I’m in the new Vancouver office training sales staff. Everyone here is really nice.
It’s unnerving.
They all seem so happy and relaxed. It must be the mountains.
Or the pot.
So, there’s really nothing to report.
Well… One thing…
Ever since I’ve found out that Carlita is my new boss, I’ve been having weird dreams about her… Last night my subconscious took it to a new unconscious level…
INT. CARLITA’S OFFICE – DAY
I’m seated before Carlita and she’s going over my resume. But it’s not my work resume – it’s my dating resume. Apparently I’ve asked her out. And now I’m about to get my answer. She puts down my dating resume and cracks her knuckles…
Carlita – Okay, Alan, I’ve looked over your dating resume and I have a few questions.
Alan — Of course.
Carlita — It says here that your last relationship was three years long, but there’s no indication of why you left.
Alan — I felt that things had become static and that I needed new challenges…I’m not the type of man that likes complacency, I think that one must constantly be trying to achieve more.
Carlita – Hmm. Interesting…
Alan — It’s not that I’m fickle. It just wasn’t the right relationship for me.
Carlita — And it took you three years to determine that?
Alan — I tried to make things work… I don’t run away from problems.
Carlita – If you say so. What experience did you gain?
Alan — An awful lot actually. I certainly strengthened my interpersonal skills and developed a lot of patience when it comes to dating a cat person. I also worked on improving my sexual skills and I learned to cook.
Carlita — Great, because I am looking for a good cook.
Alan – My Coquilles Saint Jacques is mouth watering.
Carlita – And yet, when you say it, it sounds filthy… Anyway, I’m still considering a number of different men.
Alan — Of course, I just feel I’m the right man.
Carlita – Well, that’s swell… Now before your last relationship, you had a series of brief encounters.
Alan — Yes… Now I know that may look irresponsible, but I felt I had to explore a lot of different opportunities in order to discover what was right for me.
Carlita — And you believe you know what you’re looking for now?
Alan — I’m ready to commit to a long term relationship.
Carlita — That’s good, but you do understand that this is only a temporary position. If things work out, the option of marriage is there.
Alan — I understand, but I also feel I’m ready for marriage and children.
Carlita — I am a bit concerned about this homosexual relationship in 97.
Alan — I’m something of a risk taker, Carlita, but I feel that’s one of my strong points. I decided to try that option but quickly discovered it wasn’t for me.
Carlita — You didn’t date much in high school.
Alan — I was shy, but I got over that. As you can see, I’ve taken courses at The Learning Annex.
Carlita — Alan, let’s forget the resume for a minute, it doesn’t really tell me an awful lot.
Alan — Okay.
Carlita – This is a very important position I’m looking to fill.
Alan – PLAQUE! I mean… NARP! I mean… I understand completely.
Carlita — I’ve seen over two hundred men…
Alan — Well, it’s an attractive relationship.
Carlita — I don’t mean in interviews, I mean I’ve seen over two hundred men, and, quite frankly I’m tired of it. I want to make sure that the next one is the right one…How are you in bed?
Alan — Um, well, as you can see by my references, I come highly recommended. Not to boast but I believe my sensitivity to the female orgasm sets me apart from many others in my field.
Carlita — Huh. Why should I give you my love?
Alan — Well, I’m faithful… I’m reliable. Dependable. Loving, romantic, sleepy, sneezy, dopey… I think you’re attractive, and I give a relationship a hundred and ten percent.
Carlita — And why shouldn’t I?
Alan – Ooh a curveball! Hah! Well, I don’t have the best sense of humour in the world.
Carlita — I think you’re funny… In an odd sort of a way.
Alan — Thanks. I think. Look Carlita, I’ll be honest…I need this relationship. I haven’t had one in almost two years and I’m pretty desperate. I’ll work hard and treat you well.
Carlita – Yes, I’m sure you would. But…
Alan — I’m hung! … I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I just said that.
Carlita – That’s alright. In fact, you should have made a note of it.
Alan — I don’t like to brag.
Carlita — That’s what a resume is for…
Alan — I suppose.
Carlita — Alright Alan, I think you’ve got the relationship. I just want you to know that you will be expected to adore me… Not an easy task. Plus I’ll want comfort, support and understanding. There will be interaction with my family and I’ll expect you to maintain an apartment until such time as I deem you suitable to live with. Sex will be three times a week and I want you to cut your hair and buy me flowers regularly. Any questions?
Alan — Just about the sex…Um, uh, er, ahh, yah, hmm, will I be required to…?
Carlita — Mild kink with a touch of role play. Nothing violent but a tad dangerous. I don’t climax easily so be prepared to work.
Carlita shakes my hand.
Carlita — Congratulations.
It could be the mountains.
It could be they’re sniffing the toner.
I’M NUMBER ONE! I’M NUMBER ONE! I’M NUMBER ONE!
(Sorry, I had to get that out of my system and feel much better now . . . thanks.)
You are number one, Gryph.
I’ve always said as much.
And we must celebrate this Looney Toons Style! 😛
But I’ll be number 2, or is it three; noone will find me up here…
There you are.
I should have started from the top. 😀
Damn, found within 12 hours!
I didn’t find you until I hired a “Comment Sherpa.”
with a large supply of oxygen, or was it whisky?
Large doses of both!😉
I could SO Swing an oxygen bottle. It’s fun playing hide and seek in here. I think CLT got lost in here somewhere. He’s missing now too.
Hah!
Oh, there you are…
CLT cut out after only his 132nd comment in this thread.
No stamina. 😉
Actually, I swiped everything he wrote in this thread and just recently published it as a short novel. It’s a really funny book. Great read. Lots of swearing.
So many F bombs…
Happy Birthday to this post!
It is 2 MONTHS old tomorrow.
All together now…
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more,
we want more.
That might stimulate some action…
You know what tomorrow also signifies?
Only one month until Christmas!
Yay! That means I can start spouting my Santa is Satan theories.
http://www.averyant.com/video_satansanta.html
Thanks for the reminder, elpres!
571 replies later, do you have any regrets about being #1?
I would certainly hope not. After all, it got him a Looney Tunes Style celebration. Comment number 572 gets you the updated and edgy version. 😉
Whoa, is that cat person comment about me or did we ever get to the get-to-know-you part of our date?
I agree, it’s definitely the mountains, though if it is then you’re really selling yourself short with the whole sex-3-times-a-week thing, dream big go for 7 days a week.
Carlita might be smart but she should have test driven you first🙂
Ah, sensico…
So many questions.
Well… One.
No, the “cat person” was not directed at you. Since our date it’s been clearly established (between us, remember?) that you’re more of a duck gal. (See video above)😉
Really? The mountains? Funny, they all smell of “the mountains” whenever they come back from the bathroom. Guess they must be taking a quick hike up them thar hills…
7 days a week, huh? I’ll need pot. 😀
She is test driving…she said it was only temporary position.
But she didn’t say for how long she was test driving.
One needs to be prepared for any, um, emergency.
NARP? wtf is narp?
Hi Eunoia,
A NARP is a NERK. Only in REM state.
Hope that clears everything up.
😉
Oh, I thought it was an acronym for Not A Real Person,
whereas NERK I remember from Porridge, a UK prison sitcom, as meaning ‘an unpleasant person’.
Careful there with Carlita; screwing your boss puts you on slippery territory😉
I didn’t know that about NARP or NERK!
They’re just unfortunate nervous noises I make when I’m around Carlita. Asleep or awake.
Now I’m thinking they’re maybe mixed metaphors about being imprisoned in love with a woman I don’t really know.
Or, am I reading too much into this?
It is late.
Wow! This is not a dream, it’s a premonition. Or maybe a vision. One of those freaky sixth sense kind of things. Wait, do you ever dream of lottery numbers? We’ll talk. I can’t possibly warn you strongly enough however. This could be a volatile, violent, explosive, ebullient, passionate, climatic relationship. I only know about office dating from what I’ve seen on the TV, because I’ve never actually worked in an office. I’m allergic to cubicles. And offices. And well… work. I only have 3 examples to draw from. 1) Disclosure- that didn’t work out so well. Other than gaining a couple million dollars. But I would have kept the women that Demi played and ditched the wife. Well, only if the wife was a nagging, cheating harlot who brought home craps. 2) The Office, Michael and Jan- Didn’t work out so well, but was a lot of fun to watch. 3) The Office, Jim and Pam- Did work out. But they are a sickeningly cute couple that has drastically taken away from the hilarity of the show. We don’t want that with you and Carlita. Hilarity must always ensue. So be careful.
That dream interview did have a lot of sexual innuendo, double and triple entendres, and some refreshing candidity, which is not a God damned word God damn it. I loved every line of it. However again based on your descriptions I have to warn you that I place her as a High-Machiavellian on the Myers-Briggs index.
It’s interesting to learn of your failed experiment in 97. Were you pitching or catching? Oh well, either way it’s all baseball. Wait, it wasn’t with Otto was it? That would explain a lot about your present relationship and his failure to respect your boundaries. I mean if he’s already jumped over your hedges, broke into your garage, and played with your weed whacker, how would he realize that other things may be inappropriate?
Lastly, if this was in fact a prescient dream, and I know I’m being a timorous Timmy but; I can’t figure out what you would do about a ‘safe’ word if you start paying those leathery games with her. If you use ‘nerk,’ then you’d be liable to say it as soon as you got excited, which would kill the moment. I mean you say it constantly around her, yea? But if you were to pick another word like for instance ‘cotillion,’ what if, when she began mauling your groin with two pairs of rubber bands, a 20cc gauge hypodermic syringe, and a cattle prod, all you can come up with is ‘nerk.’ Now this my friend, could be an issue!
Wow!
Scott…
This is not a comment. It’s a work of art. Or maybe a painting of words. I’ve yet to fully interpret it. Certainly you’ve added many surreal and realism dabs of colour to the canvass that is my dream vision. You’re very Dali/Rockwell that way…
It really is, as you say, “one of those freaky sixth sense sexy kind of things.” (I know, I know, I’m paraphrasing, but I felt “sexy” had to be added, I’m going with the mood here…)
Alack, no, like Robyn Hitchcock, I never dream of lottery numbers, but I often dream of trains… Doesn’t everybody? Let’s ask CLT. He’ll tell us what to do. Bless his heart.
We’ll talk. You, me and CLT. Over scotch. And a dead body. That sounds wacky.
As for Volatile, Violent, Explosive, Ebullient, Passionate, Climatic and Relationship…. The New 7 Dwarves…?
I stand by you on cubicles and TV. But to the side of you if you pick a fight with them in a bar. Sorry, but cubicles get weird in bars, and TVs not only hang out in them but are always violent and unpredictable. Plus, I didn’t study pugilism at CLT University.
Thanks for picking up on the triple sex innuendo and double trouble triple entendres, and the refreshing candidity. I got the idea for them from reading “Candide” That Voltaire dude could seriously ridicule everything. He’s kind of my fucking hero. Really.
Re. My failed experiment in 97. I played Team Owner. In my dreams.
Lastly, all I can say is this. A lover may maul your groin… But watch out for those Sea Monkeys… They’ll break your heart.
That’s quite a reply to my comment. I’ve been compared to Dali before based on the whole, “I am drugs” thing, but surprisingly enough, that my first Rockwell. They always say your first is special, and you did make me feel special. I thank you for that!
It’s crazy, but it seems like every time I have a scotch lately, there is a dead body in the direct vicinity. Does it have something to do with the scotch, or me? But yea, you me and CLT, plus or minus a corpse, sounds just about right. As for volatile, violent, explosive, ebullient, passionate, climatic, and relationship….I think they may actually be the new 7 words you can’t say on TV. Things have changed a lot since George Carlin did that routine. Just the other day I saw a clip of a newscaster calling his weatherman a fucking monkey. I haven’t heard the C-bomb dropped by anybody but Steve Ducey yet though.
I get weird after a couple of drinks myself, and cubicles and I often end up in fights. They can just tell how much I hate them. Pretty soon somebody ends up losing an ideology. Never pretty. But don’t worry, I got your back. And if you’re willing to play baseball….well, like you said….we will talk. And when we do, remind me to tell you what the gypsies do with sea monkeys.
Cheers Scott,
That’s quite a reply to my reply.
Our local weatherman is a foul mouthed savage and a prophet. Here’s a transcript of his weather report from last night…
Ken: Over to you, Dave.
Weatherman Dave: Fucking ada, Ken. You suck donkey dicks in cock-smocking Hades. Anyhoo, Holy shit and call me a shitter, today we saw the fucking sun with cloudy periods as well as a few flurries of bombast. It’s a sign. We’re doomed and hellbound. It will rain blood and a plague of fucking toads will smite our sorry sinner asses. With variable cloudiness. Fucking variable cloudiness. Overnight temperatures will drop like my balls did. Ha! Fuck me. Tomorrow’s forecast calls for more shit with a high of hot and a low of cold. With the wind chill factor and warm front, that makes for some zany crap and bad ass portent. Conditions are perfect for farting and sex and the rapture. If you’re heading out remember to wear a condom. Now let’s take a look at what’s in sports. Back to you, Ken, you deplorable cunt.
PS: In Canada the legend goes that sea monkeys destroyed the gypsies and tossed them into a wishing well of misery and coodies.
I see my presence was requested, but it looks as though you two have things completely under control.
I am also tragically short on corpses. Perhaps tragically isn’t the best word.
Pugilism was an elective at CLTU. It consisted of three easy lessons:
Hit them when their back is turned.
Hit them in the kidneys.
Hit them when they’re down.
We were never recognized by an amateur boxing associations, although Don King was known to speak highly of us. (Presumably, he rarely had a reliable translator around.)
Quoth King: “The honorable sportation of boxing-fighting has never seen or sawn more proudacious a teacher than Mr. Capitalimist Lion Tametacious. Iron Mike Tyson has redoubled his modacious fortutiousnessless through pugnacious and rambunctializing workouts in his most festatacios of arenas.”
Unrelated: I do prefer my weather delivered as profanely as possible. If they’re just going to be wrong night after night, the least they could do is try to offend me.
If you need corpses call me.
My buddies at Burke and Hare Ltd. can set you up.
Easy peasy.
Sorry, I forgot to ask CLT if he now offers Pugilism I in an accredited on-line course? Ooh, do you offer King-speak yet? That would help me in my chosen hotel management field. Or as a second choice, how about Yoda-isms? Gosh, I’ll do just about anything to better myself while furthering my earning potential!
Sorry, Scott. Pugilism is kind of a hands-on sort of experience and you’ll need to actually get up by the crack of 2 pm to make it in once a week. Our instructor really prefers to have students he can wail on for a couple of hours a week. Bring headgear. And a waiver form.
King-speak is available on-line. You may want to take an introductory course as the application for the class is written entirely in King-speak.
Offering Yodaish, currently we are not. Change, plans may and up by signing for our mailing list, the first to know you will be.
Re: Anything.
All we need is checking account number and a valid social security card.
That was one hell of a God damned, mother fucking weather report Alan! “Back to you Todd, you fucking monkey” I was going to send you a secretly recorded conversation from last Saturday’s Values Voters Summit that took place between Mike Huckabee and Pat Robertson. Believe it or not, Robertson went on a profanity laced, racism fueled, bigotry fired tirade against Obama and Pelosi that would make whatever demon that possessed that chick in ‘The Exorcist’ shrivel up and die. He then went on to squat 1200lb’s and drink a protein shake.
Just as I was about to hit send, I received an e-mail from Dick Cheney’s manservant. The correspondence stated that it I were to release the transcript in “any part, or its entirety, many, many, innocent women and children will be killed, in very, very unpleasant ways.” It also went on to say that if I did forward it, I would be forever banned from internet use. First of all, I don’t think that my conscience can handle being responsible for too many more deaths. Second, if I lost internet privileges, what in the hell would I do for porn?
I never even knew that it was possible to ban someone from the internet but the e-mail went on to state, “Don’t think that Mr. Cheney is not capable of banning you from the internet. My boss (and hero) is a man who gets things done. He got to Bush, he got to Blair, he got to Saddam and he can sure as hell get to you. You fucking monkey.”
So as tempting as it was, I can’t take that chance.
Damn that fucking Cheney,
The reason he’s such a bitch to everyone is because no one is interested in his Harlequin Romance Novels. So he sublimates his frustrated artistic anger on us by being a total dictator and dipshit.
He writes me all the time. Sending me chapter after chapter of his lusty, steamy, homoerotic novels about banging the shit out of George’s Bush.
Check out the short story he sent me last night. I’ll say this much… It’s better than the dreck his wife wrote…
A NOTE ON THE TYPE: This story was written with a No. 3 Orange Peacock Feathered Quill.
The Deflowering Of The Bush
(A Harlequin Political Romance)
By Big Dick Cheney
Chapter I:
George’s Heaving Male Bosom and Pale Jutting Buttocks
The hot, arid summer night breeze blew its steamy, torrid and incandescently windy breath upon the cheap and out of-the-way hotel room that George and I had booked for our night of passion and bliss.
George licked his thin, chapped, heat-scorched lips as his sexy, beady little eyes darted about like a pair of love slaves in search of Spanish fly and rhino horns. His come-hither and sensuous face twitching in heavenly delight, agog and aware of the carnal and libidinous pleasures that awaited us… He chewed slowly and provocatively on a pretzel.
“I’m ever so madly in love with you, Dicky,” he confessed while nervously and tentatively unbuttoning his shirt, his white delicate fingers darting nervously with each button, the red nail polish on each of them reminding me of ten little Popsicles. “But I’m also afraid and nervous. I’ve never done this before… while I was sober. I gotta say, my soft and wrinkly buttocks are all a quiver.”
“That’s the vibrating bed,” I informed him as I tore off my shirt, allowing my manly and flabby chest to pour out.
His pasty visage beamed with excitement. He looked tantalized, hungry, very aroused and as always – sort of confused.
Smiling vacantly, he absentmindedly stroked his white-hot staff of desire.
Ripping off my trousers to expose my engorged pork sword and smart bomb warrior (aka: Big Dick), I smiled with unadulterated glee. “Get ready to submit, you little turnip,” I roared.
“Don’t forget the pitching wedge, bible belt, and whipped cream,” Georgie barely managed to utter…
His presidential breath was coming in gulps. George moaned, groaned and intoned, his body wild and ignited, twisting and arching in presidential ecstasy as our extramarital Greko-Roman wrestling reached dizzying heights of ecstasy.
“Oh, goody gumdrops,” he gasped, “that’s the spot, Dick… My own little axis of evil… Yes, right in my Oval Office! Now we’re digging for oil! Damn, but you put the “vice” in president. Oh, my, indeed, oh Dicky… Oh… Golly!”
The rapturous lovemaking flowed and progressed much like, um… a salmon swimming upstream! Our tender and idyllic grunting was beautiful in its primitive rutting form. (I think… The lights were dimmed, so I couldn’t see everything!)
George opened up like the pedals of a delicate rose unfolding itself to the life-bringing sun that drenches its soft, hungry, blossom… Of course, the KY Jelly also helped a fair amount.
Suddenly, there was a loud banging at the door. The pounding building like the furious rhythm of coupling lovers locked in feverish passion.
“George!” A haunting, familiar, and angst-ridden voice cried from outside, “It’s me, Rummy! I don’t know what you’re doing in there, but it better be something from the bible. Now let me in!”
George looked over his shoulder and up to me. He was ashen faced and stunned, “Oh sweet Jesus,” he whispered.
Turning away, his warm breath once again on my feet, he continued his lament, “if Donald finds me here, he’ll kill us both. He’s oh so very incredibly excitable, sweaty, hot and jealous. Please, Dicky bear, you’ve got to hide me.”
George and Rummy? This piece of information was like a cold, harsh, slap on my face. It was so typical of the erotic, duplicitous weasel and his voluptuous mouthful of lies… But I just couldn’t stay mad at the little felcher.
Truth be told, I didn’t mind helping him out. I do have some experience with the whole homosexual sound bite. My porn scribbler of a wife Lynne loves to write about lesbians. And together she and I spawned a gay daughter… Either that or a heterosexual son with a vagina… Although I’m pretty sure it’s a gay daughter. Anyway, my point it’s an issue our kinky family is very familiar with.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” I told him, “but you have to get my name tattooed on your ass.”
“I’ll do it, Dickster,” George whispered as he hid in the closet, “now please, do something to make this right.”
My glistening chest heaving, I decided to invite Rumsfeld in and see where it took us. My mind was chugging like a train about to enter a dark, yet moist and inviting tunnel.
Reaching for the knob, I tried to remember just where I had put the extra condoms…
Alpo… NEXT WEEK – CHAPTER II: MAN TROUBLE: WHY THEY CALL ME “DICK” CHENEY
Here in britland we have been having fun with a sweet pudding called Spotted Dick…
Dave,
Is Spotted Dick custard based?
If so, I must have it (see custard addiction issues discussed with bschooled)!
There’s a very nice pub down the road from me called The Spotted Dick.
The custard goes on the top…
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1215641/Spotted-Dick-menu-U-turn-council-bosses-renamed-Spotted-Richard.html
… the main element is steamed sponge with dried fruit in, such as sultanas, raisins etc.
elpresfoodguidetothebritmenu
It was once changed to Spotted Richard????
Why wasn’t I informed?
😀
Aw shit. Alack indeed. Shit. It moved. Not a lot, just a ….shifting I guess. But it moved. I not gay, not at all, and I’m not worried that reading that could turn me gay. But I wish that I could unread it. I wish I could make the bad man with the bad thoughts just go away. It was just that Orange Peacock Feathered Quill penmanship, that eloquence and homo-eroticism. It warmed my cackles and my loins. I can finally understand the term ‘flaming,’ because I felt the heat of that flame. My loins are ebullient. Or am I not aloud to say that?
I’ll never be able to look at Dickies….er I mean Cheney’s scowling face, or his manly but flabby chest…..I’ll never be able to look at my little bitch’s …. er…I mean George Bush’s bush aaaaaaghghhh …….at Bush’s thin, chapped lips, his beady little eyes, at his thin, delicate fingers, at his nervous and slightly dumbfounded continence again, without thinking about that awful night of passion. Disgusting is what it was.
I just took a bath with almost boiling water, bleach, and some charmingly delicate lavender bath beads. I had some lovely scented candles on the rim of the tub, the lights dimed, and some Michael Bolton playing softly in the background. I scrubbed and rubbed and kneaded but I still feel so dirty. So …..unclean.
Bschooled and I were about to start a company to take Harlequin out of business, and corner the market on ‘niche’ romance novels. I must try to sign Mr. Cheney immediately. I’ve tried to email his manservant Raphael but I received a curt reply stating, “Mr. Cheney is not available for interviews, or for courtship. He is at or in his, or a ‘friends’ undisclosed location. Really, you must leave Mr. Cheney to attend to his business. His business is only the national security of this country. And of course, romance of the kind not seen since the days of the renaissance. Frankly sir, you are starting to freak us out. Don’t make us ban you from the internet, you fucking monkey.” I found the correspondence a bit cryptic myself. Do you happen to know a way that I could get in touch with his Dick? I mean Dick? Dick….agahgh!
Now I’m all fucking stressed out. I need a message, but my wife’s hands are so small, and weak, and …feminine. I’m going to find a professional who can properly service me.
By the way, The King is Back! Long Live the King!
Hahaha!
That’s okay. I too will confess to being a bit, um, “surprised” by it. And I once spent a night with 50 Harlequin Romance Cover Girls…
We went skeet fishing. Ever done that? It’s for those who love to fish and love to shoot skeet but don’t have time for both…
You go out into the backyard and have a Harlequin babe toss some lake trout into the air and then you blow the hell out of ‘em with a twelve gauge. The beauty of this sport is that one shot kills it, cleans it and half way cooks it. It’s all very manly and hetro.
Anyway…
Good news! I have Big Dick’s personal mauling info, I mean, mailing info. I’ve just penned up a quick missive. He and I golf together, binge drink together, destroy the environment together and sometimes share a bald eagle on rye.
Hope this reads okay.
—
Hey Dick!
You turd! Ha! Just kidding. How’s it hanging, bud? No one cares. So don’t answer. Psych! Hahahaha… We on for next Tuesday? I hope so. But this time I get to shoot your friends in the face.
Anyway, listen up, ass wipe. I have some pals who want to start a company to take Harlequin out of business, and corner the market on ‘niche’ romance novels. They’re interested in you. Yeah, I know, I couldn’t believe it either. The problem is your toady, (hah, made you look…)… I’m referring to your manservant, Raphael, Dick, not your nut sack. He’s making it difficult. Have him flogged and get back to me ASAP.
Love you with a 10 foot pole,
Alpo
—
Scott,
I’ll let you know what he says!
I can’t begin to tell you what this means to me! I’m elated. I feel like I’m floating! I would love to go skeet fishing (can Dick cum? I of course meant come) I’m feeling really outdoorsy and adventurous lately. Rowl!!!
You got to hang out with 50 Harlequin girls? That’s so awesome! I’ll bet you got the best cosmetics and lotions advise ever!
Please also let me know the next time you plan on an environmentally damaging, binge drinking, bald eagle hunting and sandwich making expedition. I’d love to come with. And come hither.
I love your letter on my behalf to the Dickster! You’re so ballsy and forward with him; I don’t like it, I love, love, love it! I love the suggestion of flogging Raphael too. Somebody should really take pictures of that. You know, just to remind him to be nicer in the future!
I’m waiting with bated and gaspy (nothing I want to be a word, is ever a god damn mother fucking word) breath for next weeks edition of the story.
Cheers Scott,
Dick may act all tough and evil, but he likes to be slapped around. And I’m happy to comply. Truth be told, he’d be lucky to get on a roster with such talent as you and bschooled – and if he doesn’t know that than he’s an even bigger fool than I’ve pinned him as. I’ll let you know when he gets back to me. You’re on board for our next skeet fishing out. But Dick stays at home. That guy’s just too damn unpredictable when it comes to a rifle and his friends. The only person he hasn’t shot in the face is himself.
And that’s a shame.
Which hair has got to be cut?
elpresworriedaboutcutstodelicatebits
HA!
Well… If it was a dream… The hair on my head.
If it was a nightmare…
At least his nightmare was well-animated…
CLT you have excelled yourself (Gilette Excel shaver… never mind).
My scrotum twitched when the aftershave went on, have they ever… never mind again…
Hmmm…I think Carlita is going to find out Alan is “Hung” like the guy in the commercial. Where was his Schlong? Alan’s hung all right…hung like a peanut.
P.S. I am not speaking as the guy from 87.
If you say so, bearman. Although I don’t recall mentioning any guy from 87… So this is suspicious. I’ll call you.
Ooops I meant 97…87 was someone else.
Ha!
Do tell…
Hahahaha!
Okay, it’s over… The quaesies are gone. Phew!
Yeah, a dab of gel will take care of the itching.
Or, so I’ve been told.
Well, I want to applaud you for coming out to Carlita, you were honest about your sex life and answered questions directly. It’s not often that a couple can be so open and vulnerable in these types of negotiations.
It may feel a little crass but in truth we do need to know these kinds of personal facts before jumping into a new relationship.
I would caution you that Carlita is a bit of a slut, she’s had over 200 hundred men, mercy me! You best get your tests done first and use protection.
I also note that Carlita has some strong Dom tendencies. Are you prepared for the leash and choke collar?
Please feel free to consult me at anytime. I can be reached through Delicate Flower
Best wishes and ‘wrap your willy’,
Goddess of the Garden
Many thanks delicate flower,
I agree that it is important to know these personal facts before jumping in. Next time I’ll consider sharing them over a glass of wine and dinner as opposed to putting them out there in resume form.
Still, it was a dream – and as of yet, I haven’t actually penned my dating resume. I know it wouldn’t be as long as Carlita’s… She has a lot of work experience. Well, in my dreams, anyway.
I do own a leash and a crate of condoms, so I’m covered there.
I shall be consulting you soon. Do you do couples’ therapy? I just had a dream that Carlita and I were married (and living under the sea). We were having ongoing issues about money. Apparently neither of us are made of it – which was weird because in the dream we actually were both made of money. She was a giant nickel and I was a dollar bill… Nothing too weird. I think…
Signed,
Dumbfounded in Dreamland
As you might have seen I took your story to the Goddess of the Garden and she’s replied.
I believe she does some couples therapy, but that is a very specialized type of therapy requiring a tad more impartiality than she’s prone to !
I’m dumbfounded by the money dream as well. But let me offer a few random guesses, for the hell of it! Maybe you fear that she is tarnished, banged up and just plain ole used up… after all nickels are so disposable. I find them in gutters all the time.
As for the dollar bill, The Goddess wonders if it was a crisp rigid bill or an old floppy, dirty tattered dollar? IT makes a difference. She suggests a stiffening agent of some type. Maybe spray starch?
I do have a fee scale being drawn up as we speak.. I use a new form of PayPal called Eden Fantasys; my account is there and clients buy credits which The Goddess redeems for colorful toys!
I have seen it delicate flower,
I came, I saw, but I didn’t leave a comment (yet).
But only because I was so busy being “damned impressed” (as crabby old Mr. Mills would say) and, arranging a meeting for couples’ therapy with the good GG. She’s quite brilliant.
I must say that I think you’re bang on hilarious and right with the money analysis. (For the record, I was a starched 3 dollar bill.)
The gutter imagery was particularly insightful. Still, it is a fun place to swim about sometimes. Like my ex girlfriend Ratty used to say “Swimming in the cesspool is filled with sewer sports galore.”
Ratty had a way with words. And hips that swiveled.
Re. Your fee scale. Hah, I am more than happy and willing to pay… Name your price. Everyone needs toys. That’s why Toys R Us is so successful. Might I suggest the Lego? 😉
Plenty of lego to spare here;
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1215526/Lego-house-knocked-came-forward-save-it.html
eplpresrememberinganewsitemfrom2daysago…
3.3 million plastic bricks to spare!
One could build a lot of giant sized baby thing “colorful toys” with that.
I’m thinking the world’s largest merkin/dildo combo.
But that’s apropos of nothing…
😉
Alan, would you like this dream to come true? If so, please don’t act on it while at the office. Wait until she offers some type of encouragement. Otherwise, it won’t be pretty.
