Crotchmail is mainly one person… me. But I play a lot of video games when I’m not generating oodles of hilarious and I’ve blown through a lot of disappointing games in the last few years.

Mostly because no one I know has played them but they sounded interesting and like they might have Promise. If you’ve played game after game lately and just found yourself bored and disappointed, you can use this list a guide. This Review Round-Up simply hits the salient points of why I did or didn’t like a game, or that despite the hype, I simply wasn’t impressed or engrossed. Some of these games I didn’t enjoy but you might have, this means you are stupid. Let that sink in.

Also, don’t get me wrong, I can write pages of how much a game sucks (or is great) but this is a Round-Up so one or two lines about each game and why it sucks, or surprisingly doesn’t. If you want more reviews or scathing accented critique try zero punctuation, but that takes too damn long, and gives me a headache (the fast talking)

Game Reviews:

Aion

Massive Multiplayer Online RPG

Premise: The MMO to end all MMO’s – Played internationally across millions of users, with super high quality graphics never before seen in an MMORPG, very highly polished interface and system

Reality: There is no doubt, this game is incredibly beautiful, an expansion in september promises to move them from the already impressive – if dated – far cry engine, to the psychotically high detail “Crysis” engine. This game will only get more beautiful and amazing to look at. Which will help you while you’re endlessly fetching useless pieces of shit for NPC’s that don’t care. Why is this the formula for a game?! Incredible graphics, and attention to detail and the same bored tired “go kill 20 of these and collect 5 of that” gameplay that is prevalent in EVERY other MMO. There has been NO MMORPG to deviate from this endless boring psuedo-addictive formula that keeps people paying monthly fees to fetch crap and team up with people to fetch crap. Re-think the WHOLE genre, people.

Assassin’s Creed (1)

Free Formed Action/Stealth/Parkour 3rd Person

Premise: With amazing graphics you become “Altair” who is a deadly assassin working for a shadowy brotherhood in an amazingly realistic historical cities of both reality and legend. Using your parkour style skills you scale the city and elude capture while killing those who are chosen to die.

Reality: With some weird technological “Framing Device” The developers decided to put a secondary techno-plot onto a medieval assassin’s game. It’s just utterly unnecessary and serves to break up the already stilted action. The fighting is crap, but there’s not enough opportunity to simply always kill by stealth. This game tries to do everything and ends up just looking pretty and being boring as all hell. You will marvel at the detail and movement for the first few missions before it becomes a john grisham novel with a rinse-repeat approach to learning obscure quest details to use in the future for some oblique reason. This game is confusing, slow and generally not worth finishing, let alone putting in more than a rental’s amount of time. (RENT IT, Don’t buy) – I’ve heard part 2 is much better but I’m waiting to see if it’s true.

Borderlands

Co-op oriented FPS with Cell shaded graphics and RPG style upgrade system

Premise: In a post apocalyptic wasteland – you and other players can team up to tackle hundreds of missions, buff your characters and choose from 1000′s of gun combinations to suit your style.

Reality: We don’t need 1000′s of guns in a game, since they mostly look the same and act the same the effect is minimal. The cell shading graphic technique is great and very well done but the choice for the color palette and environment is terrible. It’s an endless brown/grey drab wasteland with huge stretches of nothing at all. Far from Fallout who does it right, the arcadey co-op oriented gameplay takes away any semblance of atmosphere and loneliness that might otherwise be present by the overly massive environment. It’s a high concept game that essentially falls flat. Which is a shame, it has a great style and all the right elements. But the focus is all wrong and eventually you’re just level grinding and doing endless fetch quests. I simply DO NOT care if an NPC needs to build a hut, or potion, or gun, or brain transplanting machine. The humor in the game saves it from being a total fail, but once again I’d say the stretch of a Rental is more than enough time to experience all you’ll ever need. (RENT)

Crysis

Ultra Detailed FPS with Elements of Stealth/Action

Premise: Building on the open world lush-jungle environment of Far Cry, a brand new game engine brings a whole new level of immersion coupled with impressive physics and cinematic shootouts and boss fights.

Reality: This has been out a while, and not all the games I’m reviewing are remotely new, just the only things that sounded worth mentioning recently. Crysis is a solid win in a field of overpopulated pretty FPS games. It’s suit system that allows you to free change between super speed, stealth, armor, or strength adds a ton of adrenaline and excitement to a stale format. The graphics are nothing short of breathtaking and the plot, while slightly blaise, is well paced and the game is quite challenging. This is a game worth playing and owning and going back to later.

Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion

Graphic Intense open world RPG environment, do anything, be anything, save the world.

Premise: Undertake a sweeping saga in a massive environment in the style of a classic RPG brought to life. Train in any number of skills to be the kind of player you WANT to be, mage, rogue, archer, scoundrel, nice guy. And save the world.

Reality. With some amazing graphics and a well done starter to this game it takes off fairly well. But you’d better hope you’re completely hooked after the first two hours, or you are in for a long bumpy ride. After learning that the very gates of hell are opening up and the king is dead leaving you with an important mission. You are then simply dropped on a farm somewhere to ‘figure it out’ it’s not that hard to simply follow your cues and the plot but the massive environment ends up working against you. You will simply run and run and run for hours, eventually getting a horse only slightly pares down this incessant travelling with nothing but the occasional wild animal to fight and beautiful vistas to watch, it seems pointless. There should NOT be 20 minutes of holding “Forward” in any game, PERIOD. Later on when you teleport around more effectively the game is still bogged down by too many side quests drawing you away from any kind of plot completion. It’s a game to simply get lost in for hundreds of hours becoming a god, or to really not bother with. I think this one is about 50/50 depending on how into the RPG mindset you are and how strong your “W” key finger is.

That’s Part 1 of our Round Up with many more to come. Here’s some of the other games we’ll be covering (and you can comment to request your own review if you’d like)

Coming Soon:

FEAR 2
Fallout 3
FUEL
GRID
Hazen: The Dark Whispers
Left 4 Dead
Serious Sam HD
Shadowgrounds
Street Fighter IV
Torchlight
Zeno Clash

WeaselBringer

lol

Isn’t that what the chloroform is for?

I just had a lightbulb

Chloroform flavored tequila….

Striker

hmm.. interesting, but I think you actually have it backwards

tequila flavored chloroform.. no one would drink tequila if it smells like chloroform

so you would loose out on both the drunk and the drugged benefits

however, it would be easy to buy a chick a shot of “tequilla”

only to have them realize, moments too late, that it was chloroform

WeaselBringer

couldn’t you just put chloroform in a shot glass and hand it to them?

In order to smell it, they’d already lose

Maybe we need something more crafty, like chloroform coated roses

Striker

I like the chloroform in a shot glass idea… we could save on chloroform too

just keep reusing that same shotglass over and over

what if the women don’t smell roses? it would suck if they put your potential anal sex into a vase for two weeks until it died

WeaselBringer

Come to think of it… where the hell do you BUY the stuff?

Striker

I’m going to go with “internet”

WeaselBringer

Chad’s Discount Date-Rape Emporium

Striker

unless you were talking about roses, in which case a florist

I just checked, sadly there is no “discount date rape emporium” online… owned by chad or anyone else

damn!

WeaselBringer

That’s chad’s other business

I think we could make a killing with chloroform corsages

When I was about 15 or 16 I went to a school dance in Cloverdale. Cloverdale has a population of about 3000 (or it did at the time) and was the very definition of “Podunk”. I had been invited there by a girl named Stephanie, who I was fairly certain was going to let me fuck her. This being about all the motivation I needed to venture 3 cities away to the boondocks of Cloverdale, away I went.

Summer was about to start. The weather, always a little warmer in Cloverdale anyway, was balmy but not terribly unpleasant. Stephanie told me that her and several friends were all going to the dance, and that we were going to leave early, get drunk and then crash at her mom’s house. It sounded like a plan to me.

We arrived at the dance about 8pm and made our way to the front door. I stopped when I saw my old school friend John who had moved up this way. We talked of whatever it is 16 year old boys talk about, firecrackers, guns, vaginas, and liquor, in a very serious sober tone, as if these things were not only common, but sacred. As John and I caught up on being adolescents, I started to hear shouting near the door of the gym where the dance was held.

Kaitlyn was sort of an ex-girlfriend, it’s a whole different complicated story to explain that, but basically we dated for about 2 months and she dumped me. We had sex once, and she had tremendous gravity defying tits that were firmer than any real tits had a right to be. She was also not a small girl. She was, cute, and sexy, but she also had broad shoulders and had an inch of height on me. In all fairness, she probably could have kicked my (or your) ass.

Well Kaitlyn decided, by Cloverdale rules, that I was off-limits to her friends, which unbeknownst to me, included Stephanie. So she stopped her at the door and started threatening to “Kick her fucking whore ass all over the baseball field.”. Sure the energy of having two attractive girls fight over me was a bit of a rush, but I quickly realized that Stephanie was my better chance of getting laid tonight and almost guaranteed to lose, as she was “slender” and “soft” in a very different way that Kaitlyn was “firm” and “dangerous”. I quickly put a stop to everything by apologizing for no reason whatsoever, and in the confusion… dragging Stephanie away with 5 friends in tow.

We were young and energetic and didn’t let this get us down, we merely opted to up the timeline on our “Get Drunk and Fuck Around” plan. Her friend magically came up with a huge gallon bottle of Black Velvet™ Whiskey and whispered conspiratorially

“We’re going drinking, down by the Crick.”.

About this time I started to feel like a bit of a hick, but shrugged and took it all good naturedly. We hiked for 30-40 minutes to a remote location at said Cloverdale Crick and settled down for some serious fuck-uppery. Being 16, horny and relatively invincible, I decided my first order of business was to show how well I can chug Black Velvet. Which come to find out, is fairly decently. We passed the bottle around several times and the 6 of us broke off into couples and commenced pubescent activities. Due to my uncanny good judgement, the whiskey reduced my shyness but blotted out most of my memory of the following hour or two. I loudly assured everyone that would listen that “Drank this shit all the time” and then settled down with Stephanie for some heavy kissing and under-the-shirt nirvana.

Some time passed….

As the giant bottle neared it’s final few inches of life, a bright flashlight suddenly sprang to life about 30 feet from where our group was congregating. Not sure at first who might be trying to blind us, we loudly and hilariously called the owner of the flashlight names like “fucker” and “you piece of shit” and asked repeatedly who it was. It turned out to be Officer Sendrick who had a reputation for being a hard-ass in that neck of the woods. He was largely unamused by our situation, age, and language.

He angrily dumped the whiskey out in front of us and started barking questions. Not being a local, sober, or sure if I was dreaming or not, I mostly stayed quiet. Eventually our angry law enforcer decided he’d heard all he needed to hear. Stephanie claimed we were all staying at her moms’ house and so we were packed into 2 squad cars and led to her suburban track home. The mood was tense and everyone was staring at each other, asking silently how bad it was going to be.

We arrived at Stephanie’s house and waited while the cop and her mother exchanged a few angry shouts, none of which concerned me. By this time my adrenaline was at a level reserved for racing horses on steroids, and I was wondering if there was ANY way to avoid having this get back to my parents. To make a long, and let’s be honest, drunken story short. We were informed that everyone could stay there and spend the night and that Stephanie’s mom would tell their parents the following day, except me. Since I have never met Stephanie’s mom, I’ll refer to her as “That fucking bitch”. So that fucking bitch said she didn’t know me and there was no way I was staying at her house. Stephanie was a trooper and pleaded greatly but alas, I was the only one shoved back into the squad car.

By this time it’s about 1-2am and I’m being hustled into the Cloverdale police station. I’m given a breathalyzer that shows that I am apparently made partially of Whiskey. Then placed into the cell they use as a drunk tank. The cop comes to inform me that they need to call my parents. The conversation went a little like this.

“We need to call your parents” Officer Sendrick says with barely concealed authority-based rage.

“Please don’t call my parents” I pleaded with barely concealed terror.

“We need to call or a Windsor Police Officer will have to go to your house and wake them up” he threatened.

Thinking myself clever, I gave them my personal phone number at home that just went to a machine in my room. They dialed 3 times and came right back to my cell.

Officer Sendrick was getting annoyed “We can’t reach your parents”.

“Oh well, I guess we’ll have to try again in the morning, they’re definitely asleep” I said with a glimmer of hope.

He shook his head, in a slow hope-destroying manner. “Nope, we’ll have Windsor PD wake them up”

I hurriedly gave them the right number, which also ended in failure. Eventually they were forced to actually have a Windsor cop beat on my parents door for up to about 10 minutes which woke up my parents, my sisters, the cat, a few of the neighbors and possibly Jimmy Hoffa.

As I lay in the cell, debating the positives and negatives of vomiting whiskey in a jail toilet, I was tersely informed that my father was on his way to get me. It being around 3am by this time. I slowly and methodically re-lived the better parts of the evening and prepared myself to die.

Not that Dad was a monster or anything, but he had a temper. He also got up at 5am to work and wasn’t adverse to a fairly severe beating if the circumstances called for it. My parents were also big fans of grounding. Judging by the severity of the whole situation, I figured I had roughly 7 lifespans of groundation and possibly 3-4 harsh beatings coming my way. That being the positive view. As it was also theoretically possible I would be killed out of hand or simply dismissed from the family in a field somewhere to wander the earth family-less.

All these possibilties and more went through my head, when I got up for the 100th time to look thorugh the tiny mesh-wire and glass window of my cell, down a long hallway to the outer door, where I locked eyes with my dad. From 100 feet away we both saw each other and sized up the situation. He looked tired, annoyed, I probably looked like the cover of a horror movie, or that famous “Scream” painting by Dali.

He exchanged some words with Officer Heartless-Bastard and then without a word, ushered me to the car. Back then dad was driving a huge old 68 Lincoln Continental which gave us about 30 feet to sit apart from each other in the front seat. While we sat on our separate sides of the car, with an ocean of patent leather between us, I couldn’t look at him, or say anything. I just stared out at the dark freeway, starting to see the first inklings of daylight creep over the horizon. I think I briefly fooled myself into thinking I was someone else, somewhere else, and this was a pleasant trip to somewhere other than hell.

