie-roast.html">Weenie Roast</a>) or party pooper. It may sound wholesome, but no one wants to be one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA"><b><u>%) Japanimation.</u></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">At some point this became Anime, and personally I don’t think that it has the same ring to it, at <i>all</i>. Japanimation doesn’t sound nerdy or dorky, it just sounds like exactly what it is. It's fun to say, unlike Anime (pronounced like a Spanish word or something... what the fuck) or Manga or stupid words like that sound like something off of the periodic table of the elements, which in turn, makes them sound even nerdier and thus even lamer. Maybe I just exposed my nerdiness by referring to the elements, but whatever. At least I don’t watch Anime. I watch Japanimation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">There are tons more trash talking words that I can think of that don’t get the airtime that they used to, like dickwad, shit for brains or numbnuts. While I won’t get into every one of them here, do your best to revive cool old insults, expressions and slang. Start with the ones I have discussed, but then, come up with your own list of forgotten gems that we can all work on together as one harmonious society.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-CA">That’s it. I’ve got a big-ass headache.</span></div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-5982302103820976922011-02-28T23:15:00.014-05:002011-03-04T14:47:15.153-05:00It's Business Time.<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LtxDT1cm1zY/TWxxhuocedI/AAAAAAAAAVs/lSL1KYEWqAg/s1600/toilet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="331" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LtxDT1cm1zY/TWxxhuocedI/AAAAAAAAAVs/lSL1KYEWqAg/s400/toilet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>It creeps up on you, real quiet like. At first you think maybe it’s nothing. It will pass. But you’re starting to re-think the insane amount of peanuts that you ate after your peanut butter sandwich lunch. It’s not creeping anymore, it’s attacking, and it’s gnawing at your insides. It’s time. You need to take a dump at work.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">First things first, change to your spare pair of shoes. What you don’t <i>have</i> a spare pair at work? Well you should. Not just because bathrooms are gross, but also, if someone walks into the bathroom while you’re halfway through a wretched fart, they won’t be able to recognize you by your shoes. They’ll spend the rest of their day trying to find the mystery shoes, but you will have hidden them safely away in your drawer / briefcase / pants.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now that you’re wearing your poop shoes, you can set out to the bathroom, just as soon as you prepare your entertainment. As long as you are away from your desk and dumping, you might as well make a little spa relaxation time out of it. Cell phones are popular for their gaming, but be sure it has a nice silent touch screen. Loud clicky buttons are a dead giveaway for any eavesdroppers, sorry Mr. Blackberry, but we all hear you in there, and we are all disgusted. Shit, I bought an iPhone just because I knew it would allow for silent gaming while pinching a loaf at work. Even though we all play cell phone games while pooping, it’s one of those don’t ask don’t tell things. We all do it, kind of like not washing up after peeing… wait, what? Oh and be discrete, and turn off the sound. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Don’t bring a magazine or book, because someone might spot it and ask you where you are going. Magazines and books are reserved for the home edition.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Some people take entertainment free dumps. They just sit there and will the crap to happen with the power of their mind. I commend these warriors for their exceptional bowel prowess and deep thinking capabilities. That’s like running on a treadmill without an iPod.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now, you’ve made it to the bathroom, and it’s empty. So you can make a run for the stall of your choice. Try and get a nice corner stall. Makes for a bit more reverb, and you can only have, at most, one neighbour. If there is already an occupied stall (multi-stall unit), then it is your call whether or not to press on. If it was me, I would turn around, and try again later, although, at times there is no time for that. It is a personal choice.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Make sure you lock the stall and try the door before you drop trou and have a good sit. The last thing that you want is to be so focused on ‘Angry Birds’ that you fail to realize that the door has swung open and you sit, exposed, cell phone in hand, poopy in bowl. At which point you would have to quit, move and change your name, which can be rather expensive. This can be especially dangerous if the stall faces the door to the outside where the water cooler is. “Does that really ever happen?”, you may ask yourself. Yes. One hundred percent yes. If you could only see the single tear running down my cheek as I write this. Learn from my failures, folks.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now, with all locks checked, you sit. Commence. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">When sitting in the stall, doing your duty (doody?), and there is someone else in there with you, you may feel the need to clench up and refrain from making any sound. This timid behaviour is not abnormal, but can be rather unhealthy for the ol’ colon, most doctors agree. ‘The Icebreaker’ is a manoeuvre I came up with that you should always keep in mind. It is when you or the stranger lets out a little fart, just to let the other know that, it’s ok, and no one here is judging. Once you hear a fart response, you know what it means: “Go ahead pardner, let’er rip”. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If neither of you make any noise, because no one wants to ‘speak’ first, you could end up sitting on the can for hours, in some kind of bizarre Mexican standoff, which would be fine if the pins and needles in your damn legs would go away. Avoid all of this, by being an ‘Icebreaker’, pay it forward, karma. Do unto others as you would, you know, all that shit.