Friday, December 19, 2008

ACT 24: New years resolution

3 Score and last year I wrote a resolution to never make another new years resolution. I promptly broke that resolution with my next resolution which was not to eat another cookie. By the way I broke that resolution after finding out that we did indeed have more milk in the fridge. So this year I would like to complicate things a little less by making a resolution to break all new years resolutions within 4 days of new years. But the problem with that is that if my resolution is to break all resolutions I will not be able to complete my resolution to break all resolutions by breaking the aforementioned resolution. So who is with me so far? I lost my train of thought around cookie and just kept typing resolution as often as possible until I found it again. Really the purpose of this post is to punish those of you with hangovers from the night before. I set out to use the word resolution to give you the worst headache you have ever had, which should be working because I am very sober and I can feel a massive migraine forming behind my eyes. Why you ask? Because I hate people telling me that I need to make a resolution each year. So really my resolution is to make you pay for your resolution to make me make a resolution. Oh and just to make sure resolution, resolution, resolution, that’s right I hate you. In case you are wondering the word resolution appears 25 times. Happy New Year.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Act 23 How To Ruin The Holidays: Insomniac Style

I don’t sleep much. And the more I think about it the more I realize how far back it goes. So this is to share with you how I have ruined various holidays with my insomnia. Christmas: Now every child has had a Christmas where they had trouble falling asleep. The lights outside the window are bright and inviting and the excitement that has been building is almost palpable. Relatives are coming into town and the sugar high that you have been on for the past 48 hours doesn’t help. But when the sugar stops flowing and the threat that if you don’t go to sleep Santa will not come finally takes over and eventually the sugar plumb effect takes over and normal children drift off to peaceful slumber. On the other hand, as an insomniac, sugar only refuels the batteries you have in reserve and the thoughts that just won’t die make it all but impossible to dose off without a drink of water and two Nyquil chasers. So around 4 in the morning when it was pretty self evident that sleep would completely evade me I decided to get a glimpse at the fat man myself. I could hear the deep breathing of my two brothers I shared a room with and decided that the time was right. Ever so softly I crept from my bed hearing every sound I made amplified in the darkness. My first instinct was to just jump out at Santa but then I decided that that would probably put me on the top of the naughty list so I needed another plan. I knew that my parents sometimes checked on us to make sure that we were asleep and I figured if I could fool them then maybe Santa’s sixths sense for unruly tots might also be flawed. So I hatched a daring plan. Now the Christmas trees when I was a boy where massive. Towering in the corner of the living room across from the fire place, so I knew there would be enough light to see the elf slave master. But I needed to make sure that he didn’t see me. So I wrapped myself in wrapping paper for better camouflage worm crawled under the tree and strategically placed the few gifts that where already under the tree into a kind of box fortress from which I could peek out through the arrow slit like cracks. Then to make sure that I was covered I broke a branch off of the back of the tree with ornaments on it and put it on my back. That’s right, I was a 5 year old kid wrapped in tinsel and wrapping paper hiding under the recess of the Christmas tree with presents piled in front of me in the configuration of a castle wall with a heavy branch draped over my head and shoulders stabbing me mercilessly with those evergreen needles and dripping sap in my hair. It was a hiding place that Rambo himself would have been proud to call his own. This is how I found out that there was no Santa and silently wept under the tree as I saw my mom and dad eating the cookies we left out. Insomnia 1 Christmas 0. Let me fast forward you to Easter. I know that New Years is next but that is kind of the unofficial insomniac holiday so it is hard to ruin with not sleeping. Unless you count the fact that you didn’t sleep for the five days prior to the New Years and actually have trouble staying awake the one day a year it is socially acceptable to do so. Damn Insomnia 1 New Years 0. Ok so Easter I always had trouble sleeping because I was on the top bunk bed and the heater was positioned just above my face and not only was it extremely uncomfortable bellowing scorching air directly into my face but every time it turned on it woke me up and owing to my condition falling asleep is quite hard. So Easter, I get up when the heat kicked in at 3 in the morning and decided to get a head start on finding those ever elusive Easter eggs the bunny so aptly hides. So I sneak outside with a flash light looking for brightly colored hardboiled breakfast in the grass. But after looking for an hour I found nothing. Now I am skeptical mainly because I had found out the same year that Santa was in fact not real so I go inside the house and find the basket of Easter eggs sitting in the fridge not touched by fluffy bunny hands. I waited a few more minutes hoping maybe that the hoppity hider might suddenly appear but by this time it was 5 in the morning and I was growing weary that my childhood might be slipping away so I bucked up my courage and went to the only person I knew could reassure me; my Mom. I silently slipped into their room where they where fast asleep and gently roused her so not to wake my Dad. All that I wanted was for her to lie to me so that my fading innocents could be restored so I said, “ Mom the Easter bunny hasn’t come yet the eggs haven’t been hidden.” Now there is something that I didn’t know at this point about my Mother. That when woken from a state of deep sleep she is the most honest person you will ever meet, also she will not remember what she told you the next day. So this is how the conversation went down;
“Mom the Easter bunny didn’t come yet the eggs haven’t been hidden.”
“Oh I completely forgot. Would you do it for me?”
Sniff…..Sniff…”ok Mom” sniff….sniff…… Yes that was me holding back tears as my mom returned to peaceful dreams while I went outside in the early morning air and hid the eggs for my brothers and sisters so that they didn’t find out that the Easter bunny was in fact a lie. Insomnia 1 Easter 0. So for the final tally that is Insomnia 3 Holidays 0 Insomnia wins again. Actually lets give insomnia 1 more point because I wrote this at 4:30 in the morning and have to be ‘up’ in a half an hour for work as always insomnia wins again.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Act 22: Gingerbread, Gumdrops, and Assault Rifles

