The Notorious Jumping Blog of Cuyahoga County

A Messed World In Which We Live

2010-01-17T18:35:00.000-08:00

Howdy, Readers. There’s a lot going on in the news lately about Haiti. I’m not sure which avenue to explore. I can’t decide if I want to talk about the humongous death toll, about the hard time people are having getting aid to those in need, or how fucking insane Pat Robertson is, so I’m going to write about Netflix.

I recently signed up to Netflix because I thought it would be convenient, but the pressure started almost instantly. I never imagined what a headache it would be to try to pick what movies I wanted in my queue. But that’s because I have commitment issues. I don’t even like to make plans to go to my mom’s for Sunday dinner and we live together.

And if I may, what the HELL is a queue? This is America! Speak American! I was just talking to some bobby about that a fortnight ago when I bumbled down to the shop to pick up a bog roll. The bloke and I were in total agreement.

Moving along, I ended up totally blanking on what to put on my LIST. But since it is an unlimited plan, I guess it doesn’t really matter that I dropped the ball and ended up ordering From Justin to Kelly, Who’s Your Caddy, and Schindler’s List.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re thinking, and I agree. That is why I bumped Schindler’s List and replaced it with Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2.

The one great thing about Netflix is that even though I have to wait two days for my DVDs to arrive, it is still much quicker than the guy behind the counter at Blockbuster.

For one blog a month, I will now be choosing a movie that I would never think to watch and write about it. I am looking very forward to this undertaking. The first movie that I will be choosing is either Santa with Muscles (which is the story of an evil millionaire (Hulk Hogan) who gets amnesia and then believes that he is Santa Claus) or Jaws. The decision will be tough.

And on a serious note, things are pretty horrible in Haiti right now. So, please do what you can to help out. $10 goes a long way.

Next time: Whatever I feel like, dammit.

What I Did on My Winter Break

2010-01-11T19:27:00.000-08:00

Howdy, readers. I feel like it has been a long time since we have seen one another. Here’s hoping that everyone had a good New Year’s (except for you, Chuck Marshall. You know what you did… Yes you do!). A lot of people have been curious as to what I have been up to since The Notorious Jumping Blog (ß Hey, I just got my blog mentioned in print. Awesome.) took its winter break. Well…

The first thing I did was set out to carve a nativity scene out of a single block of wood for my grandkids. Whittling is not as easy as everyone thinks it is. It seems like everywhere I go, people are always like, “Yeah, whittling is easy. What do you want me to whittle? A horse, a bird, a real-working car battery?”

Well, I’m here to tell you that whittling is not as easy as all those people make it seem. So, don’t be chagrined if you are unable to whittle a goat, an elephant, or Werner Von Braun. Don’t be discouraged if you are unable to carve a fish, a lobster, or Ben Bernanke. I wouldn’t lose any sleep if I couldn’t carve a train, a plane, or Donovan McNabb. My point is that whittling isn’t easy.

So, I bought a wooden nativity set on Ebay for my grandkids. The problem is that I don’t have grandkids yet. I was going to wait until I did, but I got VERY impatient. So, I did what anyone in my position would do—I invented a time machine. Well, technically, I whittled it.

As you are aware, there are many problems that time travel can pose. For example, if you go back in time and give your grandpa a hand job it could result in a huge financial crisis in 2009. Sorry everyone :(

I went into the future and let me tell you, there are a lot of lies being bandied about. For example, people don’t wear silver jumpsuits and there aren’t flying cars. However, all cars are silver and there are flying jumpsuits. Which I’m assuming could happen if you kiss-punch your grandma. Sorry again everyone :(

As you could imagine, with all the cars being silver, people are always like, “Crap. Which one of these cars is mine? Oh well, good thing I have a flying suit.” Then they punch themselves in the crotch to activate their suits, and off they fly.

I found my grandkids and presented them with their wooden nativity set. They were so excited. They kept saying, “感谢祖父!”(Sorry for the spoiler ).

Then they took the nativity scene and threw it into a futuristic furnace (of course, to them it is a presentistic furnace). It turns out that in the future, energy comes from wooden nativity sets. Grandpa Dan, scores the winning Emanuel Lewis-mas present (sorry for the spoiler again).

After that I decided that no one should possess the capability to alter time. So, I went back to the present to destroy the time machine, but not before I travelled back to the 1970’s to kill Chuck Marshall.

Never heard of him? Well that’s because I took care of him before he could unleash his plan for world domination. Let me just say this, by comparison he made Hitler look like a kitten… that really hated Jews.

Next time: My favorite country is Qatar, because it is one of the few “Q” words that say, “Fuck U.”

My Bucket List

2009-11-29T18:47:00.001-08:00

Hello, readers. Welcome to another Jumping Blog. A lot of times when I go to funerals, people usually say to me, “It should be you in that coffin”—I’m pretty sure they mean it, but I just chuckle politely anyway.

This got me thinking about my life and what I would still like to do with my time on this planet. So, here is my bucket list:

10. Kill a deer with my bare hands.

9. Catch a bullet between my teeth.

8. Spend the rest of my life trying to make amends for killing that deer with my bare hands.

7. Learn to braid a black girl’s hair.

6. Write a book… about a guy who kills a deer with his bare hands, and then spends the rest of his life trying to make amends for killing that deer with my his bare hands.

5. Make my own bread.

4. Raise the young of the deer that I kill with my bare hands as my own.

3. Think of something for number 3 on my bucket list.

2. Reuse a joke already on my bucket list.

1. See The Bucket List to make sure that I am doing this right.

Note: #7 and #2 can officially be crossed off.

Next time: Sorry. I thought that was MY vagina.

I was wr...

2009-11-22T21:13:00.000-08:00

So here’s the thing, people do not like to be wrong. Saying, “I was wrong” is almost as hard as trying to say, “Unique New York” five times (go ahead, I’ll wait). Told ya.

Being wrong is hard because you know that you secretly think you are the leader of your friends and as such you can’t afford to be wrong. Because of that we run the risk of situations such as this:

“Where are the paper towels?”

“In the cabinet above the sink.”

“No they aren’t.”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE.”

Just ask Julius Caesar how making enemies like that worked out for him. Oh wait, you can’t, because his enemies killed him. Just like having to take a crap right after showering, those types of situations can get messy fast.

Here’s the thing people, we can’t be right about everything. But rather than choosing our battles we just plow right through trying to convince people we are right—no matter what the cost. Take this example that I found myself in the middle of last weekend.

“I’m telling you, you can microwave tin foil in my microwave and nothing bad happens.”

“No you can’t.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU BELIEVE ME? NOW I HAVE TO STAB YOU IN YOUR FUCKING FACE.”

Stuff like that just ends so badly. You end up lying to your friends and they end up getting face blood all the kitchen.

Not to mention, it is strange the lies that people will tell just so that they won’t be found out as being wrong.

For example, I had a friend that supposedly was an expert on all things Iceland (I know, I know, who doesn’t). So naturally I talked to her before I headed there for my vacation last year. But when I got there, I didn’t see one single unicorn living in a candy castle anywhere. NOT A SINGLE ONE. Just like someone slapping you on the butt to tell you you’ve done a good and accidentally popping the giant zit on your ass, it is painful when a close friend lies to you.

And the bad thing is that no one is exempt from this. Not you, not me, and not my three-handed proctologist.

And just like yet another simile involving the rectal area, I have to ask, would this world be a better place if people could admit they were wrong? ~~I think so, but I could be wrong.~~ This world WOULD definitely be a better place if people could admit when they are wrong.

Next Time: Proctologists DON’T have three hands! And other times it is appropriate to use exclamation marks.