A long time passed, it popped into my head that he had already had quite a drive to come get me. But I was too frozen with terror to mention it, or anything else. Finally after 20 minutes of dead silence he grunted at me.

“So, you were drinking huh? ”

I nodded, realizing that probably wasn’t enough, I swallowed my parched tongue and mumbled “Yup”.

“How much did you have?” he asked almost offhandedly.

I shrugged, and told him the number on the breathalyzer, the car swerved briefly. He just shook his head and kept driving. Another few minutes went by, and suddenly he got off the exit for Healdsburg. This was several miles short of our home destination and my body immediately tensed. Was this where the murder took place? Was this where Adam Aragon ended and a lengthy investigation into a violent crime began?

He pulled up to the Circle K, all with no words or explanation. He got out of the car. I waited.

I waited… Wondering if he needed rope or bungee cord, possibly some lye, a tarpaulin and a machete to finish the deed. He finally returned with some junk food, he handed me a small chocolate ding-dong and a carton of milk. He had a soda and some crumbly pastry. Not a word was spoken, he simply handed me the food, and continued driving. I tentatively ate the food and drank the milk, looking for every angle. A last meal maybe?

We approached the house, with about 5 minutes remaining on our drive and he said to me “Your mom’s pretty upset”.

“I know” I nodded sagely, she was likely quite upset.

He nodded too, “I’m pretty tired”. I nodded in return again, only grateful that this hadn’t turned to bloodshed yet. He continued on “I’m going to go talk to your mother, you just go in and go to bed okay?”

“Okay” I mumbled. I couldn’t figure out what was happening, my mind was still full of potential punishments and ways this could turn very bad for me.

“Also,” he cleared his throat “I beat the shit out of you”.

“Huh?” was my confused reply.

He spoke more clearly and precisely “I, beat, the, shit, out, of, you.”.

Still lost of a fog of Black Velvet™ and terror, I shook my head, confused. “What?”

He sighed and his eyes rolled back, he finally responded with “Don’t make me actually DO it” and slowly inclined his head, as if to say, are we catching on yet?

“Oh” I replied, suddenly the full realization hit me “OH! Yes, yes you did, beat the shit out of me”.

He sighed again and pulled into the driveway. We both got out of the car and he pointed to my room. Then stalked inside to tell Mom what happened.

I crept into my room, pulled back my covers and slipped into a troubled but grateful sleep. Still confused as to what happened. Later that day around 10am Mom knocked on my door. I sat up and said “Come in” putting an appropriately hang-dog look on my face.

Mom came in almost shyly and sat at the foot of my bed. She patted my leg and said, “Now I know your father was pretty hard on you” She inspected my face for bruises. “I’m sorry that it happened but you know that you made a huge mistake last night” I nodded, slightly puzzled at her conciliatory tone. Then it hit me… Dad beat the shit out me.

He didn’t of course, but he told Mom he was “pretty rough” on me and may have “gone overboard” on the beating and punishment. Mom was more scared about my wellbeing than the fact that I’d been brought home from a jail cell for drinking and debauchery. I affected a limp and sad expression for a few days. Mom gave me the bare minimum of punishment (grounded for the weekend) and basically treated me like a king for the weekend anyway. Dad covered for me, not only that, but he didn’t mention it again. I went from facing the biggest punishment of my teenage career to getting off totally free, aside from a hangover and the endless waves of fear I experienced. In retrospect, the fear and expectation were probably plenty of punishment enough, and my Dad probably knew that, no stranger to the mind-fuck was he.

But I’ll never forget, years later, even after he’s passed away and we had our share of anger and love since then, that time that Dad didn’t beat the shit out of me.

Thanks Dad.

So M. “Fail” Shmylanalanan has eeked out his final works. It lays like a half aborted 150 million dollar fetus upon the steps of a post-apocalyptic hollywood, as this may herald the death of cinema.

In case you can’t tell, this movie isn’t just bad, it’s like an A list director got lots of money to make a shiny B Movie that is an insult to B-Movies. The fact that this is adapted from a cartoon is no excuse to stop trying altogether.

He's holding the entire films talent in his hand...

Shymlademlan has only done me one favor, I won’t have to keep misspelling his name because he will never work again. My god, the director that gave us 6th Sense and the Village has just shown that he’s completely lost it. This movie is like watching him die and I found myself frantically looking around for someone to help him. Dev Patal from slumdog millionaire is about the ONLY person in the cast to justify the title “Actor” and his performance was just indifferently apathetic at best. Every other list of never-up-and-coming pseudo-pretty faces who aspire to someday reach High-School level acting will fade justifiably into the ether.

Maybe I’m wrong, maybe the effects people, the editors, the actors, were all brilliant and M. Shymalox is simply burying them in shit and no-talent writing. If English is NOT your first language, do NOT helm the writing for a movie with english dialogue. If you are adapting from a cartoon that’s charming and funny, do not make your life’s mission to remove both charm and funny from the movie. These seem like easy to understand concepts… but no… they do not cross the foreign border that is M. Shadooxmleys failing brain stem.

I haven’t even tackled the movie yet, because honestly, I have no fucking clue what happened. There were some ice people, who found a kid, who is capable of wielding all four elements, but can’t. So the fire people are hindustani dickheads and want to kill/enslave everyone, most everyone has let this happen until the arrival of a bald kid who can’t do anything but sort of fly and knock people over. When they make a piss-poor rebellion and end up BACK at the water people who are all white people dressed as asians and live far away but have the exact same environments.

Meanwhile the worst rendered CG Dragon in history spouts oblique fortune cookie advice during confusing meditation sequences by said useless bald kid, who seems to gleam some inner strength from it. In what I can only describe as dialogue written by re-translating japanese dialogue written by a dyslexic Scotsman. With such dialogue-ish gems as

“We have to show them we believe our beliefs as much they believe theirs.”

What???

Continuity in this movie may have been provided by David Lynch if it wasn’t so obviously, accidentally shitty, where as the lynch meister would at least confuse with an artistic flair.

If this sounds like the horrible scribblings of a 6 year old and I’ve given you no idea what the movie is about, it’s because I simply DO NOT know. There’s a kid and he gets some powers and another kid who’s dad is evil and a bunch of people fighting with fire and water but not suffering terribly from it because it’s a nickelodean movie and people just keep getting knocked aside (to die offscreen I assume)

At the end, (which I have no fear of spoiling) the bald kid who appears to be reading from cue cards the whole movie, summons a tidal wave, which then fades back into the ocean, doing NO damage to simply scare the bad guys away. Also a fish, who is the moon(?) gets killed, and some chick gets her hair color back and dies, after a 9 second love affair with one of the blandest main characters ever, who might be someone’s brother, I just don’t care.

You leave this movie with a sense of dumbfounded wonder, that you literally just spent money to see this and you HAVE to justify that somehow, but you just can’t. I felt stupid for several hours after watching this movie, because if you watch retarded people do retarded things long enough, you start to feel a little retarded. I can safely say that this movie made me dumber, I have suffered true intelligence damage from watching it. There is literally nothing memorable or redeeming about this movie. I could watch it 3 more times and give you NO more information as to what it is we’re supposed to care about or accomplish.

With every bad movie comes an opportunity to be “So bad” that it’s good, that you can laugh or poke fun at it and flip its intent on its end. Unfortunately, no amount of spinning can alter this pile of shit from being a pile of shit. M. Evening Shmallaleeon can go blissfully into the afterlife of directing and manage a 7-11, knowing that he has fucked his career so far into the ground that he’s punched through to china, where they will hate this even more for the racist re-casting.

Fuck you, Fuck this movie, Fuck M. Night, and if you get tempted to see this to see if it’s really “just that bad” – Don’t. It’s even worse.

My good friend God “The Lord” Stockton is apparently spawning a child, I think his wife is involved as well, but to be honest I don’t like to pry into the mysteries of nature, there are traps, like in the temple of doom.

Since I heard the news the question came up, what’s the name? I thought I might help. The Last name here I’ll call the boy’s last name “Stockton” and the Girls last name “Hill” but insert your own last name and add your own suggestion.

Boy Names:

1. Damien Beezelbub Stockton
2. Doombringer Bloodrinker Stockton
3. Chad Rockbiter Stockton
4. Froderick Frankensteen Stockton
5. Professor X Stockton
6. Stockton Stockton Stockon
7. Truth Justice Stockton
8. Monty Python Stockton
9. Gohd Dahm Stockton
10. Johnny Science Stockton
11. Highlander “Therecanbeonlyone” Stockton
12. Frodo Bilbo Stockton

Girl Names:

Using Gods wife’s last name of “Hill”

1. Girl Woman Hill
2. Sheba “Chosen One” Hill
3. Rogue Operative Hill
4. Sally Poledancer Hill
5. Vixen Viola Hill
6. Shiva Summons Hill
7. Jersey Lawyer Hill
8. Xen Ninja Hill
9. Xena Warrior Princess Hill
10. Shadow Hibiscus Hill

I’m very much expecting at least one of these to be used, in the event of an emergency or transgendered / hemaphrodite child, I’ll go with “Twoolah Baskins Stockton-Hill”

Will update if they take my obviously superior suggestions to heart, be sure to add your own suggestions in the comments!

(Congrats to God & Amanda)

Special thanks to Sean “SicSemper” Beering

• My love for you is geometrically greater than my love for math
• My love for you is mainly derived from the essence of domesticated pets
• My heart fills with fluid causing a seizure every time you are near
• You make me as Rational as Pi
• You corrupt my logic Sub-Program
• We will smash together like pornography made inside the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva.
• Our flesh will intertwine like Jeff Goldlums body fused with the DNA of a fly in that fateful movie
• I will take you out on a date so hard your body will suffer the bends from excessive g-forces.
• Our love makes as much sense as a sudoku puzzle done by one of the chimps from that flight simulation movie.
• Every word you speak  is like a butterfly, drinking my soul
• If you were a dinosaur, you’d be a sexysaurus
• If you were a smoothie, you’d be ginseng and wonderful
• If you were a poisonous flower, I would make cakes from your venom and poison anyone who ever looked at you.
• Your face is like a barracuda hunting my heart
• My urge for you is like a blender on Frappe
• Our lust is like a rednecks bonfire, raging into the old barn that missy stuffed with hay after she got mule-kicked.
• Your smell is as intoxicating as 27 republicans on a bender and burying a hooker they killed with a nylon ligat.
• Living a day without you is like Lindsay Lohan being sober, rare and terrible.
• Your voice is like Siren’s superpower from X-Men, but it only works on my willpower.
• My legs open for you like Torsion springs designed to do so.

Write in your own and I’ll add them to the article

Dedicated to Carrie (Who Loves Geeks back)

In some of my more slacker days, I’ve worked a lot of corporate/office jobs. And as any good cubicle veteran can tell you; The bathroom is your friend.

I’m going to explain how to make a simple bathroom break, take up to an hour of your day, while avoiding work AND suspicion.

First off it’s best to explain that the bathroom is sacrosanct, it’s a place we have been taught to not mention, not talk about and not go into detail about. Sure a lot of us read, surf the web, text, or what-have-you, but we do not talk about our ‘business’ especially at work. This is what works to your advantage.

A simple straightforward bathroom break can take 2-5 minutes, just getting up, walking there, performing your task and coming back is generally a pretty quick and easy affair, but there’s so much more you can tack on to make this this take forever, getting you away from your desk, boss, responsibilities and accountability for huge chunks of the day. Here’s how it breaks down.

Step 1: The preparation.

For this step we’ll assume that you work at a desk with a computer. We’ll go over the details.

• Stand Up: This seems simple but it gives the impression that you’re about to leave or just arriving, most people see you standing at your desk they assume you’re halfway completed with something or about to leave.
• Click, Click, Click: Lean back down to your computer, someone who only has time to lean into their computer is obviously busy and on their way somewhere. Now that we’re down here, take some time to do some very simple things. Save your documents, check your email (especially to see if the boss has made a request), close any questionable windows, don’t minimize, CLOSE. There’s plenty of snooping managers that won’t balk at glancing at your computer to see if you’re up to anything you shouldn’t be. Be sure to put something work related and half-complete on the screen, implying you’ll be right back.
• Stretch: Now that you’ve prepped your computer do a full stretch, the idea here is that it add precious seconds to the forever-break. It’s normal to see that you are stretching as ergonomics and general workplace health is something we all have been taught is important. It could also be interpreted that you are just getting up to stretch and might sit back down
• H2Obfuscate: Place a water glass prominently on your desk, empty of all water, this will come into play later.

Step 2: The trip

Now that you’ve committed to actually heading to the bathroom the chase is on.

• The longest journey: depending on the size of your office this can be useful or not, I’ve worked one place where the bathroom is 20 feet from my desk and other places where it’s an actual trip across the building that can take up to 1-3 minutes to walk there. If you have a large office space, plot out a walking trip that takes the longest journey there. If you can avoid the bosses desk/office with this journey as well, all the better. Either way, walk slow, steady and with a firm eye forward that says “I know where I’m headed, and it’s important”.
• Non Essential Personell: This can depend on if you are okay with small talk or even like your co-workers. I don’t usually but they can be useful. Always wave and grin at anyone who is totally no threat to you. It will make you seem friendly and open up countless opportunities to stop and catch up for a second. It’s not ideal to get caught chatting all the time, so the key is to exchange a sentence or two and then say “I’m buried in work right now, but I’ll hit you up about that later” this way if you’re overheard, it’s saying that are “Busy”.