Santa Clause’s sleigh might be a little late this year. Satellite movements over his compound in the North Pole have recently uncovered a massive arms facility masquerading as a toy workshop. Santa, who started his career as a kind toy maker that only wanted to bring joy to the children of the world, quickly realized that there was no money in it for retirement. So going where the money led him he started dabbling in prototype weapons made from candy canes that fire gumdrops at astounding speeds leaving their target sticky and in need of a nap. The weapon was to be called ‘the sugar shocker’ but was quickly put off the production line because the market had just been flooded with the new IHOP ‘rooty tooty point and shooty assault rifle.’ Not to be stopped by his first failed attempt Santa began anew. He sought out new clients and started trade negotiations with the Leprechaun League Liberation front. They where a small organization but made up for it with literal buckets of gold. That’s when Santa put out one of his best sellers ‘The Christmas cheer’ side loaded shoulder mounted gingerbread bazooka. Upon being shot with this decorative, limited edition, individually numbered explosive, a target is filled with a warm sensation coupled with an urge to buy things at ridiculous prices and start singing off tune in the freezing cold. His profits soared and he was able to put more items on the black market such as the ‘chimney to chimney teleportation pad’, the ‘know when you are sleeping GPS tracker’, and ‘the Naughty list’ a virtual who’s who of people in the underside of society (and Jimmy who won't stop pulling Sally’s hair). Not to worry though. There is a raid planned on the facility in the North Pole for late December as it seems that he is gearing up for a big shipment. They aren’t worried about the fat man escaping since they captured one of his rein deer team and implanted him with a red glowing tracking device. The assault team is also looking into child labor laws being violated since it seems that everyone in the factory is less than 4 feet tall and it seems to be visited once a year by a band of misfit kids that are trying to save Christmas. So by the end of the month after the tear gas settles the world will be a safer place knowing that one of the oldest arms dealers is put safely away behind bars. Merry Christmas everyone.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

ACT 21: Author and book review

I thought I would take a moment to give thanks to the many great authors who have helped my imagination and paved the way to become the deeply disturbed individual I am today (but in all seriousness these guys are great). So I give you the books I love and the authors who wrote them.

Enders Game, Enders Shadow, and Shadow of the Hegemon by Orson Scott Card. After Enders Game the whole thing went horribly wrong until his later stuff with the character Bean, but I must have read that first book 20 times.

The Sword of Truth series. It starts with Wizards First Rule and then goes on for eleven awesome books by Terry Goodkind. Avoid book 7, Pillars of Creation. No seriously, if you see it then burn it immediately and I promise you will thank me later. All you need to know is in the last 20 pages if you must read it. Otherwise it is more fun to bleed from every orifice than to love the series and get to this book. Great series can get a bit graphic at times (he has a knack of describing real life things, horrible things that happen to good people that I would rather pretend don’t happen). But all in all well worth your time until the end. Then it wraps up in a way that makes you feel like you got a sweater on Christmas that is two sizes too small and smells of cat pee but your grandma knitted it and you have to wear it all day. Also the sweater causes cancer. But I enjoyed it all the way until the last chapter. Then just sum it up yourself burning the last chapter and you will be much happier.

Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss, new author, (in the sense that he only has one book out right now) but he has probably been writing for many years. This book amazed me. It is part one of the King Killer series and the only drawback is that you will have to wait till 2009 for part two. If you like fantasy at all you should love this d├ębut unless you are strange or stupid or something then I hate you and you shouldn’t be reading my blog. No you are ok just keep it in line next time.

Now the hype is all done and you can say what you want but Harry Potter was a great series. J.K. Rowling did an amazing job at painting the world in a new light and hopefully opening the fantasy genera for generations to come. Great job with foreshadowing and intricate plot sub lines and characters that makes the second read through just as enjoyable as the first. If you never gave these a chance try them. They are a fun quick read that transcends generational gaps so that there is a little something for everyone.

Let’s talk about Robert Jordan for a moment and the Wheel of Time series. The first three books, albeit long winded in detail, (almost tolkien-ish) were enough to get you hooked on the characters and the underlining story. Now what the underlining story is I have no actual idea. No seriously, the books are so complex that I get the gist of what is going on and I really want to understand but after reading like 700,000 pages about curtains and dresses of the court and why magic is the way that it is and why it is ok for the main character to have multiple girlfriends because he is the chosen one, that my brain had to drop the main plot elements to make room for all of the extra goodies. No, I am completely serious, I enjoyed the books but I have no idea why I like them at this point. Then after eleven books with 9685 pages 3,430,682 words (that's right I counted! well I looked it up, but still) the author went and died. So there is no end to this series which is ok because by the time you finish you have to start over just to remember why you where reading it in the first place. Hey, maybe that is why he called it the wheel of time. The last book is to be finished by another author but I am not sure I have an interest in reading the summation of it all by someone who cannot torture me with details until I am a quivering mass of indignation who is a glutton for punishment.