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Now that it is happening, there are some things you should remember.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Don’t talk to yourself, ever. Not ever. I once heard a guy clearly say, “oh my god” with a certain groaning tone in his voice. I wish that I could go back to a time and life before having heard it, but I can’t. Don’t be that guy (or gal). And yes, grunts count. You shouldn’t have to push so hard, certainly not while at work. Start looking into getting more fiber in that diet of yours, Groany McAwfulstein.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Don’t talk to other people either. If it is illegal to talk on the phone while driving, it certainly should be so while pooping. Even if its hands free, I doubt anyone wants to know that your free hands are potentially wiping your ass. That's one conference call you don't want to be a part of.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Hey, Bill, could you mute your phone? Why are you breathing so heavily?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“What can I say, I guess I’m just really into this shit.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Also, people that talk from the stall to anyone else in the bathroom should be fired. Or there should be a button you can press that sucks them down into the toilet and ejects them out of some chimney somewhere. What? It comes with a parachute, in this fantasy world, in my mind.<br />
<br />
"I tried to tell my wife that her creamed corn does this to me every time, but she jus-"<br />
<b>-EJECTOR BUTTON-</b><br />
"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">AAA</span>AAAaaaaaa<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">aaaaahh</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">hhhhhhh...</span>"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I understand that some people need to cover the toilet with a layer of toilet paper, or use one of those toilet seat prophylactics. I get it. You don’t want someone’s butt cooties. But if that’s the case, be sure to dispose of your bullet proof vest along with your dung. Preferably in separate flushes to avoid clogs, which I will discuss below. Last thing, about that extra protection, don’t be that freak that wraps the entire toilet like some kind of mummy or cocoon, and then leave it behind. Seriously, what the fuck? I feel like I’m in a science fiction movie and the CHUDS or Ghoulies are going to be birthed out of this thing.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And throw in a courtesy flush whenever necessary, even when you are alone. It’s good to keep the bowl fresh, and the air as light as possible.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Always flush the nuggets prior to placing any toilet paper in the toilet. Regardless of its size or girth, the last thing that you will want is an at work clog, which would cause you to quit, move and change your name, which can be rather expensive. If you eat excessive amounts of cheese and are known for rather solid logs, perhaps bringing a pocket knife would help, as you could break it up into pieces to avoid any problems. The Swiss army knife scissors are usually pretty effective. You be the judge. Although public toilets tend to have tremendous strength, honestly, if it looks too big to go down smooth, it just may be.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I know, you may be thinking that I have crossed some kind of line, but I’ve never caused a clog, nor been responsible for the perpetration of poopy water all over the bathroom floor. Save your judging for someone who deserves it, like those responsible for ‘puddles’, ‘leftovers’ or ‘poopseat’. Those are the careless people that live with an overall disregard for anyone else’s well being. It’s not like I use that same paring knife to cut my snack cucumbers. You should be thanking me. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Once successful flushing has been achieved, it will be time to make a break for the sinks. Obviously wait until the place is empty before exiting the stall. The walk of shame from the stall to the sink is an especially long one if it turns out the president of the company is in the bathroom. Even more so if the muggy, thick air acts like a punch in his smug, presidential face. He probably doesn’t even have to poop, he probably has a servant that extracts it from him and turns into pot pourri (poori?). Why is he in my bathroom anyways? Doesn’t he have some golden toilet somewhere that massages his ass while he sits on it and spits out money for every turd he squeezes out?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Not that this has happened to me or anything, twice, at the job I quit last year.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If you really are worried about run-ins with co-workers or bosses, remember the three keys of real estate: location, location and location. Try and go to a different floor if possible or even, a different building if your schedule permits. For example, maybe there’s a great McDonalds down the street. Also the cheap cheeseburgers can often help induce labour, if you have been having trouble lately. Just be sure to allow enough time to get there. While most work place poops are photo finishes, you want to be sure you make it to the finish line, or else you will definitely have to quit, and move, and change your name, and that can be rather expensive. First you'd have to change your pants.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Look, I know this is an awful lot to take in, but if you don’t feel like you can follow these simple guidelines, then maybe you need to find a job that you can do from home. Or just be unemployed. Or just hold it in.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. I got to stand up and wipe (that’s right, <b><u>STAND</u></b>… see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/03/panel-of-judges.html">Panel of Judges</a>).