Hey yorksnbeans,
The dream was rather uncomfortable, highly unnerving and mortifyingly embarrassing. Much like most of my experiences with dating. I remain firmly convinced that I have no hope with Carlita. And you’re right, going there wouldn’t be pretty. She is my boss now and I think the only thing she’d want to do with my sorry ass is fire it. 😉
Alan, that’s quite a dream! I’ve talked it over with Jessica Wakefield and she firmly believes that this dream means that you and Carlita will fall in love any day now and start taking drives up to Miller’s Point.
Hey Shannon,
Thank for taking the time to discuss my dream with Jessica. I imagine it was an in-depth and detailed conversation… Then again, I imagine lots of things – and most of them are way of base and never happen, so please forgive me if I’m off the mark on this one.
I certainly like your dream prognosis. I’m fact, not only am I all a tingle at this news, I’m also all a flutter. (It makes typing difficult, but the euphoria is worth it.) I look forward to taking Carlita up to drives to Miller’s Point (nothing bad ever happens there, right?). Especially now that the whole werewolf issue has been resolved…
If it was me I would’ve hired you on the spot! ;o)
Thanks Andi!
And if you worked here, I’d make sure I was your Secret Santa (I already have your Halloween/Xmas gift picked out). 😉
Isn’t it amazing how women will throw themselves at you AFTER you get in a relationship.
It happens in my dreams all the time.
In my dreams…
😉
One of your best – suspenseful and funny.
I didn’t think you were going to get the position(s). Now here in the states, I would need to worry about health benefits included in the offer.
Since it’s a private company there won’t be any stock options and of course you don’t want her to go public. Could you imagine a shareholder meeting – new meaning for that.
Ah yes, I seem to remember in LOTR that even Frodo got elf benefits (he wrote in a Cockney accent)😉
Ha!
Nice one, Eunoia.
😆
Hahaha!
Indeed lisleman,
You’ve given me much to ponder. And for that, I thank you. Thank you.
And thanks also for the kind words. They are much appreciated.
I’m trying to imagine a hostile takeover of Carlita… Hoo boy! I suspect it would also be “nothing violent but a tad dangerous.”
Congratulations Alan!
This is without a doubt the most emotionally-fulfilling dream you could have asked for! Especially when you consider how unstable the relationship market has been these days. I mean, I know guys who’ve gone from dating arm candy to courting trolls (no offense, YnB), just because it was the only viable option they had.
My only concern is that the job still seems a little vague. One thing I always like to get from potential employers is a written copy of what exactly the job will en”tail” (HA! Get it? Tail? Dog? That thing you wag?..nevermind, you had to be there).
I also like to find out ahead of time what my job title will be, just so that I can pre-order business cards (I hate giving out my home number to randoms I meet at the bar).
Unfortunately, since most of my positions have been either “Missionary”, “Missionary While Reading a Magazine”, or my current position, “Missionary While Surfing the Internet”, I haven’t had the most appealing business cards. But since you have much more experience than I do (what with the whole leg-humping thing going on), yours will probably be a lot more exciting.
Anyway, I just want you to know that I’m very proud of you, Alan. You really dreamt good this time.
Ps. Did you get a chance to ask about casual Fridays? I’m sure she’ll melt when she sees how good your ass looks in a pair of Levis… http://www.hot-screensaver.com/wp-myimages/cool-dog-outfit.jpg
Thanks bschooled!
I’ve always done very well when it comes to dream dating.
Please don’t worry about the job seeming a little vague. There are so many more things about me that are much more worrying. I have a custard habit that needs to be slayed. Fortunately I have a gladiator costume in which to slay it. Ironically the whole dressing up like a gladiator thing is also a bit of an issue. (Did you know it’s illegal to wear a gladiator costume to a Mac’s Milk?)
I have to say that I am impressed by your variations on the Missionary position. I only thought there was the “doing the dishes” variaition. Boy, is my face red.
I actually thought of being a Missionary when I was a wee church going sanctimonious bugaboo of a cherubic angelic son of a gun of a wacky and zippy zoot suit wearing dynamo with razor hips, beaming eyes and a burning snake tongue… It’s true.
Thanks, I agree, I dreamed real good. The secret is falling asleep. You can do it anywhere. But you have to be asleep. That’s key.
Now I’m off to shop for Levis! They’re named after a philosopher. His name was Jean Jacques Rousseau
Rather than slay your custard habit, Alan (trust me, it can get a little messy), might I suggest going through a grueling (yet potentially life-changing) 12-step program instead? According to my sources (TMZ, CLT and LSD, respectively) It’s what all the hardcore custard-addicts are doing these days.
1. Admit that you are powerless over custard
2. Realize that you have the power to control custard and not the other way around
3. Find God
4. Keep a journal of your struggle so you can one day write an autobiography entitled “I Have the Power to Control Custard and Not the Other Way Around”
5. Lose God
6. Contemplate changing the title of your book to something a little more “Footloose and Fancy-Free”
7. Find God again
8. Buy a kiddie-leash so that God doesn’t keep running off like that
9. Think of ways to incorporate witty custard-isms into your autobiography (“My Mom went to Emeril Live and all I got was this lousy Flan”)
10. Meet with a Publisher
11. Realize you haven’t actually started the book yet and tell the Publisher you’ll call him back in a couple weeks
12. Carry this message to others, then go home and treat yourself to a delicious dessert made from a combination of milk or cream, egg yolks, sugar and vanilla. (Feel free to add corn starch and/or gelatin if desired)
Bless you, bschooled,
Custard has long been my nemesis. The dessert sauce on my back. My sweet, sweet albatross. My blancmange bane. My…
Well, you get the idea.
This 12 Step plan of yours is really an eye opener. I had been using a Reichian 13 step therapy program that hadn’t been getting me the results I desired…
1. Admit that I am a 14th century Nubian slave and wear a dead chicken around my neck
2. Realize that my facial tics have nothing to do with sudden, repetitive, non rhythmic, stereotyped motor movement or vocalization involving discrete muscle groups and everything to do with the fact I have insects all over my body. .
3. Admit that I like sex… Hey, it pays the rent.
4. Start using syrup (custard’s meth)
5. Admit it: It wasn’t called “Custard’s Last Stand”
6. Read a book
7. Read lips
8. Learn to read
9. Think of ways to incorporate witty custard-isms into “Half-Witted Old Man Battles Groin Mauling Morlock Chicks from Planet Merkin and Saves The Day and Gets the Girl and Then Has Sex With Her – Thanks to the Wonders of Viagra!” (Morlock Chick #3: ”York, is that a flan in your pants? Or are you just happy to have an erection?” York: “Hee, hee. I think I’m going to faint.”
10. Meet with a loan shark
11. Jump the loan shark.
12. Live in a box
13. Throw myself into the river of hysteria. Located near the town of Abhorrent Behaviour.
Wow, those are some pretty hardcore steps.
You know, Alan, maybe you don’t need an actual “program” per se. I mean really, you’ll just end up spending so much time “stepping”, that you won’t be able to enjoy the little things in life (like krumping, for instance)
Perhaps you just need to follow the “7 Steps for Highly Effective Reichian Survivors”…
Habit 1: Be Proactive: “Alan, why are you contorting your face like that?” Alan: “Well, since my insect-triggered facial tics will be here any minute, I figured I should probably do a quick warm-up and increase the blood flow. Better safe than sorry!”
Habit 2: Begin with the End in Mind: Ok, since I know I’m going to eventually throw myself into the river of hysteria anyway (you know, that river down the way from Abhorrent Behaviour? Yeah, that one), I might as well start out by wearing a dead chicken around my neck and try out the whole Nubian slave thing for a while.
Habit 3: Put First Things First: Should I read the book first? Or should I learn to read the book first? Hmmm….looks like I might have to do a SWOT analysis on this one.
Habit 4: Think Win/Win: Not only do I like sex, but it also pays the rent!
Habit 5: Seek First to Understand, Then to be Understood: Morlock Chick #3:”WTF York?” York: “Applesauce!”
Habit 6: Synergize: I know! Let’s call it “Custards Last Battle at the Little Bighorn Stand!”
Habit 7: Sharpen the Saw: Because let’s face it…nobody likes a dull saw.
Hahahaha!
Wow, it’s wonderful to see you using your PHD in Hilarity for the good of mankind (and by mankind, I mean me, in this instance, anyway…)
I’ll try the “7 Steps for Highly Effective Reichian Survivors” right after I try the Jungian Anima/Animus 7 Steps for Highly Effective Dwarfs… (What’s with me and dwarves aka: dwarfs, today?)
Habit 1: Be Dopey. “Alan, why are you wearing a large lime green tunic and purple cap?”
Alan: (Says nothing but smiles inanely.)
Habit 2: Be Grumpy: Emmulate Don Mills. Sure to get you me the chicks and several marriage proposals. Grow a white beard. Yell at goddamned kids and chickens.
Habit 3: Doc. Be forgettable. Smile. Have people wonder, “Is he really a doctor?” Get revenge on mankind later when no one is looking. Burn books.
Habit 4: Happy. Enjoy getting paid for sex. Move to better apartment.
Habit 5: Bashful: evoke bashful nature through a classic pose of shyness (hands clasped behind back, shoulders slightly raised, eyes upturned); be indistinguishable. “Is that Bashful? He looks like Sneezy and Sleepy!” Morlock Chick #3:”York, are you blushing?” York: “Hee hee!”
Habit 6: Sneezy Synergize: Snort coke and have fun.
Habit 7: Sleepy. Lie down and dream… Wait a minute, wasn’t it dreaming that got me here in the first place?
Well would you look at that…
We’ve come full circle.
(and we didn’t even need to bring in Dasher, Dancer, or the rest of the zany crew)
Now if that’s not what you call “Synergy”, I honestly don’t know what is.
(honestly)
ps. Total sidebar, but did you get your fangs and incisors whitened or something?
You look different.
HA!
Yes, that really is a total sidebar.
Thanks for noticing. Ever since I got off the hillbilly heroin, I’ve been taking better care of myself.
Turns out the skin inflammation on my knuckles was dried pork and old bits of stewing rabbit.
As I read through your amazing dream (and gazed rapturously at your Technicolor dreamcoat), I honestly thought you weren’t going to get the position.
I figured Carlita would turn you down, but maybe throw you a bone (in a totally not-a-guy heterosexual sort of way), and grab her Adam&Eve Press Pop-up Book of Kama Sutra Positions and say, “However, we may have some openings in the following positions:
the Three-Headed Donkey
the Tripping Daisy
the Malfunctioning Recliner
the Randy Bellhop
the Monster Magnet
the Pompous Sting
the Mating Elephant
the Saucy Puppet Show
the Merkin Blowout
the Audition Callback
the Unbearable Lightness of Being Done Six Ways to Sunday
the Mixed Doubles
the Hyundai Backseat
the Multi-state Killing Spree
the Element of Surprise
the Gormley
the Horse Rotorvator
the Independent Worm Saloon
the Limp Bizkit
the Horrible Burning Sensation When I Pee
the Monkey Rider
the Dry Dock
the Beast with 3 or More Backs
the In-and-Out Burger
Cheers CLT,
My unconscious mind will always prevail. (I try and say that twice a day.)
I wasn’t sure where it was going either. Normally in these dreamy situations the mood is shattered by the sudden appearance of Bachman Apple Turnover Drive singing “Taking Care Of Business” while some sort of Clive Cussleresque apparition waves its massive paycheck in front of me.
That’s when I wake up screaming.
Hah! I don’t have a copy of the Adam&Eve Press Pop-up Book of Kama Sutra Positions. I Do however have The Dick&Jane Picture Book of Kama Sutra Positions.
The positions are a bit more naïve and innocent sounding… But it all ends up in the same place…
the Three-Headed Humpty Dumpty
the Tripping Goldilocks
the Malfunctioning Verbs
the Randy Cuddly Buddy
the Monster in the Closet
the Pinky Dinky Sting
the Standing Elephant Friend
the Saucy Puppet Reach Around
the Merkin and the Gerkin
the Audible Audition
the Unbearable Wearable Shareable Wiggly Chicks
the Mixed Nuts
Dick Meets Jane’s Backseat
the Multi-state Dick Spree
the Element of Jane
the Gormley… (Hahahahaha… Love this one. But who doesn’t?)
the Horsey Ride
Jane’s Chummy Worm Hole
See Dick’s Limp Bizkit
See Dick Come
the Curious Monkey on Yellow Hat Position
Splinters on the dock at radar station
the Beast with 6 Wings
the In-and-Out Hot Doggy!
As much as I hate to see a classic stripped of its edge and dumbed-down for the kids, I guess this one still held on to most of the disturbing images.
There are some classics here:
http://www.somethingawful.com/d/photoshop-phriday/misadventures-dick-jane-2.php
Hahaha!
Ah, the goon squad at Something Awful. They do good work. (I’ll always have a warm spot in my heart for the pothead who covered everything in his sister’s room in tinfoil. Now there was a kid with time to spare…)
See poor Dick… See poor Jane… See it all going wrong for them…
Alpo, madhatters have a warning for you…
http://madhatters.me.uk/2009/09/25/burn-those-calories/#comment-32007
so pork up my lad…
elprespolyphasingonblogs
Will do, elprespolyphasingonblogs!
Now I’m off to a buy a case of whipping cream.
You’re back! I thought we’d lost you for good…..
Come on down under, I’ll give you the job you crave. and you won’t need to cut any hair for it
I got lost in the sand storm.
Quite the thing, that…
Many thanks for the kind job offer, nursemyra. Consider it accepted.
See you soon!
😉
Speaking of dialogue…
Sally P – Alan, when Mike has SO much professional writing to do, why, pray tell, has he spent so much time in dialogue, rattling on about YOUR fantasy with Carlita?
Alan T – (Looking indignant and peeved) Well, Sally P, my fans demand it of me, and I in turn, DEMAND it of him!
Sally P – Nonsense, we all know that he is allegedly under the gun to get on with his cash-paying script!
Alan T – (Sniffle, whine, cough), I know, I know…
Sally P – You are enabling his procrastination!
Alan T – (Trying to look truly pathetic) I know…
Sally P – Well if YOU are SO into the dominatrix scene, I will be happy to accommodate (non-sexual of course) Mike’s lazy, procrastinating ass!!
Sally P – Don’t make me come up there…
Alan T – (Now fearful) Well, well…
Sally P – You had better be reporting some progress on Mike’s script or ELSE!
Sally P – Do I make myself clear?
Alan T – Yes Sir!!
Alan T – (Looking very humbled now) I mean Ma’am…
😉
We’re always looking for script doctors, Sally P.
It would appear you have a PHD in story editing and boot camp training.
See you in the office on Monday.
I wish this was all real.
Me too. On the upside it’s all lodged in my unconscious. So it’s a symbolic part of me.
Nice to see you, RR!
Well I know that sexual tension produces viewership, (or in your case readership) and as soon as you allow the temptation to be had, then the tension is gone and it all goes to hell, like the sadness on a living room filled with Christmas wrapping paper all torn and shredded and the kids sleeping in the laundry room, while the wife cries in the bathroom with the door locked constantly replying to your inquiries, “Nothing! I’m fine, now go away!”
Ha ha ha!
I mean…
Ho ho ho!
Yes, I can’t wait for the holidays.
You forgot to mention the tree getting thrown through the front window and the dropkicking of the turkey, but maybe those are more Canadian traditions.
Good to see you, RR!
I didn’t know she was taking applications, I’ve got a resume longer than my… wait thats probably not a good thing either way is it.
😆
If you have “lots of work experience” I’m happy to set up an interview with her.
Sounds like what my entire dating experience was with my wife.
😀
On the subject of Truitt’s bizarre dating habits….
He’s been spotted and photographed whilst on his recent ‘shaggers on tour 2009’ vacation.
http://madhatters.me.uk/2009/09/28/just-had-to-share/#comment-32296
Who knows what Carlita will make of this situation….?
Hahaha!
Uh, oh…
That picture was confidential.
Oh dear God… We filmed the whole shebang too. …It was just supposed to be for the two of us…
Oh no…
Well… it’s no use bleating about it now.
(I’ve done it now, haven’t I? Started whole line of dire goat-related puns…)
At first, I will admit that the photo got my goat.
It was baaaaaad
But then I remembered you were kidding around.
There we are. Three. And all of them very dire.
It’s up to you, mate.
If you want to get all horny, then I don’t billy-leeve that it’s my place to nanny you.
sorry…they were beneath contempt
I’m all for milking it for all we can. Hey, I’ll eat cans and give you milk. It’s my goat shtick.
Wheeew …. don’t you guys share your stash? I can yap the hind-leg off a ‘goat’ (schnorrt, giggle, hic), but you guys were really spaced when you typed those essays up above (Scott, Alan …. jab-jab fingers pointed at you two in particular)😆
Right, down to serious business here.
Alan you’re in deep poo my boy, apart from your ‘extra-curricular’ activities …. don’t you know that a woman that cracks her knuckles is serious trouble? You cant do 7 times a week? HA! You’ll be praying you only need to do 7 times a week …. better start those steroids NOW! And when she finds out you’ve been visiting in my garden, I’m running …..
Hahaha!
Nice to see you, Julie.
I like to think that what I do with goats in the privacy of a field remains in the privacy of the field.
But when the goat brings technology into the mix and starts filming us, and I’m all, “Sure, we can watch it later. But just us, right?” well, that’s a bit naïve on my part, isn’t it? Ah well.
I had no idea that a woman who cracked her knuckles was serious trouble. I once dated a gal who hung me upside down and by the ankles from her apartment balcony. Now SHE was worrying.
No, 7 times a week will require extra stimulus. I believe the placenta of goats is said to help guys with this condition. I’ll start looking. No worries on her ever finding about your garden. She’s more of an inner city gal. Lovely garden by the way.
(PS. For security sake though, if she does come a visiting just have the goat take care of her. 😉 )
…and no butts.
Ha!
I was hoping to use that one later.
Clearly, I’m the goat in this situation.
Now Now Alan, I can’t wait to see how Typhoid Mildred takes this news…
Nice to see you, Archu!
I expect she’ll want a testicle. Likely my left one.
Just a wild guess…
Dont have anything witty to say…wish i did……but funny post….zman sends
“funny post” is music to my ears.
Thanks, zman.
My pal, rx… who I originally thought was “me” (rx had a band called… me) keeps chugging out the fun stuff. I don’t know why I haven’t plugged him before. After all, I bought his CD.
Anyway, a terrible oversight on my behalf. It won’t happen again. Here’s a new video from him.
For more rx videos…
http://www.thepartyparty.com
A few of my faves…
http://www.thepartyparty.com/thepartyparty/shouldistay.html
http://www.thepartyparty.com/thepartyparty/Sunday.html
http://www.thepartyparty.com/thepartyparty/anarchyintheuk.html
I love Stephen, and that was a great montage. I always knew he’d make it big. I just thought it would be in a better, more biblical way. I actually met him back in South Carolina, in a tiny dive bar on James Island. This was back when he pronounced the hard T and his republican values were still firmly intact. This was back when his right ear was as straight as an arrow, as were his morals.
From what I’ve heard he attended a bible camp headed by Ted Haggard, and with Bill O’Reilly as a guest speaker. This is just a rumor, but apparently Haggard and O’Reilly plied young Stephen with alcohol that was laced with meth. They took him into a backroom, and apparently when Colbert did finally utter his safe word (rapture), the damage had already been done. His values, party-alliances, and faith came out of that room just as twisted as his right ear. It was a sad, sad day for young Stephen and America too.
He then moved to New York and got mixed up in the wrong crowd. Next thing you know he was ‘correspondent’ (read: Satan worshiper) on the Daily Show. Whatever damage hadn’t already been done was inflicted upon him by that hippie, communist, dope smoking, homosexual loving, ACLU kissing, PETA licking Jon Stewart.
The rest is in the history books; or at least Wikipedia. Now he commits sins of satire against his once beloved right wing moral majority. He has open disdain for his one time hero Bill O’Reilly. I can only hope that one day he sees the error of his ways and gets on his knees in front of the now repentant Haggard and O’Reilly and begs for forgiveness and a spanking. – I think I may still be suffering from the side effects of that Cheney piece.
Hahaha…
Hey Scott,
I’ve forwarded your comment to Cheney and told him to really look it over and examine your style, your comic rhythm and to emulate it if he ever truly wants to achieve any success in his literary endeavors. (I also told him he was a worm in need of bitch-slapping – he really likes it when you talk to him like that… He’s a wacky little giblet in a wheelchair, that’s for sure.)
Anyway, ol Dick’s ire is sure to get fired up reading about Colbert, but hopefully the secret and closeted Raphael loving kinkster in him will appreciate your finely tuned words and he’ll get past his blind rage of Judas Colbert and lefties everywhere and see the value of the written word. When all is said and done, Dick may be an asshole, an ogre… He may eat the heads of kittens and boil puppies for the fun of it, and yes, he may be a warlord, tyrant, criminal, hypocrite, coward, but… um… Well, he can read.
More later!
I never knew Cheney was such a masochist. I guess it’s true what they say about men with power. I guess since Bush never had any power he would be the natural sadist. This is such an interesting dynamic; I’d love to see you explore further.
I don’t think Dick can stay mad at Colbert. You have to admit that there is a certain sexual intangible that Stephen possesses, that draws us all in like flies to the pitcher plant. If we could ever get Dick to go into aaagghh xxxxx ON Colbert, it would be an orgy of laughter. All the scowling and grunting from Dick combined with the boyish good looks and quick, genuine smile from Stephen. It would be an explosion of entertainment delight!
Great idea!
Let’s see if we can make it happen. I’m a huge fan of explosions of entertainment. I’m also a huge fan of explosions in the sky. Win win!
I’m feeling a lull here, so I’m going to pass out these conversation cards.
Everybody take one.
I have these:
1. “Oh That Jason!” – cult classic or classic cult?
2. Jesus died for someone’s sins but not mine. Whose sins did he die for? Divide into groups and judge.
3. Should “merkin” be allowed re-entry into the Oxford English Dictionary, especially after all the “unpleasantness”? State your case using only hand gestures.
4. Should sex-ed be required in public schools? Starting at what age? Should “flash cards” be used? Again, state your case using only hand gestures and wait quietly for law enforcement.
5. Using deductive logic and Venn diagrams, determine which one of us is going to kill you. You have 10 minutes. Please show your work.
6. Tell us one secret you have told nobody else and one lie. Welcome to the Skull and Bones!
7. Does anyone know what that smell is and where it’s coming from?
8. I heard a strange noise in the dimly lit and nearly soundproof basement, which lies barely above a former satanic ritual site/Indian burial ground. Split up and investigate.
9. I have a headfull of acid. Describe what I am doing now. Speculate on what I will be doing later.
10. Does anyone know the number of a good lawyer? OK… Anyone who doesn’t feel the need to ask a lot of questions first?
OK. Have fun, everybody!
1. “Oh That Jason!” – cult classic or classic cult?
Haha! Oh, That CLT! Both. Mixed. A Culassic Clalt and Clat Clussic
2. Jesus died for someone’s sins but not mine. Whose sins did he die for? Divide into groups and judge.
Farook from Accounting? Nah… Anyway, enough about Jesus… I always wondered about the two thieves who were crucified beside him. They had to be thinking, “I steal one loaf of bread and they do this to me? If I lived in a civilized country, they’d just cut my hand off.”
Although, truth be told, I always thought they were there for symmetry…
3. Should “merkin” be allowed re-entry into the Oxford English Dictionary, especially after all the “unpleasantness”? State your case using only hand gestures.
Thumbs up. Index finger twitching. Hand shakes. Double thumbs up. A –okay. Devil signs. Clenched fist does manual masturbation hand jerky movements.
4. Should sex-ed be required in public schools? Starting at what age? Should “flash cards” be used? Again, state your case using only hand gestures and wait quietly for law enforcement.
Paper. Rock. Scissors. Paper. Rock. Scissors.
5. Using deductive logic and Venn diagrams, determine which one of us is going to kill you. You have 10 minutes. Please show your work.
Farook from Accounting, in the lunch room with his endless boring stories… PS. Due to confidentiality agreements with Parker Brothers ™ I cannot share my work.
6. Tell us one secret you have told nobody else and one lie. Welcome to the Skull and Bones!
I used to snort coke with George Bush Jr. I used to troll for babes with George Bush Sr.
7. Does anyone know what that smell is and where it’s coming from?
A dead mouse. Um… in my pants… You asked.
8. I heard a strange noise in the dimly lit and nearly soundproof basement, which lies barely above a former satanic ritual site/Indian burial ground. Split up and investigate.
Holy shit! Mother’s gone insane! Tina bring me the axe!
9. I have a headfull of acid. Describe what I am doing now. Speculate on what I will be doing later.
You are scooping out raisins from your brain and watching them transform into musical notes that dance like cancan girls in a 1950’s Parisian dance hall. Later on you will still be awake. But the dancing girl raisin musical notes will be gone.
10. Does anyone know the number of a good lawyer? OK… Anyone who doesn’t feel the need to ask a lot of questions first?
His name is Rye Winter. He talks like a 1950’s detective and tends to slap anyone and everyone around. It’s quite charming once you get used to it. Plus, he comes cheap.
Hahaha!!!
Excellent work, Alan. You were closest without going over.
The key to your winning strategy was the hidden sexual joke in the last line, which could not be used to describe the high-ticket “working girls” currently strolling the proverbial streets.
Cheers!
And now, off to be with me. For I have to work at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning, and I still have a headful of acid to wear off.
Night, ‘sickies.
Good night, CLT. Some closing music to drift off to into acid dreamland…
Since Alan already won, I didn’t even get a chance to play, damnit. I had the best answer ever for “Should sex-ed be required in public schools? Starting at what age? Should “flash card” be used? I’ll answer anyway just for fun…..
‘ ‘ !!! ? ( ) { // }
! . & @ ? !!!! Haha. I know I’m going to get hate mail for that one.
As for #6…I’ve come to realize that Skull and Bones is a secretly gay glee club for rich kid that can’t ‘come out.’ You have a skull, you have some bones, what else are you going to do with the items provided?
You know it’s really not fair that I’m 6-9 hours ahead of you everybody else. It puts me at such a disadvantage. Maybe one week you guys could all get up at 2:00am, and then the next week, I’ll stay up all night. Then we would all be on the same schedule.
Sorry about all that. Something weird happened when I transferred that comment from word. You know what I was getting at anyway, I’m sure.
That’s okay, Scott,
I can interpret transferred wingding and I get the gist. Hahhahaaha! Good one!
On an unrelated subject: I don’t think the Hollywood studios will be pleased. In fact, I know for certain that while they admire your independence of spirit, creativity, bold defiance and free thinking, they also aren’t sure what to make of it. So I suspect they are going to fall back on one of their old and tried traditions – suing.
I understand you’ve retained Rev Sharpton. He’s a good man… But you should know that he’s deep in their pockets. I suggest you hire Punky Brewster’s lawyer, Chucky Bobeebo. He won’t win (no one can win when it comes to fighting the studio) but he has funny storys about Punky. And he knew Charles, when Charles was in charge. (FYI: Charles is no longer in charge of anything these days. Not even his bowels. It’s quite sad.)
Anyway, I have it on good authority that your friends at the studio will be sending you mail later on today or tomorrow once it gets clearance from legal. Your unwillingness to prostitute yourself has saddened them. But there is time to reconsider. Remember…
Oddly enough, this was originally going to be my wedding song…
Ah, bschooled… Always the romantic.
This was mine. I’m more of a sappy, soppy, traditionalist.
I honestly welcome the drama of a lawsuit! I love courtroom dramas and this will easily give me more blogging material to boot! Thanks for the warning about the good reverend, but it doesn’t really come as too big a shock to me. I’ve long suspected that he got his wardrobe straight off the rack of a studio. You can’t buy a suit like that in real life. I will hire Mr. Bobeebo as well, since he will be able to get me in touch with the Punkster. We will rekindle our love, which she didn’t even know existed until she finds out!
That’s a real shame about Charles. The last I heard he was still snorting blow off of playboy bunnies asses at the mansion. I guess it’s just like the Crazy Ass Gypsy Lady always says, “Coke miles ain’t easy miles, white boy.” She has a lot of wisdom.
I’m eagerly awaiting my letter. There are prostitutes and pimps and I’m going to tell the studio what I tell all my hoes, “I still play tennis to keep my pimp hand strong.”
Your friends at the studio love your decadent ways. It’s your independence of thought that frightens them.
Conform! Sign the forms! Give them 13 episodes of “The Adventures of Slippery Cherry Rose and Poohbar The Talking Egg”
Mr. Bobeebo might get you a date with Punky, but that’s all he can do. And she clocks in at $350.00 an hour for half and half.
Forget her. Write the scripts. It’s your only hope!
Please! I beseech you. And as a rule, I don’t do a lot of beseeching…
Hurry! Before it’s too late!
Your beseeching has weakened me Alan. I think we may have reached a deal. I laid my reasonable demands out (in easy to read format) in response to the last letter that I’ve received from the studio. I’ve never been beseeched before, but I liked it, I really, really liked it. Next time you beseech me will you don leather and a horse whip?
I’m very much hoping that the studio will like my new idea for a show, or at the very least add DP Man as a character on Heroes. I’d like your honest opinion. They could finally kill off that God damned Matt Parkman; he’s such a boring character. And a man whore to boot.
I was hoping that we could begin working as a team. We would make double the money, and you could tell them you want your blow on Thursday, and then we’ll be doubling up! Come to Spain Alan, the women are beautiful, the wine is cheap, the tapas is free, the siestas are long, and the gypsies are helpful when you need material!
Of course I will, Scott. And I’ll bill the studio for the leather and the whip. That’s the kind of guy I am.
I have to confess that I’m thrilled you’re on board and that Punky Brewster still has some clout. She’s still got it!
I’m trying to convince the studio to open an office in Spain. They have a Gypsy Family Comedy in development and the hope is we can do the research over there.
Fingers crossed.
That’s just great Alan, I’m so excited. I’ll pick you up at the airport and everything. Déjà’-Vu huh? Gypsy Family Comedy sounds great but I really feel that they should take a look at this http://zodiblog.wordpress.com/2009/08/21/the-new-reality-3/ if they are looking for a gypsy reality show.