Well that should be enough to keep you busy for a while if you know of any great fantasy writers out there let me know as I am always looking for my next fix.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

ACT 20: An Apple a day

Mac computers sell themselves as the “safe” alternative. Their claim is that they are easy to use, harder to infect with viruses, and an alternative to computer mainstream. But what are they really? Their symbol is an apple with a bite out of it from their former days of being apple computers, it's simplistic design is known world wide and in fact it is a symbol nearly as old as time itself. How can that be you ask? Think about it, Mac computers are of the devil. When the lord of lies first presented himself to Eve he gave her a shinny apple to take a bite out of. “Take it,” He said, “it will make you seem smarter and it is better than the main stream apples, its shinny and has no viruses and it is easy to use.” And that’s how he got Eve, with his simplistic propaganda and twisting lies! It is easy to use unless you want to print, or network, or do ANYTHING THAT NORMAL COMPUTERS CAN DO! The taint of the original lie hangs on and its name is MAC! So next time you see one do the right think spray some holy water on it (or regular works too) and watch it sizzle. Take the fight back and throw one off a building. Let no unclean thing pollute your desktop and smite it with a hammer of indignation (or a regular hammer also works) and say NO MORE! I’m on to you Mac with your programs that cost extra to do what regular computers can do already and your shinny screens that scream blasphemy and free itunes. And now you are trying to cross over into our world and take on windows as well I say no! Damn your graphical programs and ipods. Take your non compatible ram back to the pit from whence you came. I'm on to you and now is the time to spread the word Macs are of the Devil!

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Act 19: Sleepless

There is a certain time in the darkness when the moon hangs high in the cold sky and night and morning loose meaning and become one. When a peace falls over the sleepless, the eternal restless, the insomniacs of the world, when all hope of entering slumber is gone and that hopeless feeling is replaced by serenity. All of the sudden you start to laugh at the futility of it all let out a chuckle and resign your fate. This is a feeling reserved for us few who truly belong without sleep. There are those that have a bad night or two when the stress and the furious pace of life is too much to let the brain sleep they who complain around the proverbial water cooler about what a crappy night they had and how no one could understand how hard it is on them. To those of you who have suffered I am sorry. But this message is not for you. You are the same as those who miss a lunch and think they are starving. But this is for us few who survive on scraps alone, those of us who can’t remember what two nights of good sleep together feels like, my brothers and sisters of the night. Those who know the cool embrace of darkness and unforgiving starlight that dances and sways teases and tantalizes but never lets us forget the burning in our eyes when we blink or the yearning in our souls for release from the cruel mistress of our fates. So to you my brothers and sisters of the black I say this, you are not alone though those around you may not see as we do. We are out there we share the slumber of the damned we laugh and cry as you do at the in-betweens when night and morning loose meaning. We are there laughing like mad men at the night. The black under our eyes a badge of honor for a war fought and lost and fought again. Our struggles the same our fates entwined. To those few who understand this I mourn for you, and bid you goodnight.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Act 18: Zombies: Attack of the Killer chicken!

So I was thinking about Zombies the other night, as I often do huddled under the impenetrable shell of blankets and pillows that is my bed like fortress. As I listened intently for the tell tale signs of the undead; groaning, wailing and the trite but effective calling out for brains to eat, an idea struck me like a nun on an out of control Harley with a badminton racquet. Zombies aren’t evil, they just have upset stomachs! Like a starving roommate on a finger licking adventure to trots-Ville in porcelain land. Zombies are probably just too impatient to pop the brain or leg in the microwave for 3 min turning over after 2 min and making sure to use the special tinfoil like crisping tray. The brain is like a gold mine of dysentery, like a college student sucking down a medium rare chick fillet. Zombies are just really pissed off because they can’t figure out how to change the power setting on the microwave back to 10 while that incessant light blinks 12:00 over and over again. So maybe if next time the gates of the infernal pits open again and long since dead start moaning about crispy delicious brains we could take a minute to club a PETA loving, green peace promoting, acid popping freak Hippie! Feed the hippie’s pot addled brain to the living dead with a side of fries and one of those parsley sprigs. Then when they have calmed down and stop moaning all the time because of ill prepared meals and upset stomachs we can put them to work. We can start at state colleges teaching physical education, put a paper hat on them and teach them to use two baskets in the fry-illator at the same time, or simply send the whole lot of them to Berkley were mindless drones with a rotting smell would fit right in. So remember cook your chicken, club a hippie, and avoid nuns on Harleys’.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Act 17 The Cany Corn Conspiracy

I have a theory. I believe that all candy corn, fruit cake, and valentines hearts in the entire world where made in the year 1867. An evil corporation set out to sell hyped up “candy” that they knew no one would actually be able to eat. Then with a brilliant marketing department they have been able to keep people buying these atrocities year after upset stomach two bottles of Pepto-Bismol soaked year. Then with a team of unpaid interns they scour the land fills collect the “candy” and are all set for the following year. How else can you explain opening a new bag of candy corn only to discover that it is already stale? Or biting into a rock hard candy heart just out of the pouch? And since we all know that no one actually eats fruit cake so that one is pretty self explanatory. For over a hundred years this evil corporation has duped us into buying and re-buying processed reprocessed crap and frankly I am tired of it. All to finance other horrible projects such as Lego Land (oh I hate you Lego Land) and probably the Muppet Show, but more on that later.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Act 16 A Cleverly Disguised Rant AKA: Star Bright