</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-40311084147106651462011-02-17T23:00:00.021-05:002011-02-17T23:04:04.251-05:00Weenie Roast.<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NnqXlpv-gSU/TV3s0gbFoHI/AAAAAAAAAVk/okS95iTw6XI/s1600/weenies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NnqXlpv-gSU/TV3s0gbFoHI/AAAAAAAAAVk/okS95iTw6XI/s400/weenies.jpg" width="226" /></a>As hard as you can try, eventually you will find yourself in a position where you look like a weenie, or feel like a weenie, or are just acting like a total weenie. It can creep up on you and come at you unexpectedly, or, at times, you can see it coming from a mile away. Some people are just total weenies all the time, and to those people, I apologize. There is little that I can do for you. For the rest of us occasional weenies, I will try and help you navigate the road of life avoiding the obstacles that can obstruct your overall coolness and make you feel like a weenie. Some of these obstacles can’t be avoided, and in those cases, I’ll try and help you cope.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">According to the dictionary, a weenie either means a frankfurter, a penis, or a nerd. According to me, however, a weenie is not so much being a nerd, which can have certain positive connotations, so much as just being totally lame. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I guess that for me, it can still mean frankfurter or penis as well.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When it comes to looking like a weenie, obvious examples would be faux-pas’ like ‘socks and sandals’, the ‘bowlcut’, wearing snowpants or those awful hats with the big ear flaps. I won’t go off on a hat tangent at any point, as I have already done that once before (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/02/accessory-before-and-after-fact.html">Accessory Before and After the Fact</a>). Obvious examples of feeling like a weenie could include losing at dodgeball, having your credit card denied or failing a driving test. Obvious examples of acting like a total weenie should include mispronouncing easy words, confidently shouting the wrong answer in a game of Trivial Pursuit or singing in your car with the windows down (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/01/turn-it-up-man.html">Turn it Up, Man</a>). </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Are you starting to understand? </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In short, sometimes you can avoid being a weenie, but sometimes you just can’t. The best that we can do is deal with the risk factors that we <i>can</i> control. I can’t cover everything, but these basic examples should help (one for each kind of weenie moment).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>On looking like a weenie...</b></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">One of the easiest ways to look like a total weenie is to wear a backpack. Now, before you get all in a tizzy and tie up your panties into infinity knots, yes, I <i>do</i> recognize the usefulness of backpacks. And it’s not everyone that needs to avoid them altogether. But it’s kind of like how some guys put on a suit and look like they’re wearing their dad’s pyjamas, and other guys put on a suit and look quite dapper and shit. In turn, some people rock the backpack just fine. They look like a casual businessperson on the go. But you know the type of backpackin’ weenie I mean. You know how some people put one on and instantly look five years old and just begging to have their lunch money stolen?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you absolutely must employ a backpack, then there are some things that you should know. This can help reduce your wienieness.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Don’t tighten the straps all the way to the max. It’s like when you see a guitarist with the strap all tight and the guitar is up at his chest. He doesn’t look like a rock God anymore. He looks like a member of the wiener patrol. Another example is someone with their shoelaces tied real tight.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Look how tight my laces are, these babies will never come off.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">What a weenie. If the backpack straps are that tight, you may as well just bite the bullet and sport the fanny pack, taking you into ultimate weenie territory.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Don’t fill the backpack to capacity either. There’s no way that you need to be carrying around enough stuff to fill a whole backpack. What’s in there, a basketball? Honestly, now you look like a lil’ kid on their way to the basketball court to shoot some hoops with his pals. Except you don’t actually have any pals. All you have is a backpack full of shit and a weenie aura that alienates all of those around you. You don’t make friends with backpacks.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">A full backpack just makes you look small and weird, like when people wear exceedingly large sunglasses. Seriously, don’t wear gigantic sunglasses unless you are:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">a)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Elton John</div><div style="text-align: justify;">b)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A pilot in the movie Top Gun</div><div style="text-align: justify;">c)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Dead with both eyeballs missing</div><div style="text-align: justify;">d)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A clown</div><div style="text-align: justify;">e)<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>All of the above</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Moving right along… The worst thing you can do is have a full backpack with the straps tightened all the way. Even if you’re hiking, you should try and avoid this, because you’ll just look like a granola weenie. And isn’t that just the worst kind of weenie?