Also I was wondering if with all your clout and all, you could convince them to add DP Man to Heroes. It really is the only sensible thing to do in this age of overpopulation. So read my God damned new post already would you!
Believe me Alan, I have everything crossed!
Sorry about the delay getting to your post, Scott. The studio have had me chained in the basement. They were angry at me because my latest rewrite was “lacking.”
I deserved it though. They said as much. They’re always right.
They should be loosening the chains in a few hours and then I’ll be allowed to get back on my computer. Once my eyes readjust to the sun.
It’s no problem at all Alan. They were really getting to me last night too, but I figured out a way to chill them out a little bit. You know how they drink that fucking Starbucks all day and night? Well, I always have a spare fucking Starbucks cup around, so I fill it up with decafe instead. That was an improvement in and of itself. When I crushed two Xanex and added them,……….all was quiet on the western front. Mr. Big Shot Producer Guy was beddy bye bye! Try it next time.
I’m happy that my monkey/mule has arrived. Only two died, and I sent the other one to the Gypsies since I kind of owe them. I’ll tell you, this shit is better than that fucking Starbucks any day!
I’m usually up until around 4 or 5 am, Scott.
Not sleeping is my schtick.
ELPRESGOD SPEAKS
You are only allowed to stay up and play until 0500 hrs on 3 nights a week, assuming you have done all your homework, cleared the dishes, swept the carpet, flushed the bog and cured world poverty.
Otherwise, it’s bed by 0130 hrs latest or the walls will start talking, again!
END OF SPEECH
Ironically, it’s trying to find the cure for world poverty that’s keeping me up at night.😉
I think I may have a partial solution in the post I put up tomorrow. I plan to decimate the world population!! Always nefarious, my friend! I just want to do good.
Hahahahaha!
😆
I’m sure your fiends… I mean, “friends” from the studio will have notes about that, Scott.
Just wanted to say I loved this post. That month off served you well, Alpo. Keep ’em coming.
Many thanks, Not Drowning Mothering!
7. Does anyone know what that smell is and where it’s coming from?
I know exactly what it is… just listen up whilst I give you the full psychochemical analysis.
I have not had much opportunity to make blog comments the last few days as I have been fighting with a demon of amazing power and complexity.
Was it a ‘fullon Celtic Dragon’? (They do exist you know, wait till you meet my mother, uugghh). NO
Was it ‘the medusa of financial meltdown’ that will render all so called first world economies bankrupt within the next 36 minutes, unless…? NO
It was;
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
a new computer tower!
Not anyold new one, but a ringing singing state of the art 500 gigaprick, 8.9 megabollocks, almost silent running black box bought on the recommendation of the 21 year old ‘lad’ who lives next door who has become a self-appointed computer guru to us olde fartees!
Yes he got a good price from a reputable local/national firm (well he said it was, how did we know, WTF etc) with a specification that will cope with all our every need (Carlita not included).
BUT, the pile of plastic covered gizmos came only partly installed it would seem. First go at updating windows, after installing broadband and then anitvialfirewallintrtuderalert caused the whole system to go titties up… dead… stuffed… fcxued so a full reboot needed. Day 1 lost.
So, reinstall sodding vista then VERY SLOWLY update everything, after doing the internetconnect/security codswallop that took an hour alone, thus Day 2 finished.
Today am can get on line but not install the SP2 pack for Vista.
I give in. He, the lad, Ian to name him, and we have spent a combined total of some 24 hours trying to make this system-thing work. If it crashes again, it’s out, I swear to god I will brain it with a sledgemhammer.
And what has this all to do with smell?
It is the acidic aroma of all my farts and weewee rotten into the leather of this chair as I daren’t even visit the can for 48 hours, in case….
elprestotallyhackedoffwithcomputingandbeingsooldadslow.
PS I have ranted here, sorry boss, but nobody visits my blog and I wanted someone to know of my angst.
Haha!
Sorry, Dave, I shouldn’t laugh.
A new chair is on the way.
Must be something in the ether. I too have just moved from the world of working on a laptop (“old buzzy” as the 3-year-old was affectionately known) to a tower of power. We had shelled out ridiculously huge bucks for an imaging program that would capture everything our my old hard drives and easily transfer them onto the new ones.
Well, in theory, anyway… 🙂
Hope you get all your PC woes sorted out ASAP my friend.
Until then, please feel free to rant away here. That’s what these threads are for!
I know this has been around a longtime; but boy-o-boy does it speak to the inner person;
PS SP2 now installed and working!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A timeless classic, elpres.
Good news on PS SP2!
Welcome back Alpo! I have missed you and your humor this last month. Hmmmmm, Will you modify your dream to have sex more than 3 times a week? Your female readers would appreciate that!
Yes, Alpo, I’d really appreciate it if you bump that up to 7 times a week and can you add another girl in the dream. It’s only fair🙂
Hahaha! sensico! 😀
Now there’s a request! I’ll see what I can do. Dream harder, I guess… It’s a sacrifice that I am willing to make. But I’ll need more ducks…
😉
Thank you btstormb2006,
Wonderful to see you! And thank you for the kind words.
I will do my best to modify my dreams. While I have little control over them, I am happy to try and take requests. And of course, I’ll let you know how it all turns out. Thanks again!
Dream boy,
I’ve read the post twice and wanted to comment, but I keep starting to read the comments and then I get distracted by real life and I never make it to the bottom.
This time, I got smart (finally) and I came straight to the bottom, skipping over the hundreds of wonderfully witty comments from the talented members of TS. (Happy birthday Elpresgod Dave!) Those comments up there are begging me to come read…
No! I will be strong and not scroll up… but the pull is so strong…
Okay, maybe I’ll read just a few.
My God, Claire!
You’re here.
It’s true.
Dreams do come true.
Nice to see you, doc.
Distracted by real life? Been there done that. The trick is to avert your eyes and avoid it like the plague – which was also a real life problem to be avoided. .
Anyway, welcome to the thread’s bottom. It’s the place where I hang out. The “gutter thread” as CLT would likely call it. Bless his wittiness. Where the hell is he anyway?
Sorry, Claire. Back to you. It’s delightful, of course, to see you. What were we talking about?
Oh yeah!
I was advising you to avoid real life. Like I do. It’s worked out for me. Oh, say, do you have an extra scotch bottle or any spare change?
All joshing aside, the Professor Dr. CLT and I have been breaking down scripts for the new season of “Oh, That Jason!”
We were kind of hoping you’d be around to write them all for us, but because you weren’t, we decided to go with a bit of “stunt casting” this season… So, for Season 53 you will be playing the part of Jason…
Yup, this season Jason turns into a tall babe who wields a mighty scotch bottle. We think it’s pretty wacky and edgy… What will the neighbors think?
Of course it’ll all turn out to be a dream (ala Dallas) but more on that later. Until then… You have lines to memorize.
Wonderful to see you, Claire.
Give him a day off from chores and he stays up late chattering to strange folk…
Hah! It’s true!
Apropos of nothing… Hi Dave. How are you?😉
Hope you had a happy birthday.
We are both well and we had a nice but quiet day for the double nicks event! (Note the yankie lingo, taught to me by YnB)
All well with you 2 in project land and carlita’s bed, well not susan perhaps?
“Double nicks?”
Were you watching American sports, dave????
Please to be explaining to this Canadian with Brit Citizenship.
Carlita is nothing but a comedy dream.
Susan is glorious and beautiful reality.
Lucky me.
Double nicks – Double nickels – 55
Ah!
The penny drops.
Or nickles, to be more precise…
Who are you calling strange, Elpresgod Dave?
Oh yeah, that’s right. Carry on then.
Strangeness is in the eye of the treating psychiatrist…
I’m only as strange as the company I keep…
Me too.
And you and me are pals, Claire. Nerk, narp, bloop, sloop, lark, wink, snark, snip, slipsy, woopsie, skack, wap, yack, bark…
Wow, I think one of us was just pleasantly violated in there somewhere.
Thank heavens it weren’t me…
You sure it wasn’t you, birthday boy?
😀
Can’t do smirking smiley’s; just imagine…
I think it was directed at us both. But I agree, carry on…
Carry on… Hmmm…
Dave…
Are you willing to star in a series of “Carry On” films?
Claire, CLT and I can start writing scripts.
“Oh matron!”
For any bemused readers;
I always wanted Jim Dale’s role…
Ha! I miss Sid…
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sid_James
Aye, a good comedy actor with a laugh that was truly his own…
And a face that was made for comedy.
I’ll be the best damn Jason you two ever saw.
Of that, I have no doubt.
Time to start writing the “Jason’s amnesia due to self bottle swinging to his/her own head” series arc.
Season 53 is going to be magic. Magic, I tell you.
You’re now a double threat, Claire.
Writer/Actor…
You need one more / to be a triple Hollywood threat.
Director? Producer? Studio Head Dominatrix?
Clealrly, you have options.
The scripts will be flying out of my studio immediately. Not only can I create the amnesia series while being the Director, Producer and Head Dominatrix (Isn’t that redundant?) but I will also begin working on the Carry on series as well.
It’s funny that I’m buried under writing projects in real life and I come here to escape to your dream world.
Omg.
This is no dream. It’s a nightmare!
Words everywhere!
Hahaha!
But the fun kind of nightmare, right?
Well, the good news is we can crank out “Jason” and “Carry On Dave” all while suffering from amnesia.
Especially you.
You wear the hat of Director, Producer and Head Dominatrix, very well… And it’s also a nice looking hat, I might add. In the world of hats, I’d have to say it’s not redundant, it’s impressive. That’s why you get the job done!
Nice hat!
This thread is all about escape. It’s great you are buried under writing projects. Really, I so mean that. They are the things that count.
Write well.
Words everywhere!
And some piccys as well;
Before I say goodnight, I must say that those are fabulous pictures, Dave.
Beautiful gardens! CD potagers… Whoa!
Part of the fruits of Google Earth trawling over the summer.
And as for goodnight, it must be feckin light where you are by now! Sleep!!
Great pictures Dave. It’s interesting that they make them so Symmetrical since they don’t look like that on the ground.
OMG! Here I’ve been gone for a week, and NO FRESH POST! Furthermore, Alan is still diddling here (cheeky lad is he) distracting Mike from his PROFESSIONAL writing!
Come on, Alan, give poor Mike a break, let him finish his work so the semi-daily posts detailing your new work assignment can resume!!
We want fresh meat!!
The voice of your conscience,
Sally P
PS: “Hi” gang of the faithful!!
Nice to see you Sally P!
I’m taking requests today… 😉
http://tiny.cc/8ZFog
Hi Sally! What are we going to do with them?
I suggest buying them expensive and lavish gifts. A thought… And a rather good one, I might! 😉
I suggest tying them together and making them share a brain. Too bad the brain is too small to support two personalities…
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hahaha! That’s telling ’em! Those idiots… I… Wait… Me no understand… Is… Is this a joke about my lack of brains…? Sometimes I take my brain out for a walk… Last time it got away… I’ve been using an egg carton since… I thought it was working too… Wait, let me reread what you said…
Alan rereads Claire’s comment
Hi Claire!
All I can say is, “Oy Vey!” (Yiddish for I’m just overwhelmed!)
Our Alan is such a scalawag (as the British say)!🙂
OMG it’s contagious! Now Sally’s stuck too.
Hi Claire,
All I can say is, “Oy Vey!” (Yiddish for I’m just overwhelmed!)
Our Alan is such a scalawag (as the British say)!🙂
PS: I think I duplicated this below – but it’s meant for Claire… Sorry
He’s stuck! Quick – Someone smack him in the head and knock him loose!
If only there was someone with a scotch bottle nearby!
*Swing*
THUD
*Swing*
THUD
*Swing*
THUD
You got a metal plate in your head or what?
*Swing*
*Alan blinks*
Hey? You in there, Buddy?
Yes… That seems to be helping. Again!
THUD!
Yerrs… Thus sams ta bu halpen. Urgen!
THUD!
Yuuuurm… is eems u be oolpin. Regar!
THUD
Okay… I fink dat’s enuff… I fall down now…
WHOMP!
I knew you’d be better. Now, if you would just regain consciousness…
Baby steps…
No, seriously, I’m stumbing around like a baby.
Something’s amiss with my equilibrium.
Gosh.. I don’t know what happened to you….
…
…
do you… ah…
Remember anything?
Who? Huh? Wha? Me? Oh yeah. I remember it all…
The repeated thuds and then the fall into the abyss. Or, the floor, as some call it. The sinking feeling that when I hit the floor I had died. And that upon waking I was left wondering if I was in a living Hell and that every ache, pain, sprain, stitch, splint and cramp, every crack to my head and maul to my groin, were all but tiny links in the eternal collection of torment I was to live through, moment by moment as I muttered soft yet savage imprecations over each indignity as if they were the devil’s prayer beads…
Nah! Just kidding. I don’t remember anything!
NERK!
Ha!
Nerk, indeed… 😉
It’s alright Alan, you can admit it. She has that “living in hell” effect on everyone she meets.
Hi suzettevaughn,
Thanks for dropping by.
When Claire was gone, I missed the sweet sting of her scotch bottle. So, it’s all good here. The odd bouts of amnesia are worth it.
Hey! They like living in hell with me. Thank you very much.
I’m lost. Can anyone tell me how to get back to from where I came? (I got excellent marks for convolution at the Uni.)
This seems to be about wiener dogs in a parallel universe. Maybe Gryph can explain it.
*wandering away*
You’re going the wrong way! 🙂
Hey Doc,
I’ll have one of our Daschund Sherpas make sure you get to where it is you’re going.😉
Attention fellow readers!
We MUST make some serious demands here!
We ALL need to query:
Where’s the freaking beef??
We want less dribble and demand the hardy blog substance here!!
Can I get an, “Amen” here?
Sally freaking P!!
PS: Can you just imagine the Schnanigans going on in Alan’s office – not that we are privy to that info anymore…
Hummmm, could Alan have been canned perchance??
I just wonder…
Amen!
Testify!
Hallelujah!
Right on!
Woot!
Hoograh!
Pant hoot!
Zowie!
Be hip a dee hap do ho!
Sorry I haven’t been in here recently. Glad to see so many people are picking up the slack to make sure this comment thread grows disproportionately as is our collective wont.
Now that I’m done speaking like an over-educated jackass, I would like to whine a little.
My schedule seems to be at a disconnect with our illustrious blogger, and as those of you who follow Sick Days know, we would often head off into “the tangents” at breakneck speed when we could sync up.
The aptly named CLATT sessions (as they were immortalized by elpresgodtouristguideandwhatnot Dave) have been in a bit of a lull. And I (for one and possibly the only one) miss it.
I seem to be getting up to head to work just about the time that Alan’s rolling into bed, leaving me to feel like a parent whose teenaged offspring have been working day and night (mostly night) to guarantee a generation gap.
So, in summation, I just wanted to say, “It seems like we never really, you know, ‘rap’ anymore? How’s school/work? Are you and your friends getting along? Have we had that amazingly awkward ‘birds and bees’ chat yet? If not, check with your mom. I’m still not clear on most of the details myself.”
This is not to point fingers or bemoan the state of blogging as we know it. Just a little pointless narcissism which is our other wont, because WordPress wouldn’t issue us a blog without at least answering 7 out of 10 random questions with the word “me.”
I always miss the CLATT sessions.😦
I want to watch
Hahaha… Ah, slayable material there. I too miss the banter. But the good news is I’m not a goddamned teenager. Oh Lord, how that is good news.
That means you can be assured there will be no eye rolling, lip, ironic sass mouth, perturbed grunting, pained moans, baleful sighs, and, um, devil worshiping..? (They still doing that these days?)
So, before I break into the mother’s ruin and heroin and another day is shot and lost with the end result being me running about in the backyard screaming “There’s blood oozing from my pores and I’m talking cat!” let’s have a nice chin wag and catch up, shall we?
Great. Would you like a tin cup of gin…? Some heroin? We snort and shoot here.
Let’s see… School. It’s a distant memory, but to the best of my recollection, the usual answers were either… “It was okay” or “Um, I got suspended.” One thing was always for certain – I likely hadn’t gone that day. And If I had, I was drunk. More gin?
Work… Okay, this is something I can get my teeth into. I got suspended from work. Apparently brining a shotgun in and saying (in a most hypothetical manner) “I wonder what would happen if I killed all you bastards?” isn’t good for morale. Who knew? Other than that, “it was okay.”
My friends and I have reached an agreement of sorts. I dig them out of the Indian graveyard and rebury them – and they’ll stop haunting me. It’s a pain in the ass (I hate manual labour) but it might stop me speaking in cat.
Regarding “the chat.” You phoned me up and said “Here’s the dealio, Alpo. Birds do it, bees do it, drunken women on their knees do it. Any questions?”
Just kidding! You were actually rather patient with me. Herein is the transcript of our conversation…
Me: Hello?
CLT: Wake up, Alpo…
Me: But it’s noon. It’s early. I’m never fully awake until my third tin cup of Strip Me Naked gin.
CLT: So, how are you, champ?
Me: I got suspended from school.
CLT: Atta boy. Wait. What? Never mind, we can talk about that later. Today we’re going to talk about the facts of life.
Me: I already know the facts of life.
CLT: Let’s recap, just in case. We are born. We live. We die. Our existence is essentially a series of futile attempts to validate what is intrinsically meaningless. There’s no Santa, no Easter Bunny, no God.
Me; There is too a Santa!
CLT: Ha ha ha. So naïve. Anyway, my point is that one day you’re going to meet a wonderful woman.
Me: Really? That’s great! Will she lend me money?
CLT: You won’t want her to do that.
Me: I’m pretty sure that I will.
CLT: You’ll have special feelings for her.
Me: Because she’s going to lend me money.
CLT: No! Focus up. Because, she’ll make you feel special.
Me; Oh! She has gin and drugs.
CLT: No! Well, maybe. But… No! The point is… This is awkward… She’ll make you feel special inside.
Me: Because she has a bank account?
CLT: Christ, you really are thick. No, because you’ll feel a certain type of tenderness toward her. She will be precious and special to you.
Me: That’s the fourth time you said “special.”
CLT: Shut up!
Me: Okay. She sounds special, by the way. Does she have a credit card? That would be extra special!
CLT: Look! I really don’t have time for this!
Me: You called me.
CLT: Oh for fuck’s sake. You really are a waste of skin, you know that! Go back to bed.
Me: What? But I’m awake now! So where is this girl? And will she be bringing booze?
dial tone
Me: Hello? Huh… Guess he must be left to give her a lift here. What a nice man.
…As for wordpress… Well, let us never forget that if they wanted to, they could call all us one day and say, “Oh. By the way, you know all that content on your web page? We own it.”
Hahaha!
Wow. What a horrific conversation. It surprises me not at all that I was involved with it and that my recollection of it happening could generously be called “hazy.”
Like I said, careful with the sex thing. Stuff happens and you need to be aware of it. Don’t worry about doing it right the first time out. There will be plenty of time for fine-tuning your skills with Backup Betty at home. Just make sure that she maintains a steady 35 p.s.i.
Just like Clive Cussler’s mom.
Word on the street is that Clive Cussler’s mom maintains a steady 78 rpm’s. She’s an old and thick piece of wax.
Hahahahaha!
The street. Those guys are awesome.
I had heard she was more “nimble than a wax cylinder,” but that’s all conjecture.
She must be proud of her son, the prolific hack. And her grandson Dirk, the single-cell organism.
Hahaha!
Pride. Hey, it worked for Satan, why not grandma Cussler?
Cool bit of trivia: The 1920’s Jelly Roll Morton jazz song “She’s Got More Tracks Of Wax On Her Ass Than Any Gal I Know” was actually about Clive’s mom.
Haha! Nice…
I believe Nightmares on Wax was perhaps inspired by this inspired line of bullshit.
Did you know…
Cussler’s mom once kicked Len Deighton right in the junk?
Cussler lost a slap fight to John Updike?
Cussler’s loss resulted in Updike’s Nobel Prize? (It was a tie-breaker.)
“Ass Wax” and “Jelly Roll” are not the compliments they used to be?
HA!
Loverly…
What a woman.
I did not know that about Cussler’s mom. An interesting “lady” for certain. According to wiki…
She went down on a young and fresh faced, Mr. Don “Puppy” Mills
She went down on a young and simple-minded, York Mills
She went down on a stern faced, Warren G. Harding
Non partisan and game gal that she was, she then went down on a rigid looking James M. Cox
Haha!
Jimmy Cox. Now there’s a name that’s on everyone’s lips.
Hahahhahaha…
He’s all the rage. Fair enough, compared to Mr. Harding, he really was the pretty one.
Property of Hamish Industries Fantasy Dept.
Requisition Form O-F4CE
Official Orgasm Requisition Form
Date:
Name:
Full Title:
1. Type of Orgasm Requested (Please be as descriptive as possible. Note any unusual requests such as additional oils, jellies, partners or effort. If requesting multiple orgasms, please continue on back.):
2. Date Requested (As the preferred date may not be available, please list two alternate dates. Be aware that most dates are still approximate, so plan accordingly so as to be prepared for Orgasm delivery.):
3. Anything hazardous, toxic, or fragile?
4. Would you like to donate $3 to the Presidential Re-Election Campaign Fund?
Full Name (Printed):
Date of Birth:
(Due to state and local laws, we are unable to safely deliver an Orgasm to anyone under the age of 18.)
Signature:
Signature of involved party(s):
.
.
.
Please allow 7-10 business days for delivery of Orgasm. Be aware that during times of heavier volume (anniversaries, drinking binges, shitload of ecstasy) your Orgasm may be delayed by as much as 5 additional business days.*
[*Exceptions: Multiple Orgasms may be delayed indefinitely due to inability to fill order in a timely fashion. Fake Orgasms can be delivered within a shorter time frame as requested by requisitionee. Premature Ejaculation has already been delivered. No signature is necessary for the last item.]
Should you find that your Orgasm has been delayed, please fill out Tracer Form D4MM1T. Progress on your Orgasm will be traced and a new delivery date provided. You may cancel this re-delivery at any time for a full refund. We will, however, be unable to refund fees associated with the original request.
We are constantly striving for your satisfaction. Any suggestions or comments are welcome. Please fill out Form CEX-F13ND and submit to:
H.I. Fantasy Dept.
Suite 144A
Property of Hamish Industries Fantasy Dept.
Requisition Form O-F4CE
Official Orgasm Requisition Form
Date: Somewhere between “The Witching Hour” and “Happy Hour”
Name: Alpo Truitt aka: Regis Lagosi
Full Title: Lackey and Pool Boy
1. Type of Orgasm Requested: Spanish Pinky Yellow with traces of dumdum Fever. Must include the following noises: Weeble! Persnickering! Hootchie! Splat! RAMP! Burgeoning! Faloop! Yodel! Thanks for the sour persimmons, cousin!
2. Date Requested: As prematurely early as possible. Who has time these days?
3. Anything hazardous, toxic, or fragile? Like the planet Saturn, I have rings around me. As well my gravitational pull can be treacherous. All old toxins have be dumped in a nearby river by a playground.
4. Would you like to donate $3 to the Presidential Re-Election Campaign Fund? Okay.
Full Name (Printed): Sir Alan Yuri, York, Millicent, etc…Truitt aka: “Hey Asshole!”
Date of Birth: Sometime after the dinosaurs invented God but before Satan invented The Devil’s Music.
(Due to state and local laws, we are unable to safely deliver an Orgasm to anyone under the age of 18.) Works for me. Thanks for caring!
Signature: xmxmxuwillnousbythetrailofcoodiesmxmxm
Signature of involved party(s): speakingintonguesblackhargagaga
Official Rejection Form
Still the most popular form in the history of forms. Go rejection!
Alan Truitt Regis Lagosi,
We regret to inform you that your order for an Orgasm cannot be filled at this time. Reasons are listed below:
1. Use of imaginary words and onamatopeia will generally result in a delay in processing. Inferring that this Orgasm may involve a cousin may result in cancellation (exceptions: Deep South USA and West Virginia).
2. The requested date is not available. Please request a more specific date, preferably with an actual date. Keep in mind that we are closed from all major and minor holidays (US, Canadian and British). Our business hours are from 9:30 am – 10:15 am Monday.
3. After much deliberation and a brief consult with a local phrenologist, this has been taken as a “yes.” Please note that this will cause immediate rejection. But I’m sure you’re used to that.
4. We put this in with everything. It first appeared on the IRS’ 1040 Tax Form (still the most popular tax form in the United States!) as an inside joke. It has continued on due to lack of oversight and general governmental malaise. We have donated $3 in your name to the re-election fund of one Capt. Sensible of the Apathy Party.
Thank you for the additional information. As we have already rejected your request, we did not bother to read this all the way through to the end. But we are reasonably sure it contained many more reasons to deny you an Orgasm.
Thanks for your business . We hope to continue serving you in the future.
H.I. Fantasy Divison
(not affiliated with either the Pansy Division or the Joy Division)
Official Pissed Off Reply Form
The second most popular form in the history of forms. Yay indignant outrage over denial of orgasm! Go team!
TO: Faceless person who denied me my right to Rockin’ Pneumonia & The Boogie Woogie Flu with a Rock And Roll Hoochie Koo.
Please! Oh come on! I like your hair. Your eyes… I never noticed them before. Hey. Want some wine? Drink up. I’ll put on some music. You look lovely. Oh, come on. I’ll die if I don’t. It’s true; I read it in a magazine. Don’t worry my parents won’t be home for hours…
No, huh?
Let’s try this…
1. Imaginary words, like my imaginary friends exist. Same with fairies, imps, hobgoblins and benevolent Hollywood Stars. All you gotta do is believe. Send me an orgasm. I believe it will happen. Send it. Okay? As for onomatopoeia, what if I replace it with susurrus?
2. “The requested date is not available. Please request a more specific date…” WTF? The Witching Hour is an official holiday at the house of Alan “Ozzy Sabbath” Truitt and Happy Hour is an official holiday in Canada. We celebrate it every day here after work getting drunk in bars, falling down, then going back to the bar for one more round… round, round, everything’s going round… We’re so happy, that’s why we stay drunk all the time. Happy. Happy. Happy. Please send me the goods. Now. Please.
3. After much frustration and a brief consult with a local witch doctor, I have decided to sue if I don’t get the good stuff in the mail ASAP. I’m used to rejection. So I know how to deal with it. I don’t get mad. I just weirdly horny.
4. Capt. Sensible of the Apathy Party? No! Rat Scabies of the Lout Party. Send me my orgasm please. You can’t continue to serve me unless you send it. Right?
Official Rejection Form Follow-Up Rejection Letter
Movin’ on up on Rejection Letter and twice as redundant. Go RFFURL!
You have begun to make a solid case with your endless supply of alcohol and begging. While it is beyond the purview of this office to supply “Pity” Orgasms, perhaps a few strings could be pulled (in a very erotic fashion) to make this happen.
Your faith is admirable, especially in its devout following of Ozzy’s teachings (Osbornism). You seem to have the basic tenets nailed down, including a minimum BAC of .13 and generally unintelligible communication. Your use of a witch doctor is a nice touch and will surely “grease the wheels” of the Big Man in the Sky (the Big Bopper).
We wish to continue servicing you, but we have a short attention span and needs of our own, you selfish bastard.
Sincerely,
H.I.F.D.
A Division of General Electric
(By the way, check your in-box. Your position has been eliminated.)
Official Rejection Form Follow-Up Rejection Letter Met With Sulkiness and Intolerable Whining
Fine! I’ll get my orgasm from AOL. AOL’s cuter anyway… And has better tits.
You tell me I make a solid case. You drink my booze. You let me beg. I think I’m gonna get a “PO” (pity orgasm) And then you run off to Ozzy’s house. Fine. At first I was PO’d (pissed off) but now I’m cool.
I’m hooking up with AOL. Ha! Yeah, that’s right. They send orgasms like crazy. AOL’s a total slut and I know I’ll catch a disease and it’ll probably fall off. But it’ll all be your fault. And I was gonna take you to the KISS concert. And buy you a chunk of hash. And you can’t fire me and dump me because I’m firing and dumping you!
But until then… Come on, just send over the orgasm!
A personal note:
Thank you for your continued interest in our Fantasy Dept. Despite not being able to assist you in your Orgasm needs, we have enjoyed the back-and-forth.
As for AOL, we all remember our first time and I’m pretty sure AOL was involved 90% of the time. So while you can nearly guarantee an Orgasm, you are correct in assuming you will probably catch something. Like “uncool.”
Don’t let that discourage you. The Orgasm is there for the taking and no one will think less of you (unless you start picking up chicks outside the “Family Planning” clinics, just because you can be sure that they “put out.”)
Thank you once again for your continued business attempts. Hopefully in the future we will all be able to look back at this and laugh.
Rest assured, we are laughing already.
Have a pleasant night.
Sincerely,
R. Arthur Retcon
President
Hamish Industries Fantasy Division
“Where your dreams go to die.”
Hahahahahhahahahahahahaha!!!
Ahoy there Truitt!
Money making opportunity on the port bow!
http://delicacies.wordpress.com/2009/10/06/how-i-plan-to-teach-my-granddaughters-about-poverty/#comment-2688
Ha!
Thanks for the heads up, NobblySan. I’ve put forth our offer to delicate flower. I think it’s a fair one.
Sorry to interrupt the conversation, but I wanted to bring to your attention that there has been a coup in Gryphon’s Aerie.
Thank you very kindly.
ces
It’s been a long time (if ever) that I’ve heard of a hostile takeover that inlcuded a fetching woman sitting on someone’s face.
Business in the 21st century sure is wacky! 😉
conundrums abound
It’s what they do!
indubitably. 😉
I’m late to the party, but it’s great to see you back in form!
Thanks Pamela!
Wait… “back in form”?
Pamela… Did I lose it? 😉
Dear Alan,
Have you heard about the nasty American people who are taking to Town Hall Meetings, and other political events DEMANDING that they, “Want their country back?”