Step 3: The Zone

Now you’ve entered the inner sanctum that is the bathroom. There are a few key things to know

• King of the Hill: Choose the biggest stall they have, if there’s a handicapped stall, take that one, if there is a stall in the corner / against a wall, take that one. The less neighbors and notice the better. Obviously it’s important that you MUST have a stall, if there are none available simply wait patiently for one to become available which add vital time.
• It’s always TWO: You might be wondering what to do if you ‘only have to pee’ (assuming you’re a male). The answer is simple. You don’t. You have to shit. You’re uncomfortable with how badly you need to crap. That is the message you give EVERY time there’s a bathroom trip. There is NO such thing as a urinal, because they are simply over too quickly. The beauty of this is of course, that NO ONE can argue otherwise, only you know when you need to go and what kind.
• The business: You know how to perform your functions of course, but even if you do, there’s a few things to know. Always sit on the toilet and don’t wander around the stall, its surprisingly easy to recognize someone by their shoes or walk, so just keep it simple okay? Bring your cellphone or a small paperback that can fit unobtrusively in your pocket, get your read on. Space out. Whatever it is that makes the time pass.
• Timing is Everything: Now that you’ve gone into the bathroom, you have to assume you have been seen entering and may be seen leaving. The issue here is that you simply can’t just stay inside all day long. I’d say you want to keep things between 9 and 15 minutes absolute max. If you make more than one trip in a day, make the second one about 5-7 max. You may feel that you can get away with a lot more, and you probably can, but the idea here is not to raise suspicion and to be able to do this almost EVERY day if needed.  Regardless of how you burn up the time in the bathroom, just stick to the minutes.

Step 4: The Return and Doubleback

Here comes the best part from step one. You left your water glass on your desk, empty. Here’s what to do

• The Way Home: Now you’re walking back, take the long route, exchange a few smiles and waves. It helps to be seen as friendly and busy. As soon as you reach your desk, pick up your glass of water, smack your forehead. Don’t SAY anything, it’s obvious, just look like you forgot to get water, and then, go get water. This provides a second and possibly lengthy trip, either to the kitchen, water cooler, or bathroom, whichever is furthest away has the ‘best water’.
• Now your trip is mainly complete, you can try some advanced techniques like the “Return Stretch” where you stretch a second time upon returning. Also remember to immediately check for emails and messages to see if you missed anything, always respond to these immediately to minimize your return time. Don’t apologize or explain for taking so long, unless it’s asked, which brings us to…

Step 5: Evasive Manuevers

The time may come where your lengthy trip(s) to the water closet may get some undue attention and your boss will cross all boundaries of logic and morality and actually ask you about the time taken to do so. Don’t panic, there’s ways to handle this as well.

If you get a message, email, voicemail or anything other than a direct confrontation, you’ll have to do something against your instincts. Make it personal. Don’t apologize or explain unless you are face to face. Ask to see them in private, and explain that you’re terribly embarrassed but that you suffer from intermittent “Irritable Bowel Syndrome” and that you take medication to alleviate this problem, but occasionally forget or miss a pill. Essentially you want to flip the scenario from “you’re being grilled” to the grill-ee. Make your boss as uncomfortable as possible, explain that it’s been an issue for several years, that normally it’s very manageable. That you’re very sorry it’s affected your performance and you endeavor to not have it be an issue again. The more lengthy and painful and uncomfortable you can make this talk, the more likely it is that this will NEVER come up again.

It’s very likely that this will never come up if you follow the above rules. Act happy, and busy, and break up your break into tiny manageable pieces that you can add or discard on the fly. Also try to take bathroom breaks at random times so that you don’t have a routine. Follow all these rules and you too can have a 1 Hour Bathroom Break.

Enjoy Slackers!

There are many things lately that I’ve become disillusioned with:

Games:

Gran Turismo 5

Mass Effect 2

Red Dead Redemption

Gadgets:

Kindle

PSP

Tablets

Websites:

Digg

Youtube

Gamespot

Media:

Porn

Net Memes

Summer Movies

All of these things used to interest me, or hold my fascination for a time. But having experience them or learned more and more about them, I’ve found that they fall by the wayside of my critical mind. Admittedly it’s hard to keep my interest or even to surprise me anymore but, these are my latest disappointments. Also, I’ve recently been annoyed with CES 2010 for a lot of flash and not many great usable products, and who the fuck can afford a giant 3d tv right now?

(Or How I conquered Racism, all by myself)

Dear Readers,

Far be it from me to take time on a simple blog to explain my own convoluted ideas, or preconceptions. But one thing I’ve always hated, as a vague patriot of our unsettled country , is the French. I don’t know where my hatred of them stemmed. It could be when I was young and countless people told me Jerry Lewis was funny and I kept not laughing. It could be other people’s negative opinions and insights about their lack of military victories, personal hygiene, lack of ethics,etc.

I guess I just never gave it much thought that I despised the French on principle. Every traveller I’ve ever talked to said they hate Americans, and I assumed it’s perfectly sane to hate them right back. My only real experience with a french person prior to about a year ago was an effeminate coke-head who was my friends roommate named “Stefan”. Strangely enough he was actually pretty likable. But then again he literally wore horizontal black and white striped shirts and berets. Is that the US equivalent of a “Wolf” t-shirt in France?

So Stefan didn’t strike me as a usable example of the French people. While pleasant enough, he seemed too much of a stereotype to be authentic. My guess is that he bought into US Stereotypes to be funny and fit in, and did coke because it’s fun. So I was left continuing with my general ignorance and random dislike of Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triumph, and anything to do with Quiche.

What really made the turn was this little cafe right downstairs from my work. For the sake of not naming names let’s call it “Le Cafe” because the name was similarly unoriginal. It is owned and operated by extremely french people. The owner, the waiters/waitresses, the host, everyone except some of the Mexican bussers were all fluent in French and favored it above English. Most of the time the only words I’d hear from them in English (or American, as my retarded fellow patriots call it). Were “what would you like” or “more coffee?”.

Then as the restaurant was by my work I’d go every couple weeks and after the fourth or fifth time I put in an appearance there was a world of difference. Suddenly I was greeted by name, given priority to tables, comp’d free coffee etc. At first I put it up to just being a ‘regular’ but finally I managed to engage some employees in conversation and they explained that they treated strangers like strangers and friends like friends. Since I’d been there, met them, joked with them a little they switched to ‘friend’ mode. After that, there was no warmer or more friendly people on the planet.

In retrospect, they were rather distant and cold when I first started going there. Making the transition more dramatic in comparison. No one wore a beret, or stripes. They all DID have a knowledge of fine wines, but I think we can give a stereotypical pass since they serve it at the restaurant. Now, just becoming a regular at a French restaurant didn’t make me a convert to gay old Paris. I’m sure I’d still be treated like shit in France. It did make me realize that a lot of stereotypes that I would outspokenly debase in public are pretty rampant in my mind.

My history in life didn’t include an Anti-Frenchman, Dad didn’t hate the French, at least not outspokenly. He was sort of generically racist and never made any attempt to convert me to a particular way of thinking…

(To Be Continued….)

A lot of people probably say they fall in love with strippers. After all, any single guy wandering into the smoky den of the strippers gets undue attention, surrounded by beautiful women and treated probably nicer than any girl has ever treated them.

But I don’t fall for them, I realize their amazing and random interest in me is totally based in their need for my dirty wad of cash. I simply have a strange and backwards reaction to strippers in general. I empathize with them. Some would theorize this would result from my treatment of women in general. I basically act like I’m constantly at a strip club when I’m everywhere but a strip club. I hug girls and objectify them and generally make a lovable asshole of myself.

Somehow this trips the reverse reaction in me when I’m confronted with women that objectify themselves, hit on me, and go out of their way to sit on my lap and show me their tits. I feel bad for them. I want to buy them coffee and learn about their lives. I want to give them a jacket and believe the best about their situation. To be honest I don’t fully understand it. Maybe it’s because I can sense their fake sales attitude and realize that each one of them is struggling to make money by lying.

They aren’t really interested in me, or the 200 other guys that blow through there in a night. I guess I feel more pity for a girl who has to pretend to like a guy than a girl who pretends not to like a guy, which is so often the case. Sometimes the worst is when they are bad at it. In fact I usually avoid strippers that are good at their job. If they seem very at ease and quick on the draw I’m usually turned off instantly, because I know I’m about to get hustled, and that it will probably work if I relax for a minute.

No it’s the girls who seem to not know quite what to do, or why they are there. They are probably worried that I’ll be creepy and overly drunk or forward. My heart immediately reaches out to them and makes me want to just give them 20 dollars to take a break and understand that all men aren’t evil.

It’s probably a little patronizing, to assume that a lot of strippers are people to pity or feel sorry for. Some would probably hate me for what I’ve written so far. It’s some combination of being sexist, sensitive, misogynistic and inherently kind. I just find myself conflicted and strippers to be fascinating. Because they’re real people, almost universally beautiful, acting as fake as they possibly can. They are basically paid to be nude retail actors. Selling a product, convincing you it’s worth it and overcharging like hell.

It’s also been theorized that people that go to strip clubs fall into very few categories. Lonely and degenerate men who cannot see a girl naked any other way. Lonely men who are celebrating degrading women, or lonely men who have too much money and are travelling. While I think that the majority of these are true, I find myself trying to categorize myself. I’m not particularly lonely, I have a girlfriend. She doesn’t particularly mind me going to see naked women, understanding that this is, for men,  basically a fashion show, makeup sale and disturbing gossip all rolled into one.

I’m not trying to sleep with them, I’m not willing to spend ridiculous amounts of money, and I’m probably the last person that they actually want to talk to, since I’m cheap and sensitive to being hustled. Yet I go and actually do engage them in conversation, which they are happy to do because they think it will lead to them getting me to pay them. Most find out in 30 seconds or less that I’m not really going to give them hundreds of dollars to prance in front of me for 5-10 minutes. But a few actually relax and engage me in conversation with a fervor that’s surprising. Once the sales pitch is over and if there’s nothing else going on, a lot of strippers are happy to start talking about their day or problems. Which are often varied and complex.

This evokes in me a sense of empathy, interest and a genuine urge to improve their day. This is probably a side effect of them being beautiful and right in front of my face. So the question remains, am I just victim to a pretty face, and tight with my money. Or do I somehow relate to the plight of people who force themselves to be fake and appear attractive to get by in life? I’m not pretty enough to be a stripper and there’s not much call for male strippers in the same context, but I get the feeling that, if I could, I would be a stripper. Maybe if I were female.

I have to admit, this is all more of a train of thought than a clear direction. The only conclusion I can draw from this is that I secretly want to be a stripper, a woman, beautiful and objectified. Since I remain unable to do so and painfully heterosexual, I guess I will lock this deep into my psyche along with my conflicted feelings about my family and embarrasing sexual episodes during my teenage years (and beyond). Then I’ll go home and kiss my girlfriend, high-five my best male buddy, crack open a corona and think about video games.

The difference between men and women, is that this kind of stuff probably lingers with women. I’m such a fucker.

CrotchMail: The Reckoning

A Boy and his Blog

By Adam A Aragon

CrotchMail is the hilarious and Non-Award Winning Blog of Adam Aragon. It runs the gauntlet from dirty, to weird, to geeky and back to offensive and off-color. Completely insane and unapologetically racy, this is a collection of essays and articles from the Very Best of CrotchMail and it’s particular brand of Humor.

12:02:50 PM sikkitten: howdie
12:03:05 PM weaselbringer: what! stop judging me!!
12:03:15 PM weaselbringer: oh sorry I thought you were the instant message that haunts my nightmares
12:03:18 PM sikkitten: haha
12:03:20 PM weaselbringer: you’re just a regular IM
12:03:29 PM sikkitten: I was judging you though
12:03:55 PM weaselbringer: well that’s fine because you don’t have the face of a werewolf and the mind of supernova like in my surreal flavored dreams
12:04:11 PM sikkitten: or so you think
12:04:33 PM weaselbringer: whatever condemnation you can pass down from your realbrain is probably non-fatal
12:05:09 PM weaselbringer: hmm I’ve found that pinching myself is not a solid indicator of dream state, so I’ve taken to firing a live starter pistol at my face to see if I”m dreaming
12:05:20 PM weaselbringer: so far 3/4 times I’ve been awake
12:05:48 PM sikkitten: sounds like a good system.
12:07:01 PM weaselbringer: the first test run it turns out I was dreaming and the starter pistol emitted a high pitched frequency that only marmosets can hear and I shot myself in the face with a lemur..
12:07:2 PM weaselbringer: that… thankfully was only a test run, and I might add, a dream
12:07:14 PM sikkitten: been there
12:08:14 PM weaselbringer: Lemur gun… I wonder if there’s a market for that
12:08:20 PM weaselbringer: ( or an app for that )
12:08:37 PM sikkitten: haha. I would say yes to both.
12:08:55 PM sikkitten: if there isn’t a market, that’s what proper advertising is for.
12:09:06 PM sikkitten: Throw it in the right packaging and everyone will want one.
12:09:36 PM weaselbringer: packaging for a lemur gun… I guess if you sold it… inside a live camel.. that way, if you’re crafty… hey! Free camel!
12:10:43 PM sikkitten: not an advertising ploy that would work on everyone, but I’m sure it has it’s niche.
12:11:28 PM weaselbringer: inside a live baby? studies have shown that humans respond well to infants
12:12:10 PM weaselbringer: all we need to do is gently force a large lemur and accompanying pistol, along with the instruction manual and free lemur case/food pellets inside a human baby and I think that may fill TWO niche’s
12:12:31 PM sikkitten: http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/2010/01/sunday-sweets-when-mario-marries.html
12:12:40 PM weaselbringer: effectively bringing it out from the niche market and into the booming, babies stuffed with things… market…thing
12:13:05 PM weaselbringer: I would get married for that cake alone
12:13:08 PM weaselbringer: to anyone or anything
12:13:28 PM weaselbringer: I would marry a cactus attached a badger trained to eat testicles to have that cake
12:13:36 PM sikkitten: HAHA. I know you would.
12:14:03 PM weaselbringer: And we’re not in the baby killing business, sure there’s money to be made but our goal is at least 70 percent live product
12:14:23 PM weaselbringer: the rest we can pawn off to third world countries where lemur stuffed baby is probably a delicacy… damn savages
12:15:34 PM sikkitten: hey, have you ever tried lemur-stuffed-baby? Don’t judge the foods of other cultures based on your own cultural biases.
12:16:05 PM weaselbringer: hey I’ve done my part I once had a mcdonalds burger from a non-franchised establishment.
12:16:30 PM weaselbringer: One time I think I had a banana or fruit or some type from near canada
12:16:35 PM sikkitten: dude, I said RESPECT other cultures…not risk your life!