Just a Thought

2009-11-15T16:27:00.000-08:00

As I sit at my computer, I think about the ton of schoolwork I had this past week, the ton more I have this week, and how I’ve been trying to quit fucking swearing—ah shit.

And that brings to mind an interesting thought. Why is swearing a bad thing? Why is it bad to say, “Oh man, I just shit my pants…again?”

Why is it a bad thing to give a woman roses while saying, “These are for you cunt?” I mean it is quite obvious that you aren’t mad at the woman (you’re giving the bitch a goddamn bouquet of fucking roses). I mean c’mon.

Why is it okay to ask the mailman if he wants a blowjob, but bad to ask him if you can suck his dick?

I just don’t get this hypocrisy bullshit. We need to stop being a bunch of pussies.

Do any of you motherfuckers wonder about the origins of these words? Well I do, cocksucker. So without further ado:

(Drum roll please)

I couldn’t find any reason why these specific words are considered to be bad or vulgar. It could be because they’re not. So, express yourself however you want and watch those motherfuckers shit bricks when you bitch slap their cocks.

Next time: Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, and tits.

This Korean Day in History (2004)

2009-11-08T11:01:00.000-08:00

I was going to write a piece about Valerie Bertinelli, but I figured that you readers already know all there is to know about her. So without further ado:

오하이오 추첨은 2004년 11월 8일 동안 열거한다. 만일 당신이 생각해 보면, 전에 5 년에서 이기는 수는 여기 있다: 정오 후비는 물건 3:8 - 0-5 정오 후비는 물건 4:4 - 1-1-8 후비는 물건 3:8 - 6-1 후비는 물건 4:8 - 0-7-7 회전 현금 5:6 - 15-20-26-39

Next time: Beyonce Knowles의 유령은 도서관에 있다.

Strong With The Blog, This One Is

2009-11-01T13:15:00.000-08:00

Hey readers,

I'm trying something a little different this week--A video blog. Less reading. More watching.

Next Time: Open mouth insert...

Aww Yeah

2009-10-25T17:56:00.000-07:00

Hey readers,

In 24 B.F. (Before “Friends”), Warren Griffin III was born. However it wasn’t until 1 A.C. (After Chandler) that the man who came to be known as Warren G. released “Regulate.” Below are the lyrics along with accompanying commentary in yellow. So, without further ado:

Regulators

We regulate any stealing of his property

And we're damn good too

But you can't be any geek off the street,

Gotta be handy with the steel if you know what I mean, earn your keep!

REGULATORS!!! MOUNT UP!

It was a clear black night, a clear white moon

Warren G was on the streets, trying to consume

Some skirts for the eve, so I can get some phones

Just rollin in my ride, chillin all alone

He wishes to engage in relations. As he is Warren G., he doesn’t need a wingman—hence the “chillin’ all alone.”

Nate:

Just hit the Eastside of the LBC

On a mission trying to find Mr. Warren G.

Seen a car full of girls ain't no need to tweak

All you skirts know what's up with 213.

As cell phones weren’t very commonplace, Nate Dogg needed to drive around in order to find Warren G. Also, there are some girls who now what is going on with 213 (The 213 is a hip hop group from Long Beach, California, which began the careers of Snoop Dogg, Warren G (brother of Dr. Dre) and Nate Dogg (Snoop Dogg's cousin).

So I hooks a left on the 21 and Lewis

Some brothas shootin dice so I said "Let's do this"

I jumped out the ride, and said "What's up?"

Some brothas pulled some gats so I said "I'm stuck."

Never jump out your ride to shoot dice with brothas you don’t know.

Nate:

Since these girls peepin me I'ma glide and swerve

These hookers lookin so hard they straight hit the curb

Won'tcha think of better things than some horny tricks

I see my homey had some suckas all in his mix.

Warren G. had some suckas all up in his mix (as a direct result of shootin’ dice with brothas he didn’t know).

I'm gettin jacked, I'm breakin myself

I can't believe they taking Warren's wealth

They took my rings, they took my rolex

I looked at the brotha said "Damn, what's next?"

They stole his shit.

Nate:

They got my homey hemmed up and they all around

Ain't none of them seeing if they going straight pound for pound

They wanna come up real quick before they start to clown

I best pull out my strap and lay them busters down

Um…

They got guns to my head

I think I'm going down

I can't believe this happenin in my own town

If I had wings I would fly

Let me contemplate

I glanced in the cut and I see my homey Nate

Warren sees his friend Nate in the cut. So, he no longer needs to fly away from his own town.

Nate:

Sixteen in the clip and one in the hole

Nate Dogg is about to make some bodies turn cold

Now they droppin and yellin

It's a tad bit late

Nate Dogg and Warren G had to regulate

Apparently, these gentlemen DIDN’T know what was up with 213--I think.

I laid all them busters down

I let my gat explode

Now I'm switching my mind back into freak mode

If you want skirts sit back and observe

I just left a gang of those over there on the curb

Ah yes, whatever happened to those hookers that were looking so hard that they straight hit the curb?

Now Nate got the freaks

And that's a known fact

Before I got jacked I was on the same track

Back up back up cause it's on

N A T E and me

The Warren to the G

Um…

Nate:

Just like I thought

They were in the same spot

In need of some desperate help

The Nate Dogg and the G-child

Were in need of something else

One of them dames was sexy as hell

I said "ooo I like your size."

She said "my car's broke down and you seem real nice,

Would ya let me ride?"

I got a car full of girls and it's going real swell

The next stop is the Eastside Motel

If you ever find some women whose car is broken down, tell one of them you like her size and she will let you fuck her in a motel—which is much cooler than offering to call AAA for her.

I'm tweaking

Into a whole new era

G-Funk

Step to this

I dare ya

Funk

on a whole new level

I mean… I know what it means, but what do you think it means?

Nate:

The rhythm is the bass and the bass is the treble

Ergo the rhythm is also the treble.

Chords

Strings

We brings

Melody

G-Funk

Where rhythm is life

And life is rhythm

Rhythm and life?… totally interchangeable.

Nate:

If you know I´ll got know

you don't wanna step to this

It's the G-Funk era

funked out with a gangsta twist

if you smoke like I smoke

then you high like everyday

and if your ass is a buster

213 will regulate

Pretty self-explanatory mutha-fucka.

Next time: Good Buy, Cruel World: 10 Great Shopping Tips For The Suicidal.

Peace of Crap

2009-10-18T16:51:00.000-07:00

So, a lot of people seem to be upset with the Nobel Prize this year. And I, for one, agree. Before I go any further, let’s take a look at this prestigious prize.

Alfred Nobel was a scientist, businessman, and founder of the Nobel Prize. His name should have been Alfred Bullshit, because then the awards would be called the Bullshit Prize. Which is EXACTLY what they were this year.

Side Note: I didn’t mean for exactly to be capitalized; I accidentally hit caps lock and, I realized that it gave the sentence great emphasis.

Side Note 2: I didn’t mean for the word exactly to be italicized in the preceding sentence, but I left it because it gave the word the perfect meaning.

Side Note 3 (The Bride of Side Note): I DID mean for the use of the semicolon though (as well as capitalizing did and italicizing did <- and that one too)

Where were we? Ah yes, the Nobel prize. Here’s a quick fact, “the names of the nominees and other information about the nominations cannot be revealed until 50 years later.”

Well gee, isn’t that convenient? Everyone knows that the world won’t be around in 50 years… everyone using the Mayan calendar that is. The current Mayan calendar that I have is a bunch of kittens dressed as members of Mayan culture, and every month I’m like, “Oh, I can’t wait to see the kitty for this month. I hope its holding onto a rope and says ‘Hang in there,’ or displaying a baby-ass kitten demonstrating that the Maya were the only Mesoamericans that had a written language before explorers showed up to make everything all ‘civilized’.” But I’ve gotten off topic.