Well, I can feel their frustration here because, I WANT MY FREAKING SICKDAYS BACK!! Too much dribble going on. I have heard just about enough about your alleged “Orgasms,” and not enough office news…
Please, readers, get on his case!!
Oy Vey!!
Your testy friend,
Sally P :!
“Dribble”
“Orgasms”
Interesting combo of words, Sally P.
Have a great weekend my testy friend!
Alan (Mike) you are a wonderful writer, but you are wasting your talent lately…
I am giving up.
I don’t even get a lot of your inside humor. (Am I the only one?) If so, my bad.
Bye gang,
Sally P
PS: Dave I will be in touch
Thanks for your assessment, Sally P
And I wish you all the best. But for the record, I don’t consider fun in the thread a waste of talent.
Quite the contrary, in fact.
Last Friday, I was offered work to develop a new show. I sat in front of the keyboard for hours trying to hammer out an idea. But when I walked away and wrote a comment, the show concept came to me. Yay comment thread!
All the best,
Alan
That’s funny…
Personally, I find Alan’s “inside humor” to be one of the (many) reasons why Sickdays is so ingenious.
And when you take this inside humor and add it to his brilliant writing and wit-infused commentary, you end up with a “Trifecta of Talent”, all rolled up into one hilarity-ensuing, canine-avatared blog.
Hell, his comment thread alone is a creative writers gold-mine…
“Yay comment thread!”
“Yay Alan!”
“Yay Official Orgasm Requisition Forms!”
Thanks so much, bschooled…
I truly appreciate that. Really.
“Yay ‘Fucking Cod’”
“Yay bschooled!”
“Yay Official Orgasm Requisition Forms!”
Don’t thank me, Alan, I’m just stating a fact. You could post once a year and your blog would still kill at Cannes. (The blog festival, mind you, not the film one)
Your “Trifecta O’ Talent” is what sets you apart…without it, you’d just be another one of those white-collared, mildly-apathetic canines, who blogs about his socially-inept co-workers while he pushes paper for a living.
Fucking other dogs blogs…
“Yay ‘Fucking Cod’”
“Yay bschooled!”
“Yay Official Orgasm Requisition Forms!”
Yay, indeed!
I came as soon as I heard what happened nearly 24 hours ago…
Sally, I think you’re assessment of Alan’s talent usage is way off base. He’s certainly got his hands full with real-life stuff right at the moment and if he can blow off steam or seek unexpected inspiration here, so be it.
I appreciate the fact that you would like to see more posts. I think we all would. But he has been more than happy to break from his schedule to make sure that not a single comment goes unanswered, often at great length.
Not only that, but he spreads the wealth. He makes appearances at our respective blogs to answer our 500-word posts with 500 words of his own, often in sonnet form or as a one-man Greek cover band specializing in Nick Cave songs.
As for the in-jokes? The best comedy in the world runs on these. And as for them being “in,” most of these jokes originate right here in the thread so they’re hardly of the “in” variety.
More accurately, they are running gags that often take on a life of their own, thanks mainly to Alan’s enthusiasm, wit and incredible typing speed.
Not only does he help take the gags over the top here, he also takes the running gags from blog to blog, turning this community into something that rivals the great comedy writing of “Arrested Development” or “Mr. Show.” He can, with a willing participant, make any commenter feel like he’s living a part in an extended sketch on “Monty Python” or “Kids in the Hall.”
The best comedy is built on running gags and the unexpected appearance of forgotten punchlines or gaudy name-dropping.
I’m sorry you feel he’s “wasting his talent.” From what I can tell, he’s got plenty to spare. He is inspired and inspiring. I dare you to find another blogger that makes his readers feel more welcome and appreciated.
He answers every comment obsessively. He routinely plugs other blogs. He welcomes every new reader and makes sure he never takes the regulars for granted.
In fact, one of my favorite posts on my blog was directly inspired by a tossed-off comment of his, dealing with the fact that the phrase “Oh, that Jason!” sounded like a ’50s TV show. I’m sure others have had the same experience.
For you to call him out for “wasting talent” (especially publicly) seems erroneous at best. The worst is open for speculation.
Rock on, Alan/Mike/Dick/York/Terry/Headless Ted/et al.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Sick Days – Home of the Finest Comment Threads in the Business.
Hee hee…
Very well said, young man! Oh that Monty Python made me laugh. Nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more! Hee hee. They spoke in English accents and, hee hee, would dress up as women!
Hee hee…
Focus up, York.
Thanks very much, CLT.
I missed all this whilst on hols, oh dear, mutiny amongst the TS’s. I shall consider what judgement to make and hide the response somewhere…
elpresgod
If you’ve made the response, I haven’t found it yet. Mutiny is bad.
Maybe Alan got a hot new stripper girlfriend and this is his way of telling us that he’s “on” all the time and can only think about sex. I don’t blame him, I mean strippers are pretty hot though I tend to prefer go-go-dancers.
I like reading about alleged orgasms.
Sometimes people can dribble while watching someone orgasmomg, Alan start a new post before I get myself in trouble!Hah!
Ah, sensico…
So wonderfully and hilariously raunchy. And it would appear that you’ve been reading my diary again…
Truth be told, I’m more of a “b-girl with live ducks” fan myself, but that’s just me. 😉
Alan,
I was hoping you could help me.
I’m responsible for giving the after-dinner speech at our annual Family Thanksgiving Day feast this year (we alternate between the three of us), and I wanted to run it by you first to see if you thought it needed anything.
Ok, here goes:
“Greetings fellow Countrymen. Today I’m going to talk to you about security in our public schools.
But first, I would like to let you in on just a few things that I’m thankful for:
-blah, blah, the same old stuff I say every year
-“Oh matron!”
-Sodium bloat
-Otto-mobile
-Chopped pork shoulder meat with ham meat added, sodium nitrate (to keep its color) and sugar in a gelatinous glaze
-Stupefaction
-John “Sam I Am” Cougar Mellonbastard and his famous line, “Outs Hide a club of Sherry, I’m bombed our arts wore really something”
-The Great Debate- Kiwanis vs. Shriners
-Paroxysms of Joy (or any paroxysms at all, for that matter)
-Liver Phoenix
-Drunken ocelot jazz cats
-Damned Randomness
-The days of yore
-The days of your
-The days of you’re
-Raffi’s lesser-known smash hit, ”Shaking My Sillies Out and Scaring The Children (A Dark Xmas)”
-Мы постарались. Мы постарались
-Boy-Sisters
-“Half-Witted Old Man Battles Groin Mauling Morlock Chicks from Planet Merkin and Saves The Day and Gets the Girl and Then Has Sex With Her – Thanks to the Wonders of Viagra!” (be honest, Alan…is this thing still a go?)
-Semi-downward spirals
-14th Century nubian slaves (if it weren’t for them I wouldn’t be where I am today)
-Petrarchan sonnets (if it weren’t for those you wouldn’t be where you are today)
-The Business of Giant Floral Patterned Scrotal Tissue Elephantiasis of Inflammatory Etiology on the Left Testicle (if it weren’t for that, neither of us would be where we are today)
-Old men and their zany brothers (who also happen to be old men)
-Groinmaulophobia
-Fuck shirts
-Peyote
…..and last but not least, I would like to thank you, my blood-relations, for making all of my unforgettable memories (oxymoron much?) possible. Goodnight friends…be safe on your journey.”
(I then plan to go up in a big cloud of smoke while they sit there dumbfounded at the dining table)
So, what do you think? Is it too much?
Bschooled,
Of course it’s fabulous. So much so that I shared it with American author and guy who uses lots of swear words, David Mamet, whose work is known for its edgy dialogue and stylized phrasing.
As well, I also shared it with American playwright and long deag guy, Eugene O’Neill, whose characters inevitably see their hopes and dreams slide into despair and the muck.
A fun couple of guys.
Anyway, they were super intrigued by your work, broke it down and got into a rather heated discussion about it.
Here’s what they had to say.
Bschooled: “Greetings fellow Countrymen. Today I’m going to talk to you about security in our public schools.”
Mamet: “A bold start. Shades of Shakespeare. I fucking like it. A fucking lot. Fuck. Lots. A lot. Fuck yeah.”
O’Neil: “Have you seen my opium?”
Bschooled: “But first, I would like to let you in on just a few things that I’m thankful for”
O’Neil: “Ah there it is. Sorry, have we started yet?”
Mamet: “Yeah. We. Have. This is good. We get set up. Everybody’s seated. There’s turkey. It’s been stuffed. Bschooled gets up. We know she is thankful. But for what? The tension is set. We have the stuff. The stuff of a well made play. Well. Made. Play. Fuck, yeah.”
O’Neil stuffs opium into his ears
Bschooled: “blah, blah, the same old stuff I say every year”
O’Neil: “Instead of ‘blah blah’ how about ‘yumping yimminey’”?
Mamet: “What? Fuck. We haven’t heard that in enough of your plays? Blah Blah is edgy. It could be more arcane though. Like me. I’m the king. King of arcane.”
O’Neil: “I prefer ‘yumping yimminey’ … Still, as long as the hopes and aspirations ultimately slide into disillusionment and despair, I’m okay with the blah blah. Who wants vodka?”
Bschooled –“Oh matron! Sodium bloat. Otto-mobile”
Mamet: “This is good work. A 1-2-3 of fuck in your face imagery. I want more.”
O’Neil: “I knew a haberdasher named Otto. He smelt like onions and cod.”
Mamet: “Cool.”
Bschooled: “Chopped pork shoulder meat with ham meat added, sodium nitrate (to keep its color) and sugar in a gelatinous glaze…Stupefaction… John “Sam I Am” Cougar Mellonbastard and his famous line, “Outs Hide a club of Sherry, I’m bombed our arts wore really something”
O’Neil: “Now this is promising!”
Mamet: “We’re in meat territory. The heart of the speech. We’re dazzled. We’re fucked. Good fucked.”
O’Neil: “The gelatinous glaze represents mans inhumanity toward man.”
Mamet: “Yeah. And tits.”
O’Neil: “Yes, them too. There are a plethora of images compacted into the words.”
Mamet: “Plus the fucking phraseology is tight.”
O’Neil: “Is that your hand on my knee?”
Mamet: “Maybe. Do you like it?”
Pinter pause
Harold Pinter enters looks about and exits.
Bschooled: “The Great Debate- Kiwanis vs. Shriners. Paroxysms of Joy (or any paroxysms at all, for that matter). Liver Phoenix. Drunken ocelot jazz cats. Damned Randomness.”
Mamet: “Whoa! That was unexpected. A twist. And just when we least expected it. Which is why it was unexpected. All thoughts of turkey on the table are gone. I’m captivated.”
O’Neil: “I’m enraptured.”
Mamet: “I’m enthralled.”
O’Neil: “I’m quite buzzed.”
Mamet: “I’m. You know what I am?”
O’Neil: “Speaking in Mamet speak?”
Mamet: “Fuck yeah. The imagery here. The juxtaposition. The liver. The ocelot. The randomness.”
O’Neil: “Damned randomness.”
Mamet: “The best kind.”
Bschooled: “The days of yore. The days of your. The days of you’re. Raffi’s lesser-known smash hit, ”Shaking My Sillies Out and Scaring The Children (A Dark Xmas)” Мы постарались. Мы постарались. Boy-Sisters. “Half-Witted Old Man Battles Groin Mauling Morlock Chicks from Planet Merkin and Saves The Day and Gets the Girl and Then Has Sex With Her – Thanks to the Wonders of Viagra!” (be honest, Alan…is this thing still a go?)”
Mamet: “The importantce of creating a well made play is a second act that forwards the action and reveals and develops characters. This has been achieved. And very fucking well I might fucking add. Fuck. Yeah. Fuck. Oh. One more thing. Fuck.”
O’Neil: “Yes. It’s impressive. But it needs more despair.”
Bschooled: “Semi-downward spirals.”
O’Neil: “Yes! Excellent.”
Mamet: “I like how it’s semi downward. It implies hope.”
O’Neil: “Yes. And that means more despair.”
Mamet: “You ever crack a smile in your life?”
O’Neil: “Not once, no.”
Bschooled: “14th Century nubian slaves (if it weren’t for them I wouldn’t be where I am today). Petrarchan sonnets (if it weren’t for those you wouldn’t be where you are today). The Business of Giant Floral Patterned Scrotal Tissue Elephantiasis of Inflammatory Etiology on the Left Testicle (if it weren’t for that, neither of us would be where we are today) Old men and their zany brothers (who also happen to be old men). Groinmaulophobia. Fuck shirts. Peyote.”
Mamet: “Wow. Incredible. To end with a fear of groin mauls against a fuck shirt. And awash in peyote.”
O’Neil: “I like the peyote. I like the despair. No one will eat their turkey.”
Bschooled: “And last but not least, I would like to thank you, my blood-relations, for making all of my unforgettable memories (oxymoron much?) possible. Goodnight friends…be safe on your journey.”
(I then plan to go up in a big cloud of smoke while they sit there dumbfounded at the dining table)
Mamet: “A denouement unlike any I’ve seen before. This is a challenging and dynamic work. It could use more swearing, but other than that, it’s brilliant.”
O’Neil: “I agree. I would change the line ‘be safe on your journey’ to ‘One day you will all die’ but other than that, it’s revolutionary. I’ll never look at turkey the same way ever again…”
Mamet and O’Neil: “We give it two big thumbs up!!!”
I just may plagiarize this. Is it plagiarizing if you tell that you are plagiarizing…… my head hurts……..
I don’t think it is plagiarizing if you tell that you are plagiarizing and then give credit to the person you are plagiarizing by acknowledging that you are a plagiarizing and that you have plagiarized said piece of work while in the act of plagiarizing. At least, that’s what I read somewhere and then claimed to have been mine own. And if that makes me a plagiarizing plagiarist who’s guilty of plagiarism, then I just don’t want to know.
I think what I’m trying to say is – have at it. 😀
I thought I might slip this comment past you. Found it on your dashboard, did you? 😉 and if I didn’t get it past you, I expected JUST this reply!
Alan, I am going to do another spotlight on Sick Days. Don’t know when exactly, but soon. I’ve got Aerie birthday stuff coming up and Doc is due a post from his new title and station as Foreign Correspondent in Yorba Linda, CA. But soon….. I’ll let you know.
Meantime, I got a post in the Aerie of which I am proud. Phineas Q. Give it a peek if you feel so moved.
Cheers Gryph,
Yes, nothing gets past me.😉 Well except for that chunk of time between 1988 and 1996.
Thanks for the head’s up. I had already made plans to swing by the awesome Aerie and will be there very soon. Looking forward to reading, Phineas Q. And thanks, it’s very kind of you to spotlight Sick Days again. Lazy ass site that it is. 😀 But far more important are the Aerie birthday celebrations and Doc’s post from Yorba Linda, CA. Sounds like tons of fun and exciting things are going on and in the works at your place. I’m looking forward to checking them out.
Yimminey yickets Alan, I think these guys of yours are really on to something!
However, because I rarely ever trust my own instincts (if you were my beer goggles you’d understand why), I decided to share their heated discussion about my work with a few “guys of my own,” so to speak.
Here’s what they had to say:
Random Bar Guy #1-“Boy, this Mamet guy sure has a mouth on him. I like him already…”
Random Bar Guy #2-“Fuckin’ eh!”
(continues to read)
Random Bar Guy #1- “But seriously, dude…who does opium anymore? Didn’t that go out in like the 80’s or something?”
Random Bar Guy #2- “Fuckin’ eh!”
(reads again)
Random Bar Guy #1- “Hmm…speaking of onions and cod, I’m getting hungry. Are we gonna hit a drive-through on the way home or what?”
Random Bar Guy #2- “Fucking cod!”
Random Bar Guy #1- “Fucking cod? That doesn’t even make any sense, dude…”
Random Bar Guy #2- (tries to act indifferent, but it’s obvious his feelings are hurt)
(reads a bit more)
Random Bar Guy #1- “So, where exactly did these guys go to get “Good fucked” anyway? And how many c-notes did it set them back?”
Random Bar Guy #2- (remains silent for fear of being judged)
(#1 keeps reading, stopping to giggle at the part where Mamet says “tits”)
Random Bar Guy #1- “Wait a minute…are these dudes like…into the Gay?” (hands back critique of speech) “You never told me this was a homorotical review! That just ain’t right!” (looks over at Random Bar Guy #3) “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it not being right, mind you…”
Bschooled- “But you haven’t even gotten to the best part!”
Random Bar Guy #2- “Do you know where I can buy a fuckin’ eh t-shirt?”
Friend- (grabs my arm) “C’mon, Bschooled, they’re playing Beyonce and Jay-Z! We have to get up on the speakers and dance like nobody’s watching!”
Random Bar Guy #1, 2 and 3- “Can we watch?”
As you can tell, Alan, I didn’t really get very far with it. So why don’t we just call a spade a spade (random idiom-bomb droppage) and go with the two thumbs up assessment.
You know, I think I really could learn to like these Mamet and O’Neill guys. They’re a hell of a lot more easy-going than those two midgets you had reading my stuff…
Pardon my interruption…
I do hope that the Beyonce and Jay-Z they played was Jay-Z’s “99 Problems” which allowed Beyonce to march off in a huff and make a quick cellphone telephone call to her precious sister Solange and berate her for her clumsy Twittering.
That’s how it plays in my mind, anyway.
That and 3 guys pretending not to watch somebody dance. Like Mormons in a strip club.
Back to you, Alan.
Alan: “Thanks, CLT! Over to you, bschooled!”
Bschooled: “Fucking cod! Back to you, Alpo!”
Alpo: “Ha, ha, ha! Thanks bschooled! Fucking cod indeed! Over to you Jane! Jane…?”
CLT, where have you been?
And don’t give me that lame “some of us have to work for a living” excuse. It’s getting old. Like that wrinkly, covered in age-spots kind of old.
Not aethetically pleasing whatsoever.
Ask Solange if you don’t believe me…
@CLT Wrinkles and age-spots are not aesthetically pleasing or whatever, but lucky for us, positivity and good vibes are never “not aesthetically pleasing” (Ha! I just did a double negative!)
I mean, how can you argue with logic like that?
Back to you @Alan…
Thanks Bschooled. Fucking Cod! Over to you CLT.
Fucking eh! Or as we say in America, fucking A! (I assume the “A” stands for America, much like the “eh” stands for Canada.)
Where have I been? That’s a solid question. A solid, aethetically pleasing question, that is not at all riddled with incontinence and age-spots.
I would say that some of us have to work for a living, but trying to back that up with any sort of proof would be counter-productive at best, and completely boring at worst.
I certainly didn’t come here to be boring.
I came here to collect my Nobel Peace Prize.
Apparently, it IS just some sort of popularity contest which is not what they said years ago when we were asking if there was some way to slide past the whole “lifetime of positive actions and contributions to the betterment of mankind.”
I had asked if there was some sort of dispensation for those willing to slide by on “charm and good looks.” They told me that a.) no, there wasn’t, b.) get the hell out if you can’t take this seriously and c.) you are hereby expelled from the Frank B. Kellogg Finishing School for Rich Kids with Nobel Aspirations.
They also reminded me that my bold ideas for an anti-masturbatorial breakfast cereal (O-Nannies: They’re O-nantastic!”) were not welcome and that I was barking up the wrong Kellogg, so to speak.
Duly chastened, I headed off to the nearest comment thread to “make some shit up.”
Back to you, Alan.
Alan: “Hah! Thanks CLT! Back to you, Alpo!”
Alpo: “Leave me out of this. Over to you, Yuri.”
Yuri: “все представить в жнойyoutubeнужной York”
York: “Hee hee, over to you, Venkatraman Ramakrishnan and Thomas A. Steitz and Israel’s Ada E. Yonath for your studies of the structure and function of the ribosome.”
Venkatraman Ramakrishnan, Thomas A. Steitz and Ada E. Yonath: “Thanks! Wee! But our Nobel was for chemistry. Not peace. Over to you Millicent Bodsworth.”
Millicent: “Perversion! Back to you, filthy reprobates.”
Well, I know he said “filthy reprobates,” bschooled, but I’d like to cut in line for a moment.
It is nice to see Yuri out and about, working tirelessly to ensure the erections of others, like a hooker with a heart of spam. I have no idea what he’s saying but it’s music to my eyes. Loud, stomping, jack-booted music, but music nonetheless.
Thank god the Chemists still have to earn theirs. I’m still waiting for the Nobel Prize in the field of “Designer Drugs.” That’s something we can all get behind, not like this vague “peace” crap that people are always going on and on about when they’re not complaining about their “war-torn countries” or their “war-punctured lungs.”
Back to you, filthy reprobates.
Alan: “Thanks, CLT! I’ll throw it back to you, wordpress…”
Ha!
“If being a filthy reprobate is wroong, then I don’t wanna be right…”
And by “wroong”, I meant right…
…right??
Fucking Cod!
LOSTL! OH ALAN!
That was so funny! I hope i never have an interview like that. One time i dreamed that i went to an audition in the nude, but then i woke up and was all sticky and feeling weird.
Did you do the same?
Its so wonderful to see you back and writing again! I just love reading your blobs. Mum grounded me and i wasnt allowed to use the internet-o-webs to say hello!
But its great to be back!
Bob
Bob!
Thank goodness you’re here. Wonderful to see you, Bob. I trust all is well in the world of acting and that you have been keeping well and true. (I’m sure you have.)
I didn’t wake up sticky on this occasion, Bob. More perplexed and suffering from dream hangover.
Sorry to hear about the recent grounding. I can’t imagine what kind of zany stunt you pulled off to merit it, but I’m sure your wonderful mother has her reasons. I shall be by soon to read all about it.
Wonderful to see you, Bob. Great to see you back, indeed! Don’t forget to practice your vocal warm-ups.
Wheres alan?
I miss your wonderful words! Hooray!
Bob
Bob!
There you are. What a search that was!
Oh… And thank goodness you’re here.
Thanks for the kind words about my words, Bob. I’ve been very remiss as of late. There’s no excuse, but that’s my excuse.
Hope you and your mum are doing well, Bob.
I still remain confident that fame is but seconds away for you. Be prepared, Bob.
AAAAhahahahAHhahha….. heh…. hoo hee… ahhhh… You are too good Al.
Thanks deathinfrance!
Nice to see you. Hope your summer in Baltimore was a thing of joy. Looks like things are kind of tenuous for RJ. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that’s a good thing. 😉
Hello!
I would like to present my site: http://incapableofactionordecision.blogspot.com
PS: Diazepam
To greet!
Bye
Many thanks for the spam, Oblomov… I’m sure poor Yuri is having fits… For you see, zany spamster Yuri considers this place to be his rightful stomping ground.
But I’ll let you two sort that out, I have fucking cod to fry.
Oh, and I hope you don’t mind but I removed all your URLs and replaced them with a single one of my preference. Also, I changed your name. Other than that, looking good, buddy!
I can’t believe it…this Oblamov guy (girl?) is brilliant!
Have you checked out his (her?) blog, Alan? I mean, I know you’ve been busy lately–let’s face it, fucking cod isn’t going to fry itself–and I also know (deep down) that it was you who replaced the URL, but seriously, this is the kind of blog that writes itself.
He (I’m going with dude) really knows how to put himself out there. And when I read his post about not living in denial re: yesterday, my heart actually skipped a beat!
(FYI, my Doctor said that my heart murmur disappeared when I hit my early-teens, so I know my reaction was was one of pure emotion, and not just because of medical issues)
This guy is the real deal, Alan.
Maybe even realer.
Hahaha!
Oblomov really is even realer than the realest of real deals. He’s beyond real. He’s surreal. If he was real estate, he’d be surreal estate.
You got to love the Russians. Why? Because they say so.
But the questions still remain:
Is Oblomov an unfortunate looking Russian chick?
Is Oblomov an unfortunate looking Russian dude?
Is Oblomov a beer?
Or is Oblomov a chair…?
http://themagazine.info/products/-/2325.html
So much to ponder on.
About your heart murmur. I was so glad to hear it had cleared up. I’ve been having heart troubles myself recently. And when I say “recently” I mean this very second! Why even as I write this my heart is pounding like a drum. Oh, Jesus Christ! I don’t feel well. My arm is tingling. Now it’s gone numb! Oh no! Shit, my doctor warned me that I was a prime candidate but did I listen? I just went on boozing it up and smoking three packs a day and now my chest is tight and my heart feels like it’s been torn to pieces. I’m dizzy and sweaty. It’s the big one. The old ticker’s finally given in. Aggh! I’m in love! I’m in love with a hot babe. For the first time in my life I’m having a love attack and I feel like death. I can’t eat, can’t sleep. The birds smell and the flowers sing. Oh the unbearable pain! If love doesn’t kill me, I’ll be so happy!!!!
He’s all of those things, Alan!
In fact, Oblamov is all that and a bag of Olestra chips!
And as for your heart complications, leave it to me. And by “me”, I mean the Olivia-Newton John version of me.
She actually wrote a song about this very issue once, and being the good friend I am, I decided to pilfer this song from lyricsmania.com and send it to you, in the hopes that it might cure your…um, “acute myocardial infarction”, so to speak.
Love Attack-by ONJ
My arm is tingling, it’s kind of numb
I’m thinking this quietly cause out loud it just sounds dumb
I’m dizzy and sweaty, I swear it’s a fact
But you always say I’m a hypochondriac
Ooohh…If you only knew what you’re putting me through…
A love attack
You’re giving me a love attack
Love attack
You’re giving me a…well, you know
Must have died and gone to the hot babe store
I only needed three but walked out with four
I can’t catch my breath
It must be the smokes
I’m getting really sick of the emphysema jokes
Or maybe it’s the birds, God they sure do smell vile
“Hey blue-jay, would it kill you to bathe once in a while?”
Ooohh…If the babes only knew what they’re putting me through…
A love attack
They’re giving me a love attack
Love attack
They’re giving me a…do I have to spell it out for you twits?
(*repeat last three verse 1,247 times, then throw on some bright pink leg-warmers and matching sweat band, take a 2 Bayer and call Danny Zuko in the morning)
Hahahaha!
You know that link to those people clapping? They’re doing it again! Too rich.
Great song. Have you heard the “Russian Extended Dub Version”?
It’s called Potato Shack… It was weitten (that’s how you say “written” in Russian) by the semi-edgy Russian punk band Go Go Gogol
Potato Shack -by GGG
My freedom to vote is dwindling, my joy has turned numb
All I crave is the taste of vodka, and escape from life in this slum
I’m stern and Slavic, I will never dance to disco
But live in a potato shack in Moscow
Comrade… The Soviet system lives on don’t you know…
Thanks to the potato
I live in a potato shack
Potato shack
I’m making vodka and knocking it back in my…well, you know
Must have died and gone to Russian Orthodoxy church
To pray for more potatoes to get me out of this lurch
Dasvidaniya I say
As I walk away
I think our once glorious motherland has become quite bizarre
I miss the KGB and being pushed around by the Tsar
Our motherland is wasting its talents, I’m sorry to say (ha! In joke!)
We give freedom to anyone, even those who are gay
Ooohh…If Putin only knew what he was putting us through…
In my potato shack
I make vodka and see bats
Potato shack
I make vodka in my…da, da, da, you know it you capitalists!
(*repeat last three verse 1,247 times, then throw on some drab threadbare clothing, take one potato and call Newt “The Merman” Dostoevsky in the morning)
HAHAHA!!
Brilliant! Stellar! Intoxicating! Hangover Inducing! 12-Step Program Qualifying! Fall Off The Wagon Worthy! Shake It Off and Try Again Persuading! Fall Off The Wagon Again Provoking! Ahh…Just Screw It Generating!
Fine Alan, your Slavics win again, but only because I can’t bear to pull out Grizzly Adams and his record-breaking hit “Bivouac Sack”…
(seriously I can’t…those things are a bitch to roll back up)
😆 Well, we can always save Grizzly Adams and his record-breaking hit “Bivouac Sack” for another day.
And I look forward to that day. 😉
Over the years, you’ve grown to love his rugged good looks and hirsute voice. Grizzly Adams, acoustical guitarsmith and record-setting bareback rider is back in this new 5-disc collection, which spans his four decade career.
From his early days as a bluegrasser
[cue “Backwoods Bivouacker”]
to his breakthrough middle-of-the-road Adult Contemporary stylings
[cue “A Bivouac Rendezvous”]
to his chart-topping success as a full-on sell-out,
[cue “Bivouac Sack”]
Grizzly Adams’ music defined a generation. His good time soft rock
[cue “The Fire Inside (My Bivouac)”]
and down home stylings
[cue “Bivouackin’ in my Sack”]
set the mood for many boomers’ futile attempts to rekindle their passion.
Not only will you receive his greatest hits, but an additional bonus disc which contains several of his unheard 4-track demos.
Be amazed by his rowdier side
[cue “Street-Bivouackin’ Man”]
and his drawling a capella songs.
[cue “Sack Up, Bivouackers”]
Experience the experience that is the Grizzly Adams Experience. Order this set within the next 20 minutes – 6 weeks and also receive a limited picture disc displaying some rare boudoir photography and an interview with “Hairy as Fuck Gentlemen’s Quarterly.”
Grizzly Adams: the man, the lover, the missing link.
Order with your credit card to receive an actual flannel swatch worn by Grizzly Adams during his horrific mauling by Gentle Ben, who was soon renamed Brutal Ben, and shortly after that, Put Down by Park Rangers Ben.
Hahahaha!
Who knew that the biggest laughs of the day would be coming thanks to Grizzly Adams? Finally, he’s really pulling his hefty weight.
And this 5-disc collection is just in time for Christmas. Praise Allah. (I can’t think of Christmas without thinking of Allah.) Good ol’ Grizzly: He really was a diverse throwback. And that hirsute voice! I think it was the hairy tongue that did it.
But it gets even more exciting.
I found a rare bootleg of Grizzy Demos… Called, ‘natch “Grizzly Demos”
Fascinating stuff, it includes his questionable forays into punk…
“Anarchy in The Bivouac”
His short, uh, spurt, with cock rock:
“Tight Jeaned Girl (Let Me Put My Bivouac Into You)”
Grizzly Jazz:
“Rondo Medley in Bivouac Blue”
1960’s acid Art Rock:
“Astral Traveler in an Aerial Aura Bivouac Aural Space Groove Trucking Trip”
And, 1970’s prog:
“Bivouac Ritual (1. calix meus inebrians 2.nous sommes du soleil)”
Anyway, it’s all worth a listen. Plus it comes with a life size Grizzly Adams Blow Up Doll.