I don't know anyone that hasn't wished on a star at one point or another in their life. It's hard not to look up at those twinkling lights on a warm summer’s night and wish for something or someone special. To glare into the night sky and outsource all our hopes and dreams to the great unknown. Not unlike outsourcing call centers to third world countries for tech support (not as customer friendly but a great way to save a buck). Wish fulfillment can be a beautiful thing to hope for but outsourcing to those great twinkling lights in the endless sky needs to become a thing of the past. Much like having to talk to a guy who says his name is Fred on the phone but you distinctly hear someone call him Nassapeen-A’-Hapoooan in the back ground. Think about it, I mean really think about it. The closest star to our solar system is Alpha Centauri triple star system the closest star in this being Proxima Centauri which is over 4.22 light years away. Ok, that doesn't seem that far; only 4 light years. But I assure you that 4 freaking light years is an eternity. Since we can only travel like 400 miles an hour that’s like a thousand years. Also when English is your fifth language and you can’t understand even the most basic of phrases you don’t get to be customer support. Since you can’t understand the customers you claim to support and we can’t understand you through a mouthful of lamb curry and an accent so thick I am actual considering using it as a tire sealant. So when you say oh star light star bright make the wish I wish tonight. Then a thousand years later the star gets your call and sends you back your wish fulfilled you would be two thousand years older and most likely dead. Much like when you have to wait on the phone for six hours only to be finally transferred back to the person that was supposed to originally help you. So even if you wish to the closest star and it answers you post haste your wish will never be fulfilled in your life time. So I have a solution to your wishful needs. The next time you need to wish fulfilled don't outsource it (seriously the next time something gets outsourced I will kill you.) The closest star is the Sun. Now the sun is only out during the day so if you really need a wish then stare directly at the Sun without blinking and say "star light star bright make the wish I wish today." Then in lengthy and precise detail say your wish. Only one recommendation: Don't wish for better eyesight. I also recommend this method if you have to call Dell customer service since you will get better results and possibly a tan. Also sorry in advance for making you go blind.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Act 15 Third Party

I am getting pretty tired of politics and how it is invading all facets of my life. You can’t throw a proverbial stone without it rebounding off of some ridiculous story that has no real bearing on…well politics. I don’t really care about pigs and bull dogs and who put lipstick on them while playing hockey and talking about change all the while not building a bridge to nowhere that they may or may not have wanted in the first place but never got. Is anyone else reminded of a fourth grade recess showdown? It goes something like this, (I’ll make up some names so that no one gets offended, lets go with John, Sara, Brock, and Joe); John pushes Brock while they are in an argument. John gets in trouble because he is older and should know better. John starts playing with the new girl Sara and Brock gets mad because no one is playing with him anymore. So he and his less popular friend Joe call Sara a dog. This turns into a shoving match between all four and they all get sent to the principal’s office. Seriously is this what our country is coming to? If Republicans and Democrats can’t play nice together or in the least be civil with one another lets start a new party. In this new party we will focus on fairness. If at any time someone goes too far left or too far right they will be summarily executed for crimes against humanity. Everyone will be listened to in turn and if it turns out you are a nut job you will be executed for crimes against humanity. Name calling will not be tolerated. Negative ads that make no sense will not be tolerated. You get exactly one free lie in your entire political career. If you are found to have lied more than once you will be executed for crimes against humanity. It might sound cruel but that insures that those who want to run are serious about the commitment. Oh and the biggest policy will be question answering. If you are ever heard to say “let me answer that question with this question” you will be executed for crimes against humanity. If you don’t know the answer to a question or don’t want to answer then the appropriate responses will be the following; ‘I don’t know, let me get back to you on that one’. Or, ‘I am not answering that at this time,’ followed by an explanation of why you are not answering the question. By the way if you don’t get back to them you will be executed for crimes against humanity. I think this will solve most of our political problems. If I have to hear one more argument that is the mental equivalent of pulling out a large clump of nose hair with rusty needle nose pliers, I might just have to climb a clock tower with a homemade rifle that shoots milk duds and start taking people out. Just to prove a point since it makes just about as much sense as our current political phenomena.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Act 14 Life's Lemons

There is an old saying, "when life gives you lemons make lemonade." So I have been trying to put this little saying into action in my own life. But life has given me a lot of lemons lately but has failed to give me sugar or water. So I have been trying to figure out how on earth I am going to make lemonade. I ran into this fiscal conundrum: The price of purified drinking water on the scales that I need is going to be roughly $10,000 because of the damned dirty hippies running up water costs (see act 11.) I also need sugar about 4 tons should do it at 6.50 per 1lbs bag that runs at about $26,000.00 dollars. So I did what every good American does I took out a loan went to a trade school for 11 months and got my food handlers permit and started pumping out lemonade at an astounding rate. With marketing for Syden’s life Lemonade and all of the employees I have had to hire I am in dept at around 3 million dollars. When I came to a heart stopping, climb a tower with a sniper rifle, gouge your eyes out conclusion. Life gives everyone lemons! So that drove down the demand of my products with so many "free" lemons on the market people start asking the question. "Why do I need to buy your lemonade I have my own lemons right here?" So Syden’s life Lemonade has unfortunately had to shut its doors due to bankruptcy mainly on the premise that people no longer want lemonade. So to sum up LIFE STOP GIVING ME SO MANY FREAKING LEMONS!!!!!