So yes, I think that it is crap that we won’t know who was REALLY deserving of the Nobel Prize. Instead, we have to be content with the fact that Herta Müller won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Wait… what? Oh, people are pissed about the Nobel Peace Prize. Why? What kind of dipshit wouldn’t be pleased that their leader has won a Peace Prize? Oh, is it because he isn’t from the party you voted for, or is it because it really pisses you off that black people are allowed to sit in the front the bus now? Get over it.

On behalf of the Jumping Blog, congratulations Mr. President (just in case you happen to stumble upon this blog).

Next time: The shit has hit the fan. But, luckily it was turned off. So, it didn’t really make that big of a mess at all.

OMG IDK GFY

2009-10-11T20:11:00.001-07:00

A friend of mine suggested earlier that I write a future blog about text messaging. Well, no time like the present.

Where to start with this subject? Hmm… how about emoticons? Oh yes those fantastic faces that are made mostly by colons (insert ass joke here) and any number of keyboard symbol combinations (insert dick joke here [simply because they are funny]). These motherfuckers get pretty complicated. For example, the picture below is an emoticon that I made of Thurgood Marshall.

I know that it is kind of hard to make out that it looks like him, but it is an emoticon that I like to use to mean, I object. However, I do not feel that it is nearly as complex as my emoticon of the Pringles guy {:{

But here’s the thing, people don’t always use them correctly. This only ends up causing more confusion than anything. Here is an example that I received last weekend from a friend: “I jst klld a hobo. Need hlp ;)” What the fuck (which would be texted as WTF)? So, did my buddy really kill a hobo or not? I mean, at the outset, I would think that he did, but then he goes and puts that wink emoticon [ ;) ] at the end of the text. So, I just said, whatever (which would be texted as Whatever).

Come to find out, he DID in fact kill a hobo, but the wink was meant to mean that now we share an important secret. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking (and since you’re the one thinking it, then I don’t have to tell you what it is) and let me just say that I agree.

So what’s the moral of all of this? Well I figured it would be pretty obvious… be sure to use re-usable grocery bags.

Next time: The reckless recluse only hurts himself.

Men Are From Somewhere Women Are From Somewhere Else

2009-10-04T20:07:00.001-07:00

I’m not here this week to try and figure out the differences between men and women because although there are some very obvious ones—wink, wink (penises and vaginas)—there are also some others that aren’t so obvious (not penises and vaginas).

In thinking about this topic I started thinking thoughts. They were mostly thoughts about all the thoughts I was thinking. And one of the thoughts was, what if men and women aren’t really supposed to be together? When you look at the state of relationships, is it any wonder that I was thinking about the thoughts I was thinking. But we keep coming back for more.

Speaking of coming, one of the undeniable reasons that we end up getting together is because sex feels good. Yeah well, so do back rubs, but I’m not about to marry the slow guy at work.

Yeah sex feels good, but is it worth all the relationship hassles just for a two-hour sex romp (side note: that includes the dinner and movie too)?

And I do agree that it seems like men and women are meant to be together because of the whole penis fitting in the vagina thing. But is that really a valid reason? I mean just because my penis will fit doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck a hole in a tree… again.

If my penis fitting in something were the only criteria, then I would be living in Utah with a harem of tube socks (because Mormons are into polygamy, Utah has a large Mormon population, and people jerk off into socks). Now that we are up to speed with that reference… well that pretty much sums that whole thought up.

So, in thinking about how screwed up the relationships between men and women are it makes me sad to think that I will probably die alone… of autoerotic asphyxiation. Now I can’t decide between making a joke about David Carradine or Michael Hutchence. Well, I guess I won’t get hung up on the details.

Next time: Is this thing on?

Thank God For Social Networking, Huh?

2009-09-27T13:51:00.001-07:00

So I was thinking about something to write about this week, and it dawned on me that there isn’t too much for me to write about lately because instead of going out and having experiences, I spend a lot of time on Facebook—and writing really long introductory sentences. Then I decided to kill to birds with one stone and write about Facebook. Love it or hate it, it is everywhere (I don’t know if that is really true, but I couldn’t think of anything else to write after, “love it or hate it”).

I find that I am on Facebook quite a lot. I check it all the time to see what people are up to, and then I always catch myself thinking, Who gives a shit? If I had to justify my usage, I guess it is because I’m afraid that I’ll miss something important… like which Disney princess someone is. And I can’t help thinking that if I checked up on people that much in real life, I would be able to wallpaper my room with restraining orders… with enough left over to do the kitchen.

Then of course there is the power that you have over your friends’ list. The best is when you are fighting with someone in real life and you make that decision to get rid of him or her as a Facebook friend. “Ha, now you’ll never know what score I got on Bejeweled, asshole!” That’ll teach them.

Although I am an avid Facebook user there are still somethings about it that I just don’t get. For example, I’ll see that “somebody started a food fight with you.” No, no they didn’t. They sent me a picture of corn on the cob. And there are applications to make a profile for your cat; apparently someone finally discovered the line between lonely and pathetic. And surprisingly 152,000 people bust right through that line every month like a Kenyan wining a marathon.

For a while, I thought that taking quizzes were stupid, but boy oh boy once I took that first quiz, I knew that I had found my new crack. Nothing makes me feel better than knowing I know all there is to know about the Goonies.

You can also feel the rush of competition when your friends take the same quizzes you have. When someone does better than me, I find it only polite to congratulate him or her. But in reality I wouldn’t mind hearing about them being caught in a house fire. Obviously, you didn’t do very well in the “Escaping an Inferno” quiz, sucka.

But it does suck when you realize that in order to do so well on a Star Wars quiz you’ve had to make certain sacrifices. “Go on sex life, save yourself. (Yoda voice) Strong with the virginity this one is.”

Oh yes, instant messaging. I always find it hard to believe that people have nothing better to do than talk to me on the Internet. Then there’s the trick of saying that you have to get going and logging back on later, but that never works because they are still online. Yet people still insist on doing it to me. WHY?!?!

That would be awesome to do in real life though. “Okay I have to go.” Then you go and hide in the corner until they leave. “Are they gone? Shit… I mean, uh, I forgot my keys. Can’t get far without those.” Then go back to your hiding spot.

So there you have it, Facebook 101. Know it’s time for me to get going…

Oh, you’re still here… uh… I forgot my keys…

Next week: We were so poor growing up my mom couldn’t afford breast milk

Hear the One About the Two Guys That Swallow?

2009-09-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

Sometimes these things just find you. Here I was checking the news wire to see what’s happening. And I felt okay about doing this because I didn’t see any stories on the wire about how checking the news wire makes someone a douche. Then I ran across two little gems. And just like a lying-sack-of-shit parent who claims that he/she doesn’t have a favorite kid, I could not choose between these stories. So I’ll just put them both out there for my readers to enjoy.

http://www1.whdh.com/news/articles/national/BO124832/

Discussion Questions

1. How the hell does someone swallow a spoon?

2. How the hell does someone not know that said spoon is in his lung?

3. If eating too fast is a bad thing then does the guy in this next story like to live on the edge, or did he just not get the memo?

http://cbs5.com/watercooler/Humble.Bob.Shoudt.2.1194619.html

Discussion Questions

1. Why do so many countries think we’re pigs?

2. Professional eater? Really?

3. Why was that article so long?

On a different note, if anyone has any questions they want answered, email them to The Jumping Blog at crapcrater@yahoo.com. Maybe your question will be a future blog.

Next time: Blah, blah, blah

What Is This

2009-09-13T14:44:00.001-07:00

So I recently received a letter in the mail. As it wasn’t a bill, I was very excited to open it. The only problem was that, after opening the envelope and looking inside, I had no idea what the hell I was looking at.