Once you’ve blown it up, I suggest you blow it up.
Hahaha!!!
Let’s not forget his groundbreaking work as part of the post-punk New Jack outfit, Bell Bivouac Devoto.
It warms the cockles of my heart to see how deeply you’ve both been touched by the “Many Faces of Grizzly Adams” (and not in a threatening, “I feel icky” sort of way)
Alan is right, the 5-disc collection comes out right before Christmas. But what you didn’t know was that immediately after the CD’s release (like I’m talking the next day here), that zany, follicley-adept Hunter-Gatherer will be coming out with an even more exciting Christmas album, combining four decades of various genre-dabblings with the talents of an equally zany and perhaps even more follicley-adept group, “Boney M”.
Here’s just a sample of what you’ll find on this upcoming album, sure to be a hit with Christian-minded Bounty-Hunters across the globe:
“Oh, Come All Ye Ferals”
“Horse-Meat Roasting on an Open Fire”
“Do You Fear What I Fear”
“Old Hank Zine” (an ode to his recently deceased Uncle Hank)
“Hairy’s Boy Child” (aka.“The Skeleton in Grizzly’s Closet”)
“Oh Little Cub of Mountain Man”
“Little Bivouac-Encased Boy”
“Jingle Beast”
“We Three Men of Mountain-Life Are” (featuring the lyrical genius of Mad Jack the Mountain Man and “Nakoma”)
“Grandma got Run Over By A Herd of Sheep”
“It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Trappin’ Season”
“Feliz Nomad-ad”
Order with your credit card to receive a limited edition beaver-tail, hacked by Grizzly Adams himself during his short-lived “Fur-Tradin'” phase…
Hahaha! Fantastic! Keepers, all of them!
It warms the cockles of my heart to read the words “It warms the cockles of my heart.” It’s just so, so, so, heart cockling warming… Is that the right expression?
And, of course, this being Christmas themed and all it’s only right that the cockles of all of our hearts be warmed. Possibly warmed over.
Hah, you’ve really covered most of the Christmas songs here, bschooled. A heart cockling warming job you’ve done too. God bless us all everyone. But especially God bless you, bschooled – for being the designated driver for the 12 days of Christmas (and thank you for Feliz Nomad-ad). You get an extra lump of sugar in your coffee for that. I’ll try not to throw up in your cart’s backseat. Did I just write “cart”? silly me, I must be drunk out of my face. Thank Allah I’m not driving.
Anyway, songs covered, I figured I’d share the exciting Grizzly Christmas TV Specials that will be airing this Yuletide.
Here’s just a sample of what you’ll find on this upcoming TV schedule, sure to be a hit with Christian-minded Bounty-Hunters and tube jockeys across the globe:
Grizzly’s Yule Log: Available on The Pay Per View Porn Channel.
From what I can gather, Grizzly visits the bucolic small town of Happyville, and once there, whips out yule log and does his thing. ( no preview available)
Grizzly Axe Murder Xmas: It’s Christmas Eve and most everyone in Park City has been savagely axe murdered. Oh look, there’s Grizzly with his bloody axe! Looks like he’s about to be “wrongly” accused of murder again. Grizzly heads off to the mountains.
Just when things look darkest for our hero, Santa Claus arrives to show the freakish mountian man the true meaning of Xmas. Rampant commercialism! Our hearts are cockled – and then Grizzly axe murders Santa. Oh, that Grizzly!
And, try as we might, let’s not forget the dark animated…
A Grizzly Christmas Special: As he prepares to have his sick and perverted way with Ben, Grizzly confides to his bear mistress that even though Christmas is approaching he still feels depressed and drunk despite all the nubile wood animals who are ripe for a good “mountain hump.” His depression and aggravation only get exacerbated by his pent up sexual frustration. He needs his tree trimmed by something that doesn’t have four legs. And he needs it now.
Ultimately Grizzly visits Lucy Van Pelt in her psychiatric booth. On her advice, he abducts Linus and makes him his mountain bride. On his way to performing an atrocity on the blanket hugging and clearly traumatized kid, Grizzly is drawn to Snoopy, who is frantically and gleefully busy decorating his doghouse. After Grizzly demands an explanation, Snoopy humps his leg. It’s all captured on a camera phone and posted on YouTube.
Grizzly arrives at his shack with his mountain bride, but try as he might, he cannot seem to get it up. He hopes Santa will bring him Viagra – and lots of it.
As he wanders about on Christmas Eve (with Linus tucked under one of his hairy arms) waiting for his Viagra, Grizzly buys a crappy tree (Grizzly: “Fucking cod! Do they still make wooden Christmas trees?”) and begins to wonder if he really knows what Christmas is about. Linus begs to be released and tells him he knows the meaning. Under a spotlight, Linus quotes Scripture. Grizzly, unimpressed, kills Linus. Oh, that Grizzly!
Fade to black as “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” plays and end credits roll… and the snow again begins to fall!!!!!
HAHAHAHAHA!!…hey wait a minute…
He kills Linus?
But I always thought Grizzly Adams was a gentle soul…you know, with a corn cob pipe and a button nose and two eyes made from those beaver eyeballs he’d killed and skinned back in his fur tradin’ days?
(I haven’t been this confused since the time I gave up Paganism for lent…)
Regardless, consider me sold. I’ll definitely be tuning in to watch these “sure to please audience pleasers” for sure! (please)
Well, to be honest I probably won’t tune in to Grizzly’s Yule Log, but that’s only because I’m not a big fan of organized porn (I prefer mine extremely sloppy with appendages flying every which way).
But I can guarantee that my sister will be all over it like “a mountain boy on a Rifleman’s log*”!
*inside joke- http://terraruim.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/the-rifleman.jpg
What the hell is it with you people and your clearly indicated inside jokes with helpful links right below them?
Honestly, it’s like the comment thread has taken on a life of its own, going all sentient and murderous and abhorrently entertaining.
Why, if my mother were to see this, she’d be horrified. Or mollified. She’d be beside herself in apolplectic rage, which would be triggered by her sudden astral projection.
I just don’t get it. The humor (and humour) of today’s bloggers is beyond me and my patience level. I don’t mind the subtle in-your-faceness of the commenters as much as I hate to keep replacing the scroll wheel in my mouse.
And as for these replies on top of replies on the furthest right hand column? Who the hell even knows what anyone’s talking about anymore?
It may as well have happened on a different blog for what I can see of it. A different fucking dog’s blog written in a different fucking language by some very different fuckers.
Speaking of rambling… I had a point when I began this comment but I really can’t remember what it was.
It could have been: a thoughtful commenter would have started a new thread all the way over on the left rather than insinuating himself into the interplay of others.
I am not that commenter.
Vive le fucking cod!
Well, for me, it’s nice to be right once in a while. 😉
Just found this in The Oxford Book of English Verse…
Ode on a Greasy Cod: Part The One (by Crazy Legs Keats)
Thou still ungrilled fish of the ocean,
Thou lean white fishy flesh that is good for stewing,
Marine fish of the family Gadidae, and real ugly looking
Fucking cod, why are you so oddly tempestuous?
What slimy skinned legend haunts about thy shape so ravenous
Of deities and fishermen or mountaineers called Grizzly,
And what’s with this reference to Arcady?
What point is there to this cod verse? What of the three toed sloth
This mad pursuit to talk of fucking cod
Oh, genus of fish Gadus with your mild flavor, low fat content and dense white flesh that flakes oh so easily…
I am not sure what to make of that dream! Persecution complex? Fear of intimacy? Fear of Carlita?
We missed you while you were in rehab, I mean, on vacation.
My guess? All of the above. 🙂
Nice to see you, Aunt Baaa! I once again made your awsome banana bread last weekend and was thinking about you.
Rehab (let’s just say it and get it out there) was great!
It always is.
Yes, I admit it, every now and then I’m forced to check into the Amy Winehouse Clinic and Emporium to try and dry out. It’s 30 intense days of going through a recovery process that always promises to be more fun than hell—but not by much. Still, I learned a whole bunch of new dance-steps, like, “Doing The Shakes” and “The Cold Sweats” and “The DTs! (Everybody Do The…)”
Even better news, the staff are paid and trained to revel in the joy of cleaning up the trail of unholy toxins that were spewing out of my every orifice. Good times! Plus, I learned to identify and express my feelings by whining in therapy that this was all my family’s fault. And, zany planning ahead guy that I am, I kept a much-needed stash secure in the Netherlands of my anus. For secret fun.
I made new and meaningful friendships – but more importantly – future drinking buddies and drug dealers. And, of course, I got to play golf with that Pete Doherty guy from Babyshambles. He never leaves. Well, okay, he does. But he always comes back!
Great to see you, Aunt Baaa!
I had been wondering why you hadn’t put up a new post and I was ascared that you were again gone from our lives. Then I see you’ve been having a party all this time with Bschooled and the CLT! Why didn’t I check the comments? That question will haunt me for the next 20 minutes.
I’m trying to come to terms with my feelings but this is so difficult for me. I… I feel left out, and it’s by my own negligence. I feel so alone in a cold, dark, humorless world. I’ve missed Oblomov, who has now confused me more than I already was. I’ve missed Love Attack and Potato Shack…..ACK! I’ve missed spurts of cock rock to marinate my soul. I’ve missed a ‘go’ at a Grizzly Adams blow up doll, and thus my payback for what his molesting, roofie slipping, fucking bear did to me that cold, dark night.
Shit, now I’ve brought long suppressed memories to the surface of my tortured consciousness. I’ll leave you now……………….(tearing of sackcloth, gnashing of teeth, and spreading of ash all over my face) If you have another party……can I please come? I’ll bring really cheap beer, but really good crack.
I won’t come though, if you invite that fucking bear.
Haha!
Consider the bear stuffed and mounted (things got more than a little crazy here on Friday night!). And, of course, you are ALWAYS welcome to join us, Scott. You always bring great beer, awesome crack and dazzling wit, which just makes the party that much more great, awesome and dazzling.
Plus you look so damn fine in your sackcloth.
Did you see that a lot of the kids these days are wearing them with ashes? What the Hell’s that all about?
Scott, sorry you missed the invite.
We sent it via carrier fish (fucking cod) which was then consumed by the late Brutal (born: Gentle) Ben.
Unfortunately, the park rangers put him down before we could extricate it from his body via the scientific method of “spoor watching” as referred to in Dr. G. Adam’s thesis: “Bears: Do They Shit in the Woods? And What is Taking this Fucking Bear So Goddamned Long?”
As it stands now, most of the partygoers have been arrested on charges from “Contributing to the Deliquency of a Whitefish” to “Getting the Cops Off Their Fat Asses for a Stupid Noise Complaint.”
Oh, and one guy needs a kidney. I don’t know if it’s for a transplant or if he’s just planning on eating it. I don’t really know him but I hate how he keeps disemboweling me with his eyes.
Thanks to you both!
Alan- I don’t know how crazy things got on Friday night with the bear, but no matter how drunk I get, I always mount before stuffing. I can’t even figure out how one would stuff and then mount. That seems like it would be against the laws of the space time continuum. Didn’t you get bitten? If I had it my way (and BK said I could) I would’ve got a couple a hard, codpiece hitting, Scientologists to go to work on the bear with a pair of pliers and a groin mauler.
I’m not surprised you found that picture of me in the sackcloth. Thanks to the deadly combo of a woman scorned and the power of the internet, I’ll never be able to live that shit down. Word to the wise: don’t ever let your girlfriend come home to find you dressed up in her lingerie with ‘hot lips’ Houlihan beating you over the face with an 18in. purple dildo. http://www.blogcdn.com/www.tmz.com/media/2007/03/0327_amanda_loretta_wi.jpg She was not a happy bunny. -I mean my girlfriend; hot lips was over the moon.
I’m too am surprised that sackcloth and ash is back in vogue; I guess the retro look went really, really, way retro this year. Even those goth kids love it.
CLT- I’ve always had my doubts about Dr. Adams bona fides. He always seemed more like the type to hide in the woods, only creeping back into society to place a few pipe bombs in some postal boxes every couple of weeks. I don’t know if they ever caught that uni-brower, but I’ll bet it was him. And I’ll bet that fucking bear helped him.
When I come to the party next week I’ll take that creepy kidney guy out for you. I can’t decide to use it myself (I could use a new kidney, and a new liver) or sell it to my black market buddy for some more fantastic crack.
Scott,
You were definitely missed. Like Alan said, it’s just never the same without your great beer, awesome crack and dazzling wit. Although to be honest, I could probably do without seeing the sackcloth. No offense or anything, I just saw enough of that on Friday night to last me a lifetime.
Well ok, I guess it wasn’t so much sackcloth as it was a loincloth, but still…it was cloth. And little of it.
It all started when Alan pulled out his stash of peyote and began “doin’ his thang”. Then CLT joins in, and next thing you know, they’re chillin-out in their “Cloth O’ Loins” like a couple of Egyptian Pharaoh Larpers or something.
I took some pics, but I’m not sure who’s who (mainly because of the angle)
Thank you bschooled and Scott for the lovely JPEGS.
Nothing says “Good morning on a Sunday” like images of ancient Hot Lips, drag queens, Fabio and men in diapers.
I’m feeling very complete, a little woozy and all a tingle. It’s a delightful combination. Like a birthday cake with peyote icing. Or a freshly mounted bear.
Now I’m even more pissed that I missed the party. I haven’t been on a 3 day long peyote trip in a week or two.
I know I shouldn’t admit this, but here’s the thing; I was thinking about Fabio’s package….right? Just stay with me here…..Where is it? Either this guy who’s been ‘rub one out’ material for generations of lonely, aging women has the tiniest penis known to the Asian midget world, or someone photo-shopped it out. But there would be no reason to do that. If he’s meant to be this sexy hunk, you’d at least think you’d see a tip or something. And by now he’s got to be in his late 40’s, so you should really see a hanging fruit salad. Maybe, he’s really a female Russian gymnast who defected during the 80’s? No cause then you’d probably see labia…or something. Sorry, I was just kind of thinking out loud. Thanks B; you’ve given me a puzzle to work out tonight!
And sorry about that Alan, I forgot it was so early for you up there. But really, if you don’t wake up on a Sunday morning feeling a little woozy and all a-tingle then you just ain’t doing Saturday night right!
Hahaha!
You’ve given us all much to think about, Scott.
Whether we want to or not.
The imagery is burned into my brain and Fabio’s lack of yule long size (hah! see that? I wrote “long” instead of “log”, clearly I want to believe), like I was saying, Fabio’s lack of yule log size is probably a lot more significant than we realize. This is bigger than us. Even if his penis isn’t.
Of course, no one was as well hung as Jesus.
That guy rocked the size-o-meter!
Wow, pay back is a real bitch. Not as much as a bitch as Hot Lips was when she found out the ‘less than hard’ way that Alan Alda had ED issues though. This was before the ‘Viagra days’ as they are now known to elderly couples who are now enjoying a bouncing, flapping, sagging, visually horrifying sex life. http://www.pmcaregivers.com/images/evil.jpg
I guess they don’t like you watching Alan. What the hell is wrong with you?
That was some image you shared with us. I can almost hear Hannity and the ‘good America’ (and ‘decent Canada’) weeping softly in the distance. It must be deafening from your location. At least you can drown it out with Molson. My only choice is 70 proof ‘wine’ or San Miguel.
Its an epic comment thread, Tolstoy would be proud. I can’t believe Count Vronsky hasn’t been mentioned…or has he. Or how about the Count from Sesame Street??
Nice to see you, my friend.
It is epic. I was hoping for biblical epic (St. Atheist version). But if we’ve made Tolstoy proud than my work here really is done. Unlike Like Anna Karenina, this thread is not in eight parts and doesn’t have nearly as much groin mauling as Mr. Tolstoy’s literary masterpiece. This is my cross to bear (an Atheist cross) and I suspect my only recourse is to throw myself in front of a train. It’s what Anna would do.
As for The Count from Sesame Street. Well, I grew up poor and we couldn’t afford Sesame Street as kids, instead we watched it’s edgier, ghetto version, “Sodomy Street” The Count on this version of the show was known as “Body Count” he carried an automatic weapon and killed anyone who fucked with his shit. I learned some valuable life lessons from that program.
Regular sex, haircut and flowers? Woah Alan, you did it! You managed to asked her out but… I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. She’s kind of demanding (Just saying :P)
Anyway, good luck!
Thanks Anonymously Secret!
Nice to see you back and hope all is well. You’re right, she really is demanding. But this was only a dream. Carlita still remains an unobtainable dream girl who looks at me like I am lower than a freshly gutted hookworm and far less attractive. It would appear she and I have an arrangement: I adore her and she barely notices and tolerates me. Romance is a capital affair! 😉
Alpo rules the roost……zman sends
Hahahaha!
Thanks, steve (aka: zman)!
That’s what I’ve telling anyone who will listen for the past 10 years. Thank you for being the one person who actually agrees with me. Much appreciated. Please help yourself to your choice of babelicious Vestal Virgins as my way of saying thanks.
I’m so confused. I don’t even know where to start to get back in the middle of this. Then it occurred to me that I may be scared to be in the middle of this!
Haha! Yes, but Claire, you’re so damn dexterous with that bottle you wield! I think you could get out in three swings and still have enough booze in the 26 ouncer that, once you revived us, you could, if you chose, pour us all drinks. You’re that good!
I need more bottles. I already drank all I had and I swung them at Scott and CLT but they’re a lot faster than me given the fact they’re sober and I’m not.
I start drinking, get a third of the way through the comment thread, pass out, then start it all again the next day. I feel like I’m in a rut.
Uncle Alan’s Handy Dandy Helpful Thread Tips
-In order to slow down Scott and CLT, bring along a stun gun. Once they are temporarily disabled, one single swing with the bottle is all that will be required.
-Swing that bottle when we least expect it. Remember that time you snuck into my house and brained me when I was sleeping? It was very effective. And I never saw it coming.
-Ignore all comments in the thread by loud mouthed schnook, Alan. He says the same thing over and over and over and over. Here’s a summary of what he’s said in this and every thread… “Hahahaha! Groin maul. Merkin. Fucking Cod! Pant Hoot! Hot to Trotsky. Penis.” (I call them “The 7 Repetitive Voyages of Alpo”)
-Pace yourself. Remember: It’s swing, swing, swing, chug. Not Chug, chug, chug, swing.
-Check your mail for fresh bottles. I have just sent you several cases. That should cover you for Monday and Tuesday.
-Also: If you are in an Anal Rut, I think that’s a good thing.
-Handy dandy tip. Avoid passing out early by adding cocaine into the mix. It’ll keep you alert, refreshed, and wildly chipper.
-And remember: Just have fun!
PS: Scott and CLT sober? Really?????
You are so smart. Smart in an entirely different, much more evil way than the professor, but smart nonetheless. I never would have thought of a stun gun. All this time, I was carrying a tranquilizer gun. With elephant load. CLT still didn’t go down. I think it has to do with his ego being too big for the tranquilizer to take hold.
I’m glad you don’t remember anything else from when I snuck in when you were sleeping. Sneaking into Scott’s place is gonna be hard.
That’s all Alan ever says? He is an anal rut isn’t he? Then what keeps me coming back over and over and over and over? Must be that anal rut I’m in. But as you said, that’s a good thing.
I knew I was doing something wrong with the chugs and the swings. I will try to make it better next time.
The cases you sent: Are these swinging or drinking bottles?
I’ll make a note to pick up the cocaine when I get the stun gun.
Havin fun with cocaine and a stun gun – very rythmic.
PS: They moved fast, but as drunk as I was – they may have just been swaying. It’s hard to tell since there were four of each of them. I wasn’t sure if I was in heaven or hell.
Hahaha!!!
You’ll have to tranq up something fierce if you wish to subdue my terrible and incredibly large ego.
Remember the advice of whoever the hell it was that said it: “Don’t fire until you can see the hubris of his ego.”
On related notes:
Pay no mind to Alan. He’s rutting much in the beautiful way that snowboards do. I think it’s all the MTN Dew.
He also has had a lot on his mind lately, most of it drunken and Marxist. He’s apparently off on another “drug run” in hopes of staying ahead of the piper, to whom he owes (and I’m quoting from the Vendor Copy of the Statement) “One (1) Metric Fuckton.”
I cannot answer for Scott. He’s been blazing away at his Spanish blog, making up for all the time he lost when he suddenly vanished for a couple of weeks (presumably for a “drug run”) and now is apparently re-paying the piper in WPM.
If any of this fails to clear up anything else, it wouldn’t surprise me.
Keep up the good work, Claire. You’re the swingingest spy I know!
Actually CLT, you can speak for me. Remember when you had me sign that waiver stating that if I were ever slipped roofies by Claire then raped by a fucking bear, Claire, and Hot Lips, and then woke up from that but was due on a cigarette boat to Columbia, and then subsequently disappeared for a few weeks only to re-appear, but appeared to be under the influence of a Spanish influenced drug or possibly influenza…..then you are to have power of attorney and to ‘speak for me?’ Holy shit, I gotta lay off this marching powder! By the way… I think Alan might be dead. He went into the bathroom like 2 days ago with the gypsy, but never came back out. And there is an awful odor starting to permeate the air.
I’m not dead, Scott.
Well, I was.
But now I’m back.
The afterlife was cool. It’s a steel curtain that is the Russian town of Pittsburghia. Much goes on there: People die, vodka is drunk, the potato famine destroys many, there are several suicides and much moping… Then more stuff happens that leads into my adventure’s middle, this includes me hiring a servant who spits on my ceiling and who eventually steals my nose. It all ends up with decadent me bonking the Countess Irina Aklina Ivanka Masha Greegilson Ilya Dekllonia who later throws herself in front of a train after I murder my landlord and his pal, Raskolnikov.
I swear it’s all true. And if it’s a lie then may I be condemned to tell this story over and over and over…
I’m so relieved that you are alive…again. That you are not dead…anymore. I don’t think I could stand even one more manslaughter charge. My blood sucking attorney would’ve probably been ecstatic about it though.
No offence, but I’m not really surprised that you went to hell. And I’m not in the least bit surprised that hell is in fact Pittsburgh; I knew it! There is only one saving grace about going to/growing up in hell; Sundays from September through to (hopefully) early January. And once every couple of years the Penguins offer some relief of the burning sensation as well. See, you made a mistake that many others make; thinking you were in a foreign land. No, you were in Pennsylvania. Many people think that they are Italy, or Ireland, or Poland, or indeed Russia, (it all depends on what neighborhood your soul lands in. Dying, potatos, potato famine, suicidal moping, Iron City beer, spitting and stealing, and BIG HAIR. Even the Countess and Raskolnikov. There is crime, and there is indeed punishment, but it all goes down in Pittsburgh PA. All of the black and gold covered in blood and puke should have given it away.
As for you becoming ‘stuck’ on repeat: You just have to go back to Morpheus (he’s probably hanging out in a bar in the South Side) and tell him you need the red pill. That fucker is always passing off bad shit. When you go back tell Andrew Carnegie and Andy Warhol that I said hi. Oh, and tell Dennis Miller that I said to go fuck his mother.
Hahaha!
Looks like I’ll need a map. Or one of those Hell GPS systems.
Your attorney sucks blood? Awesome! I’m having a kidddy party for my 5 year-old nephew and the magician just bailed. Is he available?
This tale you weave is a brilliant tragedy, and its brilliance lies in the fact that the tragedy was that no one realized they were living in tragic circumstances…
Whoops, sorry, that was from a Russian Lit. essay that I wrote way back when. How the hell did it get in there? …Must have snuck in with the potato famine.
Will do on Andrew Carnegie and Andy Warhol — they make such a cute couple. And I am also willing to sadistically whip Miller and stomp on him with hobnailed boots.
Thanks for this Scott, Miller bashing is always a pleasing and rousing way to start my day.
Scott-
My lawyers have advised me that I do not remember that night. And to remind you that I still have power of attorney and would therefore advise you to start not remembering that night as well.
Alan is alive. Not that I checked but that he managed to resurface in the overlong interim between your post and my response.
War: what is it good for?
(The answer is not “eradicating drugs.”)
Don’t worry CLT, I (un?)fortunately have no memory of that night either. What do you meant “My lawyers have advised me…” ??? YOU are MY power of attorney! What good is the power of attorney if you’re not an attorney? Doesn’t that rend you powerless? And thank fucking God that Alan is alive, or else I’d have to call a fucking attorney and give him power!
Sorry, I’m drinking again. I get confrontational when I drink. Please still keep the machines on if I’m in a vegetative state.
Ah, Marx, booze and snowboards. Reminds me of an adventure I had in Minsk.
Stop me if you heard this one. It was Trotsky, Marx, me, and Iggy Pop (who liked to sing cover versions of “Louie Louie” and scream out “and I’m as bent as Dostoevsky” – and he was!).
Anyway, it’s a long story… 6,378 pages long, it starts behind the steel curtain that is the Russian town of Pittsburghia. People die, vodka is drunk, the potato famine destroys many, there are several suicides and much moping… Then more stuff happens that leads into my adventure’s middle, this includes me hiring a servant who spits on my ceiling and who eventually steals my nose. It all ends up with decadent me bonking the Countess Irina Aklina Ivanka Masha Greegilson Ilya Dekllonia who later throws herself in front of a train after I murder my landlord and his pal, Raskolnikov. Just another typical Russian novel.
I swear it’s all true. And if it’s a lie then may I be condemned to tell this story over and over and over…
Professor,
How are your ego defenses against stun guns? Maybe I should start insulting you instead of complimenting you before I swing?
Alan’s rutting snowboards on Mountain Dew? Sounds like he may be getting splinters.
Scott and Alan are both on a “drug run” and they didn’t take us? What the hell’s up with that?
I think we should use my spy powers and your powers of persuasion and Wile E Coyote Sooper genius IQ to trail them and see what they’re really up to.
Splinters that never felt so good, I hasten to add.
Good for you, Claire!
Jolly good show, ripping and all that tommyrot, eh wot, old bean? Rather!
The cocaine stun gun combo truly is rhythmic. More rhythmic than a samba, I always say. And you can’t get more rhythmic than that, I say. This anal rut of yours may be the best thing to ever happen to you. Keep snorting and shoot, my friend.
And well done on bagging those bad boys of blogging. Did you have their heads stuffed and mounted on your wall? Egad I hope so.
May I ask? Before you stuffed and mounted their heads… Did you stuff and mount their heads?
😉
Oh my!
I would never stuff and tell.
That’s because you’re a very discerning woman, Claire. A very discerning woman who swings a mighty bottle.
And don’t you forget it either, Puppy Face. 😉
Hah! I’m likely to forget many things in my lifetime but that’s one thing I will NOT forget.
😉
When in the hell was I sober? If I was it must have happened during one of my blackouts. No, I’d never do something as stupid as sobering up during one of my blackouts. What are you trying to hide? Were you with Hot Lips that night? It’s all starting to come together now! Actually it’s not. I can’t remember a fucking thing.
You were sober with me, Scott. We were in the steel curtain that is the Russian town of Pittsburghia. Much goes on there: People die, vodka is drunk, the potato famine destroys many, there are several suicides and much moping… Then more stuff happens that leads into our sober adventure’s middle, this includes us hiring a servant who spits on our ceiling and who eventually steals both our noses. Then we reamin sober some more until it all ends up with sober you and me bonking the Countess Irina Aklina Ivanka Masha Greegilson Ilya Dekllonia who later throws herself in front of a train after we, in a fit of sobriety, murder our landlord and his pal, Raskolnikov.
I swear it’s all true. And if it’s a lie then may I be condemned to tell this story over and over and over…
When you gonna write your next post?? Better be raunchy, no, but hopefully by then you would find the courage to ask Carlita to join in this sex tape I was planning on making soon. She would only have to travel to Michigan. Canada Does Michigan: Bangbus Edition Oyeee.
Of course, I would be filming and not participating. I want this tape to be in the “mature (older people) porn” category….that’s assuming she’s in her 30s or older.
Trust me, you’d be in her heart and get a promotion when you let her in on this money makin’ opportunity. The best part is since it’s in the US, she won’t have to worry about her friends and family seeing the video in Canada.
*whispers*haha, suckers
Ah sensico,
Have I told you how delightfully raunchy you are lately? If not, please put down your whip and forgive me.
Well, I’m thrilled to hear that along with your expertise in talking in the flowery language of delightful raunch, you also have the auteur’s ability to film the raunchy action. You must one day show me your body of work. Have you done any porn animation? That stuff always cracks me up.
As for writing my next raunchy post… Hopefully soon. I’m off to America this week in search of “mature (older people) porn.” If the research works out, then I’ll be posting something soon. What that is, I have no idea. Likely “mature (older people) porn.”
ew, “mature (older people) porn” is actually disgusting but apparently the market is huge and I want to capitalize on it. I actually think those that watch it for pleasure are quite sick in the head. Why would you want to watch 30 somethings do the nasty?? Alan, you’re disgusting, I expected better from you.
Guess some of us were brought up with more class then others.
And, no, porn animation would take too much time though, I do have a dream of meeting and filming Marge Simpson for a flick. I plan to make the big time, this mature thing is my first body of work as a director. My other films are private, I may be young, but I ain’t stupid.
Hahaha! Disgusting? Well, I’ve been called worse, for example, I’ve been called foolhardy, flamboyant, ebullient, “George” the man, pesky, contaminated, engorged, kid dynamite, dithering, a contortionist, friend of water fowl, groovy, insane, banal, testy, surly, 6 beers good, flibbertigibbet, a nabob, a dreamer, a buffoon, a milkman, a spaceman, a snowman, gobbly, widget face, wiggy, jiggy, Iggy, rambuctuous, functional, flighty, a fanatic, a funky flunky, pant hoot, duck fucker, Grizzly, Bobo chicken balls, Mr. Orange Sauce, Lasagna Boy, Tyrone, impy, bud, pal, goony, Idiot McMoron and punchy.