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Act 13 The great Tomato Catastrophe

So I was meandering around the web the other day and came across an interesting fact. Tomatoes are the leading selling fruit in the whole world. Bananas came second followed by apples. But this raised an interesting question; is a tomato really a fruit? Yes, by definition it is not an underground blah, blah, blah but facts don’t interest me as much as fruit salad. So the question is, could you put a tomato in a fruit salad? NO that would be hypocrisy and it would sully the name of the salad. People would gag and say ‘is that a tomato with those grapes and strawberries!?’ And then the world as we know it (being my barbeque) would come to a disgusting end, dessert ruined all due to that damned tomato not knowing its place. Like a country star trying to cross over into hard rock the tomato is a catastrophic failure. Not that the tomato doesn’t have its uses. It is good when put in its place with all the other vegetables. It can be quite delectable in some sauces and vegetable salads. You can even kick it up and notch and make a spicy salsa. But stop trying to add yourself to my ice cream Sunday tomato! That’s a job for the number one fruit. Welcome back to the top banana my trusted old friend. But the definition makes it a fruit you say? Well I live in America and in America I can do whatever I want to secure the safety of my barbeque. So I turned to the Supreme Court for help. They did not disappoint. It turns out in April 24, 1893 the Supreme Court ruled that tomatoes where a vegetable and subject to all the laws and regulations of a vegetable, like not being in my fruit salad. So take that tomatoes and welcome to the land of the free and the home of the brave. Now somebody pass the ketchup.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Act 12 Phantom of the Burn Ward

I have been asked many times in my life how to tell if ‘that guy’ over there is the Phantom of the Opera or if I am just in my hospital’s local burn ward. Let me tell you it is not always easy. But I have come up with a few things to look for to help narrow down the possibilities. First thing you need to do is look around, are you surrounded by Doctors and nurses? If the answer is yes don’t be fooled since Doctors go to the theater too. What you need to look for is rubber gloves, white coats, and scrubs. If they are wearing all these then odds are you are in a hospital. The second sign would be if everyone lying in bed is dressed up like a mummy and it is not Halloween (this tip has helped me a lot). Next listen, is anyone saying things like “this is why we don’t drink lighter fluid,” and “We can fix that with skin from your butt.” Also ask yourself these questions. Did they make me wash my hands for ten minutes before I entered? Are there machines helping people breath and eat? Are you in a hospital? If the answer to any of the aforementioned is yes the guy you are looking at is not the Phantom of the Opera and probably doesn’t like being stared at.

To identify the true Phantom you should see things like young girls in low cut dresses with heaving bosoms. Well dressed sophisticates standing around looking haughty and a guy in a porcelain mask with a flowing cape (if it’s not flowing sorry that’s just not the guy). If you see him don’t get your hopes up; you still have to look for a few identifiers. Take a look around. Is the man in the mask looking longingly at a pretty girl or vindictively glaring at a guy talking to a pretty girl? Are people around you holding their hands up at the level of their eyes so as not to be strangled to death by a length of rope? If they are that’s a great sign. Now you can approach and start up a conversation. Look for some clues when talking to him before blurting out ‘are you the Phantom!’ Does he seem slightly psychotic from years of oppression and bitter loneliness? Does he call you his angel and make you sing for him? Or will he only speak to you if you do so in the right octave while standing in melodramatic poses? Are you in an opera house, theater, or in France ? Are you in a musical? If the answer is yes then congratulations the guy you’re talking to is probably the real Phantom of the Opera and you are not in the burn ward of your local hospital. Bad news is that you are an unimportant character and will probably be crushed by a falling chandelier very soon, so try and get an autograph before you die.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Act 11 Hippie Gate

I believe I just figured out why my soda costs me so much money. It's not because it’s a delicious concoction with a dash of joy bottled and shipped for my pleasure. It’s not that I’m so hopelessly addicted that I can’t conceive of a day without just one cool sip of forbidden ambrosia. It’s not even the fact that the soda company has outsourced its marketing department to third world drug dealers that might just kill you if you stop. So why then does enriched hydrogenated phosphoric acid, corn syrup, caffeine, and water with tiny bubbles that do the dance of unadulterated joy cost me so much money? It is all waters fault! You see back in the early 1900’s a group of devious misfits (that will henceforth be known as "hippies" or if you prefer "damned dirty hippies") decided that water needed to be improved upon. That's right they said something like, “hey water is good and all but I guess it could be like better somehow.” I call this conglomeration of slackers and naredowells Hippie Gate for their participation in this catastrophe. But I digress. So they got together with their friends at Berkley (home of the Hippie) and started developing water. THAT'S RIGHT FREAKING WATER. They told people that regular tap water was not good enough. In order to taste really good water people needed to hike into nature and drink from the fresh springs of the mountain tops were fish pooh and bears bathe and that that would be considered "pure water." The Hippies then went for a nap or a joint or something because they are lazy dirty hippies and relished in a job well done for destroying society as we know it. Well something had to be done, because for some stupid reason we believed the dirty hippies in the fact that our water the source of all goodness was not good enough anymore. So corporate America did the noblest thing it could think of. It took the mountain water filled with fish pooh and bear hair and bottled it into non-biodegradable bottles and sold it for a buck and a half to the populace who of course bought it. Arrowhead became a Multimillion dollar industry and the hippies started protesting about gay squirrels or something that nobody cared about. So it's not Cokes fault that they charge so much for morbidly tantalizing goodies of joy and happiness. After all it is not like they could charge 50 cents for bottled crack when regular water is going for a buck and a half. It is Arrowheads fault for making the Coke Corporation compete because after all Coke does have water in it. So it was only fair that it costs more for the extra added joys like caffeine and distilled sunshine. So shame on you Arrowhead for ruining my day and lets all remember to take a moment to hate the hippie because lets face it if they didn’t feel like they where being oppressed in some way they might come up with new ways to annoy me.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Act 10 Sock Puppets