After taking a two-week calligraphy course at the Shore Cultural Center, I was able to decipher that someone had sent me a wedding invitation. While trying to figure out which of the 18 pieces of paper from the invitation that I needed to send back, I got to thinking about weddings.

What are my thoughts you ask (just pretend like you did, okay)?

Well, I was thinking how the ceremony always looks like the attendance of a Cleveland Indians versus the Kansas City Royals game. But if you do go to the ceremony, chances are good that you are checking out the program to try and figure out how long the ceremony is going to last.

“Aw Jesus Christ, there are two solos. We’re never getting the hell out of here. And just how long does it take to light the unity candle? What the hell is a unity candle, anyway?”

I, however, happen to like the ceremony. The people that only go to the reception have no idea what they are missing. For example, you can blindfold a chimp, give him a ring, spin him around ten times, and send him down the aisle with no problem, but it is guaranteed that the little, red-headed nephew that you chose to be the ring bearer is going to fuck something up.

“Alright champ, all you have to do is take this ring, and walk straight down that aisle. It’s like when you walk to the short bus to school in the morning. The only difference is that you won’t be wearing your helmet.”

Also, if you know the bride and groom well enough, then chances are you feel that you should speak up when the priest asks if anyone knows a reason these two shouldn’t be joined in holy matrimony.

There is that one existential moment when it takes everything you have to not leap up and yell, “I object!”

One time, I want to stand up at a wedding and pretend that I am from the future. “These two should not get married. I have seen what happens to them in five years, and I object.”

People would be like, “That man is obviously crazy.”

“I don’t know, Linda. He may be from the future. Did you see his silver jumpsuit?”

“I guess your right, Harry. That man is from the future.”

I guess I should mention that to pull this off I would have to wear a silver jumpsuit, because, for some reason, everyone seems to think that we will be wearing silver jumpsuits in the future. It is a virtually foolproof plan.

But if you do object, what exactly are the proper grounds for objecting? And once you figure the criteria for objecting, then you must decide how much info to divulge during said objection.

“I object,” may be enough, but I can’t help but feeling that people would need to know that you had a good reason for objecting and weren’t just being a dick. For example, “I object, because the groom still keeps in touch with his ex,” may not be a good enough reason. But, “I object, because the bride hooked up with guy in a bar bathroom,” is probably a good enough reason. But probably not as good as, “I object, because the groom conscripted child-soldiers in Darfur” (I don’t care if that is all behind him now. I would still object like there was no tomorrow).

So, I’m not sure exactly what constitutes a proper objection. However I’m safe for the time being because I accidentally sent the directions to the reception back instead of my RSVP (I told you those damn invitations are confusing). It’s a real pity too; because I was going to buy the bride and groom matching, silver jumpsuits with a calligraphy card that said, “Here’s to your future happiness.”

Next Time: Librarians do it by the book.

Love Your Smile

2009-09-06T21:40:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get lazy. Not just lazy, really lazy. You know, the kind of lazy where it seems draining to even brush your teeth. You think to yourself, I really, really don’t feel like brushing my teeth. And you want to punch the thought of flossing right in its damn face. Except you don’t feel like exerting the energy to actually punch. So the thought of the thought of punching the thought of flossing in the face will have to suffice. The kind of lazy where the best you’re going to get is maybe gargling with some Listerine, MAYBE.

While I’m on this track, I’d like to apologize to my dentist. Actually I want to apologize to my dental hygienist. After all, they are the ones that do all the work. So, I’m sorry that you have to find out, as I write out the inner workings of my mind, that sometimes I don’t feel like brushing my teeth. I suspect that you suspected. I also suspect that you suspected that I suspected you suspected. But something about that seems suspect.

I see the postcard you send that is meant to remind me that it is time for yet another check up/cleaning (has it been six months already?). But all that post card reminds me of is what a fraud I am. Here you are caring for my teeth, reminding me that I need my teeth cleaned, and holding the hose-sucky thing for me to spit that slightly chilled mouthwash into. You know the thing I’m talking about, right? Crap, I can’t think of the name of that thing.

I guess since I’m coming clean, I’ve never actually known the name of that hose-sucky thing. God, that feels so good to admit that.

I need you to know that it isn’t you. It’s me ß (that is an awfully short sentence, but not as short as the shortest sentence: I am [trivia IS fun]). Anyway, you really give it your all. You’re the one who taught me how to floss correctly… and about animal husbandry.

Anyway, I’m not sure where we go from here, or how to end this blog. So I’m just going to keep writing until it gets as small as it can ~~--

Next Time: What not to wear to a black tie event at a nudist colony.

Warts and All

2009-08-29T21:06:00.000-07:00

So, I decided to do something different this week. I WAS tossing around the idea of writing something about Ted Kennedy, but I sunk that idea quicker than a 1967 Oldsmobile Delmont 88 in a tidal channel on Chappaquiddick Island.

What I decided to do instead was to ask people to tell me things that were wrong with my face.

I said, “Name me some things that are wrong with my FACE!” I had absolutely no problem gathering a list of ten things. Without further ado, here is a list of ten things wrong with my face:

10. I have a snaggle tooth.

I wanted to do a joke about the Hanna-Barbera character of the same name, but I fear that some of the readership of the Jumping Blog may not know who he is. So just trust that there were some hilarious jokes going on in my head at the time of writing this.

9. Having to see too much of it.

Oh, I see what you did there. You are sooo clever.

8. Nothing

Obviously the smartest person I know.

7. My nose turns slightly down

That’s just a lie and you’re stupid

6. Shave my beard

YOUR FACE IS A BEARD!

5. My lips move too much.

See #9 (and drink in the sarcasm, dicktard)

4. Clip my nose hairs

That, my friend, is like sending an open invitation for harmful elements to enter my respiratory system… An open invitation, I say.

3. My eyes are too close together

Maybe your eyes are too far apart, you fucking fish person!

2. One eyebrow is lighter than the other.

Wow. You have laser-like observation skills. Perhaps, your eyes are too close together as well.

1. I have a scar on my right cheek.

You try getting hit in the face with a log and see if it doesn’t leave a mark. I’m lucky that it didn’t do any brain damage. I’m lucky that it didn’t do any brain damage. You try getting hit in the face with a log and see if it doesn’t leave a mark. I’m lucky that it didn’t do any brain damage.

I learned a few things in doing this little exercise. Different people have different perceptions of one another; people have many flaws, and most of the people I know are a bunch of bastards. So as I pack my things up and get ready to move under a bridge (like the troll that I am), I can’t help but think of one of my favorite quotes by Ghandi, “Fuck all you guys.”

Next Time: If dreams really do come true, I hope that one I had about robot pandas doesn’t

Nothing Lasts Forever

2009-08-23T11:29:00.000-07:00

No doubt, we have all experienced loss in our lives. If you are among the few that haven’t, let me say how lucky you are. I think the thing that makes loss even worse is not getting a chance to say goodbye. We just take for granted that those people in our lives will be there forever. I recently lost a friend…

... on Facebook. Let me tell you, it came to me as a huge surprise… when I finally realized it. So many questions came to mind:

1) Why did you delete me as a friend? 2) Was it something I posted? 3) Was it the type of things I posted? 4) Was it the frequency with which I posted? 5) How many times can I write the word posted in a question?

The only one of those questions I can answer with any degree of certainty is number 5 (the answer being four). But even then I’m not too sure that I couldn’t think of another question with the word posted.

Perhaps it was a matter of looking at your 556 friends and thinking, I just can’t stand having this many friends. It’s time to clean a little house, or I would really feel a lot more comfortable if my number of friends was divisible by three.