So apparently the good lord above has deemed it necessary to infiltrate my iTunes playlist to show me the errors of my ways. Let me explain.

Like any good american under 30, I don’t pay for music. About the time Microsoft and Apple started slapping DRM on everything is when I just stopped caring about buying legitimate music downloads. It just came with too much headache. Sure apple’s fixed it since then but it’s easier and cheaper ($0.00) to just get what you need elsewhere. (for all legal purposes lets remind everyone that this is a COMEDY blog)

So I decided that my tired old playlist needed a dose of new music. I went through and weeded out bands that SOUNDED good at the time, but got old and boring fast. In case you’re wondering which bands those are:

• LCD Soundsystem
• Bang Camaro
• Asher Roth
• Blue October
• Cage the Elephant
• Etc

Then I realized that there are bands/songs on there that just have NO business being on my playlist like:

• Black Eyed Peas
• Cher
• Coldplay
• Depeche Mode
• Kayne West
• Etc

Rest Assured that ALL the above bands are now deleted and I’ve already gone through the effort of calling MYSELF a fag and then dickpunching myself in the locker room. So I’ve realized the error of my erroneously downloading ways. Now of course I’m more careful to download specific albums, immediately deleting them if they don’t grip my attention or seem great. So I queued up a whole new batch of bands and meticulously downloaded several albums. After checking and re-checking the files I imported them all into iTunes and used the ever-popular “Recently Added Playlist”

That’s when Jesus popped in, followed by Disco. What?

I was listening to the new albums I had just set my new songs to “random” and was enjoying some new music. (who I won’t list because I don’t know if they all suck yet) When suddenly I catch a snippet of a tune about Jesus dying on a cross. I immediately open iTunes to find the offending song. Since my Atheism is a Gargantuan Level 80 Paladin, I don’t want no upbeat Jesus music on my playlist.

Sure enough there’s “Robbie Williams” who apparently does christian themed pop. This is annoying in and of itself, but more confusing since, I DID NOT download Robbie Williams. As I’m pondering this, suddenly a half-hearted remix of “Staying Alive” starts to play. My eyes bulge out of my head and I immediately regret all the self-dickpunching soon to follow this escapade. Flipping back to iTunes I realize that part of a compilation titled “Disco Classics Re-Imagined” has found its way onto my recently added playlist… TWICE. I shit you not, every song duplicated from the 30 track compilation of Disco Classics Re-imagined… What. The. Fuck.

Now the sleuths among you have already deduced that I’ve simply been had, and that while downloading music I’ve been swindled into downloading a stupid album in place of the one I was trying to get… The only issue here… is that I didn’t. Since I’ve downloaded roughly 10 solid albums, I went back into the original download folder to find out which album was compromised. There was NO issues. Every album, every track, played perfectly. There simply was NO apparent source of Robbie Williams (Jesus Jamboree) and Disco Dickpunching Classics on my computer. Sure they were in the itunes playlist and music folder, but they have come from NOWHERE. Upon further inspection these folders were made 24 hours prior to my download fiesta. My computer is locked down at work and has no easy access from either an external source or in the office. Not to mention my coworkers are all over 50 and think iTunes is Voodoo magic sent by the aliens.

Still I asked around. Nope. Nothing. My computer was locked, firewalled, passworded, and running OSX (which isn’t as easy to hack or circumvent) in a private room in a private building. Yet somehow. The ghost of Jesus Christ put Robbie Williams and DISCO CLASSICS REIMAGINED on my fucking itunes recently added playlist with no explanation. The only idea I have is that Disco and Jesus are both NOT dead, and they’re pranking people in offices around the world, as part of the coming Disco-Rapture…

2:56:57 PM sikkitten: how’s life in the cool state?

2:57:18 PM weaselbringer: pretty amazing, they changed all the air in california to cherry flavored

2:57:33 PM weaselbringer: and now when you crash your car they give you a jet and a handjob

2:59:48 PM sikkitten: That does sound nice

2:59:52 PM sikkitten: but I don’t have a car

3:01:49 PM sikkitten: so I would miss out on that perk

3:02:06 PM sikkitten: guess I’ll have to wait until I’m employed and have a car before moving back to CA

3:02:57 PM weaselbringer: oh there’s no unemployment anymore, now if you don’t have a job they give you a state funded job eating doritos and watching TV at double your old wages

3:03:16 PM sikkitten: …yeah

3:03:17 PM sikkitten: but

3:03:33 PM weaselbringer: plus arnold Schwarzenegger comes by your house once a week and gives you a high five and a peptalk

3:03:55 PM sikkitten: I want to have a job as a graphic designer, and before I get that I want to get a degree that says I can do so

3:04:10 PM sikkitten: though Arnie coming over to high-five me sounds pretty sweet

3:05:33 PM weaselbringer: that’s fine, everything here is digital now, so you just upload some art to www.Californiaiswaybetterthananywereelse.com and someone mails you a check for 8 million dollars (or 6 million Euros) (( or 200,000 hotpockets ))

3:06:08 PM sikkitten: um, yeah…their site appears to be down

3:06:37 PM sikkitten: so I suppose I’m just going to have to work on finishing my Bachelor’s until they get it up and running again

3:06:52 PM sikkitten: I do like hotpockets.

3:07:27 PM sikkitten: wait a minute…you can only get 200,000 hotpockets for 8mil? That exchange rate seems a little off

3:10:45 PM sikkitten: You know, I always kind of thought that artificial Christmas trees would cost LESS than real ones because, well…they aren’t even REAL.

3:11:07 PM weaselbringer: hotpockets are worth their weight in gold here now, some sort of craze

3:11:24 PM weaselbringer: fake trees cost more because they last forever, and don’t make a mess

3:11:29 PM sikkitten: That’s stupid

3:11:42 PM sikkitten: I wanted a tacky weird colored tree

3:11:51 PM sikkitten: and found out that it would cost me way more than a real one

3:11:53 PM weaselbringer: although in California, everyone is given a LIVE 400 FOOT redwood tree

3:11:53 PM sikkitten: AND

3:12:00 PM weaselbringer: and your house is renovated to fit

3:12:10 PM sikkitten: that was going to be my next question

3:12:34 PM sikkitten: also, how do you reach the top to decorate

3:12:35 PM sikkitten: ?

3:12:43 PM sikkitten: and where do you get that many decorations?

3:12:56 PM weaselbringer: nothing like gathering around the old extensible crane to decorate your 2000 year old king of trees with garlands made from 747 lighting cables

3:13:04 PM sikkitten: and how do the hippies feel about all those old-growth redwoods being cut down?

3:13:37 PM sikkitten: nevermind

3:13:46 PM weaselbringer: they’re not cut down, they’re moved, live, at enormous expense. Which is funded by our sales of promises to hang out with other states but we probably won’t

3:14:11 PM sikkitten: no wonder CA’s economy is suffering…

3:14:30 PM sikkitten: Anyway, Redwoods only come in tree color or dead tree color

3:14:34 PM sikkitten: I want pink, or blue

3:14:41 PM sikkitten: maybe purple or silver foil

3:15:01 PM weaselbringer: I think you mean california red, or superior blue

3:15:05 PM weaselbringer: our state colors

So I’ve just gone and seen New Moon, or as I like to call it “Twilight 2: The Reckoning”. Let’s get the basics out of the way, I’m male and straight (enough) and I’ve seen the first movie and read the entire series of books. To be fair, I didn’t actually know what I was getting into when I idly picked up the first book and because Stephanie Meyers words are somewhat akin to girlishly coated white china heroin, I read the rest.

So I’ve enjoyed the book series, I found it to be well written and with a full and complete story arc that ends in a satisfying and somewhat surprising manner. I’m also well aware that Stephanie Meyers is a filthy mormon and is using the outmoded beliefs of her childish religion to create angst and sexual tension like never before. Apparently though, it worked. This being the first time Hollywood has not rammed a sex scene into a non-comedy romance. So on with the review.

The only time she's not about to poop

It’s hard to summarize or review the 2nd movie without acknowledging the first. The casting of which is nearly pitch perfect. However I found the direction of the first movie to be lacking in personality and life, as it played out mainly as a word-for-word reading of the book as a script with beautiful but stoic actors and actresses. Not to mention Kristen Stewart (Bella Swan) seems to consist mainly of stuttering, apoplexy and migraines throughout the first movie. Now the second iteration is released upon a veritable ocean of squealing girls and shy and ashamed men. I found it to be largely more enjoyable.

In this movie, **PLOT SPOILERS AHEAD** Robert Pattinson (Edward Cullen) as the broody perfect gentleman vampire, realizes that his very existence places his lady love in danger, after a paper cut during a birthday scene almost ends in disaster with his blood-lusting family. Ever the noble matyr, Edward decides his lifestyle is too dangerous for Bella to endure as a human and leaves her broken hearted with his (lied) assurance that he no longer loves her and will “disappear from her life forever”. Bella, lost in a massive whirlpool of sorrow turns in her desperation to Jacob, the Native American supermodel/mechanic (Taylor Lautner), who manages to brighten her life slightly with his carefree and upbeat attitude. He of course falls rapidly in love with the heavily damaged and rebounding Bella and she keeps him at arms length while using him as an emotional crutch to perform dangerous stunts. These dangerous stunts present visions of the erstwhile Edward, who warns her to not harm herself, whether this is completely in her mind or some real telepathic link to Edward (direct from angst-ville) is never quite explained.

The situation is complicated somewhat by the fact that Jacob is revealed to be a Werewolf and that several members of his tribe are also his “pack”. Furthermore, the female antagonist Victoria, having survived her mates destruction in the first movie is still hellbent on revenge and plans to kill the relatively unprotected Bella. Though the part of Victoria is largely unspoken in this movie she remains only a shadowy menace represented mainly by dirty looks and threatening poses. The real story is Bella’s mutual but distant love for Jacob and increasingly dangerous activities. This culminates in a cliff-diving scene where Edwards psychic sister foretells her death (incorrectly) and Edward finds out and plans to kill himself as a result.

Edward throws himself at the mercy of the Volturi, an ancient Italian group of vampires who all possess superpowers of some type or another. Making them the dirty X-men of the Twilight Universe. They refuse to kill Edward and so he concocts a plan to break the Volturi’s main law, which is secrecy, by exposing himself as a vampire and subsequently getting himself killed in retaliation. Bella and Alice race to Italy to prevent this and lo and behold, manage to save Edward. But not without first attracting the attention of the Volturi leaders who insist she must be made a vampire or die.

The story comes to a close with Edward back in the game and Jacob scorned and angry as Bella looks forward to becoming a Vampire.

The only other guy who watched this movie

The lengthy plot is revealed, and while this covers the real happening of the movie it’s important to note a few things. For one, Jacob, being a much more primary character and admirably acted by Taylor Lautner is also reduced to little more than female pornography by existing for 90 percent of the 130 minute runtime with no shirt on, appearing as though he probably breaks a Bowflex machine before breakfast. With rippling abs and overexaggerated muscles, intended to convey that his new Werewolf metabolism is greatly increased, he becomes more of a constant sight gag. Making girls (ranging age 14-40) Sigh and giggle constantly, as the first real equivalent of female driven porn, worms its way onto mainstream cinema. Between the wolf and abs ‘other guy’ and the dark mysterious pale leading man, this is several of the most popular female fantasies colliding in a stew that literally leaves men (or at least me) feeling distant and uncomfortable.

That’s not to say the movie is bad. I found it to be well paced, funny, and have some genuinely inspired fight scenes that leave you wincing in pain for these characters. There are some things that worked for the first movie that barely deserved a glance in this one though. The casting of her friends from high school become rapidly more irrelevant in this movie and one is led to wonder why they continue to put up with Bella’s whiny ever gloomy and dismissive attitude. It doesn’t help that these friends have very little chemistry with each other and are obviously hand picked to provide racial diversity in the cold northwestern US, where Blacks, Asians, and Puerto Ricans are not yet invented. Much less goofy friends, linked to each other only by their tenuous ability to swallow Bella’s constant emotional shitstorm.

Bella’s dad Charlie (Billy Burke) as a picture perfect Chief Swan impressed with his depth and range in the first movie. He is unfortunately relegated to a role of constant unbelievable acceptance of his daughters massive mood swings and acts of rebellion and self-endangerment. While it’s possible that most parents are little more effectual than Charlie, it’s difficult to swallow that he’s both caring and apathetic to what is essentially full blown schizophrenic behavior courtesy of the slightly less stuttery Kristen Stewart.

From a male point of view, all the female characters in this movie are beautiful and fairly well acted, however they remain the only people sensibly bundled under what, by contrast, seems like acres of clothing. The females remain simple almost indistinct and generally forgettable, as the focus is clearly on our leading lady and her Olympic sized swimming pool of testosterone resulting from 2 chiseled male competitors. All in all, I would say this movie more effectively delivers the drama of the book than the first and is worth watching and enjoying for either male or females, but it’s very obviously directed toward the latter.

For those of you that aren’t fans of the series, I can summarize the movie in another, more humorous way:

The movie budget didn't include shirts

The scared-of-blood vampire Edward, watches his girlfriend get a paper cut and breaks up with her, forcing her to gain hallucinogenic highs while cockteasing a werewolf until she attempts suicide, forcing her ex-boyfriend to beg the Italian X-men to kill him, resulting in a high speed chase and culminating in a dick-waving contest between 2 sets of differently toned bodybuilders, which they both inevitably lose because in this twlight/pokemon universe, abstinence is awesome and everyones pretty much fine with a manic depressive pushing their buttons.