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Also, put both shoulder straps on. The backpack slung over one shoulder doesn’t look casual after the age of twelve. It looks ultra lame, and thus, quite weenieful.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have a backpack that I bring to work, and every day, when I go out to the car, I feel slightly less cool then I did before. Still, it seems better than paying money for a more adult looking bag. At least my backpack is black, and truth be told, that’s another thing that can help. Don’t have a bright ass backpack that looks like it has all sorts of nifty pockets made to hold your pencil case, calculator and retainer / headgear.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>On feeling like a weenie...</b></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bringing the car in for maintenance at a garage is a surefire way to make yourself feel like a weenie. Most of the time, I don’t even understand what I am asking them to do to my car. I just read what needs to be done off of my vehicle’s maintenance schedule thingy they gave me when I drove it off the lot. When I am reading it off to the guy at the garage I just try and mumble it, or cough while saying it, in the hopes that he will correct me, and guess what I am talking about.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s like ordering off of an Italian restaurant’s menu, when they obnoxiously put the stupid fucking menu items in Italian.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Yeah I’ll have the … ummm… panooni… giupallda… pancechia.. bruschegnochi?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“The<i> ravioli</i>?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Yeah, whatever.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The mechanics tend to worsen the situation, by asking you questions that you don’t really know the answer to.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Yes, I need my breaks serviced.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“What’s wrong with them?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Umm... nothing I think, just according to my maintenance schedule, they require servicing.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You been having problems or… what is it exactly you need done?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Would you like to see the maintenance schedule?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“No, that’s ok.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You know, I’m not normally such a weenie.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is much like how an overall lack of sports knowledge can get you into similar weenie waters with sports superfans, but I believe I tackled that already (see: <a href="http://highway10revisited.blogspot.com/2010/03/sporting-chance-to-complain-about-stuff.html">Color Commentator</a>). There are two ways to not feel wienerific in front of the mechanic. Either educate yourself about the inner workings of your automobile (not happening), or just fake that you know what they are talking about (that’s the one).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“There’s a problem with your Flarnder Rodenspiel.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Oh yeah, I totally noticed that last week, just you know, give it the usual.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“What?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Proceed with the tune-up.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The mechanic will still know that you’re a weenie, but you’ll walk away with your head held high, a proud weenie.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>On acting like a weenie...</b></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"> “I bike to work every day on my banana seat bicycle. Kneel before me, the king of all weenies.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">They take up an entire lane as if they are a car, but then go through red lights. They have pants tucked into socks, or are wearing one of those elastics to stop their good work khakis from clogging up the gears. They ride the elevator up to their floor while still wearing their helmet, as well as the previously mentioned pants elastic. They have super aerodynamic sunglasses. They are the weeniecycles.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Of course I’m turning, did you not see my hand signal?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Riding a bike in the city does not automatically make you a weenie, but it doesn’t help. If you have a bell, horn, basket or tassels on your bike, please close your computer and go set fire to your bicycle immediately.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">With these three examples you have the blueprint for what makes a true weenie. Try your best to extrapolate from this guide other situations during which you may look, feel or act like a weenie, and avoid them forever.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. These snowpants are really making my balls itch and chafing my groin.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-69737115328028208242011-02-10T08:00:00.002-05:002011-02-10T10:37:29.834-05:00Watch Your Mouth.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LPhWYhjpORY/TVPgHpNsoBI/AAAAAAAAASo/q3iXEIpfWW4/s1600/awkwardpause.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LPhWYhjpORY/TVPgHpNsoBI/AAAAAAAAASo/q3iXEIpfWW4/s400/awkwardpause.jpg" width="324" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are plenty of situations that arise when a person’s brain filter doesn't catch a nugget of truth on its way past the vocal cords and out of the mouth, causing a person to say something that creates an awkward and uncomfortable situation for all of those involved. This is often referred to as putting your foot in your mouth. I’m not going to discuss <i>that</i> here. Out of context, there is no way for me to know what is or isn't appropriate to say in whatever situation you are in. Clearly saying something along the lines of “<i>kind of like how your mother used to be an actual prostitute in a real brothel</i>” is probably not something you want to say. If you have the nerve to blurt out things that are obviously taboo, then you may very well deserve whatever shunning will certainly follow. What I would like to do is help you avoid certain situations in which you may accidentally say something embarrassing because you did not realize what it could mean, or be interpreted as, as you were actually saying it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>"BLANK <i>my ass</i>."