The thing is, I don’t know if either of those are the reason, because I clearly don’t know you anymore. The friend I knew would never delete me as a Facebook friend. It is all just so much to wake up one day, go to post something on someone’s page, and realize that you no longer have a friend… on Facebook.

I’m not angry, so much as hurt. Sure, you forgot my birthday… on Facebook. And sure, you never so much as gave me a hug… on Facebook. But, I thought we were pretty close friends… on Facebook.

I will miss looking at your page, but I trust that you will continue to hate Mondays, feel like you have been working too hard lately, be happy that it is Friday, not feel like going to the gym, be happy that you did go to the gym, and let everyone know how much you love your family and friends. I’m just sorry that I am no longer counted among that rank (friends not family, I figured you would know that because we aren’t related, but I just wanted to clarify).

I will keep a stiff upper lip and know that I will one day hear from you again… after all there is always Twitter. But will I be able to read what you posted without thinking about our good ol’ Facebook days (Ooh, another question with the word posted in it)?

Next time: Everything I need to know about time travel I learned from Teen Wolf.

Three's Company

2009-08-16T17:06:00.000-07:00

Today I wanted to talk to you about something that I’ve never had and probably never will. Yes… it IS a threesome. I’m a little chagrined that you guessed that so quickly.

Apparently, threesomes (pronounced: awesome) are more prevalent today than ever. Well, I just have one question…Where?

Some people make it seem like you can’t toss a girl with low self-esteem without hitting a threesome. It seems like there are these hotbeds of decadence all over the everyplace. Once again, I refer you to the above question.

I think the reason that it blows my mind is because I could never initiate a threesome. I’m just not that adventurous. I don’t even send back my salad if it has the wrong dressing.

In doing research, someone told me the best way to initiate a threesome is to have your friend start hooking up with a girl at a party, and then just “walk in stroking your dick.” (Side note: I wish I could make stuff like this up)

This is all well and good but what if I, as it was so succinctly put, walk in stroking my dick and the girl isn’t into having an ~~awesome~~ a threesome? If that were to happen, then it would look like I was just walking around a party stroking my dick… as per usual.

Of course, there are other things for me to take into account. For one thing, I have a hard enough time satisfying one woman. Now is not the time to become an overachiever. (Side note: my third grade report card DID say, “Dan plays well with others” though.)

Another thing to consider is the fact that I don’t know enough cool positions. I could totally see someone suggesting a position that I know nothing about. Of course I’d have to play along to not look like a loser.

“Let’s do a Candied Hound Dog.”

“Uh… okay,” I would say.

“Do you even know what a Candied Hound Dog is?”

“Pshh, yeah. I practically invented it,” I would counter. “But, what do YOU think it is?”

Plus, how do I even know that I would want to do a Candied Hound Dog, a Chubby Elvis, or a Nun’s Corndog? The short answer is, I don’t (the long answer is also, I don’t).

Also, I think it would be weird to be having a threesome with a girl and your friend and accidentally making eye contact with him. It would be very uncomfortable for me because I would be thinking, why was he looking at me? Do I have a weird sex-making face? Oh shit, I’ll bet I have something stuck in my teeth. Do I have something stuck in my teeth? I’ll bet he noticed something in my teeth when I was asking, “Yeah. You like that?” Then, I would motion to him as a way of asking if I have something stuck between my teeth, but he would invariably think that I was telling him that he has something in his teeth. The whole thing would just become a giant fiasco.

I just realized how strange it is that here I am talking about a threesome and I’ve decided to make it girl, guy, guy. At any rate, I guess I should leave threesomes to those who are better inclined. And if you see someone stroking it at a party, mind your own business!

Next time: It’s pronounced “Milk” not “Melk”

Your Mother Should know

2009-08-09T16:31:00.000-07:00

Hello. Welcome to another installment of The Notorious Jumping Blog of Cuyahoga County. I’m sure everyone is jonesin’ for this week’s topic. So without further ado, I would like to talk about people taking their kids to restaurants.

I am aware that people need to eat and that their kids also need to eat. But their kids do not need to run around and around and around while the parents don’t do a goddamn thing about it.

Yes, yes we are all aware that kids will be kids. And that a part of kids being kids is running around (in a particularly uncoordinated way) flailing their arms and making all kinds of weird noises like a hillbilly who just won the Publisher’s Clearing House or found out that his first cousin is actually his second cousin.

But for the love of Jon & Kate, we don’t want to see/hear your kids. They run around like wild animals, but yet people get in trouble for keeping them in cages. Hmm.

I don’t dislike kids. However, I DO dislike parents that don’t discipline their kids for acting like dipshits. And I speak with a certain degree of… well, certainty that I am not alone in this feeling.

Anyway, I recently witnessed parents at a restaurant that brought a portable DVD player for their kids. At first I thought, this is a good idea for keeping the kids quiet.

But on further reflection I couldn’t help thinking, what a way to spend some good, quality family time, by isolating the kids.

Can parents not keep their kids under control for the length of a dinner? Are parents really that sick of their kids? If so, why would you bring them around us? It’s like these people are saying, “These are our kids, but we have them watching Blue’s Clue’s because they’re a bunch of pricks.”

(Side Note: I have absolutely no idea if Blue’s Clues is still a show that kids watch, but I figure that we all know what it is. So, cut me some slack.)

If that’s the case, if your kids are, in fact, pricks then leave them at home. Have a date night. This way, when loud ass kids in the restaurant interrupt it, you’ll think twice about inflicting that type of torture on us. Win, win situation.

Like I said, your kids watching movies at dinner is, overall, fine by me because it beats listening to them throwing a tantrum.

Let me tell you, the only thing more annoying than your kids acting like assholes is when we have to watch you bargain with your children. They’re children for Christ’s sake. Whatever happened to, “Because I said so,” with the follow-up of, “I’ll give you something to cry about”?

Although, I’m sure there are a lot of people out there that would still love to smash that DVD player to bits, but only because your kids clearly have shitty taste in movies (you know it’s true).

But there is a warning lurking, somewhere, in all of this. That warning is that your kids’ attention spans are going to be severely screwed throughout life if they can’t even sit through a dinner.

In fact, Millenials (and younger generations) don’t even have the attention span that is necessary to fill out more than one page of something (ex: a college application).

With that in mind (even though I am not a Millenial), I have asked my mom to finish writing this week’s blog. I told her she could write about whatever she wants but decide to put this prompt in her head:

Remember the other day when I was telling you how puppies eat puke, and then you said gorillas do too? Well, what do you think would happen if a gorilla puked on a puppy? Would the puppy eat the puke or would the gorilla eat it?

(The following was actually written by my mom.)

I pondered this profound question for quite awhile (about 15 mins). The key word is “puppy.” If a huge gorilla puked on a little puppy, just think bout it, the puppy would drown in the puke. So the answer is the gorilla would eat the puke, puppy and all.

Next Time: The History of Mud Wrestling in the United States.

Words Whose Initials Make Words

2009-08-02T13:24:00.001-07:00

This week’s title was going to be an acronym, bitch. Which is an acronym for But I’m not That Clever Here. Interesting fact, acronym is actually an acronym for All Cotton is Recolored Only Not for Your Mom.

I know what you’re thinking to yourself, BTDMS. Which you claim to be an acronym for But That Doesn’t Make Sense. First of all, that isn’t an acronym because it doesn’t form an actual word, just a jumble of letters. Second, of course it doesn’t make sense. That’s why they shortened it to acronym.

So why am I so interested in acronyms? Great question.

It is because I recently learned that CAPTCHA is an acronym. CAPTCHA (pronounced: CAPTCHA) stands for “Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart. So for the five people that read this weekly blog, you learned something new.