So with one review, or the other, I leave you. Probably to either profess your deep hatred for this book/movie series you’ve never read or watched, or to watch the damn movie again, because the boys are SO cute.

I’ll be over here vomiting in this bucket, but giving this movie a solid 4 out of 5 stars for some great effects, performances and a pretty well written “Bodice Ripper” come to life.

10:37:04 AM Cliff: So you diggin the MW2 action?

11:30:47 AM weaselbringer: it’s pretty fricking rad

11:30:58 AM weaselbringer: doubt I’ll play it multiplayer

11:31:09 AM weaselbringer: but i’ll probably do the SP campaign twice

11:47:22 AM Cliff: Yeah, I’m hooked. The whole attack on america thing is pretty wild. Not that I’m proud that one of the fights in america revolves around a fast food chain mall.

11:47:35 AM weaselbringer: lol

11:47:37 AM weaselbringer: yeah

11:47:42 AM weaselbringer: defend the burger town is pretty silly

11:47:49 AM weaselbringer: but I’m glad there’s a taco bell or whatever,

11:48:23 AM Cliff: Well its funny, you think about all the other game they’ve done and you fight for farms and churches and historic areas. Then they do one game in america and your defending the burger barn and taco hut.

11:48:46 AM Cliff: “God damnit general, save the burger barn and get me a double quarter pounder while your there!”

11:48:48 AM weaselbringer: well I’m assuming we’re defending “freedom” and not the burger hut

11:49:02 AM Cliff: Freedom Fries

11:49:22 AM weaselbringer: we’re defending our right to have people stupid enough to call french fries… that

11:49:42 AM Cliff: God bless america

11:56:21 AM weaselbringer: I believe the burger hut was bombed anyway

11:56:44 AM weaselbringer: diner also thrashed, pisstown USA will have to bebuilt

11:57:05 AM weaselbringer: Hundreds of dollars in government funding will be required before it can regain it’s former beauty

11:57:11 AM weaselbringer: HUNDREDS

11:57:33 AM Cliff: Wheres a crying eagle when you need one.

11:58:00 AM weaselbringer: or a cybernetic bald eagle riding a plymouth into uncle sams vampire mouth

11:58:04 AM weaselbringer: no wait that’s just a tattoo I wanted

11:58:56 AM Cliff: I can see it, I dig it… no wait let me get the acid then everything will make sense

12:02:36 PM weaselbringer: then it looks like a pile of lumber, acid test pre-completed buddy

12:02:47 PM weaselbringer: what about that controversial airport scene?

12:02:58 PM Cliff: Did you play that yet?

12:03:02 PM Cliff: Its the third mission

12:03:16 PM weaselbringer: Here’s a massive machine gun and for some reason we need you to “PRETEND” by killing and gunning down OODLES of innocents

12:03:38 PM weaselbringer: this is to ‘get in good’ with the terrorist, who is STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU WHILE YOU ARE HOLDING A MACHINE GUN

12:04:18 PM weaselbringer: you could burst all 5 of those jackasses and not a single civilian life lost, or you could HELP them gun down thousands, get shot in the face and start a war…

12:04:19 PM weaselbringer: hmm

12:04:40 PM weaselbringer: maybe America’s policy of ‘kill as many innocents as it takes’ isn’t as well thought out as we thought

12:04:48 PM Cliff: hah

12:05:32 PM Cliff: Well heres my take on it, they wanted you to get in close with him to figure out what was next. Maybe they thought he had a nuke or something big that could kill loads more, who knows, I’m honestly not sure if they even bring it up.

12:05:46 PM Cliff: Anyways, they send you in the get in good with him and play buddy buddy

12:05:48 PM weaselbringer: Not explained at all

12:06:18 PM weaselbringer: and I’m pretty sure he can’t use a nuke with 30 rounds in his back… which is exposed to you, the whole time, that you are… killing innocent people, to gain his favor, which doesn’t work

12:06:33 PM Cliff: What bugs me is all that “If you are compromised we destroy all evidence of your existence” that ALL other CIA movies do… I mean shit its the first thing I thought of.

12:07:03 PM Cliff: My assumption was it was a no other alternative situation

12:07:06 PM weaselbringer: isn’t the point of counter terrorism to avoid gigantic bloodbaths like… I dunno, a massive airport execution?

12:07:14 PM Cliff: Like he had the capabilities and cells that would do it for him if he died

12:07:55 PM weaselbringer: still knowing there was some guy in france with sweaty palms holding the controller for a nuke would go a long way to soothing my concerns, instead it’s “Be his friend, kill thousands… it’s WORTH it”

12:08:31 PM Cliff: *little devil on his shoulder*

This is a good idea, nothing could go wrong.

12:08:55 PM weaselbringer: little angel – Yeah, machine guns, yeah! (in a beavis voice)

12:09:01 PM Cliff: hah

12:09:41 PM weaselbringer: I have to say the game is made worth it by gangsta shooting faceless enemies while snowmobiling at roughly 200 miles per hour

12:09:46 PM Cliff: Maybe one of the writers at activision had a really bad experience at a german airport and was like “Ya know what, fuck these people” and the story goes from there.

12:09:56 PM weaselbringer: You ever been to german airport?

12:09:58 PM Cliff: lol

12:10:00 PM Cliff: no

12:10:01 PM weaselbringer: it’s like that ALL the time

12:10:09 PM weaselbringer: thousands dead daily

12:10:30 PM weaselbringer: I don’t think a plane has ever successfully landed or taken off from a german airport

12:10:36 PM weaselbringer: due to all the shootings

12:10:42 PM Cliff: I’ll have to make note of this

12:10:46 PM Cliff: Avoid Germany

12:11:01 PM weaselbringer: yeah if you’re layover is in hamburg or something like that, wear flak, go in packing and leave on a fucking snowmobile

12:11:21 PM weaselbringer: that will be the only way you’re getting to euro-disney

12:11:58 PM Cliff: Now I have the image of Mickey in the airport gunning down thousands of civilians.

12:12:17 PM weaselbringer: with his creepy laugh, now THAT would be Epic Mickey

12:12:49 PM weaselbringer: Goofy throws a flashbang and says “Garsh” before slitting the throat of yet another airport security guard

12:13:16 PM Cliff: Donald suicide bombs a concession stand

12:15:07 PM weaselbringer: which accomplishes…

12:15:20 PM weaselbringer: No it doesn’t matter

12:15:26 PM weaselbringer: I think it’s awesome

12:15:37 PM weaselbringer: I’m also going to blog this… watch me

12:16:21 PM Cliff: I can’t wait for the FBI to call me.

12:19:39 PM weaselbringer: and crotchmail.com ‘ed

12:20:08 PM Cliff: I’ve always waited for this day… my life is complete

From the old Devil’s Newsletter Day’s – Here’s some more examples of customer service letters that would likely get you fired

WeaselBringer: Dear waste of human life, We have taken your order and put it in the shredder and then taken the long strips of paper and put them through again horizontally, this is an effective way to make confetti, we used the confetti during a celebration party dedicated to your lost order, and as a party trick we charged your account for this order about 1034 times. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused

WeaselBringer: Dear SeaFoamPimp@tercel.com – We have totally been up in your order records. And the shit you was ramblin’ about ain’t nuthin’ – it just some shit from back in the day, jus’ like  tricked out and all fuckered. So my bad G’ Funk – Sincerely , Yo’ Pimp mack daddy direct channel rep(Resent!)

WeaselBringer: Dear Sally, while tracing your order in our systems, we decided to put your email address in google, and we found some pictures of you in lingerie having sex with a dog. We think that’s pretty messed up. But Tom in Accounting would like your number, and we weren’t sure if we should give it to him, but it sounds like you’re a total freak, so we just wanted your permission. Oh and your order has been cancelled or something. – signed – Customer ‘bestiality’ service

WeaselBringer: Dear Annoying customer, Thank you for shutting the hell up. Your last email was like 4 pages, and even just skimming it made me late for my break, where I got totally trashed and totally forgot your order and had to read it AGAIN. Could you drop the attitude and just get to the point? thx dood – CS

WeaselBringer: Dear Sam Peckinhaw, We received your email about your lost order. And we assure you that we’re doing everything we can to track it. We even put up pictures of it around town on phone polls and offered a reward, if this doesn’t work, we will start going door to door and putting ads in the paper, rest assured we will find your order. In the meantime please accept this free gift of spam-scented candles. – CS

WeaselBringer: Dear blah, thank you for your inquiry. As per your request we have had your children raped and your husband shot. Or replaced your broken glass pumpkin. It might be either one… But one of those requests is definitely done. If you would like your faced slammed in a vice and beaten with bamboo, don’t hesitate to call us again

WeaselBringer: Dear customer: We were about to issue your refund but upon further investigation we’ve realized that you’re Jewish, and we don’t like that much. So at this time no refund can be issued. And we hope you will die, and continue to enjoy shopping at illuminations (you stinky heebie)

WeaselBringer: Dear Customer/dumbass, Our records indicate that you probably impotent and unable to perform sexually or physically. Our records also indicate that it’s small. I mean really small… Our records might be lying, but they’ve been around, and they know small. We hope this information is helpful in locating your glass pumpkin order. – Sincerely, ‘well-hung’customer service rep

Dear Franni Drepshanksizzlekeynips,

Thank you for your inquiry. We have investigated your order. (#66675859) We were unable to find anything at first. And then we investigated more. We have discovered that your order was sent, but to an address of your brother-in-law whom you no longer speak with (according to our investigations, which are very thorough) – However, DO NOT Panic. As the order sent was only an empty box and included an invoice listing 7000x Mongoose testacles. These unfortunately, were not available either.

Upon further investigation of the previous investigation. We have determined that the original product you ordered (3 chestnut jar candles) Were roasted over an open fire at the warehouse during a christmas party that involved, to the best of our knowledge, black tar heroin and vicodin shooters. These were of course, rapidly replaced with several similar items (#66672349) and shipped to Peru.

Upon investigating our records of the previous inverted ‘investigation’ Quantum Theory. We have located your order (#42002349) in Peru, where we do not provide shipping services. Your 7 Hazelnut replacement jars were located via sattelite and were ingested by goats near the Appalachian border, and their owner is understandably upset. We understand that this is not your responsibility, nevertheless we have charged your account several thousand dollars as compensation to a Havarrti Domanicann which will appear on your visa bill as “Goat Damage Reperation” This should also explain the majority of the ‘excessive’ charges that you mentioned in your earlier email.

We have hired paranormal investigators to track the dead investigators killed during the aforementioned ‘Quantum’ investigation, which sadly, ended in tragedy. Through this medium we have issued a replacement order at the warehouse for 4 Lemony-Vomit scented candles. Which are the only currently available closest replacement product. These however were dropped by a shipping employee by the name of Lenny Sendgooder, who has received 35 lashes for his impudence and lack of training. Lenny is recovering in intensive care and sends his best wishes. A replacement request was issued by the local department for this worker. This was returned electronically to our facility, which we promptly printed and mailed via US Postal service to our Fax department for them to Send back to the warehouse to have your 4th replacement order (#696969LOL) of 90 Dead grasshoppers with chestnuts fullfilled. This order was sent by Priority overnight shipping to our warehouse, where it was also shipped from, in an unfortunate system glitch. Upon receiving this order, it was promptly returned to sender, as we didn’t order any grasshoppers or chestnuts. And the 30th of December we received it back here via Fed-Ex.

We quickly investigated and consulted our Ouji board and immediately repackaged your order (#420420LOL) with most of the grasshoppers intact, and a free beer bottle (empty) for your troubles. This was sent with freight charges to your current listed address. The box that you received containing a Bottle of Cabernet and a live ape was a mistake generated by our investigation into our order system. Which sadly, also ended in tragedy.

To conclude our investigation, the additional charges on your credit card for “Personal Massage” and “93 Kegs Br. Ale” are a blatant lie and the empty kegs will be returned when they are all located from various parts of the warehouse and surrounding field area. This charge will be refunded, pending an investigation. Your current order has been cancelled unfortunately as we are out of candles and are now shipping only packing peanuts and old issues of “Vogue” to random addresses that pop into our heads.

We hope you understand the difficulty we have experienced this holiday season and cease your complaints and constant emails. So that we may continue our investigation into Bigfoot. Who also was shipped something.

If you have any questions, or if you require any further assistance, please contact us at NoReply@CandlesMaybe.com, or by phone at 1-800-DONT-ASK. Our phone center is open to assist you with your purchase Monday through Tuesday, from 1am – 2am Central-Pacific-Mountain time.

We look forward to serving you in the future.

Thank you for your interest in CandlesMaybe.com.

Sincerely,

—-

Nabinga Wedonship

Direct Channels Customer Service Dept.

WISMO@CandlesMaybe.com

I don’t imagine many people would listen to a stand-up comedian who bitches about traffic and the same rule probably applies for comedic writers eager to share their frustration with the daily routine that is the ‘commute’. However I’ve come up with an innovative and relatively harmless way of shedding my aggression, sticking it to the man, and retaining a zen-like mischievous calm.

From the Eyes of the Motherfucker

You see when I’m driving, sometimes 2 to 4 hours a day, I see my share of aggressive pass-happy idiots. Who forgo blinkers and speed laws as well as common sense, to reach the nexus of Douchebag known as “Motherfucker”

Every day I see people spend time weaving in and out of traffic in complicated spiraling and often dangerous ways in an effort to show people they will never see, that they are angry at life and don’t understand traffic. Here’s some easy tips to recognize your classic “Motherfucker”

• Fancy or Shitty Cars. It’s not usually a Honda or a Chevy that contains a motherfucker. It’s generally a late-model Mercedes convertible or a half-spray painted Ford Festiva. There isn’t much in-between. Apparently the extremely poor and rich are always late for that next appointment, with their crack dealer.
• No Blinkers, regardless of car, the first one you see to swap lanes or merge without even a hint of blinker is probably on his way to douchiness.
• Cell Phones… Now in california it’s a law now to not speak on your cell phone, at least not with it held up to your ear, I generally agree that headsets should be used and cell phone in-car should be used sparingly, but your up and coming MF will likely have a large handset plastered against their ear while making lane changes, merging, parking, crashing, or bleeding to death. It’s one very important phone call people!
• Also watch for dangling cigarettes, dice on the mirror, being female, or anyone executing child discipline…

Now that we’ve made some effort to determine what the average MF warning signs are, it’s important understand both my actions and my philosophy. I’ll start by justifying myself in saying.