To name a few.
Keep filming! And I’ll keep waiting for film at at 11.
Yeah, I forget what comment it was a while back but something you wrote definitely got me thinking you were flamboyant.
I remember that comment. It was marked by ostentation but still somewhat tasteless. It was as flamboyant as the cheap showy rhinestone bracelet I advertised in a splashy half-page ad. I was, as I remember, selling a royal Poinciana, otherwise known as a showy tropical tree or shrub native to Madagascar. It was all very florid. And as I recall I did it all while wearing an ascot, paraphrasing Oscar Wilde, smoking a long cigarillo in a filter while flouncing and mincing about in my divinely ordain sitting room and propped upon a French pillow stuffed with goose down… while sipping a delightful claret.
I’m back again and hiding at the bottom of the pile. What’s with these blogs that last a month? You’re still dreaming of having sex with Carlita aren’t you? No matter. I’m just going to show up every now and then to see who’s hanging around, who’s drunk, and who needs to be hit with a bottle.
I hereby award, in retrospect, the Vice-President of Truly Sickies position to Claire for trying to keep up with SD in my holiday break; well done ma’am!!!!!!!!!!
ElPresGodbackandupforitagain
I second that emotion with an emotocon. 😎
Welcome back, ElPresGodDave! Wonderful to see you as always. Hope you had a delightful holiday.
I’m so honored! Although, I already hold the position of Vice-President, bestowed on me by you, ElPresGod, and seconded by you, Anal Rut. At least you guys are consistent.
Now I have to confess that I haven’t been around all week. Sorry. I know you guys are disappointed in me.😦
Ah, that’s okay. You can make it up to use by knocking one or two of us about with a gin bottle. I volunteer CLT and Scott.
It’s so nice of you to volunteer…others!
Thanks! I’m very adept at the art of voluntolding.
Those two are hiding. They must’ve realized you voluntold them for brain bashing session. It’s good to be wanted.
Ha!
There’s a line up waiting for a braining.
It really clears the head.
Don’t threaten me with an excellent time! You guys all know that I love my booze and I love my punishment. Put them both together and you couldn’t drag me away with a jaw of life!
Denying a good man his booze and punishment is just inhumane. I’d never do that to you, Scott. Have a drink or 12. Claire should be soon enough for “Part The Deux” of this most delightful process.
Oh but I’m not a good man. I’m bad. So very, very bad. The only way that I can atone for my otherworldly badness is when (not if) Claire becomes my “Part The Deux.” I’m waiting with bated breath and constricted genital blood flow. And it is fantastic!
Hahaha! It really does sound awesome, “Evil Scott.”
Or do you prefer “Bad Scott”? or “Very Bad Scott”?
Well, I guess we’ll have to patiently wait for Claire to stroll in with her gin bottle and do her thang.
Oh, if I had a dime for everytime I wrote that.
If you had a dime for………Then I’ll bet we’d have enough money to get a couple a hard, pipe hittin, 300 lb Mexican women with hairy lips to go to work on both of us with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch! I’d still rather wait for Claire though. That fiery red hair coupled with her fiendish (or is it impish??) grin really gets my brook bubbling! Not to mention she is as talented with a cattle prod as Tiger Woods is with a 9 iron. Not that I’ve ever been alone with Tiger and a 9 iron……..yet.
Hahahaha! You paint with words, Scott.
Well, while the idea of a grand total of 600lbs of Mexican women is… something, that’s for sure, I too think that it’s best for all to wait for Planet Claire and her deft bottle swinging stroke.
The good news is that she should be here any second now…
Yup, any second… Oh look! There she is!
Nope… That was just my neighbour with a milk carton….
Yup. Any second now…
Any second now….
I have an unfortunate genital update; my junk is starting to turn a violent purplish black. And my hands are now shaking too badly to get these rubber bands off. If she doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to have to explain this to a Spanish doctor. Or maybe even a vet. It’s going to be awkward. I’m going to be pissed….
Any second now…
Scott, are you telling me that this violent purplish black penile metamorphosis is a bad thing?
The same thing started happening to me weeks ago. I just figured it was all part of the penis growing and transition process. Or at least that’s what my vet told me.
He said just be patient and wait for it to fall off and new and better one will grow in. He’s a reputable vet (he saved my goldfish’s life using mouth to mouth) and doesn’t mind getting paid in Petrarchan Sonnets, which made me think he really knew what he was doing.
Oh, shit. I may be in some trouble here. It’s already loosened up.
The damn thing’s precariously dangling like a dead man hanging from a thin tree branch. It could snap at any moment. Fuck! And after I wrote him that awesome Dog Sonnet and everything…
I mean check it out, this is real artful like…
Doggy Sonnet
When I ponder how my dog is doing
Ere half its days, in the dark world of the dog house
And that my leg is nothing more than an object to hump
Yes, this is who my dog is screwing
My appendage that I use for support
My God, I wonder, how much longer til he’s done?
“Doth dog exact thy hump-labor, light denied?”
With trepidation I ask; but patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “Bark! Yap! Howwwl!”
The beast’s work continues and I feel inclined
To bear his mild yoke, and hope my relatives aren’t videotaping
For a YouTube performance of this beastly nautre
That is post o’er land and ocean without rest;
Would surely get a million hits
Wow. and there’s the cattle prod. omg. So is the grin fiendish or impish?
Wow.
I’m flattered, curious and oddly sickened all at the same time. You guys are a mix somewhere between creative geniuses and obscene perverts.
Oddly sickened is always the best!
Well, you did mention a cattle prod. “Ask and ye shall receive” is our motto. We really do care a lot.
I think Scott and I can share the tittles. On Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, I’m creative genius and he’s obscene pervert. On Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, he’s creative genius and I’m obscene pervert. Sundays we are creative perverts… or obscene geniuses. I’m flexible on this.
😉
Impishly fiendish grin..
Wow. “Part the Deux”? I’m glad I came back to check on you guys. You obviously need some adult supervision and a good spanking. Constricted genital flow too?
Like I always say, “You can’t have adult supervision and a good spanking without constricted genital flow.”
Or at least, I do now.
You guys share the tittles huh? that explains a lot.
Damn, I say that now too.
Welcome aboard! Grab a bottle and a merkin! We sail at dawn.
Oh! Oh! Hit me! Hit me!
Way to go, Claire.
I can always depend on you for a rousing bottle swing.
For the record, I think everyone needs to get belted with a bottle at least once. It’s the ultimate experience. And you know what they say “once you’ve been bottle attacked, there’s no going back.”
You’re so good for my reputation.
Hahaha! You’ve got a PR pal in me, Claire.
And tomorrow’s a busy day for us. I’ve set up a 9am photo shoot of you handing out bottles to the homeless.
Then at 11am, you’ll be christening a ship.
At noon, by special request of the mayor, you’ll be slugging him over the head with a bottle of rye and then signing autographs.
Then we’ve slated you to brain a few local dignitaries before your appearance on Leno. You’ll slug him with several bottles – whether he likes it or not!
I want my advance in advance this time. Otherwise, no one gets hit over the head.
Oooh, sorry Claire,
You’ll want to check your contract. It clearly states that you don’t get paid until you deliver the contusions and concussions.
Start swinging, dear.
Stand still.
I’m waiting.
Have been for the last day…
Say, didn’t you menton something somewhere about procrastination?
http://clairecollins.wordpress.com/2009/10/24/how-best-to-procrastinate/
Would it be weird and a form break (because where would one jump into a magnum opus thread like this) just say hi and hope all is going well?? I am both back and back on-line again.
It would neither be weird nor off form.
Hi to you too and welcome back again.
I trust all went well in Las Vegas and that what happened there stayed there. I’ve never been myself, but I’m told that’s how it works in Vegas – and, I gather, Mother Russia. Anyway, comrade, other than that, my Las Vegas trivia is rather pitiful. I know three things about the place…
1.Las Vegas was invented by the Prussian Orthodox Jew, Fred “Gambling Bug” Flintstone in 267 BC.
2.In 1958 AD, Frank Sinatra once ate bacon and eggs off a prostitute’s stomach while staying at Caesar’s Palace and shooting craps, rolling dice, knocking them dead and enjoying the perks of an “all white” hotel. Meanwhile on the other side of the tracks, Sammy Davis washed his glass eye and waited for things to get better. It would be a long wait…
3. The TV series “Streets of San Francisco” was filmed in Las Vegas.
Vegas was fun and creepy at the same time. Nice research on the Vegas trivia.
Thanks, FJ
The secret is avoiding wikipedia and making it up as you go along. Challenging work. But rewarding.
See you at your place real soon!
Dang,
just,
“Dang.”
As in “Dang” the Vietnamese, Chinese, Indian and German surname that has its sources from both Asiatic languages and Indo-European languages?
😉
yeah. that’s the one. 🙂
A fun group! In fact, they’re coming over to my place this Friday to listen to Tom Jones LPs and play Parcheesi.
ROFLMAO.
Alan, I came in here with the intent to chide you for lack of new content, but can’t bring myself to do it.
Tom Jones and Parcheesi indeed.
It’s not unusual . . .. 😉
🙂
Tom Jones and Parcheesi have that chocolate and peanut butter connection. They just match up perfectly. Remember the 1970’s TV commercial…?
Man: “Hey you got Tom Jones in my Parcheesi.”
Woman: “No, you got Parcheesi in my Tom Jones.”
Both: “Wow. Two unusual kitschy things that work great together.”
isn’t cultural literacy grand?
Reminds me of the Doctor of Music who I asked if he had heard the story of the backstage conversation between Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry to which he replied, “No, and I am sure that I would enjoy it if I knew who either of those people were.” — a doctor of music, no less…… How tragically sad.
And now I know someone who knows about Parcheesi and Tom Jones and “chocolate in my peanut butter.” (not to mention acid dropping baseball pitchers). BTW, it is documented that Reese Cups are doc’s favorite sweet treat–even Naughty Natty comes in second to Reeses.
Culturally IL-literate people need to be segregated from normal society so they don’t spread the gene. Tough Love. They will eventually die out from their own genetic inferiority…….. OH MY! What did I say???
It’s past my bed time and Phineas is raising hell in the sub-floor.
Nothing beats a Reese! Damn fine chocolate. Best munched on while playing Parcheesi, listening to Tom Jones, tossing a baseball on acid and hanging out with the Dang family.
Ah, Phineas. That furry bastard. Hey, I just realized — his name sort of rhymes with nemesis. A coincidence, Gryph?😉
http://gryphonscry.wordpress.com/2009/11/05/phineas-q/
ALAN! I completely missed your return. Now I won’t have to skip the first link when I’m doing my rounds of suggested reading. :]
bellakagan!!!
Thanks! How very kind of you to say. And so nice to see you. I’ve still been incredibly remiss when it comes to posting and commenting. I hope all is truly fine and that school is going well. Once again, great to see you! 🙂
wow so many comment dropped on this old post. Are you going for a record?
Hah, well, no. The thread two posts below is the hands down winner for comment totals. Although… If I copied this comment of mine and posted it 130 times…😉
Something told me to check out your blog after all these weeks and here I find another party has been going on in my absence. Darn, when will I ever learn that Alpo never totally leaves us.
That warm fuzzy feeling is now back.🙂
Aww, a fabulous award and two wonderful comments from yorksnbeans in one day! Wow. I can really feel the love. 😉
Last!
At least, I am right now. Wait, let me check…okay, yeah, still last. Wait, let me check again…still last!
I’ll come back later to make sure. And I’ll just check one more time before I go…okay. Yup, still last.
And now.
And now.
I think I hear Nick Cave calling.
Hah!
Why hello, and might I add, “Oh, you…” 😉
Yes indeed, Mr. Cave is ALWAYS calling… Why, there he is below! And what is he calling to us about today? Let’s see, we have homosexual rape, oral sex, murder, repeated usage of “motherfucker,” prostitutes, and “fifty good pussies just to get one fat boy’s asshole…”
Yup, another day in the life of a Nick Cave threnody.
(Meanwhile, back in Brighton, things continue to get more wretched for our rather pathetic antihero, Bunny Munro.)
Well, first I read the exchange between you and Very Bad Scott and I must confess I felt rather warm and even tingly. Very bad, you say? Mmmm.
However, after watching Mr. It doesn’t matter whether or not I can actually sing because I’m so fucking hip and brilliant Cave, I feel just…nauseated. Slightly. Still warm and tingly, though.
Carry on.
Well said. And you’re right: He is fucking hip and brilliant.
Carrying on…
Please stop by my blog – I’m presenting your blog an award.
honest scrap award
Many thanks, lisleman.
It’s an honour and it’s greatly appreciated.
All best,
Alpo
Alan,
Woo hoo! I managed to get all of the rubber bands off. Circulation and a nice pinkish hue are slowly returning. If your own manhood is falling off or has fallen off (sorry I’m not sure exactly what was going on there) I can recommend someone.
Your Doggy Sonnet and accompanying video were both hilarious and somewhat disturbing. I was working on a comeback reply titled ‘Ode to an Ornery Otterhound,’ when something more important came up. I was hard at work and covered in messy prose, when my Secret Scientology Alert Buzzer™ rang. It’s kind of like the Bat Symbol® but way cooler. It seems Cruise and his evil minions are at it again. Once I clicked on the link, this is what I found…
http://www.tampabay.com/opinion/editorials/investigation-overdue/1050004 ……And in my former backyard. I’m assembling a team to board the Sea Org, and takeover the vessel. I’m going to see a man about a Dirk Pitt, but was also hoping that I could rely on you. Nobody knows these ‘people’ better than you. We are counting on your expertise. Please?
Wow. Signing a contract agreeing to serve in the church’s Sea Organization for “the next billion years.” Now that’s commitment. They should be applauded. And then committed.
Ah, the fight against scientology. Every time I think I’m out, they pull me back in…
Okay, I’ll help. But I’ll need gold and a hundred sea worthy men. I was hoping for a vacation anyway, so this works out well. Plus, my penis fell out yesterday and a new shiny grew back. I’d been planning on taking it out for a spin and who better to wave it at than these despicable scientology fiends? Plus I find the sea air bracing. And we can sing jaunty sea songs
“It’s Scott and Alan’ odyssey
A tale of oceanography
The boys have now gone off to sea
To put an end to Scientology!”
I’ll look into renting The Calypso and see if any of Jacques Cousteau’s old crew are looking for work.
Sea trip!
Is this site broken?
Nope. It’s just lazy.
and yet it continues to get comments. . . . 🙂
*bowing*
I am not worthy . . . .
😉 You are too kind, Gryph. Thanks!
Elpresgod wondereth
This post has been up for 6 weeks 4 days (UK time when I type) and still gets comments let alone visits on a daily basis.
Is this a record?
Can any one recall what started it? Get RSI and scroll up the page. YES! AT (remember him , works at Hammish with a broad called Carlita) was being offered regular carnal activity with aforementioned boss lady.
Now, I can only assume that he is so shagged out after thrice weekly coital activity that he is unable to send us even a brief note of his (and her, well theirs really) actions.
Elpresgod says enough of the waiting. AT, stop fornicating and get dictating if you hands aren’t steady enough, but update your loyal and faithful TS’s .
A new post now should see you through to the newyear of 2010 I calculate.
Elpresgod ends.
For you, elpres…
It’s all I’ve got right now and it’s twisted enough to keep us discussing both my mental health and my unresolved Oedipal issues well into 2012.
Shall I pull up a couch?
Married to Mom
I don’t know, things get out of control… Stuff happens so fast. One minute you’re seven years old and telling your mom that you are going to marry her when you grow up and the next minute you’re thirty and she’s trying to hold you to it.
I mean come on, I barely remember saying it to her and besides…. I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. After all we’ve only been dating seriously for the three years since Dad died and I’m still not convinced that this isn’t just a rebound thing for her.
Look, I’m not saying that she trapped me. After all I’m the one who put the idea into her head but that was over twenty years ago and quite frankly… she’s lost her looks.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s still sexy, real sexy, but she has let herself go a bit and she just doesn’t turn me on the way she used to. I find myself having to fantasize when we’re in bed and well, quite frankly, that just doesn’t seem right.
I suggested that we live together but she says we’ve already done that. I told her that this time it would be different, dad wouldn’t be there… But she wants more.
I don’t know why I’m so hesitant. I could do worse, Hell I’ve been in worse relationships… Aunt Betty, Cousin Helen… But the simple fact is that I don’t feel entirely comfortable about marrying a woman who still refuses to allow me to call her by her first name.
And what about the rest of our family? My brother still won’t talk to me. But it’s like I told him. “I saw her first”. Mom broke his heart and on the rebound he shacked up with Grandma….Obviously, he’s one sick puppy.
I also wonder what my friends would say… You know, me and a woman that much older, but Jesus Christ she is good to me. She listens to me, supports me, and I can stay out until ten o’clock on work nights… Not all my married friends can say that.
Yeah, I guess I’ll marry my mom, if only for the sake of the children.
I think these late nights are getting to you. Did you see my Freud post? Techically, it was Jung.
I did. I’m a Freud fan. I left a comment. It said…
“Fair’s fair, Claire. Oedipus for boys. Electra for girls. Although, being the odd circus freak that I am, I suffer from both. It’s known as ‘Electrapus.'”
Don’t you remember?
Or are you repressing the memory…?
Shameless….
Hahahaha!
Thought you might think so.
Scroll down for kind words by Dave Hambidge.
Apparently, you’re brilliant. 😉
(But I always knew that.)
plz for god sake…. update your blog… put something on… just a word or a letter….plz, plz plz….oohhh
I’ll try to do something about this, ASAP, ip. I’m just a bit stretched right now.
And thanks. This is a far more pleasant request than the one I received yesterday from someone named “Cougar” who wrote me an email saying (and I quote): “Please and for fuck’s sakes fucking update your blog.”
I could practically feel the love.
😉
I’m never going to catch up. I know that somewhere above are references to bands and cattle prods but I’ll be damned if I can find them. I have a suggestion. Start a new post and just type the date as the blog and let it go. That way we get a clean comment thread to start with and my computer won’t lock up. Do that for me every Saturday and things will be so much easier!
Hah! There must be something in the air (see above).
Okay, I promise I’ll see what I can do…
There are ALL kinds of references in this thread to you, Claire.
Scott has been patiently waiting for you to brain him with a bottle. As a personal favour, and because you’re so sweet — with a bottle — I shall cut and paste.
Scott: Oh but I’m not a good man. I’m bad. So very, very bad. The only way that I can atone for my otherworldly badness is when (not if) Claire becomes my “Part The Deux.” I’m waiting with bated breath and constricted genital blood flow. And it is fantastic!
Alpo: Hahaha! It really does sound awesome, “Evil Scott.” Or do you prefer “Bad Scott”? or “Very Bad Scott”? Well, I guess we’ll have to patiently wait for Claire to stroll in with her gin bottle and do her thang. Oh, if I had a dime for everytime I wrote that.
Scott: If you had a dime for………Then I’ll bet we’d have enough money to get a couple a hard, pipe hittin, 300 lb Mexican women with hairy lips to go to work on both of us with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch! I’d still rather wait for Claire though. That fiery red hair coupled with her fiendish (or is it impish??) grin really gets my brook bubbling! Not to mention she is as talented with a cattle prod as Tiger Woods is with a 9 iron. Not that I’ve ever been alone with Tiger and a 9 iron……..yet.
Alpo: Hahahaha! You paint with words, Scott. Well, while the idea of a grand total of 600lbs of Mexican women is… something, that’s for sure, I too think that it’s best for all to wait for Planet Claire and her deft bottle swinging stroke. The good news is that she should be here any second now… Yup, any second… Oh look! There she is!
Nope… That was just my neighbour with a milk carton…. Yup. Any second now…
Scott: Any second now…. I have an unfortunate genital update…
Holy shit
I know.
And I think there might be a cattle prod somewhere up there too.
Some small part of me thought you were making part of it up. I scrolled, I read, I conquered.
Now I’m going to go find Scotty Boy and tie up his junk for real.
Hahaha! And you think these late nights are getting to me? 😉
I have no idea what Freud would say (although I’m sure it would be wacky) about you tying up Scott’s junk. Likely much ado about castration.
As for Jung, I know for a fact that he would say that Freud’s theory of the unconscious is incomplete and unnecessarily negative.
Whereas my conscious is amazingly complete and unfalteringly positive.
It IS fiendishly impish isn’t it?
If I can get you lost in your own comment thread will you start a new one?
Hah!
I like to think I know my way around a comment thread, Claire. But then again, I like to think a lot of things that aren’t necessarily true.
Did you know I have x-ray vision and can fly?
I’d like to see that, Please post video.
Claire,
You’ve forgotten our adventures together already?
We can thank and blame CLT for filming this.
I look great. You’re not so bad yourself. 😀
omg I’d forgotten all about that. And you’re such a great actor too… Too bad you had your flying license revoked after you kept mooning all the people in the highrises.
Hahaha!
I regret nothing!
Watching that video reminded me of what a fine dancer you are.
CLT dubbed us “Bollywood’s Fred & Ginger”
😀
Alan! Where you’ve been man? Don’t tell me you approached Carlita in person, told her about your dream, and have now tied up to a headboard for a month wishing one of your adoring fans would figure out where you are and come and save you! Cause if that is what’s happening, then call me Nancy Drew and I’m on my way!!
Hey Erin,
How did you know??? Wow! That’s exactly what happened! It would be so awesome if you and Nancy could get me out of this crazy predicament.
Any chance you can bring along Veronica Mars and Miss Marple? Hope that doesn’t sound too weird, but you’ll understand when you get here. 😉
See you soon!
Listen buddy, I don’t know what kind of freak show you got going on over there, but group orgies aren’t my cup of tea. At least not anymore…not since the 70’s…and I wasn’t even born then…does being an embryo at an orgy count…wait, that would make my mom a freak-a-deek…eww that’s just gross…can’t get a 70’s key party image out of my head!!!
Damn You!
Haha!
Ah, the key to messing with someone’s head: Juxtapose Veronica Mars with Miss Marple and the next thing you know the blistering imagery of 1970’s key parties are dancing in the head. Why does this always happen? How does it work?
Well I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?
I think there are more comments on this one post (of which I must add is how many weeks old?), than there are in all my posts combined.
Hello, you award winning blogger, you! 😉
This post is old enough to legally drink in bars. But still not too old to learn a goddamn thing or two. (Sorry, I spent the afternoon gardening with Mr. Mills.)
I’m so remiss: Even more so when it comes to sending along a picture of me in my misspent baby youth. Believe it or not, I’m told I was a cute kid. Not sure where it all went wrong.
The problem is the pictures are over at my mom’s house and she is sick with the flu so there’s no going over there until she’s better. That may be a week or so. And I’m guessing too late.
Anyway, I was going to say all this over at your fab place, http://www.yorksnbeans.blogspot.com/ and I will once I’m done working (psssst, don’t tell anyone, I’m working).
Okay, I’ll accept that excuse, but only this one time. (Hope Mom is better soon!). Just be sure to play the game! And, your secret is safe with me!😉
Thanks yorksnbeans!
Fun game. I played. I have no doubt I got them all right. Or all wrong. Or a few right and a few wrong.😉
http://yorksnbeans.blogspot.com/2009/11/who-is-that-cutie.html
I’ve scoured the comments here (by which I mean, I clicked “end” when I was at the top of the page, thereby landing at the “bottom”, and couldn’t find a single bit of evidence of Godwin’s law here, so I thought I’d remedy that by saying there is something nazi-ish in the way you left off the accent aigu in the word ‘resume’ up in the title. Of course, now I’m a bit nazi too because I can’t figure out how to add the accent aigu, but that’s just as well. Because now we’ve proved Godwin’s law. And made up a whole new reason to call someone that awful thing.
Internet: Useful Tips: How To Behave On An Internet Forum
And apparently, I not only can’t type accents, I can’t embed video. I might actually be Hitler.
Fun video. I think everything sounds better with a British accent. But I still dislike the Royal Family. Anyway, these are my issues.
Good eye on résumé. You also caught “chocking” too. I’m firing my personal editor, Squeaky Morgan, and hiring you. I look forward to working together. Hope you don’t mind but I tend to walk around posed in my knickers.
You’re not Hitler. I’ve always thought of you more as “barelyknittogether: She Wolf of the SS!” 😉
As always, wonderbar to see you, my friend.
ELPRESGOD (having found his way to the, current, rear of this epic)
Somewhere up above, around the four foot marker, I detected a tadge of mutiny when sallyP opted out of SD. She was kind enough to drop me an email about why, and it remains confidential, so there!
I have reread this original post and most of the comments and pondered at length about this phenomena called sickdays.
AT and Donald Mills, aka Crabby old fart, have provided a very rich vein of humour and cynicism of the first water for well over 8 months. This is obvious from both the comment numbers and the quality of them, they are works of art.
How do I know? Go and read some of the other crap and shite masquerading in blogoland as opinion/wisearse/light humour (none of them represented by any contributors to either of these blog I hasten to add before the writs come winging in!)
Inevitably, creative genius, both in the original works and the subsequent critiques start to flag. As you probably know, very few creative blogs last beyond a couple of months, eight is well up with the leaders in this specilaist subgenre (like the word, got it from wiki).
The delusions, illusions, paranoia, raving mania, perversions and saintliness depicted in all the writings is, frankly, the source of enough psychopathology to keep a full team of shrinks going for the next fifty years.
We, you, they; the writers are brilliant for this epic output.
But, maybe, moving on happens? Retaining great memories and virtual friendships as we boldly go to new dens of iniquity, vice, humour and human existence.
Over to you AT.
Thank you so much, Dave.
Very appreciative of the kind words. They mean a lot.
I’m just stopping by to see if you’re still out there somewhere and checking in periodically.
That’s what I’m doing. But I sincerely hope everything is flowing well. I used to work at a place with an address of Flowing Wells. It really didn’t flow well and there were no flowing wells since it was a desert.
Anyways, I hope you’re writing away and your creative juices are flowing and your muse is kicking ass and taking names.
🙂
Thanks for dropping by, Claire.
I’m doing very well. Not “flowing well” well, but really quite well.
This Flowing Wells address place you worked from… I gather they had a sense of irony? I wonder if the desert brings out the irony in people — or if the name Flowing Wells was more of a cry for help.
Hah. My muse is taking names and is trying to kick my ass, but I keep suggesting we slack off and take lots of breaks… Maybe go out for a drink… So far she’s having none of it.
Here’s another one to boggle the mind. The freeway near my house is called Agua Fria. That means Cold Water… like if we had water it would be cold!
And does your muses name start with an ‘S’ and end in an ‘N’???
Samson the Muse???? 😉
Heh! Why, yes. Yes, the Muse does.
We had a cottage on a lake called Cold Water. The water lived up to its name — and then some. Talk about unfortunate truth in advertising.
On the name and location front. I was once told that if you use your middle name and the street you live on, you will get the name of a soap opera character.
Before we moved, I was Stuart Avion. (Yeah, that has soap opera quality to it…) The Muse was Eleni Indian (not so much…).
Now we’re the Blantyres. Which, given our Scot blood is appropriate. (Blantyre is a small town in south Lanarkshire, eight miles from Glasgow.) It is probably “best known” as the birthplace of David (“Dr. Livingstone, I presume) Livingstone…
There we go, Claire. Scottish Trivia for a Thursday.
OH my, I just now saw this response. That’s what happens when we hide them in 500 comments.
I’m wondering how long until you find it.
I’m laughing at the middle name thing. Not yours… not much. I just had a mental image of cute little Stuart Little.
Sorry.
My family name is Findley. So Scottish.
As for the Soap Operas name – Mine would be Anjanette Sells.
do you think 422 comments (oh! that’s now 423) is some sort of record? I think that having an entire blog live in the comments section is really quite brilliant. Reminds me of a writing group (much beloved) that spent quite a few weeks writing textless poems (heh heh). What’s she talking about? titles only.
Nice to see you openpalm,
Textless poems. Now that sounds like the real deal when it comes to deconstructive literature. I have no idea if that’s the correct literary definition, but it feels right to me. So, I’ll go for it.
You have inspired me to write my first textless poem. Thanks for that. It’s called _________ and it’s about humanity’s _________ toward _________
Okay, here goes nothing…. (Which could actually be this textless poem’s title…)
________ ______ ___
_______ _______________ __________
____ ________ ____ __
____________ _____________
______________ __ __ __ __________
_________ ________ ________________
(Up next: Emotocon poetry! 🙂😉😎👿😆 )
DUDE! Your Meter is wayyyyy radical.
Gilbert and Sullivan LOOK OUT!
p.s.
I miss your posts.
Haha!
What can I say? I am the very model of a modern major executive.
Thanks very much, Gryph.
Always nice to see you.
Went to Sensico’s blog and we agree. You need to do a new post. We miss your content, Bubba.
I would do a petition with her but it probably would mean having to socialize with Democrats.
Yes, she’s swell, I tells ya.
Well, I’ll see what I can do about posting. I’m just ridiculously busy these days. Perhaps I can think of a diversion until then… Um, let’ see… Oh! Hey, on the subject of politics… Did you know I ran an ant for President? And Prime Minister. And Pope. And King of England.
He didn’t win. Although his campaign for Pope got him immortalized in the Library of Congress.
Avery http://www.averyant.com/
King Avery http://www.averyant.com/AveryforKing.htm
Pope Avery http://www.averyant.com/VoteAveryforPope.htm
Political Avery http://www.averyant.com/voteforavery2006/indexvote2006.html
Hey! what’s going on here? Where’s the next post? And why am I not being winked to? I have you know, many guys wink at me everyday and I turn down their premature advances because I’m holding out for a wink from you. You’re so neglectful to this relationship, we’re over and I’m taking the ducks with me.
Wait! No. Don’t go away mad. I loves ya baby!
And please, don’t take the ducks. Their downy wings keep me warm on lonely winter nights – and now that I don’t have your love, they’re alls I got I tells ya! And, my God, will ya’s listen to me? I’m talkin’ like someone out of a 1930’s Hollywood B movie, I tells ya.