Many of you know that in the wee hours of the morning when I wile away the time staring at the alarm clock through blood shot eyes. That slowly clicks away the seconds of my eternal torment. That I sometimes like to do private puppet shows which I have named The Midnight Marionette Puppet Theater. I know it sounds crazy to put sometimes dirty socks on your hands (it’s hard to tell in the dark) and make them talk to each other. But I dare you to stay awake for three straight days and try not put on a puppet show of your own (it's only natural.) But I stray from my point. I have noticed that recently some of my favorite sock performers have been disappearing. I have called the authorities and even written to my congressman (another of my favorite pastimes at 4 o'clock in the morning) but to no avail! They don't seem to care that miscellaneous socks are being abducted from their homes. So I have done some investigation of my own and every single person I have interrogated has named the culprit: the dryer. Yes the lint hording sock steeling dryer. But this investigation did not stop there. You see it was too perfect a crime for one dryer to accomplish it never takes pairs of socks only one sock at a time and always my favorite pair at that. It was too clever a plan for the dryer to be working alone. Then it came to me Dirty Hippies. That right tree hugging bottled, water drinking no shoe wearing, dirty Hippies. In a new invasion attempt to turn the average Joe worker, into a lazy lay about. The Hippies are systematically stealing our socks making us drink bottled water and playing their loud hippy music in our malls. This devious plan to take our socks will turn us into a no shoe wearing society. Which we all know is the first signs of hippy-Titus. So guard your socks keep your feet clean and remember don't blame the dryer for the hippies evil plans. As always I say place blame where blame is do on the Dammed dirty Hippies!!!

Friday, August 29, 2008

Act IX Roman Numerals..... or Act 9

Some say Rome fell when it was split into an eastern and a western empire ruled by separate emperors (hold on the history part is part of the funny). The eastern half became the Byzantine Empire, with its capital at Constantinople (modern Istanbul). The western half remained centered in Italy. But I think that they byzantine guy owed the Italian guy some money and couldn't figure out how to make change so decided to collapse the whole system and change the name of they city where he lived so that creditors could never find him. Why you ask would someone do something so world altering over something so trivial Roman numerals is the answer. You see Roman numerals are an interesting idea instead of numbers we will use letters then people have to figure out what those letters are even though they are secretly numbers. Does this remind anyone of math in high school (solve for X)? Many don't know the history of Roman numerals and the conspiracy to create them. They where invented by a group of rebels with the fall of the empire in mind. There objective was four fold and it collapsed an entire empire. Historians agree that the reason Rome fell because of a combination of such factors as Christianity, decadence, monetary trouble, and military problems. All linking back to Roman Numerals.

1.Christianity used the numerals to collect tithing "all you have to give is X% of your money" they would say and since no one could figure out what X was and didn't want to look stupid they did it and thus Christianity spread.
2.Decadence of course people where decadent they had no idea what anything was worth anymore a "golden scepter for only XCVIII that's a bargain!"
3.Monetary trouble since no one could figure out what the numbers meant at the end of the year everyone was having money trouble since they spent it all on number 2
4.Military Problems the military wasn't getting paid because the numerals where taking over and the Emperor couldn't find anyone who could explain it to him.

So as an act of desperation when the Emperor in Italy asked for more money the Byzantine emperor disavowed all knowledge of the dept hired a Jewish tax man and changed the name Constantinople to Istanbul. Problem solved but end of the empire. So now I can answer the song 'why they changed it I can't say' It was to keep the debtors away.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Act VIII Counting Sheep

There is one question I hate above all others. Hey good morning how did you sleep? As if it weren't evident from the dark circles under my blood shot eyes and the tell tale twitch that I am just millimeters from the edge. So when I am asked I tell this story it goes like this. There is a legend among us insomniacs spoken in hushed tones in dark places (mostly dark because it is night time and we are not sleeping). A Legend of a herd of sheep that if counted one will finally fall asleep. I know what you are thinking everyone knows that. Well shut up because it's a legend meaning that it might have worked once but now is just a load of crap we tell normals who think they actually need help sleeping. But to us sleep deprived it is like the holy grail or a fifteen dollar churro at Disneyland that didn't disappoint you, in other words sought after but never attainable. Well last night I was exploring this myth I did as my forefathers did (actually I only have one father but you get the idea) and I imagined a grassy clearing with an old wooden fence and then one by one I imagined the sheep jumping the fence (they kind of looked like those sheep in the Serta mattress commercials all fluffy and sort of cartoony but I digress. Anyways I started counting one, two, three, as each sheep jumped the gate and made a little baaaahhh sound thirty five, thirty six, thirty seven, then I realized I must have quite a lot of sheep piling up on this side of the gate with all that jumping and baaaahhh-ing. So I let my vision pan out to see where these sheep where going. Yes I know that's not supposed to be important but as you get more and more sleep deprived your mind considers stranger things than these I'll tell you. But as I panned out I could not see any of my recently counted sheep. That is until my fluffy little friend jumped the gate again thirty eight, baaahhh this is when I saw the horrifying truth. There where not thirty eight sheep my white frolicking friend jumped the gate then promptly walked to the side where there was a hole in the fence walked back around and jumped once more. THERE IS ONLY ONE SHEEP!!!! That's right one, I looked in horror as the fluffy figment of my imagination jumped the same gate over and over again. The scene disturbed me enough that it roused me from my imaginings and I dare not go back. What kind of creature would do such a thing? Anyways that was my night no sleep and a delusion about an insane cartoon sheep. How did you sleep?