</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes you will hear something that you think is bullshit, and you will wish to call bullshit on the person that said it. An expression, that is not too uncommon is ‘BLANK <i>my ass</i>’.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“That Jeremy Fapperwheel sure is talented.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Talented <i>my ass</i>!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In this case, clearly you did not agree that Fapperwheel had any talent. This is totally acceptable. You just need to be careful what sort of statement you are using this on. It can get you into a strange predicament.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“So you don’t think he has any talent?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“No, I really don’t think Jeremy Fapperwheel is all he is cracked up to be.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“What are you saying? Come on, man!” </div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Come on <i>my ass</i>!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“…”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Once the awkward silence subsided, the two relative strangers went about their day, as if no sexual advances had in fact been made.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>"Don’t BLANK <i>me</i>."</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Similar to ‘BLANK <i>my ass</i>’, you really just need to make sure that what you are putting into this context can’t be taken in a different direction.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You honestly think that your mullet is cool? Whatever dude.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Don’t whatever <i>me</i>!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That sounds ok, I suppose. It’s a bit lame, but it works.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“You honestly think that your rat tail is cool? Come on, man!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Don’t come on <i>me</i>!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">On top of the discomfort you both will feel, if anyone else is in ear range of your conversation, they may start to question what’s going on in your cubicle. I guess maybe just try to avoid being told to “<i>come on</i>”. If told to “<i>come on</i>” run away as fast as you can.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>"Fucking BLANK."</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I understand that the ‘f’ word is a wonderful word used to enhance many statements in today’s modern conversation. If during your exchange with another human, you should feel strongly enough about a certain something, you may throw it in there for good measure. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Was Smokey and the Bandit any good?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Man, it was <i>fucking</i> amazing!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Seems totally acceptable to me, your sentiment is both heard and emphasized. However if you try to use it in the same way, under different circumstances, and emphasize the wrong part of a sentence, the outcome can be severely altered.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Was Burt Reynolds any good in it?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Man, I want to be <i>fucking</i> Burt Reynolds.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Like… circa 1977, or like Boogie Nights era? Present day? I guess he was <i>really</i> good…”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Clearly what was meant was something a little less lustful.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Man, I want to fucking <i><b>be</b></i> Burt Reynolds.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It is all in what you emphasize. The response that followed works in either case, but the feeling is very fucking different. Also, never start a sentence with an ‘f’ bomb, as it can lead to you demanding people to do the unthinkable. Perhaps, for example, you mean to inform someone that your mom sent a text to you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“My mom sent me a text.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Great. However, when people get carried away with the ol’ fuck word, sometimes it gets slipped into the beginning of every statement.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Fuck! My mom sent me a text.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Written out, you may see nothing wrong. Like "Holy shit! My mom [..]". But, read it fast. That’s right, you just told someone to “fuck my mom”. Time for you to go stick your head in the oven my friend. Fucking use fuck carefully, fuck. Perhaps this is how those mother-brothel rumors get started.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>"I’ll BLANK <i>you</i>."</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s right, another one where context can really do you in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Put the stapler back next time!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I’ll put <i>you</i> back next time!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That makes a certain amount of sense. Is it witty? No. But I suppose one could argue that it has a certain je-ne-sais-quoi. But things can go dreadfully wrong.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Would you mind turning the light on? “</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I’ll turn <i>you</i> on!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Shit, what kind of office is this?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You can even take it a step further.