The jig is up and the fix is in and boy howdy. Wait! Come back… I have winkies for you! Miles and miles of winkies, I tells ya…
😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉 😉 😉😉 😉😉😉😉 😉😉 😉😉😉
It’s a little obsessive, and I’m sure your eye hurts and is probably hard to see, but I take you back. To be in your arms once again, I tells ya, it’s like something out of a 1930s horror movie…come here and give me and the ducks a big kiss :X
Hahaha! Ah, that’s just swell, I tells ya. A classy dame like youse by my side makes me feels alls full of pride and the envy of the other mugs, I tells ya. I’ll kiss ya under the moon, doll face, and then you me and the ducks can walk into the sunset. It’ll be swell. Just swell, I tells ya.
Alan,
I was hoping you could help me.
I’m responsible for giving the after-dinner speech at our annual American Family Thanksgiving Day feast this year (we do both because we always have so much leftover turkey!), and I wanted to run it by you first to see if you thought it needed anything.
Ok, here goes:
“Greetings fellow Countrymen. Today I’m going to talk to you about security in our American public schools.
But first, I would like to let you in on just a few things that I’m thankful for:
-blah, blah, the same old stuff I say every year (but with an American accent)
-”Oh matron, hey!”
-Sodium bloat (from American junk food)
-Otto-mobile formerly known as “Sprint”
-Chopped pork shoulder meat with ham meat added, sodium nitrate (to keep its color) and sugar in a gelatinous glaze
-Stupefaction Vegas-style
-John “Sam I Am” Cougar Mellonbastard and his famous line, “Outs Hide a club of Sherry, I’m bombed our arts wore really something”
-The Great Debate- Shriners vs. Legionnaires
-Paroxysms of Joy (or paroxyms from any of the ladies on “the View” for that matter)
-Liver Phoenix Arizona
-Drunken ocelot jazz cats (drunk off american beer)
-Damned Randomness, again Vegas-style (I can’t help it, I’ve only been to a few places in the States)
-The days of yore
-The days of your
-The days of you’re
-The days of ya (as in “hot enuff fer ya?”)
-Barney’s lesser-known smash hit, ”I’ll Kill You (A Purple Dinosaur Hell Bent on Getting Revenge)”
-Мы постарались. Мы постарались
-Boy-Sisters
-“Half-Witted Old Man Battles Groin Mauling Morlock Chicks from Planet Merkin and Saves The Day and Gets the Girl and Then Has Sex With Her – Thanks to the Wonders of American Viagra!” (be honest, Alan…is this thing still a go?)
-Regis and Kelly (“Oh, that Reeg!”)
-14th Century Bostonian nubian slaves (if it weren’t for them I wouldn’t be where I am today)
-Petrarchan Pittsburgian sonnets (if it weren’t for those you wouldn’t be where you are today)
-The Business of Giant Floral Patterned Scrotal Tissue Elephantiasis of Inflammatory Etiology on the American Left Testicle (if it weren’t for that, neither of us would be where we are today)
-Old men and their zany brothers (who also happen to be old men)
-Groinmaulophobia (this is Universal)
-Made in the USA Fuck shirts
-Peyote (again, Universal)
-Depths of Despair
-Buckets of Sorrow
-Thimbles of Irony
…..and last but not least, I would like to thank you, my American blood-relations, for making all of my unforgettable memories (oxymoron much? Why yes, I do!) possible. Goodnight friends…be safe on your journey.”
(I then plan to go up in a big cloud of American smoke while they sit there dumbfounded at the dining table)
So, what do you think? Is it too much?
Sorry, Alan. It was 4:30am when I wrote that speech, and now that I’ve had my morning redbull/vodka/Activia yogurt, my mind is now much more clear (14 day challenges rule!).
I’ve rewritte the speech, and although it’s still the exact same, it’s also a little different.
Here are a few more American things I’m grateful for:
-IHOP
-Pringles (now with the larger sized can)
-The fact that Nickelback wasn’t born there
-The Lawyer from Minnesota who I met in Belize (good times)
-The Doctor from New York who I met in Belize (better times)
-The filthy rich Entrepreneur from Florida who I met in Belize (best times ever!)
-Belize (oh wait, nevermind…I don’t think that’s American)
-Diet Cherry Pepsi
-Diet cherries (those guys think of everything!)
-Diets
-TGIF
-The Schytts (are they American?)
-Peter Funt
-Alan Funt (for having Peter Funt)
-Olestra
-Belize (did I already say that?)
I think that’s all for now, if I go on for too long, my family is going to start to think I’m just making this speech to get attention or something! (They get that way sometimes)
Hahaha! Nice!
It’s really great, and I’m super duper honored you would share it with me again. I was even more sooper dooper honoured (please note dual spellings of honor/honour and super duper/sooper dooper in respect of Canada and America Thanksgivings) that you gave me the 7am redbull/vodka/Activia yogurt rewrite. Nothing gets the creative juices flowing like a redbull/vodka/Activia yogurt combo. I’ve had a dozen so far and when I’m not hyperventilating into my brown paper bag the feeling is almost pleasant.
Anyway, I do have a thought on your speech.
“Limericks”
Seriously. You can’t go wrong with them. I tell everyone that it’s a universal fact that society love limericks. And some of the people I tell this too actually believe me.
I hope you don’t mind but I’ve taken the liberty of tweaking your speech into limerick form. I had originally added a b-story that involved a romantic liaison between a robot named “Blort X12” and a comely maiden named “Gretel” but in the end it felt tacked on. So, I just stuck with the pertinent facts.
There once was a matron with sodium bloat
Who hung out with drunken ocelot jazz cats of note
They would debate who is finer
A Legionnaire or a Shriner
While stuffing peyote down their throat
With their buckets of sorrow they played the depth of despair
And wore Chopped pork shoulder meat with a gelatinous glaze in their hair
They were the next big thing
Vegas-style Stupefaction
But the Thimbles of Irony were looming out there
They named their band the 14th Century Bostonian Nubian Slaves
They played Petrarchan Pittsburgian sonnets in all of the nu raves
It was the days of yore your you’re and ya
Until it all went wrong in Liver Phoenix Arizona
When groinmaulophobia Мы постарались in the Boy-Sisters caves
Things looked bleaker than Barney’s lesser known smash hit
Bleaker than an Otto mobile stuffed with an Austrian half wit
They were more fucked than a t-shirt
Or Paroxysms of Joy dirt (work with me)
And that John “Sam I Am” Cougar Mellonbastard didn’t give a shit
But then that damned half witted randomness of a most Vegas-style
And a morlock chick from merkin with Viagra and guile
Got them on Regis and Kelly
They followed two old men who were zany
And they played their new smash hit “My Floral Patterned Scrotal Tissue Elephantiasis Smile”
Yes, it worked out for the band, and I would like to say to all of you
That my speech isn’t over, yup, sorry, but it’s true
There’s still IHOP, Pringles in a big can
Nickleback, Belize, that Funt man
So sit back, relax and drink a Diet Cherry Pepsi or two
As I tell you the story about the lawyer, doctor and entrepreneur from afar
Who all walked into a groin mauling bar
Wait! There’s no one from Nantucket
Forget it, just fuck it
This speech is over something something pickle jar!
(Here you should try and do something super dramatic like explode in a puff of a smoke! I have a smoke machine if you need one.)
That’s brilliant Alan! No, it’s even better than brilliant. It’s brilliant squared! (Am I allowed to say that on comment boards?)
It’s so brilliant squared, in fact, that I just made a couple of little changes, while at the same time keeping everything the exact same.
Oh, and I decided that limericks were too “mainstream” (read: hard), so I’m focusing more on song-format. Here goes:
(To be sung to the tune of “A few of My Favorite Things” by lyrical genius, “Maria”)
Morlocks from merkin with Viagra and guile
Alan and Peter Funt joking in style
John Cougar Mellonbastard while he sings
These are a few great American things
IHOP and Pringles and those from Nantucket
Wait nevermind, no one lives there just fuck it
Pickle jars something the next biggest thing
These are a few great American things
When the Elephant-
Titius smiles
When I’m in despair
I simply remember American things
And t put gelatinous glaze in my hair!
Hahaha! Funniest gal on the internet. I am very much liking your song. It’s ear-wormed itself into my heart and skull and now I’m bleeding from the ears, nose, mouth and chest. How you solve a problem like a catchy blood inducing ditty?
If, after you’ve regaled them with that number and you feel like “getting a little edgy in a late 1970’s fashion” might I suggest you jam a safety pin through the turkey and sing this.
(to the tune of The Sex Pistols “God Save The Queen”)
God Save Thanksgiving
God save the merkin
The pickle jar of gherkin
The turkey’s basted in a sonnet
A gelatinous glaze on it
God save the jazz cats
Their fuck t-shirts and their ass hats
There is no cranberry
Get me a cherry Pepsi
Won’t be told about scrotal tissue
Morlock chicks or that melonbastard too
There’s no Viagra, no постарались,
No groin maul for you
God save the turkey
We mean it Funt
We love our bloat
In sodium waves
God save the Otto-mobile
‘Cause Austrians are funny
And our Shriner friends
Are not what they seem
Oh God save the morlock chicks
God save Regis and Kelly too
Oh Lord God have pity
On Barney’s song “I’ll kill you!”
When there’s no turkey
How can there be gravy
We’re the flowers in the thimbles of irony
We’re the buckets in your dry shaves
We’re the Bostonian Nubian Slaves
God save the stuffing
The turkey and the dressing
But if you’re from Nantucket
Then screw you pilgrim and fuck it
HAHA!
To be honest, I have no idea why I even try to compete with your stupendous stupendivity (fyi, stupendivity is like serendipity, only with half the fat! And less filling!).
Thanks to your help, I have decided to go with a combination of the Limerick/Sex Pistols song. I’ve also decided to go with the Canadian Anthem, sung American style, just to “kick things up then down a notch.”
(To be sung to the tune of “Oh Canada” by lyrical genius, “Stephen Harper”)
“O America! Their home and native land!
True постарались in all остар таралиD.
With pickle jars, and Shriner cars
And Regis and Kelly!
Viagra rules, America,
Those Funts sure are funny!
God save the jazz cat’s, but kill that fuck Barney
America, you love gelatinous gravy
America, you love gelatinous gravy.”
Not to brag or anything, but I think I’m really going to bring the house down tonight…
Bring the house down? You, my friend, are about to repair Canadian/American relations in a way that no politician ever could. God bless you, bschooled. You’re a humanitarian, a scholar, a gypsy, a scamp, a lyricist extraordinaire, PLUS you sell the best weed.
Inspired by you, this year I shall be singing a Canadian themed song about a botulism laced turkey (we have one every year) and I shall sing it to that ponderous and overwrought ditty “The Star Spangled Banner” (made famous by lyrical robot “Blort X12”)
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s gelatinous glaze
What so fowl of a bird we munched as our jaws kept on chewing;
Whose chopped up shoulder meat , we all admitted was tough,
“Over cooked” we all cried, in stupefaction Vegas-style
And the botulism’s first nudge, the stomach pains bursting our guts,
Gave proof through the night that bad turkey was our well of despair:
Oh, say! does that turkey, taste funky to you-oo
Oh I think, I will be sick, like a Canuckian slave
ps. 441!!
(Sorry Alan. There’s really no point to this comment, I’ve just always wanted to be the 441st something…)
Hahaha!
The capper!
Woot!
Congratulations to you, bschooled.
441 is a most auspicious comment number. I know this because I just said so.
It’s wonderful to see you fulfilling your dreams and experiencing the sublime joy that comes with the highly coveted comment numbers 441. I, on the other hand am now bracing myself to sink into a well of despair, having to take on portentous burden of comment number 443. I shall no doubt be haunted by goblins, hobgoblins, slobgoblins and knobbygolblins for eternity. I think Mr. Mills would call this my “hard cheese.” Damn that 443. The deliciously unpalatable irony is that it’s so close to comment 444 (the lottery winning comment). Ah well, I guess I can always slink back to my well of despair, then realize I no longer live there and drift to bucket my sorrow and then bypass it to my thimble of agony.
Still, I have nice bottle of Romanee-Conti Rotgut de Bordeaux’s fucking Cussler de Burgundy. If I crack it over my head, I’ll get really wasted.
*Lottery Winning Commment*
“YAY! WOOT! WOOT! HIP HIP HURRAY! YEEHAW! ZIPPIDY DOO DA! CHIM-CHIMINEY! HOLLA-BACK BOY! SHAZZAM! CAN I GET A WHAT WHAT! LEDERHOSEN! FUCKING COD! TASTES GREAT LESS FILLING! PIPPI LONGSTOCKING! WHATCHAMACALLIT! OH HENRY! WHO LET THE DOGS OUT! THROW MAMA FROM THE TRAIN! YOU CAN’T DO THAT ON TELEVISION! KALAMAZOO! IT’S A LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY! WHO THE FUCK IS ALICE! YOWZAS!”
…sorry, Alan, I just got a little carried away. I’ve never actually won anything before.
*Comment
Looks like money can’t buy you good spelling.
Hah! But your lotto money can buy you…
Mao Tse-tung’s go-go boots
A sublime cheeseburger cooked by gourmand supreme Oblomov “You Want Fries With That?” Checkov
A dream date with David Bowie’s animal trainer
Spelling Lessons from a guy named Franklin who is a real good speller
All of Russia
Parts of Hogs Hollow
Special Editions of the much loved and forgotten Brit comic book “The Beano”
Steve Jobs used plates
Walk Disney’s frozen head
Mickey Mouse’s sorry ass
An afternoon watching Chad Kroeger trying to figure out how a filing cabinet works
The world’s largest submarine sandwich prepared by the world’s shortest sandwich maker
106,432, 761 Lemurs
An original copy of Darwin’s forgotten masterpiece “Chicks I’ve Bagged”
Ralph Nader’s left testicle and right frontal lobe
Some justice
The first Superman comic (Superman fight Hard Core Porn)
Something something jar of ancient pickles
The antidote
Jack Benny’s long lost sperm
Phil Esposito’s “Aviary of Doom”
Marlon Perkins’ “Taunted Lion Collection”
A hockey rink on Mars
An opportunity to invest in my new kid based (ages 4 – 9) board game “Mr. Crapulence Makes Us Cry”
Congratulations on your new wealth. Here’s a handy tip. Most folks spend all their cash on blow and booze. Just pick one and you’ll be fine!
Ok, so after spending my money on Blow and booze, I realized that I still had a bunch of money left over (what can I say, I’m a lightweight).
So here’s what I got:
One of Mao Tse-tung’s go-go boots
A sublime eelburger cooked by Iron Chef supreme Mashahari “你好怎么样您?” Morimoto
A dream date with the Animal Trainer’s David Bowie
Spelling Lessons from Mr. Phonics (one lesson and you’re hooked!)
All of Russia’s Ushankas
Parts of Hogs Hollow (but only the funny parts)
Not Really All That Special Editions of the much loathed and remembered Scottish comic book “The Haggis”
Steve Jobs used cutlery
Walt Disney’s thawed torso
Mickey Mouse’s unapologetic cankles
An afternoon watching a filing cabinet try to figure out wtf Chad Kroeger is
The world’s largest po’ boy prepared by the world’s po’est boy
106,432, 101 Lemurs (I couldn’t afford them all)
Three original copies of Darwin’s forgotten masterpiece “Chicks I’ve Bagged In My Mind”
Ralph Nader’s left lobe and right frontal testicle
Something something jar of ancient pickles (kosher only)
The prodote
Jill Benny’s long lost egg
Phil Esposito’s “Something Something Doom”
Marlon Perkins’ “Something Something Collection
A football field on Neptune
An opportunity to invest in my new Senior based (ages Don Mills) board game “Mr. Crapulence Makes Us Cry”
Let me know if you want to borrow any of the stuff Alan. It’s the least I could do.
Thanks, bschoooled! I’ll say it again for the first time: You truly do rock more than the most rocking rocker chick who ever rocked out.
Okay. I borrowed them all (when you weren’t looking) and had quite a little adventure.
So… I put Mao Tse-tung’s go-go left boot on my right foot and bunny hopped all the way to the funny parts of Hogs Hollow.
Once there, I something something’d with Jill Benny. I’m not proud of that. And in hopes of trying to make things better I set Jill up on a dream date with the Animal Trainer’s David Bowie. Unfortunately there was a “thin white duke incident” that involved the jar of ancient kosher pickles and in all the ensing madness, I lost Jill’s long lost egg.
She was pissed.
I promised to help her find it. This was my fault after all. I called in a favour from Marlon Perkins, but it turns out he was dead. What a selfish asshole!
So I called Darwin. He swung by and then proceeded to bag Jill in his mind. It was a helluva sight. All his pelvic thrusting and survival of the fittest sex noises. Yikes. Still, his powdered wig, foppish jacket and denial of God did help to somewhat lighten a rather tense situation.
That is, until Phil Esposito showed up with Ralph Nader’s left lobe and right frontal testicle. He was laughing and boastingly told us, “Hah, look what I stole from that dip shit, Nader. His ass is mine. Or at least it will be when I steal it from him.”
Jill looked perplexed, angry, agitated, engulfed in flames, sober, dizzy and steely eyed. She reminded me of 106,432, 101 Lemurs copulating on a football field on Neptune while the crowd of all of Russia’s Ushankas cheered her on from the stands and munched on Walt Disney’s thawed torso. (FYI: Sorry, but the Disney torso has been eaten.)
Anyhoo, watching them eat Disney made me hungry as well. But not for Mickey Mouse’s unapologetic cankles (too fatty) but for a sublime eelburger cooked by Iron Chef supreme Mashahari “你好怎么样您?” Morimoto. He’s a quirky man. Insane as hell, but he cooks a fine eelburger.
I didn’t have any cash to pay for the eelburger so offered up the Special Editions of the much loathed and remembered Scottish comic book “The Haggis.”
This really offended him. Apparently Japanese cooks despise haggis. Who knew? For completely inexplicable reasons, I suddenly felt like the world’s largest po’ boy prepared by the world’s po’est boy. Thank God, I’d borrowed yours. I threw him at Mashahari, who was coming at me with Steve Jobs used cutlery and murder in his eyes.
Jenny seemed worried. I know I was. I tried to calm down Mashahari with offers of Spelling Lessons from Mr. Phonics, an afternoon watching a filing cabinet try to figure out wtf Chad Kroeger is, and an opportunity to invest in your new senior based (ages Don Mills) board game “Mr. Crapulence Makes Us Cry”
But he was having none of it.
Things looked grim. I was afraid for my life.
And that’s when I found Jenny’s recently lost and previously long lost egg.
It really diffused the situation. Mashahari smiled. A warm grin spread across his noble face.
Then he ate the egg.
Jenny screamed and fainted.
And I vowed never to return to Hogs Hollow ever again.
You fascinate me, Alan. Really you do.
The fact you found the time to do all that and then write a synopsis is something I could never imagine doing in my wildest dreams. Not even in my alcohol and Xanax-induced wildest dreams! And trust me, those dreams are wild.
(We’re talking Tattoo from Fantasy Island/edible prophylactic/strategically-spread vegimite wild…you pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?)
Anyway, if you ever change your mind and decide to return to Hog’s Hollow, let me know. I found some really funny parts you might want to invest in.
I have a funny feeling that HH is going to become a real comedy paradise within the next few years…
You fascinate me, Alan. Really you do.
The fact you found the time to do all that and then write a synopsis is something I could never imagine doing in my wildest dreams. Not even in my alcohol and Xanax-induced wildest dreams! And trust me, those dreams are wild.
(We’re talking Tattoo from Fantasy Island/edible prophylactic/strategically-spread vegemite wild…you pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?)
Anyway, if you ever change your mind and decide to return to Hog’s Hollow, let me know. I found some really funny parts you might want to invest in.
I have a funny feeling that HH is going to become a real comedy paradise within the next few years…
*Did I say that already?
Why yes, yes you did.
Why yes, yes you did.
Oh, oh. It’s contagious.
Hmm, I suspect you did say it twice in order to snag the highly coveted “Lucky Comment Numbers 450 and 451” and leave me comment number 452 (otherwise known as “The Cursed Comment of 452”).
Comment number 452 is just so completely cursed…
Here’s what’s happened to me since I started writing it.
I was writing away when the phone rang. I picked it and was told that I’d been fired from my job. I put the phone down. It rang again. I picked it up and was told that I’d been evicted from my condominium. I put the phone down. It rang again. I picked it up and was electrocuted…
Then I got up out of my chair, walked to the kitchen door and looked out the window. I fell out of the window. When I pulled myself up from the sidewalk, I was run over by a truck. Injured and bleeding, I stumbled to the hospital. On my way to the hospital I was hit by several more trucks as well as a bus. I was then run over by an ambulance. It then took me to the hospital. Or it would have had had it not burst into flames after crashing into a bus and a truck.
I pulled myself from the burning wreckage and I crawled home to my computer. Along the way, I was screwed, blued, chewed, tattooed, mugged, drugged and beaten. My clothes were stolen and my legs broken.
And here I am. Preparing to spontaneously combust or implode or something. And all because of… The Curse of Comment of 452!
PS. Return to Hogs Hollow…?
If that doesn’t have sequel title written all over it, I don’t know what does.
“Return to Hogs Hollow”
I like it.
Okay. I’m so there!
Now if you’ll excuse me, my shirt just exploded and I need to put out the flames.
Hello!
I’m new here… can anybody explain what’s going on?
Hello there!
I’m new here too. But as best as I can tell this is the gist…
The people of Hamish Industries have created a doll called “Punch Me Otto.” I believe it is the brainchild of someone called St. Michael “Mick Mick Micky Boy” McNorbury.
I’m told he has a reputation as an evil genius and once combined suspended animation and Scotland Yard in hopes of creating the perfect cat. He’s mad, I hear. Quite mad.
Anyway, the good folks at Hamish are looking for investors. For forward thinking visionaries like yourself. And here you are. Shall I put you down for $100,000.00?
I’ll just assume that’s a yes and pull that money from your bank account.
Congratulations. You’ve made a wise investment and I can guarantee you that this likely isn’t a pyramid scam. You’re “Punch Me Otto” prototype is in the mail. Now all you have to do is sit back and wait for your investment to pay off.
Anytime now…
Yup. Any day, real soon…
PS: Don’t call us. We’ll call you.
He sounds a right shifty character.
I’ll steer well clear of him and dodgy dolls if you don’t mind.
What a curious name he has as well… a most untrustworthy mix of Scots and Irish. Not even a hint of good, solid Mongolian yak herding stock such as my own.
Oh yeah, he’s a dubious character, alright.
But there’s no avoiding him or his frightful doll this Xmas. “Punch Me Otto” is the next Cabbage Patch Monstrosity, and will be selling like swine flu this helliday (oops, I mean, holiday) season. Kids just want to punch him. Repeatedly.
And really, who could blame them?
PS: Big news! Our labs in Mongolia, have, under the scientific guidance of Dr. Rinchen “Barsbold and Beer” Altangerel Perle, been working feverishly on the Mongolian version of the doll, “Punch Me Bataar.”
I’ve always said that there is nothing bataar than giving someone a good punching.
Assault and bataary…it’s going to be all the rage this festive season.
Just wait for the local Lions Club to come round with their corny float, featuring some fat git dressed up in the usual treadbare red suit and moth-eaten beard, and with a succession of cheesy christmas hits blaring in a mercifully distorted fashion from a loudspeaker that is patently not up to the task.
I’ll show ’em some traditional Mongolian punching.
oooerr… I’m sorry. I’m not sure what happened there, I came over all strange and a trifle aggressive; and there’s nothing more scary than an aggressive trifle.
I must go and lie down for a minute.
Nurse! The screens, please.
Well, you are quite punishing with the puns. Talk about Crime and Punishment. I think you should be sentenced to 5 years in a punitentiary…
That said, so should I for repeating those prison pun jokes of mine.
Still, you will get nothing but praise and applause from me for laying on the beating of that “fat git dressed up in the usual threadbare red suit” as you so eloquently described him.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’ve never trusted the man and if I ever found him in my living room, Christmas Eve, or no Christmas Eve, I’d put the boot in and make damn sure the fat fart didn’t know what hit him.
That said, I once played the role of Santa Claus many years ago.
True story. A local company hired a Santa to entertain their workers at lunch. They got me. I was there to perform some songs and crack jokes as Santa. Hah! I was about 25 years old and weighed around 130 pounds soaking wet. And, get this, instead of getting their Xmas bonuses, the workers were getting my little song and joke routine.
When I arrived at HR, the gal looked mortified.
“You’re not fat and old!” were the first words out of her mouth.
To which I replied “And thank God for that.”
(I’m serious, this is all true.)
So, hah, she starts “stuffing me” with newspapers. The end result? A young skinny Santa who looks about 7 months pregnant.
Oh, and my $2.00 beard kept slipping off my face.
Hahaha… I hadn’t thought of this in years…
Anyway, she takes me to the cafeteria, pushes me in and then vanishes.
I saunter up onto a makeshift stage and start singing Xmas carols – badly.
The workers in the audience looked like they wanted to kill themselves. After 5 minutes they looked like they wanted to kill me. I think it was around my third song “Jingle Bells” that they started booing…
Ah memories.
Anyway, that’s just one of the many reasons I have for not trusting Santa. I’ve donned the red suit and itchy beard.
This is why I applaud your decision to wale on him.
Plus, and I’ve said this before in this thread but I’ll say it until I die, Santa is actually a force of evil. He’s Satan. Yes, Santa is Satan.
http://www.averyant.com/video_satansanta.html
I just came to say HI. See if you still remember me. Throw around a couple of bottles…
Why of course I remember you.
Every lump on my head is a wonderful reminder. Plus, I have now have dizzy spells and when I get them, well, I always think of you and you alone. And then I fall down.
Hope you got the latest case of novelty sized vodka bottles that I sent. 😉
http://www.drinkstuff.com/products/product.asp?ID=5393&nav=bc
It takes a really long time for the comments to load now. It’s a good time to reflect on how long it’s been since you “discovered” me. I do have to say though that Blogland is a lot quieter without new posts from you. This is your way of performing traffic conrol isn’t it?
Still, it’s worth the wait. Yes? 😉
Hi Claire,
How lovely to see you. Have you got all your Christmas shopping done yet? Did you get my list? I want it all this year. Everything… The jewels, the cars, the racehorses, the servants, the furs, the jet, the mansion, it’s all mine now! Hahaha!
Oh, sorry. I was suddenly channeling Joan Collins from the season three finale of Dynasty.
At least I think I was. I dunno, please don’t quote me on that, I never saw the show.
I still recall the night I discovered you, Claire.
There was a gentle rain as I staggered into the nightclub in search of absinth, opium, inner-peace, tranquility and perhaps some deadly nightshade.
And then the curtain rose on the stage – and there you were under a single spotlight. Dressed in your fishnets and singing about life being a cabaret, I was captivated. What man wouldn’t be? My God, it was breathtaking.
Oh wait, I’m thinking of Cabaret. At least, I think I am. I dunno, please don’t quote me on that, I never saw the show.
All joshing aside, finding your blog was a real treat. And I do remember it very well. You were ruminating about your characters and I eventually suggested you take them bowling. And a friendship was born. And I’m a happier guy for it.
And here we are today.😀
Thanks for the kind words about Blogland being quieter without new posts from me. As for traffic control. Well, hah, the traffic on this blog is down. That’s for sure. But until I can utter the phrase “that air traffic isn’t going to control itself without me” I… um… sorry, I’m not sure where I’m going with this…
Oh yeah! Now I remember.
I wish I was an air traffic controller.
were NAZIs present. NAZIs are a dead give away every time.
Fatherland, Fatherland we adore you…..
sorry……….
look out for the nazis they don’t wear brown shirts anymore and are more difficult to spot…..
Hah!
I don’t recall seeing any Nazi’s on Dynasty. Just a lot of oil magnets and their trophy wives.
Although word is that Joan Collins was a total fascist on the set.
😉
Nooooo I was talking about at the Cabaret.
Oil magnets are cool but they leave messy stains on the refrigerator when you use them to put up Kiddie art.
Make you a deal . . . . New Plug for New Post.
Oil magnets are indeed cool. But those Nazi fridge magnets are just plain evil.
I’ll see what I can do about posting, Gryph.
You’re incredible.
😀 Thanks!
(she was talking to me wasn’t she Alan? Say she was talking to me………)
😀
I though she was talking to those Nazi oil barons!
Shows you how confused I am!
But just in case the lovely Claire was talking to me…
Thanks Claire! You’re pretty incredible yourself!
(You too, Gryph) 🙂
You guys are both incredible😉
aw shucks, ma’am
Gryph! Nice job on your feature of our pal, Claire.
http://gryphonscry.wordpress.com/2009/12/13/claire-collins/
thanks. now if I can find a nice way to gently discourage hijackers. My bad is that I sometimes get pulled into the hijack before I realize it.
I discourage hijackers (especially sexy Malaysian ones) by breaking into closing theme songs.
are we gonna push this puppy (groan) to 500 comments?
One needeth a fecking comment satnav to findeth ones way round this ruddy post!
I have a new theory. AT is waiting to the 3 month oldpost/ 500 comments made achievement, whichever come first, to announce that Carlita (remember her) is pregnant, that their employer has gone bust (or should it be tits up) and that AT and CP are about to become engaged in holydreadlock enforced by her father, the previously unmentioned LRonH (well not mentioned for a while) the creator of Scientfactofictionfornutcases. So there!
ELPRESGOD OF NOT A LOT
sounds reasonable to me. what what
did you say “fornicate?’
I should have, so have.
FOR Scientfactofictionfornutcases
READ Scientfactofictionfornicatingnutcases
I just realized that he’s gone because he’s spending all of his time with Carlita attempting to keep her fully satisfied. And we’re all outside the door waiting for his to stick his head out every now and then and say hello.
Everyone knows people exaggerate on their resumes. Now he has to work twice as hard to live up to the unrealistic expectations.
Either that, or she figured out he was full of shit and castrated him.
Castration, bit extreme what? Another post would prevent this?
Dave,
at this rate, we’ll never know.
There was no castration… Just no email notification. Damn sympatico.