“Passing me, will not get you where you are going any faster”

This diagram just means you're wrong

Sounds simple and maybe even wrong, but in practice it’s not. I can’t speak for everyone but I’m a fairly experienced commuter, I get in the fast lane and stay there until I have to leave, I don’t nervously shift lanes when traffic slows, and I don’t rubberneck or rummage around the floor of my car looking for the ark of the covenant. Yet countless times I see a complete waste of human breathing air aggressively pass me and maybe even several other people, at unsafe speeds with no margin for error and almost always, in the middle of heavy traffic. WHY?

You see the practice of shifting lanes constantly (and like an asshole) means that you take every ‘slot’ or opportunity that arises, however due to the intricacies that is the hive-mind of traffic this will almost always result in 1 step forward, 2 steps back implementation. As heavy traffic has no “system” to beat, aside from having a police siren or illegally driving on the shoulder (both of which I’ve seen performed by the fabled “Grand Master Douchbags” or “Cocksucking Motherfuckers”)

The inevitable result is that I stay in my lane, obey the laws and watch as they helplessly and angrily get left behind, time and time again, and before long they’re far behind me… who hasn’t changed lanes or speed… once.

Now having seen this demonstrated almost daily and proven to be true about 90 percent of the time. I’ve come up with a way to make myself feel better and to give them a direction for their spongy self-loathing rage. Here it is: I don’t let them pass me. But… Adam… doesn’t that mean you would have to work at blocking them. Yes. Absolutely. I block the shit out of them.

Woe betide the fledgling Motherfucker who tries to pass me. Because he’s in for about 20 minutes of total passive aggressive cock-blocking. You see, the passer, never thinks beyond the moment. They see an opportunity, represented here by a 5 foot gap between me and another fellow commuter in front of me. They see that gap and they think to themselves. That gap is in a more forward position than I am, and therefore would improve my standing in this traffic mess I’ve found myself in, also, I have a small penis. (male or female). They immediately move to jam their car unsafely into the tiny spot presented between our two cars in what some would call a ‘safe distance’ But fuck all that, He’s going in, to tailgate someone else, and push me back yet another 20 feet in my attempt to live my life’s dream of not getting murdered by a douchebag.

So instead, I pull forward slightly, making the possible gap, simply impossible. The passer (MF) will then ride alongside me waiting for my concentration to slip, before finally dropping back and looking for a spot behind me, or another opportunity. Eventually though, like a fly to a delectable piece of shit, they return, buzzing around my personal space. Now the stakes are increased, the speed is higher, the gap is bigger. I can almost see the look of man-child-like glee on the face of the passing MF as he moves forward to overtake me. Only to have me pull forward, speed up slightly and block the space again. I’ve played this game for upwards of 30 minutes, once for my personal best was 55 straight minutes of innocently blocking a complete dick in a black Audi (A8).

These are Fascinating, aren't they!?!?!

The key here is not to enrage the other driver, that would be only too easy. No the key is to look INNOCENT. You never make eye contact, turn your head, and above all, never laugh maniacally. Though between you and me it’s happened. The essential idea here is to look like you just happen to be blocking their pass attempt. This only works in relatively dense, fast traffic or else too much opportunity will arise and they will cut you off and get home .00008 seconds faster to beat their wives and hateful white trash children. I’ve made an artistic form of making passing impossible and while I casually whistle to myself in cocoon of zen-like fun, the other driver keeps pounding his fists on his steering wheel in a temper tantrum to fate, wondering why they CANNOT achieve the impossible dream that is pissing me off and tailgating some other guy.

Because I am there… Blocking You. I make it look accidental, but it’s not. I hate you. I hate your 90 mile an hour attempts to get 3 carlengths ahead of me, only to slip behind me 10 minutes later because apparently being a dickface doesn’t come with a decent attention span or brain size. I hate the fact that you’ve spent the last several years wondering what that ‘clicky’ handle does to the left of your steering wheel. I hate the fact that you think passing me will achieve something. I hate the overwhelming idea, that the goal you’re so aggressively and dangerously careening toward is probably nothing even slightly more important than what I’m heading toward.

But I don’t let it get to me, I just put a smile on my face and pull forward slightly. Now quit trying.

Birthday Post (or What I’ve learned in 28 years)

Here’s a list of some of the important things I’ve learned in 28 years:

• Your greatest hopes and dreams from when you are younger will morph and fade away and become an urge to create a 401k
• Always tip a dollar a drink at the bar.
• You simply cannot eat an entire wheel of cheese without severe consequences
• Don’t mix alcohol types in one night, if you HAVE to, limit it to 2 types MAXIMUM
• The few times when you think you look really awesome, your fly is probably down
• Awkward moments are hilarious and should be treated as such
• Music, Movies and all Forms of mass entertainment aren’t nearly as important as you thought they were
• It’s okay to re-read books
• The best pick-up line is “Hello, my name is _______”
• A tomato is neither a fruit nor a vegetable, but a spy for the coming alien armada

Here’s a list of the things I’ve FAILED to learn in 28 years, but should have:

• You simply cannot eat an entire wheel of cheese without severe consequences.
• You can’t get famous or rich off of being ‘Awesome’
• While your friends think you’re funny, it’s best not to assume that you are funny to everyone
• When a girl you don’t know smiles at you, check behind you to see if her boyfriend is there
• Tell your friends you love them, but not in front of their coworkers, or they will look at you weird
• Don’t call other peoples parents mom/dad/ma/pa/bitch/asshole
• I can’t dance

Here’s a list of the things I want to do before I’m 30

• Get written about in a magazine
• Make money off the internet
• Write a novel
• Play Night-Time Frisbee
• Burn the Confederate Flag
• Make the best sandwich ever
• Make a 401k… or a threesome, whichever comes first

• If you live in Maine and your hometown includes a clown driving a car he calls Christine with a large ,rabid St. Bernard in the backseat, while residing in an old, haunted hotel near a strange Pet Semetary and hangs out with teenage girls with telekenetic powers….you’re pretty much screwed.
• When it appears you have killed the monster, NEVER check to see if it’s really dead.
• Never read a book of demon summoning aloud, even as a joke.
• Do not go search for something in the basement, especially if the power has just gone out.
• If your children speak to you in Latin or any other language which they should not speak, or if they speak to you using a voice which is not their own, shoot them immediately. It will save you the grief in the long run. *NOTE* It will probably take several rounds to kill them, so be prepared.
• When you have the benefit of numbers, NEVER pair off or go alone.
• As a general rule, don’t solve puzzles that open portals to Hell.
• Never stand in, on, above, below, beside or anywhere near a grave, tomb, crypt, mausoleum or any other house of the dead.
• f you are searching for something which caused a loud noise and you find out it’s just the cat, leave the room immediatey if you value your life.
• If appliances start operating by themselves, move out.
• Do not take *anything* from the dead.
• If you find a town which looks deserted, it’s probably for a good reason. Take the hint and stay away.
• Don’t fool around with recombinant DNA technology unless you’re sure you know what you are doing.
• If you’re running away from the monster, expect to trip or fall down at least twice, more if you are of the female persuasion. Also note that despite the fact that you are running and the monster is merely shambling along, it’s still moving fast enough to catch up with you.
• Stay away from certain geographical locations. Such as: Amityville, Elm Street, Transylvania, Nilbog, the Bermuda Triangle or any small town in Maine.
• If your car runs out of gas late at night, don’t go to the nearby deserted looking house to call for help. Likewise if your car has broken down, and the only refuge for miles is that creepy old mansion/castle on the hill. Stay in the car.
• Beware of strangers bearing tools such as chainsaws, staple guns, hedge trimmers, electric carving knives, lawnmowers, butane torches, smoldering irons, band saws or any device made from deceased companions.
• Listen closely to the soundtrack and pay attention to the audience. They are usually far more intelligent than you could ever hope to be.
• Never listen to music that contains staccato shrieking violins.
• If you are a woman, never strip and take a shower in slow motion.
• Do not keep all your sharpened kitchen knives in one of those wooden block thingies on your worksurface.
• The first woman to either lose or remove her clothing is dead meat.
• The guy with the testosterone overdose is also dead meat.
• Along with the guy that is always making jokes
• When you are searching a house because you think there is something dangerous there, turn on the damn lights!
• Never back out of one room into another without looking. It’s always behind you.
• If you are traveling with friends, never let any hitch hikers into the van with you. It’ll be the worst (if not the last) day of your life.
• Never babysit.There are enough babysitter-in-danger-thanks-to-a-stupid-killer flicks out there already.
• If you ARE stupid enough to babysit, never try on the mom’s nightgown collection. You’ll only end up showing more skin. Remember: Skin=Death.
• If you are being chased, never lean against the wall when you think you lost him. He’ll just pop through and kill you. Same goes for leaning against the window.
• If you are at your Senior prom, and the school reject has just won prom queen, slowly back away and run for the exit. All hell is about to break loose.
• SEX=DEATH
• If you are a stoner among other stoners, be the quiet one or the lovable one. All the other stoners will be killed.
• If you sense something is behind you, don’t bother turning around to check. Just run.
• If you are trying to escape the killer, sliding through the cat door in the electronic garage door will not help you any.
• After you manage to kill the monster/killer, never sit beside it and cry. It will suddenly pop back up to finish the job.
• Never go to camp or become a counselor. You’ll be dead by the end of summer.
• Never say “I’ll be right back.” You won’t be back. End of story.
• Don’t ever do something just because someone dares you to.
• If you ever visit some distant planet and find objects that look like eggs, LEAVE THEM ALONE!!! Then when one of your spaceship’s crew members finds a hideous parasite attached to his body (as a result of breaking the pervious rule), don’t let him back on the ship. When a hideous alien menace is hunting you (as a result of breaking the previous two rules) NEVER wander off alone to hunt for the ship’s cat.
• If someone tells you to do or not to something (example: DON’T fall asleep, DON’T go out there, DON’T go look for the homicidal-chainsaw-wielding psychopath by yourself) by all means, LISTEN TO THEM!!
• A small town’s little summer celebration might sound like fun. But if you hear the locals say things like, “Why you’re the guest of honor! We couldn’t even have the barbecue with out you!”, run like hell.
• If you are trapped in a house surrounded by demons, making coffee will not help anyone.
• Always be nice to the shy, quiet, unpopular girl in school.
• Clowns never have, nor will they ever be helpful to hang around while in a horror movie. As harmless as the might seem, they WILL kill you once you let your guard down.
• Never go back for anything you lost. If the movie is directed by someone named Wes Craven or John Carpenter, you’re pretty much screwed.
• If the killer/monster is dead, don’t dig up his grave to try to do a final resurrection. He will only come back to life.
• If you disobey the previous rule, don’t try cutting off his head or anything cheap. Stick a grenade in his mouth and run for it.
• If the killer is standing three feet in front of you, don’t just stand there and scream while he comes running towards you. It may comes as a shock, but he DOES in fact want to kill you.
• A female should never wear a white shirt without a bra while escaping the monster. It will only increase your chances of falling and causing a freak rainstorm that will make your shirt transparent and result in your immediate death.
• If you DO happen to get killed, make sure it’s in a cheap low-budget gore-fest with no plot, so you can come back and kick ass, no explanation needed.
• (courtesy of DN and friends)

The World’s Biggest Comedy Duo went on their 2 year anniversary camping trip.

Thanks to Melissa for all the pictures

(We Blogged about this too)

[View with PicLens]

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More and more Myspace feels like the ugly annoying younger sibling of facebook. With FB’s clean content, very secure environments and lack of dazzling shitty custom profiles it just feels more modern, refined, well thought-out.

Where as myspace is still clunky, square, blue and messy as hell. Pictures don’t line up, the apps are a shameless and incredibly poor rip-off of apps that have already been on facebook for ages.

The only reason to hop on myspace nowadays is to connect with the few remaining people who haven’t made the jump over yet. Not that facebook is perfect, I think the WHOLE WORLD would be better off without apps, but otherwise it’s just more engaging and useful.

Unless myspace changes drastically they will fall by the wayside, as is appropriate since they’re practically owned by Satan. If they did update it would probably be just to look more like facebook. So… Just putting it out there.

And for those people that feel like Facebook is too much for the “older” crowd, it’s for the less douchbaggish, non-pretty-pink-ponies crowd too, and we don’t miss you.

I like MakeEnemies.com for my edgy social networking and facebook for all my day to day stuff, Myspace is going nowhere…fast

Which Skills from the following list best match your abilities?

If you said yes to any of these things you too could have a career with Crotchmail. We’re looking for talented writers with one or more of the above listed skills/hobbies. So even if you sit at home in a dark cave crying on a record player set to repeat the theme song from “Friends” over and over again. We could probably use your skills, or at least your blood.

We are looking for writers. write to Dick@crotchmail.com And have your brain probed.

Jesus Monkey Flavored Christ

I woke up today with a hangover that gave me super powers. Power that allow me to feel pain and misery unlike any person before. Like Daredevil, I could hear the slightest whisper of every sound. I could hear my skin sliding across the soft material of the pillow as I slowly turned my 1000 pound head. I could hear my brain literally adjusting itself in my skull. I knew there was something terribly wrong, when what sounded like a drum solo turned out to be the feet of the toddler that lives two doors down attempting to walk.

Despite my super hearing, I was unable to form coherent thoughts or sentences. This is a hangover of the ages. A hangover SO bad, that you don’t actually realize it’s bad, until you come out of it slightly and realize that you’re not supposed to contemplate suicide 15 times a second for 89 minutes straight. Then it occurs to you, yes, something might be wrong.