Also you five, if you don’t know, CAPTCHAs are those plastic things on the end of shoelaces (no, those are called aglets [or are they? {yes, yes they are.}]). CAPTCHAs are those wavy letters that you may run into when you need to verify that you are not a computer signing up for things.

For example, when I post Jumping Blog updates on Facebook, I have to type in a CAPTCHA.

Here’s the problem, I can never read the goddamn things. This very thing you are reading was actually completed in December, but it is only now that I was able to post it because I couldn’t figure out the frickin’ CAPTCHA.

[Side note: I just got in from some last minute Christmas shopping and flipped on the television only to hear the exciting news that Michael Jackson is going to begin performing again in the summer of 2009. Hell yes! Definitely going to check that out. Sweet!]

Anyway, I tried and tried to type the words that the computer wanted me to, but nothing doing. That’s when I noticed that there is an option for another CAPTCHA for just such an occasion. Duh, I’m so stupid sometimes.

When I clicked to get my new CAPTCHA, it looked like an illiterate fat child was taking a stab at writing an ode to bratwurst. And then spilled a Code Red Mountain Dew (because fat kids love that shit) on my screen, y’know making the letters all swirly and stuff.

They say that CAPTCHAs are used to make sure that one isn’t a computer who is spamming. A computer? Trust me, with my inability to read these things; I feel just this side of retarded.

[Side note: If there are any retards reading this article, my bad. To get yourself over any offense I may have caused you, may I suggest eating a piece of hard candy and giving something a hug?]

As you are reading this, you know that I eventually found success. The CAPTCHA that I had to type was $100-Million Urethras. I couldn’t even imagine how in the world that little gem was mined, but I’m glad it was, because: IGMAIFPMGWHCUTCYG $100-million. Which isn’t a proper acronym for: It gave me an awesome idea for a porn movie with guys who have cyborg urethras that cost, you guessed it $100-million.

Of course the cyborg urethras wouldn’t be able to solve CAPTCHAs.

NEXT TIME: If you’re looking for sporting goods, Dicks.com is not what you think it is.

We're Both Better Than That

2009-07-26T08:45:00.000-07:00

As I sit at my computer deciding on a beginning for this week’s blog, I make the decision to start it by writing, “as I sit at my computer deciding on a beginning for this week’s blog, I make the decision to start it by writing, “ “as I sit at my computer deciding on a beginning for this week’s blog…” You get the idea.

Anyway, the girl upstairs is listening to “Praise You” by Fatboy Slim. And as I think about jamming pencils into each ear, it gets me thinking about healthcare.

Quick side note: I do not dislike “Praise You” or anything linked to the movie Cruel Intentions. It is just that this is only one of the songs that have been playing. Most of the songs are these bass-type dance songs. I would be so inclined to bang on the ceiling with a broom handle…but this isn’t the 1940’s. Alas this whole situation has happened (2009-1940=69, 2009-1949=60) anywhere from 60 to 69 years too late.

Quick side note: Future side notes will, in fact, be much quicker.

Quick side note: See? I told you.

Where was I? Healthcare. Specifically, universal healthcare.

Admittedly, I know diddly squat about universal healthcare. DIDDLY SQUAT! But as I write this, I will be looking into universal healthcare to try and form an opinion. Here we go:

So, I found some pros and cons of universal healthcare. I have stricken from the list any speculative arguments because any knowledgeable person knows that making a decision based on fears is no way to go through life. So here is what I’m left with:

Pros:

-“The number of uninsured citizens has grown to over 40 million.”

-“Health care has become increasingly unaffordable for businesses and individuals.”

-“Medical professionals can concentrate on healing the patient rather than on insurance procedures, malpractice liability, etc.”

Cons:

-“"Free" health care isn't really free since we must pay for it with taxes; expenses for health care would have to be paid for with higher taxes or spending cuts in other areas such as defense, education, etc.”

-“Just because Americans are uninsured doesn't mean they can't receive health care; nonprofits and government-run hospitals provide services to those who don't have insurance, and it is illegal to refuse emergency medical service because of a lack of insurance.”

-“Profit motives, competition, and individual ingenuity have always led to greater cost control and effectiveness.”

All right, so the main issue seems to be one of money. Well I personally don’t mind paying more taxes to help people out. Why not? I don’t see anything wrong with lending a hand to someone in need?

Now, from what I’ve heard, majority of people seem to be against universal healthcare. So, these people are probably saying something like, “damn, normally I think that this dude is funny, intelligent, charming, and handsome, but now I’m not so sure. What gives?”

Hey, not to worry. I feel equally the same about democrats and republicans (I dislike both groups). If you really want to get to the core of my philosophy (and who wouldn’t?), all you need to know is that I like to dissect as many facts as I can, and then try to think critically on what I find. Or, I will also champion a particular viewpoint if it will get me some poon.*

So there you have it.

Although, I can say that I have heard things to the effect of long wait times for certain procedures under universal healthcare. Which doesn’t sound very ~~appealing splendid poon~~ cool.

In conclusion, I don’t mind paying taxes to help other people out (who would?). I’m not exactly over the ~~poon~~ moon about long wait times (if there was a way to fix this, universal healthcare would look a lot better). But, there are probably many smaller reason that influence people’s thoughts on the subject. And it is good for all of us to remember that things are rarely black and white. So, if anyone is interested, please share your thoughts and/or links with me at crapcrater@yahoo <-(my real email address). Now this means giving your opinion, not calling other people or groups of people names (you know who you are, ya bastards), not condescending, just being one human being talking to another human being. Believe me when I say that I don’t give a flying fuck about your politics. I’ll listen to you, no matter what you’re opinion, as long as you follow the above guidelines. But, don’t send me anything from Fox (we’re both better than that).

*At the time of this writing, this viewpoint was not influenced by poon. If anyone would like to change that, once again, my email address is crapcrater@yahoo.

Next time: White women, it is time to stop saying, “You go, girl.” You know who you are.

Will Blog for Food

2009-07-19T18:10:00.000-07:00

Okay. So, I was reading this article…

Oh, hold on. I need to grab my Healthy Choice Fire Roasted Tomato Chicken dinner from the microwave. Damn, it smells so good. Y’know, it’s hard to believe that I can get tender chicken and whole-grain penne covered with a roasted tomato sauce paired with vegetables and an apple cranberry crisp dessert for just 320 calories. I mean that’s only 45 calories from fat.

Aaaand that’s only 1 of 24 complete meals to choose from. Yeah, 24 COMPLETE meals that are a good source of fiber, an excellent source of protein, a full serving of vegetables, and a real fruit desert. Not to mention it is certified by the American Heart Association.

If you don’t think you could handle all of the food from a Healthy Choice Complete Meal (And boy howdy, is it ever a lot of food) then you can also choose from All Natural Entrees, Select Entrees, Café Steamers, and Fresh Mixers. That is a total of 59 different choices.

And don’t even get me started on the more than 19 ½ soups to choose from. Okay, so they have 20 soups to choose from, but I have a flair for the dramatic.

Wow! I have gotten waaay off topic. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was reading this article about companies paying bloggers to mention products in their blogs. And these bloggers are doing it! What a bunch of whores.

Furthermore, when these companies contact the bloggers there is this whole way of…

THIS SPACE

FOR RENT

Next Time: Don’t let his mellow song stylings fool you. Gordon Lightfoot could kick your ass.

Hate is Enough (get it? it's a play on that old tv show)

2009-07-12T18:59:00.000-07:00

hate (vt)- to have strong dislike or ill will for; loathe; despise.

despise (vt)- to look down on with contempt and scorn.

definition (n)- a statement of what a thing is.