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Blow out the candles!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“I’ll blow <i>you</i>!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“My kind of party…”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Rather than risk any danger, maybe just discontinue the use of the ‘I’ll BLANK <i>you</i>’. As we have just seen, it doesn’t work that well even when it does work, regardless of its je-ne-sais-quoi qualities.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><u>"Hi how are you?" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">–</span> [BRAINFART].</u></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">These are self explanatory. There are so many ways in which you can respond something completely nonsensical. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“How’s it going?” – “Not much, you?” <i>or</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Hey, what’s up?” – “Pretty good, yourself?” <i>or</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Hi.” – “Can’t complain, how about you?” <i>or</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Can you believe this weather?” – “Hey.” etc.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You get the idea. You look stupid when, really, you just don’t care enough to formulate an adequate response.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, listen, if these kinds of things happen to you a lot, all I can suggest is that you try and slow down the speed with which you answer questions. Sure, you’ll be called “a little slow” or “dumb” behind your back, but it beats the alternative. I think. Maybe it doesn’t. Just stop talking altogether. Give people little more than a nod, or a tip of the hat. The vow of silence will make you look noble and courageous, or, like a creepy mime. Either way, people might finally start leaving you alone. And isn’t that really what all of this was about?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. I have to go practice my 'walking against the wind' and shit.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6201388071982545084.post-87155579569918668032011-02-06T22:15:00.003-05:002011-02-15T08:08:07.118-05:00Naming Convention.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-idg2OcV2PQQ/TVimYyOAGEI/AAAAAAAAAVY/NXhxONC6Cmg/s1600/problemchild.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-idg2OcV2PQQ/TVimYyOAGEI/AAAAAAAAAVY/NXhxONC6Cmg/s320/problemchild.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I think that we all know that some people have phenomenally lame names. I don't mean it in that endearing "Boy Named Sue" kind of a way either. Parents-to-be out there, please, use real fucking names from now on. I don’t want to name any names in particular and alienate anyone out there, or offend anyone, but I will use an example to illustrate my point.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Hi y’all, meet my children Kayden, Brayden, Mayden, Jayden, Fayden, Snayden and Dayden.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Pronounced similarly, this batch of rhyming made-up names makes me wish that y’all had been doing less impregnayden and more masturbayden. Guess what? You’re kids will grow up and want to trayden their name for a new one. Oh yeah, I just done and went for it. Now, I realize that I could have enhanced the example by spelling them all with different endings, like Shaedyn, or Gaydin, but when I started writing it out, I threw up in my mouth. If it’s an English name, I should be able to figure out if it’s a boy or a girl. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Poorly named people out there, it is time to start adopting nicknames.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Hi my name is Branaeedyn, but you can call me Michael.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Why?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Well, I’ll be frank, it’s because my name sucks.”</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“Listen asshole, are you Frank or Michael?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Whatever happened to standard names like Jim and Paul and Max? What the hell were these people thinking? Just because it rhymes with a real name, doesn’t make it a real name, and certainly doesn’t give you the right to use it to just invent sucky names. Yeah, I’m talking to you, Bouglas and Bimothy’s parents. And don’t tell me that the name has some special meaning in some mystical unicorn language. It may mean ‘beautiful’ but it’s fucking ugly. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m all for having names with meaning, but choose something that doesn’t just sound so aggravating. And if you want to go unique and special, than at least get crazy with it, Frank Zappa style.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">And, in the end, I guess I did name names after all.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">“But it’s <i>my</i> name! I can’t just stop using it!”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Not with that attitude.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next time that you’re In Whole Foods looking at expensive orgrainic vegetable crackers, and there’s this kid throwing gluten-free wafers around screaming about wanting his soy treat and honey wheat ball, listen carefully when the mother and/or father yell out to the child. Listen to the name. You will hear an example of a name that you should never name your child. Take note of it, if needs be, and create a list. Don’t limit yourself to Whole Foods. Do this anywhere. Anytime you hear a lame name come out of the mouth of lame parents scolding their lame child, write it down in your lame name journal for safekeeping, so that we can stop the cycle of insanity once and for all.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m not normally like this, but some kid named <s>Haedyn</s> Bralaedyn just kicked me in the shins and punched me in the nuts.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s it. Jnaeden is asking for me.</div>Kev D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13557162668726460610noreply@blogger.com32