I took 4 ibuprofen and my hangover literally laughed and tossed them back out of my throat with a girlish giggle. Pure bottled water tasted like motor oil that’s been sieved through the hands of glass coated giants who also hate me and love to play giant cymbals. At some point a full 32 piece orchestra broke into full song with a screaming tibetan monk as a solo, that turned out to be my cellphone ringing. Luckily i’ve mastered the art of moving only my hand while not disturbing the delicate balance of my head on top of a thousand needles coated in pain.

At some point the hangover reached a dreamlike fever pitch, where the colors of the rainbow literally wrote the 150 ways they would like me to die, while chanting and parading every single drink from the night before in front of me. It was like a grotesque chorus line designed to break my spirit. My spirit, not to be outdone, decided it would not only break, but make an awful keening sound for about 8 minutes, which turned out to be me, crying softly into my pillow because i’d been laying on my left testicle rather painfully for about 10 minutes and not noticing. The pins and needles that my dangling buddy was indeed still capable of pumping shoved stupid blood to brain, that only served to remind me more and more. That I should never drink that much again, which is, what I say, EVERY time this happens.

So here’s to the hangover that actually went out, got a job, paid rent and moved into my room so it could make everything smell like sweat, booze, blood and failure. Which I rinse off in a shower that sounds like 80,000 watts of waterfall going off inside my grimacing face.

I apologize in advance to myself, when I’m able to actually read this and punch myself in the dick for being an idiot.

- I bid you, Ow my fucking head hurts and I hate everything, farewell

You’re probably wondering why I’ve banana. See? That doesn’t make sense, the key to good nonsense is for it to ALMOST look like it makes sense. Let me give you an example:

Jill went to the moon, and brought back ketchup filled with satan’s hair. This caused the flux-capacitor to engage in marriage to most of Iowa.

This is pretty standard nonsense, but I think we can tweak it a little.

Jill’s lunar landing was upset by devilish ketchup mishaps and she ended up time-traveleling to mormonism.

I think we can all agree that the second one is much more banana.

But it’s not all lost keys and migraines. No. There’s a downside to this to angle of upward thinking. That downside? Republicans.

I think that by abandoning formatting and lightly touching back onto the topic of what utter real good confusing nonsense is, makes a fine daiquiri. Besides if it were literally just strings of words that don’t quite go together, would you actually read it? Gibberish has it’s place but like the old man from the famous Charles Dickens novel used to say “The internet is a whore and you’re a slut for feeding her”

You might be thinking to yourself, sure sure *nodding* but can it chop my sentences into tiny pieces? Yes. It. Can.

And, this line is just a ton of one syl – a – ble – words that can be the best line if it will try to be more than it is.

A little derring-do, a little wordplay for you, it’s the equivalent of doing a handstand in the middle of an important business speech on why stocks are down and there’s koala’s in the lobby. I write my articles like I have sex with fruit. In the dark recesses of a building in the run-down part of town, and I NEVER talk about it.

But enough about you! You attention starved probate! Let’s move on to why I am the single most important thing to happen to the united states and the other countries since bread was invented. There’s one simple reason that I am what amounts to Jesus in this day and age, and that’s banana.

Gibberish is the act of creating a word that doesn’t exist, like Hakana-maristy-roo-roo (say it out loud, SAY IT) But Nonsense, that’s ill-fitting words that don’t go together but they are WORDS, legit words. And I put forth that simply stringing together as many random words as you can, will eventually lead to a point, because your subconcious will guide you toward saying what’s actually on your mind. Let’s see if it works.

I cat fish dog once spoon tree indian swallowed blue green yellow an entire fred george ginger hornet pornography mapmaking judo and I have bronze apple canon nightmares sand cougar shittake to this day blonde angry fist about japanese fern dancers having compact scorpion shiner bee lawsuit glasses font babies qwerty anonymous prank in my apartment grandma adapter stomach.

now this may look like utter nonsense but I say there’s a point. Look CLOSELY

I cat fish dog once spoon tree indian swallowed blue green yellow an entire fred george ginger hornet pornography mapmaking judo and I have bronze apple canon nightmares sand cougar shittake to this day blonde angry fist about japanese fern dancers having compact scorpion shiner bee lawsuit glasses font babies qwerty anonymous prank in my apartment grandma adapter stomach.

My work here is Done.

Banana

I dug through “PixelGirl Presents” to find these, my favorite three iphone wallpapers, you can tell me which one you like best

Click each photo to see full-size

There is a man standing at a desk, with his hands pushed flat and hard against the mahogany wood. His gaze is steely and his lips are drawn into a tight line.

“Allright guys, here’s the plot to Duke Nukem Forever”

“Finally!” The coder from 3dRealms thinks to himself.

They’ve been preparing and tweaking and updating for years and years but no one up until this point, had painted the full picture. Finally here it was, from the mouth of the big man himself.

“Okay, we’ve all waited a long time for this, but I had to wait until the technology was right, it goes down like this…”

Every eye was glued to him, every ear strained to hear every detail of his vision.

“Duke nukem walks onto a black background and lights a cigar, and then he puts the cigar out on a kids face, oh, there’s a kid there too, but he’s just there to get burned. Anyway. He kicks the kid out of the screen and pulls down his pants, then there’s a huge glow coming from his crotch. The camera zooms in and its revealed that the entire game takes place inside his balls. Then the world comes into focus and he’s fighting inside a giant vagina and his gun is so huge that it literally takes up three quarters of the screen. Every time he fires the gun a naked woman flies out and slams into his enemies at supersonic speed. Every single enemy will be different, each one will be nude spread-eagled flying-angel version of a playboy playmate from the last 30 years, in perfect photo-realistic detail.

After he fights through the vagina level, his gun overheats and he is forced to use his fists. The next round of enemies are womens liberation protesters outside an abortion clinic he punches and beats his way through the crowd and every single blow landed sends up a massive volcano of blood and each corpse will be littered with photo-realistic bruises copied from real domestic abuse videos. As he nears the abortion clinic he finds his next weapon. It’s a combination chainsaw, dildo, flamethrower, baby launcher. And he proceeds to shoot flaming babies through the acres of screaming women’s libbers. Then he kicks in the door to the abortion clinic and its actually an abortion disco, where thousands of strippers are having a satanic orgy and they’ll all stuck together. So the next enemies become groups of swingers who are attached to each other by their genitals and kamikaze run at Duke with their appendages flailing. He’ll make short work of them with the Baby-launcher but he’ll run out of ammo. That’s when he punches through a fish tank to reveal the secret switch that opens the abortion factory. He steals all the aborted fetuses and jams them into his weapon to re-load and starts really giving hell to the swinger-mutants.”

“Um Sir” the technicians hand went up tenatively

“Now just let me finish Kevin…” The exec waves his hand absent-mindedly

“My name isn’t”

He is interrupted

“So! Level Three is actually a giant metal bald eagle but like 30 miles wide in real-time dimensions so it takes like seven hours to go from wing to wing, and you fight your way forward through a field of land mines and you take steroids so that you rip apart your enemies with your teeth for the entire level. All the enemies are mimes that shoot rainbow bazookas that turn you gay. If you’re hit by one of the gay-rays your vision turns black and white and you speak every line with a lisp. The only way to reverse the gayness is to swallow viagra bottles whole or pick up copies of “Cheri” that are strewn about the level. For a boss you actually swing below the eagle and castrate him with an ice-cream scooper made of uranium that’s attached to his beak.”

Now several hands go up, they seem more insistent.

“I know! I know!! You’re all excited, but wait for the finale! The final level is where duke nukem gets shrunk into a tiny size, and he actually climbs inside his own gun and into a bullet, and it gets fired and he spends the whole level inside a bullet fighting microscopic aliens that are all transvestites and they crap in their hands and throw it at you. The real coup-de-grace is, that you have to beat the level before the bullet hits paris hiltons face, but you don’t want to save her!! So you just stay alive long enough to the let the bullet hit her and then you blow back up to normal size, but while you’re inside paris hiltons ass and you make her explode from the force of growing back to full size and then you start doing push ups in her entrails while the credits roll. Oh yeah and the entire soundtrack is the Metallica “Black” Album but re-mixed into house music.”

“Sir! I really…”

He awakes from his fevered reverie long enough to point vaguely at one of the developers…

“Sir…. I’m at a loss, even if we were able to do all this stuff, we haven’t been working on this for the past 8 years, we’re using the Unreal 2 Engine, this is in such bad taste that I’m pretty positive we’ll get banned, and you’re only talking about roughly four levels, that could be completed in less than a few hours. Also, there’s no plot, no connection between one area and the next, most of that doesn’t make sense, and I think you’re drunk”

His eyes are wide in surprise, the executives mouth opens and closes a few times with no sound coming out…

“Well I uh..”

The Young Technician continues “Furthermore, I think you’ve been giving everyone busy work while you play the original Duke Nukem in your office all day, and this is the first indication of a plot that we’ve had in eight years and its so bad that it sounds like you just made it up on the spot. You give no concept of reality and completely ignore the capabilities of the system we’re forced to work in, and you made everyone come in on their day off and you ordered pizza but all of the pizza is locked in your office, you’re not wearing pants, and I for one am sick of this shit… I’m leaving!”

The technician storms out, and the exectutive dismisses the rest of the crew for the weekend, assuring them that we’ll “Start Fresh” on Monday morning. The rest of the crew shrugs and walks back to their cars, with dazed looks on their faces. The executive walks back into his office and starts eating pizza, he waits until the building is completely empty, and then he shoves the pizza boxes aside to reveal a large diagram written on top of the desk. It reads,

Employees confused into leaving: XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Employees scared into leaving: XXXXXXXX

Employees that have a nervous breakdown: XXXXX

He carefully scratches another X into the top row and taps his pencil with an amused look on his face.

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More quotes of mine that aren’t famous yet, but will be soon, I’m pretty sure…

General Quotes

• People drink to erase their pain and solve their problems, which is impossible, but worth a shot.
• Hindsight isn’t 20/20 with a hangover
• I blog, therefore, I have too much free time
• Sometimes when I get out of the shower and no one is around, I pretend I’m a Rock Star.
• Clever sayings are a way of avoiding simple truth

Pick up lines:

• Hey, You’d look pretty good, crumpled up on my floor in the morning, regretting tonight.
• Let’s not think, let’s not make decisions, let’s just keep drinking
• Give me your number (Surprisingly, it works sometimes)
• Hey, want to have awkward 3rd base action, where I fall asleep and you leave in a cab hating yourself?
• Boy, maybe it’s the 8 shots of Jaeger but you are MODERATELY attractive…

Advice for Children:

• When you grow up, every problem you have will be magnified by a thousand, but you’ll be dead inside and won’t care
• You’ve got maybe a 5-6 year window of attractive in which to nail down someone to annoy forever, use it.
• EVERYONE is smarter than you, and knows when you’re lying
• That thing you do at night is normal, D & D happens to most children at some point
• You’re pretty much under control until I can’t pin you anymore, remember that

Death:

• Death is like the big brick wall at the end of this road, it’s inevitable, but I have an air-bag
• When you get to hell, there’s a long hallway, second door on the right says “Employees Only” Find me there
• I think more people are afraid of life than death
• When you die, your soul becomes a potato and is eaten by the Irish… Fucking Irish
• Eternity is really a punishment, the fact that life blissfully ends permanently is both atheist and the only thing that gives me hope.

Hot damn, girl! You’re incredible.

Everything about you gives me koala feet. You don’t know koala feet? That’s when a koala gets so dumbstruck by something beautiful in nature like a rock or a boulder that he forgets how to tie his shoes. You’d make a koala rely on a zookeeper to tie his shoes for him, or maybe invest in some velcro sandals.

I’m not exaggerating. In fact, I’m just getting started.

You’re blushing… You don’t even know how fine you are, do you girl? That just makes you even hotter. It’s like you’re a retard that wandered into NASA mission control and some balding dude with a headset and a cigarette hanging out of his haggard genius mouth sat you down in front of a supercomputer and said “Go on, save the rocket”. You don’t know what the fuck is going on, and you aren’t even wearing regular underwear.

I like that. Yeah, you know I do.

If we were stranded together on some tropical paradise and we found a four-post bed with silk sheets and a can of whipped cream, I would give you half of the whipped cream. You’d probably have to sleep on the floor because I flail my arms about when the nightmares get bad, but you wouldn’t be able complain about the poor sleeping conditions. After all, I split the food with you, right? You wouldn’t even know how comfortable sleeping on the bed would be, and that would just make you even hotter.

Your skin is a gently rolling landscape, its surface a milky velvet delight. I want to spend a lazy afternoon traversing every millimeter of its surface with my fingertips, held in such a way as to make it look like my hand is skateboarding.

What gorgeous hair you’ve got. It’s like a hundred ropes. When I smell it I become intoxicated, like I just used too much ammonia to clean up a poorly ventilated hospital bathroom. I could lose myself in your hair if it was big enough to make a maze. I’m horrible at those things, which is pretty much the only reason why I couldn’t become a professional hedge maze solver.

Your eyes are like sparkling diamonds in a sparkling stream and someone went nuts with a Bedazzler on all the tadpoles. When I look into those eyes, I am blinded to everything in the world but you, and that poster on your wall with the two girls kissing in black and white.

Girl, your brain weighs roughly three pounds.

Your legs are long like the line I waited in to see Star Wars: Episode One. I sat there for twelve hours without going to the bathroom, and the local news asked me a few questions live on the air. If he were to ask me about your legs, I’d have a lot of flattering things to say but I’d probably steer the conversation toward Star Wars.

Your breasts are like a slightly mismatched pair of oversized oranges. If I grasped them with my strong but tender hands and gave them a honk, the sweetest orange juice would drip out from every pore. I’m not being poetic, I genuinely believe that’s what would happen.