It strikes me that I don’t have anything to write about. I didn’t do anything really exciting this week. I didn’t go anywhere really exciting this week. And what I thought was a Yakuza drive-by turned out to be a guy delivering Chinese food. So, in looking back over my week, I couldn’t really decide what to write about, until I was told that some girl hated our latest skit.

A little back-story, I’m in a comedy troupe called Classically Handsome. We post skits on the Internet (it’s this place on the computer that has websites [you’re on it right now] Thanks Al Gore). You can check us out at www.classicallyhandsome.com (ß Totally just plugged our website. I’m such a sellout). So, our latest skit (“Midnight Movie”) was a veritable tour de force that was released in two parts because we are totally aware that people can’t spend all their time at work watching videos. Afterall, they need to Facebook too.

Some girl (I will call Condoleeza Rice to protect her identity) watched the skit and had quite a harsh criticism. Apparently, Condoleeza Rice hated our skit. Condoleeza Rice didn’t just dislike our skit, Condoleeza Rice HATED our skit. Perhaps Condoleeza Rice just wasn’t having a good day when she viewed our skit. No, no, Condoleeza Rice had a perfectly fine day. Condoleeza Rice was in a fantastic mood before watching “Midnight Movie.”

Now don’t get me wrong, I am well aware that people have different tastes concerning what makes them chuckle. Furthermore, Classically Handsome’s skits have been described as “raw” and have been applauded for “not pulling any punches,” but not everyone likes that type of humor. But, she liked our other skits. She even liked the ending of “Midnight Movie.” So, what was her problem with it? Apparently, she didn’t like the payoff of the cliffhanger ending of part one.

What’s my point? My point is that Condoleeza Rice DIDN’T hate our skit. She merely disliked a portion of “Midnight Movie.” She didn’t have a STRONG dislike for it, she didn’t loathe it, and Condoleeza Rice didn’t look down on it with contempt or scorn.

What I’m getting at is that people throw around the word hate way too often. Save hate for things you really hate. Of course, I’m not trying to sound sanctimonious because I hate people like that.

Now, where is that guy from the Yakuza? All that talking about Rice has made me hungry.

Next time: Sodomy? No, Sodom you!

Centrifugal Bumble-Puppy

2009-07-05T12:38:00.000-07:00

I was reading in the newspaper about the churches that are closing and merging and all that type of stuff. And it got me wondering about the state of religion.

As a rule, I no longer like to discuss religion or politics because everyone pulls the pacifiers out of their mouths to start discussing at the same time. Then, there’s also the drunken religious and/or political philosopher. If you get stuck talking to him/her, you have to hear a 15-minute lecture on the pros or cons of religion…twice if they’re on coke. There is something to be said for drunken religion though. In fact, back when I was a drinker, my friend and I invented a religion (only once—no coke). However, it turned out to be Taoism. I didn’t drink much high gravity malt liquor after that (no offense to the 10,000 things).

What’s my point? My point is this:

“…Now that phenomenal existence is no more bolstered up by impressions from within or from without, we feel the need to lean on something that abides, something that will never play us false—a reality, an absolute and everlasting truth. Yes, we inevitably turn to God…it makes up for all our other losses.”

“You can only be independent of God while you’ve got youth and prosperity…Well, we’ve now got youth and prosperity right up to the end. What follows? Evidently, that we can be independent of God. ‘The religious sentiment will compensate us for all our losses.’ But there aren’t any losses for us to compensate; religious sentiment is superfluous. And why should we go hunting for a substitute for youthful desires, when youthful desires never fail? A substitute for distractions, when we go on enjoying all the old fooleries to the very last?”

The above quotes come from the book Brave New World. It seems like a good explanation, not just for religion but also for the state of all things today.

I know, I know, right now you are saying, “Dan, this is suppose to be a humorous blog. Where are the jokes?”

Let’s see, we've come to allow ourselves to live in a world that closely resembles a dark future that was written about in a cautionary tale from 1932. How’s that for a fucking joke?

Next time: Last time I was sick, I took M. Nyquil Shyamalan. I had some crazy dreams, but they all had stupid endings.

R.I.P. Michael

2009-06-28T14:34:00.001-07:00

Oh Michael! Why? Why did you have to go and leave us just when we needed you the most? One minute you’re here and the next you’re gone. It just seems so sudden. Of course we didn’t know you personally, but you had such an impact, not only on the world of music but on the world of our hearts too. I think I speak for everyone when I say that you taught us how to love again.

One other thing, I’m totally fucking with you. No one really gives a shit that you died. I mean come on! (In a sarcastic voice) Oh, let’s celebrate your life. Let’s celebrate such accomplishments as:

Touring with Ozzy Osbourne in your younger days.

Co-writing “How Am I Suppose To Live Without You?"

Covering "(Sittin) On The Dock Of Bay," "Georgia On My Mind," and “When A Man Loves A Woman.”

Writing songs for Barbara Streisand, Kiss, and Kenny Rogers.

I for one am glad you’re dead, Michael Bolton…What? Oh, Michael Jackson?

Ahem…

Well THAT does sucks. So here is a Haiku for MJ:

Your passing is "Bad."

Death is a "Smooth Criminal."

You okay, Annie?

NEXT TIME: Jon and Kate plus Who Gives a Fuck?

Some Clever Football Pun

2009-06-20T10:01:00.000-07:00

Due to the weekly nature of these articles, I can’t always be timely with newsworthy stories. I know, I know, you wish that I were writing everyday, perhaps even twice a day. Well that’s very flattering. Thank you.

Anyway, I wanted to talk a little bit about the Donte Stallworth thing. Obviously I’m talking about the fact that he averaged ten yards per reception in the 2008 season. That could figure into a lot of first downs, my friend. Then, there’s also that whole killing someone thing.

Stallworth received 30 days in jail after pleading guilty to DUI manslaughter. The weird thing is (hold on, I’m going to bust out the thesaurus to come up with a better word. For some reason, I just didn’t feel that “weird” conveys the proper sentiment. Also, I just looked up “thesaurus” in the thesaurus. There were six entries. But since this seems like well-worn stand-up comic material that is all I have to say about it). Anyway, the BIZARRE thing about his sentence is that it is only 20 more days than I received, and I never killed anyone (unless you count the abortions that someone once dared me to perform). Anyway, this blog is not about grapes, sour or otherwise, plus I don’t want to digress, go off on a tangent, get off the subject, get sidetracked, lose the thread, drift, stray, or wander (I figured that since I already had the thesaurus out…)

Stallworth was also sentenced to two years of house arrest, eight years of probation, 1,000 hours of community service and a lifetime driver’s license suspension that could be eased after five years. Five Years! Obviously the judge didn’t clearly define the definition of lifetime. Apparently he meant the lifetime of a gerbil (I was going to insert a felching joke here, but thought better of it [I was going to do a joke about using "insert" and "felching" in the same sentence, but once again, thought better of it]).

(I’d like to DEVIATE for a moment. Speaking of life spans, did you know that an Amazon Parrot could live to be 104? It makes one wonder if, at that point, the parrot is actually repeating because that’s what parrots do, or if it is due to senility.)

And we’re back. Retired Shaker Heights police officer John Becker was quoted as saying, “Justice wasn’t served. The well connected and money was served. I’m so tired of seeing celebrities beat the law.”

So what’s my point? To quote Elvis Costello, “Sometimes justice, you will find is just dumb not color blind.”

Next Time: Whoo. Whoo. Whoo. Whoo. The recipe for my famous four-alarm chili.

Food Court of Christ

2009-06-14T14:59:00.000-07:00

The sign was big as life: Outlets USA. Now in my experience, outlet stores are places that get overstocked and/or items that are damaged and therefore sold at discount prices. Cool. Who doesn’t like shirts that are missing a button or a pair of pants that have the pockets sewn shut? Next stop, Outlets USA.