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Act VII Geology Gone Amuck

Recently there has been an outpouring of “evil geologists” looking for a quick buck on the world domination and enslavement train. That’s right the worlds evil overlords have put aside there nuclear arms plans and have turned to the sciences to complete their long term objectives. They seek what only a geologist could give them a greenschist, (some explanation might be needed for all of you non-evil geologists.) A greenschist is a metamorphic schist containing chlorite and epidote (which are green) and formed by low-temperature, low-pressure metamorphism. Now stop and think about that for a second, a green rock formed by low temperature and low-pressure. What could have a lower temperature than space? And low pressure I think floating along in the vacuum of space is pretty low pressure. So are you thinking what I am thinking? That’s right geologists are looking for Kryptonite. A green rock from space known by evil geologist as “Greenschist.” They are helping the world’s evil geniuses to stop Superman. As we all know and to Superman’s great dismay Kryptonite is his only weakness. His super speed, super strength, and heat vision is useless to the awesome power of geology. So if you are a good American loving, non-evil person, do yourself a favor and stop the geologists before its too late. Storm the mountains where they live and throw rocks at them or something but be careful because they have hammers and picks. If you’re not sure what to look for and want to participate in “Beat geologists across America” program look for these tell tale signs.

1.Constant staring at counter tops, bathroom tiles, concrete side walks, or at anything else even remotely made of rock.

2.Say things like “that’s a nice rock,” then laugh hysterically for ten minutes.(note nice is a kind of rock)

3.Look for the tell tale bulge in the pocket and ask “is that a rock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” The geologist will immediately pull out a rock.

4.When you a girl approaches and asks “if they want to make the bed rock.” A geologist will immediately go to look for his field guide, hiking boots, and rock hammer.

5.If they believe a recent event to be anything that happened in the last 100,000 years.

6.And finally if you over hear them saying “have you tried licking it?” with no note of sexual innuendo at all.

These evil geologists must be stopped join the Beat Geologists across America foundation and help us bring an end to the terror. No kryptonite seeking freak must go unpunished!

Dedicated to: Ben Davis and Craig Davis two Evil geologists still at large.

Act VI #2 Pencil is #1

This sham has gone on long enough. Ever school child, every College student who has ever taken a test knows the importance of the number two pencil. It has taken the nation by storm over the last fifty years coming into every facet of our lives. From that note left by your roommate to the doodle to pass the time we turn to our old friend. What better companion do you have when you need to bite and chew on something? Not those jerks over at Bic who leave an inky mess in your mouth, NO! I say stand up and be heard! Number two our friend our brother always there when we need you. But still we refuse to acknowledge the tried and true number two. Isn’t it time to drop the facade and proudly say number two pencils take your rightful place as number one!

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Act V Golf, Coffee, and Cigarettes

Around the workplace I have noticed a trend: addiction = time. Or its counter formula non-addiction = negative time. Let me explain with a brief example. Friday afternoon, the office is quiet because by 10:00 the entire sales staff has used the secret elevator. Army crawled across the rooftop. Leaped from the third story into a strategically placed dumpster filled with tiny foam packing peanuts. Then used ninja mind techniques to evade prying eyes and gain an early weekend. Which I have to admit is a bit distracting owing to the fact that my window is in front of the dumpster. And seeing ten well dressed sales executives dive from your building makes you doubt your stock options. Then the clock chimes 10:01 and you realize that eight grueling hours still await you. But not all is lost because at least the CEO, COO, CFO, and NBC are sticking out the day and it gives you a glimmer of hope until of course that they walk past your office feigning a meeting and wearing golf cleats. So now all is lost you're stuck alone in the office with the village idiot that had to be hired for “equal opportunity” and the chimney that takes a smoke break every 4.5 seconds which of course leaves the work load on you.

So how I ask is this fair? I don’t have the major corporate sponsored addictions. I can’t come in late because I don’t drink coffee and “the line at Starbucks was so long” Is like the freaking Willy Wonka golden ticket excuse of all excuses for late coffee drinkers. I don’t golf so leaving for a five hour lunch break is out. And I don’t smoke so whenever a big project comes to my desk I can’t say “give it Jenkins I’m on smoke break.” So addiction = time. If I have acceptable corporate addiction IE golf, coffee or cigarettes then I get time to do those things. If I don’t then the equation works out to be non-addiction = negative time. Then I get stuck with all of the crap work that falls in the juggling act that it is my life. I wish it where still the mid 80’s then I could develop a LSD addiction and I would have all kinds of excuses to miss work. “Cant do it I’m meeting my dealer,” “Sorry I missed Friday’s meeting I was in the hospital and my brain was bleeding,” “Little frogs ate my brain and I no longer have the capacity for that task.” Ok that last one was a stretch but I figure if they are also on LSD then I am in the clear and I just totally gave him the freak out of his life. Maybe I will make a new game that involves drinking tobacco flavored coffee while outside on the grass hitting tether balls with a wooden bat into wicker baskets and it would be illegal to play the game unless you are there during work hours. I could call it Tosmacko pronounced to-smack-O then I would be king of the office!