Your lips are a pair of pillowy security doors hiding a dangerous secret: Your teeth. Your teeth can bite and chew, but your lips can kiss and sometimes form words. Your whole mouth is a dichotomy. Think about it!

My absolute favorite thing about your body, though, is the nape of your neck. It’s like an NES cartridge. I could spend hours leaning in close, exhaling hot whispers of the games I want to play into its smooth hollow, and it wouldn’t have any effect whatsoever on you.

Google, go ahead, take my privacy.

Why? Because Google rocks, they can have my privacy, all of it, I trust them. Fly Google Fly, like the bedazzled sexy phoenix I know you are. Get out there and collate and seperate you great big beautiful search engine.

You’re probably wondering why I’m ranting about Google. Well I finally got pushed over my limit. I’ve seen countless articles about how Google is taking your privacy and that they have TOO much control and too much information. This is retarded. Microsoft having all your data (which they already do) is somewhat scary but even then, it’s just a big faceless corporation. But Google is constantly trying to do good and new things and I say Fuck it, let them. At every turn someone pisses on their attempts to change the world.

• Google wants to index all the worlds books, huge lawsuits rear up and it’s eventually abandoned.
• Google wants to combine all your medical history into one huge secure database so healthcare will be easier and cheaper, people freak out that someone gives a shit that they take suppositories for being a paranoid and impotent jerk. But really.. who the hell cares?
• Google wants to map the whole fucking world, from top to bottom and with pictures, and people are afraid it will endanger them and violate their privacy. You live in a fucking house and make 50k a year, you’re a middle class fuckwad with delusions of grandeur, not a god damned super spy who hangs pictures of the latest invasion plan on their FRONT fucking door… You know that right?
• Google runs their own 411 service based off voice ads instead of paying some godawful amount and people bitch about the ad’s… why? asshat.
• Google holds all your email ever and people are scared that they get ad’s targeted to them… Dear god now you’ll be FORCED to buy Tide with Bleach, you shitmonkeys.

Google, from me to you. Go for it, keep it up. Offer the world free Wifi, index the worlds information, and change the way society works. Are you so goddamned content with the planet that you are willing to just let shit stagnate because it never gets any better than this? This world is full of idiots and scared people and conspiracy nuts who are all cramping Google’s style. They make a fuckton of money and they do it in a subtle way that really doesn’t bother me. They offer everything they make for essentially free and less hassle than many paid solutions. So WHY oh god WHY is everyone pitching a damn fit when they want to do something new. it’s a company run by two GEEKS, they want to do good things and have the best shot in the WORLD to make differences that no one else could make on a such a grand scale.

You should all go give Google a dollar and shut the hell up about your privacy. Because you’re worried about whether or not Google knows if you email your brother in wisconsin and less worried about the US government arresting without warrants and watching you take a shit. Go write something about that. Let Google rock the planet. I know I sound like the saddest kind of fanboy, but I really just like Google and every single one of their plans has been outstanding and generally only fail due to ignorance or paranoia. If more people were doing what google is doing, “No Evil” and to make the world easier to understand and communicate… I wouldn’t have to hate you all so very much.

This is a great Joke

A butcher is working, and really busy. He notices a dog in his shop and shoos him away. Later, he notices the dog is back again. He walks over to the dog, and notices the dog has a note in his mouth. The butcher takes the note, and it reads, “Can I have 12 sausages and a leg of lamb, please.”

The butcher looks, and lo and behold, in the dog’s mouth, there is a ten dollar bill. So the butcher takes the money, puts the sausages
and lamb in a bag, and places it in the dog’s mouth. The butcher is
very impressed, and since it’s closing time, he decides to close up shop and follow the dog.

So, off he goes. The dog is walking down the street and comes to a
crossing. The dog puts down the bag, jumps up and presses the
crossing button. Then he waits patiently, bag in mouth, for the
lights to change. They do, and he walks across the road, with the
butcher following.

The dog then comes to a bus stop, and starts looking at the timetable. The butcher is in awe at this stage. The dog checks out the times, and sits on one of the seats to wait for the bus.

Along comes a bus. The dog walks to the front of the bus, looks at the number, and goes back to his seat. Another bus comes. Again the
dog goes and looks at the number, notices it’s the right bus, and climbs on.

The butcher, by now open-mouthed, follows him onto the bus. The bus travels thru town and out to the suburbs. Eventually the dog gets up, moves to the front of the bus, and standing on his hind legs, pushes the button to stop the bus. The dog gets off, groceries still in his mouth, and the butcher still following.

They walk down the road, and the dog approaches a house. He walks up the path, and drops the groceries on the step. Then he walks back down the path, takes a big run, and throws himself -whap!- against
the door. He goes back down the path, takes another run, and throws
himself -whap!- against the door again!

There’s no answer at the door, so the dog goes back down the path, jumps up on a narrow wall, and walks along the perimeter of the garden. He gets to a window, and bangs his head against it several
times. He walks back, jumps off the wall, and waits at the door. The
butcher watches as a big guy opens the door, and starts laying into
the dog, really yelling at him.

The butcher runs up and stops the guy. “What the heck are you doing?

This dog is a genius. He could be on TV, for God’s sake!”

To which the guy responds, “Clever, my ass. This is the second time this week he’s forgotten his key!”

2:19:37 PM weaselbringer: you deserve everything bad that’s happened… ever… especially football related disadvantages
2:20:02 PM SikKitten: …why?!
2:24:14 PM weaselbringer: I dunno, just seemed like a nifty curse to throw on you
2:24:49 PM SikKitten: you are mean
2:25:46 PM weaselbringer: nope just outlandishly ignorant of the effects of violence and curses
2:26:09 PM SikKitten: that does sound like you
2:27:04 PM weaselbringer: it does? (fires gun randomly into crowd) how do you mean? (foretells death of the nation to small child)
2:27:21 PM SikKitten: hahaha!
2:30:49 PM weaselbringer: I’m funny
2:31:06 PM SikKitten: you are
2:31:12 PM SikKitten: you make me giggle like a schoolgirl
2:31:46 PM weaselbringer: a schoolgirl…. OF EVIL
2:32:15 PM weaselbringer: sorry everything is better with evil, like “The new tasty ranch-chile doritos…. OF EVIL” heh that would be cool
2:32:33 PM weaselbringer: The 2009 4 Door Dodge Durango… OF EVIL
2:32:49 PM SikKitten: yeah.
2:33:00 PM SikKitten: I want tasty ranch-chile doritos of evil.
2:33:10 PM weaselbringer: well I dunno, you have to be pretty evil to eat them
2:33:32 PM weaselbringer: or else there’s a quantum inversion and all good becomes bad and all bad becomes lime flavored, it’s a well documented theorem
2:33:46 PM SikKitten: mmmm….lime flavored.
2:33:55 PM weaselbringer: yeah… but…
2:33:58 PM SikKitten: is lime flavor the opposite of pure evil?
2:33:59 PM weaselbringer: you see… everything…
2:34:48 PM weaselbringer: No in quantum physics it’s always the opposite of the furthest thing from itself. So If you wanted the opposite of Up it would be banana and if you wanted the opposite of white it would be Robby Parker, this guy that used to live next door to me when I was 10
2:35:44 PM weaselbringer: Here I’ll give you a test… we’ll start with something simple
2:35:47 PM SikKitten: hahahaha!
2:35:52 PM weaselbringer: what’s the opposite of Candy?
2:35:53 PM SikKitten: chocolate cake
2:35:58 PM SikKitten: oh um…
2:36:01 PM weaselbringer: no no no all wrong
2:36:02 PM SikKitten: parking garage
2:36:06 PM weaselbringer: closer
2:36:25 PM weaselbringer: We’ll try another (the opposite of candy is “The Noble Dutch Elm”)
2:37:04 PM SikKitten: makes sense
2:37:14 PM weaselbringer: Okay, what’s the opposite of Carnivore..
2:37:33 PM SikKitten: the Bar M ranch in south El Paso
2:37:52 PM weaselbringer: It’s actually just a 2-level condo, but it IS in El Paso
2:37:55 PM weaselbringer: I think you’re catching on
2:38:14 PM weaselbringer: Here’s a tough one, What’s the opposite of Barack Obama
2:38:31 PM SikKitten: frosted flakes?
2:39:13 PM weaselbringer: No trick question: the answer is Barack Obama, popular figureheads with internet memes are quantumly correlated with themselves and the opposite of themselves which leads back to the same thing
2:39:39 PM weaselbringer: This is a rarity however as the only 2 people on earth who quantum opposite is themselves is Obama and the guy who played Norm on Cheers
2:40:08 PM weaselbringer: But not knowing that, frosted flakes would have been my guess
2:40:27 PM weaselbringer: That or the movie “Rat Race”
2:40:38 PM SikKitten: hehe
2:41:57 PM weaselbringer: Another interesting theory is Quantum Nonsense, that because most quantum mechanics are purely undefinable by standard methods of measurement, then the only way to measure or define a quantum element or reaction would be to randomly guess a word starting with “G”
2:43:01 PM weaselbringer: So if I put a cat in a box with 2 other cats that are radioactive, and one of them is kinda sick with a hairball and the other is just sorta content to lay there and shed… the only possible outcome is “Georgia”
2:43:28 PM weaselbringer: or “Grueberman” if you follow dutch methods…
2:43:47 PM SikKitten: hehe
2:44:03 PM SikKitten: you are making my day so much better. thank you.
2:44:17 PM weaselbringer: I don’t mean to, this is my incredibly lazy way of writing a blog entry
2:44:44 PM weaselbringer: as soon as I run out of juice I’m ditching you, then posting this on my blog, then thinking about breakfast cereal for like 28 minutes
2:44:58 PM SikKitten: mmmm….cereal
2:48:25 PM SikKitten: I have baby hamsters
2:48:51 PM weaselbringer: post pictures of your baby hamsters!
2:49:04 PM SikKitten: I need to get some
2:49:11 PM SikKitten: mommy hamster mostly keeps them hidden
2:49:27 PM weaselbringer: you throw mom into the air and snap pictures of baby hamsters ASAP!
2:49:31 PM SikKitten: but they are so tiny! They look like little bitty blind dogs
2:49:46 PM SikKitten: do you want one?
2:49:51 PM weaselbringer: You don’t understand, on the internet “Cute” is money and you’re sitting on GOLD MINE and golden hamster baby filled mine!
2:50:10 PM SikKitten: I’ll make a hamster cam
2:50:11 PM SikKitten: haha
2:50:12 PM weaselbringer: where the canaries are like half an inch tall and the mine itself is just a paper mache model on a cute card table where the baby hamsters can play!
2:50:28 PM weaselbringer: You should hella hamster cam
2:50:57 PM weaselbringer: The only thing cuter than baby hamsters is a entire row of pandas dressed as babies and holding nintendo controllers
2:51:06 PM weaselbringer: and I just don’t have the pandas to spare for that
2:51:44 PM SikKitten: okay…that just might have exploded my cute circuit.
2:51:54 PM weaselbringer: SO QUICKLY – grab a shovel of +7 vs Adorable and start scooping baby hamsters into cheerleader style pyramids and take pictures of them with captions that say “I Can Hz Peeramid!”
2:52:17 PM SikKitten: that would be pure awesome.
2:52:37 PM weaselbringer: awesoe, from the makers of awesome, when dope wicked radical is just too many words
2:54:15 PM SikKitten: yeah….
2:54:26 PM SikKitten: Im running out of brain working time
2:54:50 PM weaselbringer: its okay you’ll be revived by hamsters… deadly laser equipped hamsters
2:54:54 PM SikKitten: my clever gland is shutting down.
2:55:14 PM weaselbringer: you should get a bunch of green plastic army men and stage a mock battle with baby hamsters where the hamsters have tiny guns and green army helmets
2:55:17 PM SikKitten: I can’t decide if that is better or worse than laser equipped dinosaurs.
2:55:22 PM SikKitten: awwww!
2:55:28 PM SikKitten: yeah.
2:55:29 PM weaselbringer: but it’s obvious they’re just sitting there being cute
2:55:49 PM SikKitten: when they get a little bigger and can actually see and survive away from the protective boobs of their mom
2:56:24 PM SikKitten: What am I going to do with them once they get big enough to fend for themselves?
2:57:01 PM weaselbringer: stage mock battles with live ammunition?
2:57:17 PM weaselbringer: flush one down the toilet per-day until they start speaking english as we KNOW they can
2:57:26 PM SikKitten: hahaha
2:57:41 PM SikKitten: I have contemplated letting them go free and seeing if they can live off the land
2:58:57 PM weaselbringer: the land under the refridgerator?
2:59:17 PM SikKitten: I was thinking like, the lawn.

Here’s some of my (almost) famous Quotes:

• Life is all about gathering enough boring stories to last you the rest of it.
• It’s like my father used to say to me, “Son, it’s time I told you about the Birds and the Bee’s – It’s called inter-species dating and I never want to catch you doing it!” Thanks Dad.
• It’s all fun and games and someone loses an eye!
• After I’m dead, I want people to remember me in a way they don’t remember anyone else. That’s why I’m dedicating my life to making a tombstone that flies around and makes dick jokes and can’t be shut down. It will be like I never left.
• Cannibalism is a redundant second word for Carnivore… it’s all meat, delicous delicious meat.
• People always come up to me and ask “Do you have the time?” I think that’s so racist.
• If I had to list off the 7 most important people in my life, 3 of them would be video games and one might still be left blank.
• It’s like I’m flying without a Kite, ya know?
• Prison isn’t that bad, I’ve stayed at places where the food was awful, I was afraid of getting stabbed, I couldn’t leave my room, and I had to PAY for it, and THAT was a hotel!
• I hit my spirit animal wtih a car, now I have a spirit carcass, which I draw on in times of great need. It doesn’t do anything but it makes me feel safe.
• When I was young and angry at my parents, I used to wish I was adopted. Now that I’ve gotten older and wiser, I realized that I’ve had it all wrong. I wish I was adopted… By Rich People.