It used to be the one and only Euclid Square mall. I know, I know, you are asking yourself, “Is this the same mall that was built in 1977 by Richard Jacobs?” Yes, the very same.

“You mean the mall that has over 700,000 feet of retail space.” Wow, are you some kind of mall historian? Because that is exactly right.

“And now it is an outlets mall?” Well due to the fact that it is called Outlets USA, you would think so. But you would be wrong.

Out of the 17 stores that the website boasts, only Dillard’s discount clothing store was open. So I found myself wondering what happened to Express Cuts? Where was Kim’s Nails? Where on earth was I supposed to get a Cassata cake now that Princess Cakes and Catering was no longer in business? And what the hell happened to Cit_ _weet Café other than the fact that the “y” and “S” were missing.

In walking around that vacant structure, I ran across a man wearing a security guard shirt. I half expected him to play the part of a character out of some type of sci-fi movie.

“Ever since the YS431 (so that’s where the “y” and the “S” went) virus spread, there is nothing left. Everyone is…just gone. I thought I was the only person left on earth.”

Instead he just walked past without making eye contact He was quite an imposing security guard, indeed. Good hire, Outlets USA.

But I DID hear something. No, not something, someone. I heard a lot of someones. There was a Baptist church in one of the storefronts. This was a super-legit Baptist service (women in white dresses, men in suits, and gospel singers). It was pretty unexpected. Unexpected until I went down another corridor and ran smack into the House of Elohim ministries.

It turns out that there were more than five different churches in old storefronts. But which one was better, Abundant Life Christian Center Church or Way of Life Gospel Church? I just didn’t know. In fact, I’m willing to bet that no one knew.

“Honey, Fountain of the Spirit Ministries is located in the western corridor. This is the southern corridor.”

“Who gives a shit?”

“Good point.”

That’s how I picture people choosing which church they will be attending this weekend.

I wanted to check out one of these services but wasn’t dressed appropriately. So I imagined myself buying a dress shirt and some dress pants from Dillard’s and going to the first one I came across. But when the collection basket would come my way, I wouldn’t be able to give any money because the pants’ pockets would be sewn shut. Damn outlet pants.

Next Time: I think my neighbor is kind of a dick head. I’m going to say, “Hi” to him anyway. Yep, he’s a dick head alright.

Jizz Everything Alright?

2009-06-07T18:16:00.000-07:00

Angie sent this email to me!!!!!!!!! It was her co-worker!

A girl I work with and her friend went to Olive Garden this weekend; I believe Thursday or Friday night. Amber’s friend did not get what she ordered correctly so she sent the food back. Sunday she woke up and had red bumps all over inside her mouth. She went to the doctor and after many questions and food allergy tests she brought in what she had ate (she had left over’s at home) the doctor tested it. The food tested positive for three different types of semen, Amber’s friend had Syphilis in her mouth from the food at Olive Garden here in WDSM…

So this is a story that I heard from my boss this past week. My first thought was, “Holy shit! That is the sickest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” Upon further reflection, I thought that something doesn’t quite seem right about this story. Yes, I am aware that this makes it sound like I was spending my time thinking about guys masturbating (Why? What do you people think about when you watch Steven Spielberg movies?).

Anyway, I thought that this was a highly unlikely thing to have had happened. For one thing, how would something like that jump off in the first place? I picture the waitress bringing the food back to one of the guys working the line in the kitchen. Obviously, the cook is pissed off (for many many more reasons than just someone sending back a Fettuccini Alfredo dinner).

For one thing, he didn’t really picture himself as a 35-year-old line cook (not exactly living the dream). Also, his girlfriend hasn’t really been giving it up lately. So he is short-tempered and sexual frustrated. Then like Elliot touching the finger of E.T., a connection is made. He decides to use his sexual frustration as weapon. I’m gonna spunk in this food, he thinks to himself.

But as he whips out his member, his co-worker comes around the corner.

“Hey Frank, I’m gonna go catch a quick smoke before the dinner rush starts.”

“No problem man.”

“Say, why do you have your dick in your hand?”

“Someone sent back some food.”

“Oh. Well if you need some help, I guess the smoke could wait.”

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind. You don’t have any STDs do you?”

“No, but Chuck tested positive for Syphilis.”

They call Chuck over and get to work as the theme from Jaws plays. To cut the awkwardness of having to stand so close together over a dish of pasta, someone says, “When you’re here your family” and they all laugh. Chuck sneezes and Frank tells him that it is disgusting that he didn’t cover his mouth.

At least that’s how I would picture it going down, but I was watching Raiders of the Lost Ark at the time of writing this. Anyway, it sounds too unreal to be believed. That’s because it is. The email is totally made up. I don’t know where/ how it originated, but it is not true.

What’s the point of this blog? People shouldn’t believe everything they hear, and Steven Spielberg is a really great director.

Next Time: It’s okay to name your kid Harley…if you live on a dirt road cul-de-sac.

Aw, Shoot

2009-05-31T20:37:00.000-07:00

So, in deciding what to write about this week, I took a look back at some thoughts that had crossed my mind this past week. Should I learn Japanese so that I don’t have to wait for Haruki Murakami’s new book to be translated into English? Why are the best competitive eaters Asian? Or what would be the perfect combination of reality TV shows to get me in the game (“Extreme Fat Kid Makeover: Smart Fifth Grader Edition)? But I decided on writing about the shooting of Dr. George Tiller.

Tiller, a physician who performed abortions, was fatally shot in the lobby of the church he attended.

The Wichita Deputy Police Chief Tom Stolz said that the investigation was in its “infancy stages.” Which leaves me hoping that the investigation does not get aborted (see what I did there?).

Tiller was not only a church usher but also one of the few physicians to perform late-term abortions. He was clearly a Renaissance man.

Two Johnson County Sheriff’s deputies spotted the suspect’s car just south of Gardner. There was no word on whether or not Jesus was the suspect’s co-pilot. However, it is very likely that the driver believed that Jesus was.

“We took him down without incident,” said Lt. Mike Pfannenstiel, a member of the Witchita police force and the guy with the coolest last name in all of Kansas (this is purely subjective but with huge leanings into the objective camp). He also mentioned that the suspect appeared to be driving the speed limit, presumably because he left his St. Christopher medal in his other car.

Stolz said police anticipate the suspect will be charged with murder, two counts of aggravated assault, and one count of irony.

I would like to leave you readers with these two parting thoughts:

1) Thou Shall not Kill

2) Pfannenstiel.

Next Time: Levity- (n) humor or frivolity, esp. the treatment of a serious matter with humor or in a manner lacking due respect.

God, I Love Camping!

2009-05-25T15:36:00.000-07:00

Hello, stranger. Welcome to my blog. And away we go:

So, I went camping this weekend. It was fun. I know, right now you are yelling at your computer screen, “How fun was it?”

The answer: it was a lot of fun. What’s with all the questions? Are you writing a blog about it or something?

And then you’re all like, “What if I am?”

Then, I’m all like, “You can’t, because I am.”

Then, you’re all like, “Maybe I’m writing a blog about your blog.”

Then I ask, “Are you?”

Then you’re all like, “Am I, what?”

Then I’m all like, “Are you? Are you writing a blog about my blog?”

Then you’re all like, “Naw, I’m just playing.”

Then we stare at each other for a minute. You seem to think I might be mad at you, and this makes me feel bad for kinda being a dick to you.

So I say, “Because you can if you want to, I guess.”

You give me a strange look.

"What is it?" I ask.

You keep your head down, looking up at me with only your eyes. "I'm pregnant."

God, I love camping!

Next time: Camping is intense and the lost-ass art of the pun