Friday, August 15, 2008

Act IV Women Live longer then Men

Disclaimer: The following views are hilarious and may cause damage to your health if read in the vicinity of females

So Women live longer than men it is a proven fact they are healthier and live on average 10 years longer than their male counterparts, but why? Scientific studies would have you believe that women retain more body water, and that their fluid mass is able to sustain more white blood cells that fight off bacteria and other harmful agents that bring about early demise. These so called “facts” are false sure they can show you data and case studies but I have another explanation. I had a revelation the other day when I was driving in my car and the gas light came on. My passenger told me “hey you’re running on fumes.” And that’s when it hit me, fumes! Have you ever been in a room full of guys eventually the farts start coming whether we mean to or not the gas expands beyond our control and poof out it comes a variety of sounds and smells. Now take a step back have you ever been in a room full of females it’s like a freaking dysfunctional rose garden but the tooting is not to be heard. I submit that the reason that women last longer is because they are “running on fumes.” Somehow females have found a way to harness this gastrointestinal phenomenon into a raw power source. No pun intended. So as men slowly but surely putt putt around leaving in their wake the sweet smell of rotting death they are unwittingly shortening their lives. Am I suggesting that we stop farting? No! I say we lift a leg proudly and salute to the stench God gave us. I say bend over and let one for all of us. I mean what’s a few years of eating apple sauce with our tooth and yearning for the chewy deliciousness that is steak. I say let it loose proudly! Stand up, sit down and walk up and down the isles of your work leaving in your wake a cloud of manliness. BE A MAN AND LET IT OUT LOUD

Act III Sleep is a four letter word

After a needed rest from the vigor’s of uncovering the truth about certain inalienable facts I have come to a certain conclusion which I will now share with you. Sleep is a four letter word. Now I know what your thinking 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 no I count five in total well you’re wrong. It is a dirty perverse word generated from the “Man” to keep me down. Quite literally in fact: if the average person gets 6 hours of sleep in any given night and most Americans crave at least 8 hours they develop a longing sensation in the back of their brain. It is sending a signal from your medulla oblongata saying “hey I need more sleep.” All the while corporate America is selling you drugs to keep you up like coffee, caffeinated beverages, ginseng infested fruit smoothies, and Damned Dirty Hippie crap. All designed to keep you awake long enough that you can get through your day just in time to get home watch prime time and take sleeping pills. So why do they do it? Why would they systematically break down the Human spirit to a blubbering mass of non thinking burnt out long haired social leaches? It is a massive plot to overthrow the government by none other than the main proprietor of bean flavored liquid crack. That’s right Starbucks is to blame. They are selling their must have products to an unsuspecting populace all in an effort to take over congress so they can finally uncover phase three of their sinister plan. Phase One: sell delicious coffee there by making the world addicted what ever we say. Phase Two: Multiply over the face of the earth slowly move into every neighborhood, every street corner, and every soul. Phase Three: Kill all non supporters of coffee and coffee related products and release new flavor called mind control double late supreme with mocha whip cream and one of those swizzle sticks. So you see Starbucks has paid off scientists, government officials, and teachers to tell people “you need at least 8 hours of sleep to function properly. Other wise you’ll need to go buy a super sized coffee oh and have your heard about that new flavor it comes with one of those swizzle sticks for free!” So say no to sleep… don’t… give in to……… yawn…….. Corporate ……Zzzzzz Zzzzz ZZzzzzzzz…………

Act II Get Back to work

Work = Negative Energy
I like work, I have a good job were I feel appreciated (waits for laughter to die down from coworkers.) But as I understand it most people don’t like there jobs. But I have to admit that there are Monday’s that the cold grip of death is all that can get me out of bed at the crack of dawn to earn my meager pittance. But if I go to work earn my dues come home upset then go back again, were does this build up of negative energy go to? It simply compounds over and over again year after year until there is a little meter in your head that starts judging just how many years you are willing to be put away for, for the sniper rifle and clock tower approach that you’re itching for. So instead of the criminally insane approach I suggest this: Tape off a corner of your desk approximately one foot by one foot. The next time someone comes into your office and starts talking stare at it longingly. Wait until they ask one of the following questions: “What is that?” “Are you Ok?” “Will you work this weekend?” “Is that report I handed you 8 seconds ago done yet?” (Or any variation of these questions that might be more appropriate to you.) As soon as they ask begin smashing your head against the tape off area until they leave, call the police or until you pass out. I submit that this is the perfect way to get rid of that pent up negative energy. You will also find that people around the office ask you to do less and less until you are completely alone to seek the activity of choice. You no longer need to take it out on your friends coworkers or loved ones simply smash you problems away. Note: Smashing problems away may cause brain damage and or a sticky red substance to leak from your ears.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Act I Boredom

Boredom is the key element that drives most of my decisions in life. I get bored at work I make a new blog I get bored at night when I am supposed to be sleeping I have psychotic sock puppet wars to see who will rule the pillow kingdom. Boredom however can get you in to trouble for instance when called on in a meeting in which you are bored it is almost never a good idea to stand on your chair and declare pants liberation day (story for another time). So now as boredom leads me to share my innermost thoughts on an internet blog I worry that the German stalker I successfully deported in high school might once again find me. Oh well at least it would make for an interesting story to share on this blog and once again start the cycle anew. To those of you who know me hello! To those of you who don't I'm awesome. And to those of you who stalk me stop calling at 3 am I am still up and might just answer out of boredom. Stay tuned for act II coming soon to a blog near you.