Although I will admit that I’m fond of all your theories. But the fictional truth is I’ve been away writing fictional news stories for a fictional newspaper. This piece of fictional news should hit the fictional newsstands any fictional time soon…
Most Imaginative Boy
Can you imagine a world without crime? Can you imagine a cure for cancer? Can you imagine that your little sister has been stolen by Gypsies? Well 10-year old Frankie Murdoch can and much, much more. Young Frankie has just returned from Baden Baden, Germany where he was honored with “The Most Imaginative Little Boy” award for an unprecedented second consecutive year.
Talking to Frankie is, to say the least, a little daunting. “I imagined you’d be taller” quipped the precocious cap-clad dreamer from Orangeville. “I also thought you’d bring doughnuts”.
Frankie claims that his gift of imagination first manifested itself at the tender age of six. “My parents were always forcing me to eat vegetables and I hated vegetables. At night I started to imagine that men in assorted vegetable costumes would come to my house and pistol whip my parents with carrots. Pretty silly stuff in retrospect, but that’s how it all began”.
Personal trainer Linus Froth describes Frankie as “a natural, a semi-precocious spoiled brat with good stamina, a dysfunctional family and an incredibly strong left hemisphere. Sure he’s young but with a little work he’ll be ready for the 96 Olympics”.
Whether or not the imagination marathon will become a demonstration competition in the next Olympics still remains unknown though Frankie, naturally, imagines it will be. “So count on it” he tells me.
Frankie says his technique is simple, involving conjuring up images of “stuff I know” and then juxtaposing it with “other stuff I know”. When I put him on the spot to demonstrate he seems annoyed but agrees nonetheless. “Okay, take a dog right. Now take a bird and presto…a flying dog.”. When I counter with “Or a barking bird” Frankie rolls his eyes, says “don’t be a knob” and scarfs a cookie.
Frankie’s parents are reticent to discuss their son’s unique gift, fearing that his imagination may end up getting the boy into trouble. His mother, Delores, elaborates: “He imagines world peace, responsible government” she rasps between shots of Jim Beam and heavy drags on an unfiltered cigarette. “Last night he told me that he imagined Boy George would be making a comeback. For God’s sake, that kind of crazy dreaming is bound to set a boy up for heartache”.
Frankie’s father is concerned about the pressures of competition and the lengths to which these children will go to win. “I’ve never really tried to do anything and I’d like the same for my boy. I mean these children will do what ever it takes to get their brains pumped up; steady diets of fish or mind altering drugs…and nobody is testing them.”
Frankie dismisses his parents concerns with a feisty, “I always imagined I was adopted” and then becomes intensely serious. He tells me that he has never been tempted by performance enhancing drugs and claims that imagination, if controlled, can be beneficial. “More people should try it, not necessarily at the competitive level but as a recreational tool. It’s not something to be ashamed or scared of, honest.”
So what’s next for the young thinker? “Well I was contemplating moving on to pragmatism or optimism but I’m almost eleven now so I think cynicism is the next logical step”. As I bid the lad farewell he tells me he imagines I will end this article with a profane thought. Sorry Frankie but this is a respectable paper, so fuck you.
That little boy…
that was YOU wasn’t it???
Hahahahahahaha!!!
(Alan’s laughter suddenly turns to tears.)
Yes… Yes it was, and my dreams of Olympic gold never came to be…
(Alan puts a clenched fist in his mouth and runs out of the room sobbing.)
Big baby. THAT’s why you didn’t make the Olympics
That and the drug tests I kept failing.
I begin by clicking on the Sick Days link in the Aerie, and when the page comes up I click on the link for “Dream Boy Alpo’s Dating Resume.”
When the post comes up I click on the minuscule little thing at the top of the scroll bar and whip it to the bottom and release. The thing jumps back up as more of the page loads and I grab it and whip it back down again and release it yet once more. Once more the little thing jumps back up and once more I grab it and whip it back down again….. ad nauseum.
Finally I get sooooo happy just whipping the little thing that I forget to see if there is anything new written.
Such is the life of a Lonely Gryphon.
😉
It’s quite the fun park ride. I hope the tale of the most imaginative boy was worth the up and down turbulence.
It was VERY good. Good enough for a post even. 😛
I have a new theory though that I don’t know if anyone has thought of yet.
My theory is that you are creating a new blog paradigm, wherein you create a post and during the process of commenting and responding you create “sub” posts which inspires more comments and responses. Under this paradigm, readers of your blog have the opportunity to create sub posts of their own within your site inspiring comments and responses of their own. This tests the upper limits of a post to handle comments and if a limit does happen to be reached then you can either create a NEW post orrrrr carry the filled up one over into a second volume of the first.
Huh? Huh? If that’s not the case it’s a DAMN good idea……………..
(this also comes close to satisfying the definition of a Bulletin Board Discussion Group. Not quite, but close…)
I like your theory, Gryph
And I agree. It is a DAMN god idea. The threads have always been creatures unto themselves and I think where most of the fun of Sick Days has been (at least for me). The main reasons I haven’t posted anything is because of lack of time and inspiration. I’m currently working on three other things and everytime I come close to even starting writing a new post it seems that more work comes up or I am left with a case of the “uninspireds.” It’s fun to converse in the threads because they are quick, fun, can go anywhere, and that means I can do what I like best, which is just say whatever the hell comes to my crazy darn fool duck head.
The ‘article’ about the most imaginative boy has many psychological similarity to ‘imaginary friends’ that many kids have during times of personal or family distress. (As teens they discover street drugs that are even more effcetive).
That being said, or written, what is the covert message to the tale of Frankie? That the liasion between AT and CP was a fiction? That AT’s real mother was Delores Murdoch? That Hamish Industries doesn’t exist? That I am a figment of my own imagination? That nobody read my blog? (No checked that; that is a fact!)
Some Froggy git said words to the effect of “I think therefore I am” Methinks AT is hoping this sad and inpenetratable tale of Frankie will keep us going for a few more days, until the 3/500 point.
Interesting and very fascinating theories, elpres…
Mr. Mills and I once wrote a one act play (that was very well received, I might add) called “Death of An Imaginary Friend” It was a surreal comedy about two estranged brothers (named John and Jon) who are reunited at the funeral of the imaginary friend they had to share since their family could only afford one. But then the problems arose: What do you wear? Who do you invite? Do you need an imaginary coffin? Who did Rasputin (that was their imaginary best friend’s name) love more?
The play was not recommended for inner children.
I can’t help but wonder what intriguing psychological interpretations you would have culled from it.
Oh, I want to read the script! Send a copy under cover of plain brown envellope (postage paid) for a free analysis!
😉
(Alan toots his own horn)
One review said it was all delivered with “gently comic oddball twists” and called the lead character “ever-so-reasonably-loony”
I always liked that quote.
I’ve always wanted to be able to do that. Over a lifetime I could have saved a BUNCH of money.
The thing is you just know that those no good Nazi oil barons singing their cabaret songs would hear about your money and then coming stomping and marching into town and steal it all. It’s what they do… The bastards.
Wait. Am I waaaay off topic?
😛
as long as they didn’t try to toot my horn…..
OMG! POST 497!!!
Don’t stop honey! I’m almost there!
Tooting other people’s horns is a specialty of those no good Nazi oil barons singing their cabaret songs.
You know, when they’re not getting rich from oil or singing cabaret songs.
😉
My plan is to the 500th post. Unless bschooled beats me to it.
Nah! That won’t happen.
Although she did beat me to comment number 400 at Don’s…
But not this time.
Womever followeth me gets the 500 prize…
I bet it’s bschooled…
Oh no! Wait! It’s me!!!! Yahooooooooo!!!!!!
(Alan looks below)
Oh. No. No, it’s not me. It’s bschooled.
😛
I DID IT!!
Alan, can you believe it? Not only am I 400-something on Don’s blog, I am now 500 on yours.
I honestly wasn’t expecting this. I mean, I didn’t even come prepared with a speech or anything! (I know, so unlike me)
Where’s Taylor Swift when you need her?
I’ll be back, I need to think about this. (I also need to change into something more “award-winning” worthy.)
Hahaha!
Congratulations, bschooled! And thanks for playing!
http://www.averyant.com/AverysJournal_bravo.htm
That means you win a BRAND NEW PARKA! And to go with that parka, we’ll also include a couple more days of that sub zero artic chill frozen blast weather that you’ve been experiencing! Plus we have some parting gifts for you! Tell her about them, Johnny!
Johnny: Will do, Alan! bschooled, along with the parka and artic cold, you’re the winner of a Marks & Spencer shoehorn – M&S shoehorns have been allowing shoe users to put on a shoe more easily for the past 50 years! You’ll also receive a home game version of “Sick Days” courtesy of Don Co. products. Don Co. Keeping Old Men Crabby until they kick the bucket! PLUS, you’ll receive a lifetime supply of Rice-A-Roni – The San Francisco treat! Thanks again for playing, bschooled! Back to you, Alan!
Alan: Thanks, Johnny. bschooled, congratulations and enjoy your gifts. And thanks for joining us everyone. We’ll see you tomorrow on Sick Days!
Ok, so here’s the deal, Johnny…(and Alan)
Seeing as I wasn’t expecting this honor (I had actually just stopped by to make sure Alan was wearing the winter booties I made him), this twice-edited and thrice rewritten speech, is completely off the top of my tiara-crowned and beautifully styled (thanks Vidal Sasson!) head.
First of all, I’d like to thank everyone (and everything) I thanked in my previous Thanksgiving (US and Canadian) speeches. If it weren’t for all of you, I wouldn’t be where I am today (which incidentally happens to be freezing my tiara off in this god-forsaken office cubicle, but really, that’s neither here nor there).
I’d also like to thank the following:
-God
-Allah
– Alan
– Ali Baba (but not the 40 theives-those bastards sunk my Battleship!)
-The Schytts (let’s face it, they know their schytt)
-Don Co. (“Sickdays”- It’s The Game That Plays Itself!)
-Judy Blume (and Margaret, of course)
-Remote car starters (which sadly, I don’t have)
-Automobiles that start in -30 degree weather (again, don’t have)
-Parka/M&S shoehorn gift baskets (which, thanks to this award I now have)
-Hypothermia (what can I say…keeps me humble)
– An inbox full of the same freaking Tiger Woods joke (let’s face it…golf/adultery double entendres are funny!)
…Thanks everyone…and thank-you Alan! I’ll see you tomorrow on Sickdays!
Great speech, bschooled!
There really is nothing as magically hilarious as an impromptu piece of comedy spontaneity that was twice-edited and thrice rewritten and came to be because of an incidental drop by to see if I was wearing the winter booties you made me.
They’re the bestest.
By the way. Yes. Yes, I am. Wearing the booties that is.
Thanks for these new inclusions. They all deserve Secret Santas and stockings full of opium and booze. (Except for Judy Blume, but only because she has well documented addiction problems with stockings, I can’t be a Blume enabler anymore, I won’t, I just won’t… Ah, what the fuck. It’s Christmas.)
Oh, and a special thanks for leaving out the 40 Thieves. (How dare those bastards sink you’re your battleship?)
But I will give a quick shout out to -30 Degree Thieves, but only because they work in the research department at Milton Bradley and are responsible for giving the world such delightful board games as: Operation, Constipation, “You’re Fired” Where to Now, Junkie?, A Bag of Poisonous Snakes, (Hey kids, it’s a bag of poisonous snakes!), Purgatory, Who Ate My Wimple? Did You Smell That? and Thug Lite – The Alcoholic Drink and Board Game!
They really are good people.
Thanks again, bschooled, I’ll see you tomorrow on Sick Days!
I came in here last night and found that I had the opportunity to be number 500, but withheld cuz I was already commenting so much and didn’t want to appear to opportunistic.
But for this HISTORIC post I think it would be no harm in tooting my own horn (ahem) to mention that I was NUMBER 1!
I even got a Daffy Duck cartoon embedded in honor of that accomplishment WOO HOO!
Taylor who?
She’s the poor dear who had her big MTV award moment upstaged by me (I was so drunk ). Wait… Was it me? Maybe it was Kayne West. We’d both been drinking that night. Just not together. I seem to recall tooting my own horn, I think… I dunno, it’s all a blur.
Hah! Gryph, yes, I said it before (see comment number 2) and I’ll say it again, you are number one! Plus you’ve also snagged the highly coveted comment number 509. And that is worthy of more embedded cartoonage. 😉
awwwwww…….. “embeddiing disabled by request. watch on youtube.” well it’s the thought that counts AT. *headed to youtube to watch B.B.*
Damn tose oil baron nazi cabaret YouTubers! Lets’ try again.
It’s a DACHSHUND!
Hahaha! I couldn’t resist.
I was able to watch some of the recommended ones at the bottom of the window, just not the one you picked. But I went to youtube and watched the one you picked,
Hah! I didn’t realize I had given you a list!
Wow…
Hmm…
Well then… There will be a wascally wabbit test later! 🙂
Is it time for Last Rites?
I’ll try giving it the kiss of life. If I can use tongue.
what you do to your computer in the privacy of your own room is ENTIRELY up to you, bro? 😀
Good point. I just need to stop filming it and posting on YouTube. 😛
I am the Alpo and the Oneida–the . . . uh . . . something about time absolutes and some such . . .
psssst………
give us a sparkling and urbane post……. no pressure……..
G
None felt.😉
Hope all is well, Gryph.
It’s true! We miss you!
Happy holidays, Alan. 🙂
Thanks so much bellakagan!
So nice to hear from you. Happy holidays to you as well. 🙂
I went out of town for Christmas, Alan, so though this is belated it is still heartfelt.
Many thanks, Gryph!
We had a wonderful holiday. Hope you did as well. Here’s wishing all the best to you in this New Year, my friend!
Cheers,
Alan
I get a few hundred visitors each year, this 3 month old post gets 527 comments.
There’s a lesson here?
Oh yes, don’t post, just tease!
Hah!
It’s great that we’re also learning things while we’re having fun! 😉
Is something going on that someone neglected to tell me?
I’ve been meaning to mention this…
A man who lost his mobile phone in the New York subway toilet has confessed that he deliberately threw it away. “It was cute when it was little but as it got older it just took over my entire life. Honest to God, I was afraid of the damned thing – and for good reason; when I tossed it down the toilet, it wouldn’t let go of me.”
Much like alligators in the 1970’s, many New Yorkers have recently taken to flushing their cell phones down the toilets to rid themselves of these ringing and beeping monstrosities.
However, it seems a few of these hastily disposed-of creatures have actually survived in the damp darkness of the New York sewer system and are beginning to breed. The result is that there are now scattered colonies of full-grown cell phones living under the streets of New York City.
Some say they are blind and albino, having lost their glow-in-the-dark abilities due to the constant darkness in which they dwell. Rumor has it there are countless sleeper cells poised and ready to reek mobile revenge on those who sent them to their sewery graves.
…Okay, glad I got that off my chest.
any time.
Hah!
Your a doctor and a scholar. (A rare combination!)😛
good to see you’re still checking this amazing thread of comments
Just found something to share that is somewhat related to the post – remember there was post way back there on top?
Hahahaha!
Cheers, lisleman!
Too rich.
Don’t know that I have anything more to add. Oh, what the hell… Maybe one more of these…
Hahahahahaha!
so is this a record number of comments on one post?
It’s my personal best! 🙂
I have enjoyed this very much and look forward to reading further. after 500 plus comments on this post alone , I will have to start again in the morning….I found you thanks to Donald.~Dave
Thanks David,
Nice to see you. I seem to recall seeing you over at crabby old Don’s… and Ram’s place too. (Good old Ram. I miss that hilariously hirsute convenience store owner.)
I’m afraid of subscribing to this comment thread. So I won’t just visit me instead.
What are you doing instead of this? Will we see a sitcom with all these well-developed characters? Perhaps a novella? 🙂
How nice to see you!
And intentionally or not, you started things off with a rhyming couplet.
I shall visit you — and very soon. I’ve certainly missed your delightfully scathing wit.
Thanks for dropping by, jessica o.
😉
Sir,
I agree its been awhile, but I am still around and doing my best to improve the blogging world. But apparently my advise has been completely ignored. I don’t know why you keep this silly blog if you’re not going to do anything with it. If you are going for the comment record, then forget about that, a nice young man in Japan recently passed the 7000 mark on his comment thread. At this rate it will take you six years to reach that milesone, so drop this foolishness now.
This whole sorted episode reminds me of the time I cracked a pina colada over Truman Copote’s head for a similar literary infraction. Don’t make me come down there. Wake up Alan.
Ha!
Why Harmony. It’s you! But without the foul language. That’s disappointing. Still, you’re looking… the same.
I saw you went visiting my Uncle Don – and showered him with praise, no less: “I thank you Mr. Mills” “Your doing God’s work Don” and “I await your next post with great eagerness.”
Wow.
High praise from a cranky hand to an old fart.
And what lumps of coal did you leave for me…? Let’s see… “silly blog” “drop this foolishness now” and a not so veiled threat to brain me with a pina colada.
Hmmm…
Oh, and FYI. That seemingly nice young man in Japan is the president of Toyata and those 7,000 comments are from people threatening to sue and/or really cause him physical harm… we’re talking braining him with a brake handle – and much worse.
Anyway, where was I? Oh right! Reflecting on your physicial and verbal threats to me! So… Insults and physical threats aside, I have a tiny bit of exciting news for you, Harmony… And this really makes me laugh – your delightfully snarky comment disparaging me was comment number 7,500 here at Sick Days!!!!
That means – YOU WIN!
I know. I’m thrilled too.
And what do you win, you might very well mutter?
Why, you win a month at rehab with me.
You see, every now and then I’m forced to check into the Motley Crew Clinic to try and dry out. And this time around, you will be joining me! It’ll be great, Harmony. We’ll spend 30 intense days going through a recovery process that promises to be more fun than hell—but not by much. You’ll spend quality time with me as I go through the shakes and cold sweats. You’ll be there when the DT’s kick in and I shout out obscenities and scream that there are talking hands all over my body and pink elephants metaphorically crushing my soul. Plus, you’ll revel in the joy of cleaning up the trail of unholy toxins that are spewing out of my every orifice. Good times! And you’ll get to watch as I learn to identify and express my feelings by whining in therapy that this is all my family’s fault. Also, as my personal mule (did I mention that, if not, you should know – you’ll be my personal mule), you’ll keep my much-needed stash secure in the Netherlands of your anus. (I’m guessing that’s somewhere around your thumb?) While we’re enjoying our stay we’ll also make new and meaningful friendships – but more importantly – future drinking buddies and drug dealers for when we get out of this god-awful place. Plus, you can play golf with me and Amy Winehouse. I know she’s not there right now, but she’ll be back – trust me.
Congratulations Harmony – and great to see you. Start packing!
This is awesome
Cheers and hola, Penguin.
[…] A. Truitt and C. Collins have been placed on academic suspension for failure to meet minimum attendance […]
I highly reccommend this wonderful University.
Disclaimer: Okay, sure, The Capitalist Lion Tamer University is essentially ripping you off – but so is Harvard. (sorry, fucking Harvard) And fucking Harvard sucks ass canal water. (Really, it says so right in their brochures.) And, hey, let’s be honest, getting ripped off is what education is all about.
EL-PRES GOD OF TS SAYETH
Hamish has been exposed!
Read all about it at;
http://www.yorkregion.com/News/Newmarket/article/103222
teehee as Mr York might say!
dave
😉
The dog was the inspiration for the company name. And that’s his mug(s) up on the banner.
It’s kind of like walking through an abandoned house and finding messages scrawled in the dust.
Eerie, but also peaceful. And a sign that the house was once lively.
At some point, the dust will be removed, the doors and windows thrown wide and the guests will re-enter, hopefully to find it just as they left it, full of life and imagination.
And barely tempered insanity.
Hey, that’s Nordic poet good, CLT.
Oh, while I’ve got you here, I’d like to offer up an education alternative to the CLT University. http://capitalistliontamer.wordpress.com/2010/02/16/capitalist-lion-tamer-university/
It’s The Alan Truitt School of Hard Knocks.
Here’s’ my pitch…
If you’ve got a degree from some big University and are still a dumb shmoe then it’s time you enrolled in the Alan Truitt School of Hard Knocks. For a $3000 tuition fee I’ll teach you how to survive. No linguistics, economics, computers or books – just me and valuable life skills. Get the 3 grand and bring it to me. Then I’ll burn down your house and beat the living shit out of you to get you ready for the real world. Sound tough? It is. I’ll make sure you don’t wind up some stupid lame fart who can’t tie his shoes, let alone steal someone else’s. Enroll now and I’ll get you hooked on drugs if you can afford them, and glue if you can’t. The 3-year course will see you through addiction, lice, and if I’m short of cash: prostitution. You’ll visit drunk tanks, insane asylums, have shock therapy and sleep in the park. And once you’ve graduated, I can’t promise you a job, but I can promise that you’ll have nightmares for the rest of your life. And yeah, sure, basically you’ve been ripped off. But that’s what education is all about.
Oh my. You’ve dried up and everyone’s left us. Now what do we do? Well, maybe you will show your furry little face soon.
http://onlyatbarnhills.wordpress.com/
I dried up? No one told me.
I’m always the last to know….
Congrats on the book store! Looks fab. Here’s wishing you and your new business all the best.
It’s finally happened!! I knew this day would come, the day when C.L.T, Alan and Mr. Hambidge were finally committed; I was just hoping it would come after the 1,000 comment.
Did it go down the way I imagined it would?
Scene: A dark basement, a ray of the setting sun comes through a small window dimly illuminating three figures in a circle. The floor is littered with empty gin bottles and chicken bones.
Figure 1: “I am brilliant”
Figure 2: “No I am brilliant!”
Figure 3: “I’m more brilliant than both of you!”
Figure 1: “I’m brilliantiest”
Figure 2: “I’m brilliantiest times infinity”
Figure 3: “I’m brilliantiest times infinity plus one”
Figure 1: “I’m brilliantiest times infinity plus two”
Figure 2: “I’m brilliantiest times infinity plus three”
Figure 3: “I’m brilliantiest times infinity plus four”
…………..
One gets the feeling that this has been going on for quite awhile.
All of a sudden the door bursts open, and a motherly voice calls down.
Motherly voice: “Alan, how are you and your friends doing? Are you three playing nice? I’ve made some fish sticks if you’d like them.”
Lured by the promise of a tasty treat of breaded processed meat stuffs, the three figures slowly emerge from the basement. While their eyes are adjusting to the blinding light, they are jumped by orderlies.
End scene.
I await hearing from you all as soon as you are granted internet privileges. Don’t take any of the pills they give you, save them and I’ll buy them from you.
Holy shit, Chuck.
That’s exactly how it happened. Except for all that stuff in the middle… and the beginning… and the end.
Just kidding!
But you knew that. You were there. Right, Chuck? 😉
PS. I kept the green ones and the red ones. Just for you. No charge.
As much as I hate stopping by this fossilized blog, I have to admit I need your help in finding that spamming mut Eric Food. Sorry if I have interrupted your masturbation therapy, but I need to know.
Last I heard, Eric was lurking around Bschooled’s blog. BTW, don’t be fooled by Ms B’s cheery demeanor, she can be rather testy. And just so you know, Ms B is a damn midget who insists on wearing a silly Mexican wrestler’s mask. FYI.
Good to see you too, Harmony. Sometime you must tell me how you masturbate yourself. I really am interested.
So… Did you return for your prize? https://sickdays.wordpress.com/2009/09/25/dream-boy-alpos-dating-resume/#comment-7905
…Eric Food?????
I’ll say it again. He’s nothing but a an undigested bit of beef or an old potato that sucks doggy dicks in Hell while a damn dirty baby flogs his unctuous penile implant with a nice sharp flootenham.
Why? Have you seen him? You know that Eukanuba is made of human flesh and marijuana? That’s right, Harmony, marijuana. Mari-freaking-juana. Mary Jane, hemp, reefer, Acapulco gold, Maui Wowie, ganja, hash, loco weed, yoko weed, Sean Lennon weed…whatever you want to call it, it’s in there. And it’s mixed right in with the human flesh, so you can’t even pick it out.
Eric Food! What a fucking flootenham. So… You saw him? How’s he looking? Did he ask about me? If you see him again tell him I say hi. Tell him to call me. Is he still selling Eukanuba? Let him know I’ll take a pound. And some seeds.
PS: As for your character assassination of B, well, it makes a nice change from me being the constant source of your wrath, but still then, I won’t have it. I guess I’ll need to slap you with a glove (which is delightfully ironic) and challenge you to some sort of a duel. Shall we say light sabers at dawn?
Anyway, thanks for dropping by. I’m sure you’re over at Don’s place even as I write this, lavishing him with praise and adulation. Don’t you know that the old man is a stereotyping asshole?
Light sabres at dawn?? Ha, don’t make me laugh. You saw what I did to that kiss ass Eric Richardville, You remember him, that clown who fawned all over you. Well, I pwned his ass and he has abandoned his blog. Frankly, his last name alone warranted exclusion from the Web. I guess you can tell I am working my way through the Es.
Honestly, why I am talking to you on a Friday night when I could be having long, generous bouts of anal sex with Pierce Brosnan is beyond me.
I thought we had resolved our Eric Richardville issue. He believed I was a comedy God and I believed he was right. And then he found Don’s blog and abandoned me. You were right to pwn his ass. We’ve talked about this.
And you still haven’t answered my masturbation or prize questions.
Sigh…
But to answer yours: You are talking to me on a Friday night because if you weren’t you’d be having long bouts of anal sex with Pierce Brosnan. And nobody wants that. Trust me on this one.
That shit is pure comedy gold there.
Anal sex with Pierce Brosnan?
Mastubation therapy?
Richardville?
Eukanuba?
Ironic glove slappings?
Marijuana wrapped in human flesh?
Lame farts who can’t even steal shoes?
MPD basement conversations?
Claire Fucking Collins?
Nordic poetry?
HamboCentralElPresGodNoShow?
Angels pimping bitches?
Oh, man.
Good times. Good times.
Harmony, you’ve got a purty, whorish mouth, but you insist on hanging out with that part-time ornithologist and abetting all the clownish poop-scooping and Brosnan-sexing.
(Redundant, I know, but sometimes I like to point out the obvious when it comes to poop/anal sex jokes. To rephrase: I always take the poop-filled high road when it comes to repetitive humour. So does Pierce. You’ll notice that he likes to be referred to as Sir Pierce Brosnan, which stems from his belief that portraying Bond James Bond earns you instant knighthood. You’d think the hours of anal sex would set him straight, but the guys at the reprogramming camp told me it doesn’t work that way.)
Alan, as always, a pleasure typing out long strings of in-jokes at your place. Mine’s all full of recently written words and the maid has refused to come back ever since I insulted her reproductive system with some barely disguised anecdotes.
Tally hoes and whatnot, bitches. I needs me some sleep.
How in the world did I end up in the middle of all of that?
This…
https://sickdays.wordpress.com/2009/09/25/dream-boy-alpos-dating-resume/#comment-7914
is how you ended up in there. Sometimes just saying “hi” can get you added to a list of things you’d never have anything to do with or even say out loud in mixed company.
I guess that’s what I get for showing up after being gone so long! I always tend to end up in the middle of things like that. Me and the other CC with the same middle name.
😉
Thanks goodness CLT was here to clear that up. Bless his cotton socks and endless streams of profanity.
I’ll say it again: Everytime an angel pimps its bitch, an angel pimps its bitch.
😉
(PS. My money’s on the pickle.)
Haha! How did I get by without these? All these years I thought zebras only punched cheetah’s in the head. Now I discover they also kick them in the head as well. I’ve been living in an unenlightened fool’s paradise. But not any more. Thank you Zoobooks, thank you.
OMG Alan! How am I going to get through the post AND 567 comments?
I need the Cliffs Notes or Reader’s Digest version. Fill me in. How did THIS happen? Faux-hiatus since Sept 25, 2009?!
Really wonderful to see you Marissa,
How did this flouncing happen indeed? I’m still not sure. I seem to recall thinking I’d take a indulge in some roller-derby and maybe get lost in a jumbo bucket of deep fried chicken skin – you know, the dream – and the next thing I knew, well, here we are.
That said, I can be found singing the praises of Don Mills at http://crabbyoldfart.wordpress.com/
He really dislikes those goddamn teenagers.
How about you? I’m hoping all is well and fabulous.
I miss Alan!
Bob
Thanks Bob!
And (of course) thank goodness you’re here. The world is a happier place for it.
Come on Alpo! Here boy!! [whistles]
Webie Gal is back on the block and it just wouldn’t be the same place without stepping in a big, steaming pile of freshly laid ass-squeeze.
Come back down to the block party Alan. We’ve got an umbrella drink all blended up and ready for you.
Your pooper-scooping friend,
Kelsey
Yikes! Sorry about the infernal delay, Kelsey! I was at the vet’s getting fixed. I think I preferred being broken…
Nice to see you back in action. I must drop by sometime and soon. And I will.
Your pooped and scooped pal,
Alpo
do you have a FaceBook page promoting your book? I just read a comment on Dave’s blog that seemed to say that but I don’t always understand dog talk.
Hah! It’s a tricky language to translate.
Nice to see you, lisleman.
No, that was just me being a smart aleck about a FB post I posted saying I had just finished writing a book called “Lion Taming for Dummies” It was a responce to Duncan because of the FB grief I was getting. Are you on Facebook? I’m there under Mike Erskine-Kellie.
Excuse me sir, but do you have any Grey Poupon?
Hahahaha!
Sandwiches are in the air. Bats too! And watch out for those guardian angles — they bite!
hey glad this is still running (from what who knows).
I found you on FB so hopefully we can connect but to be honest I’m not on there much.
Anyway, this long comment thread gave me an idea. Well at least one brain cell fired. I’ll be working on it and if you stop over to A Few Clowns Short in the near future (in dog time) you’ll see it.
I’ll keep my eye out for it! Expect to see me there. Please leave a dish on the floor — I may be dehydrated. Hope all is well Oh, and it’s official — we’re FaceBook friends. 😉
Alantru
No stories….no jokes…just gone….hope all is well with you and your travels and adventures…zman sends
Cheers zman…
No witty responses… No hilarious bon mots… No zinger replies… Just a friendly “thanks!”
See you over at the old crabby fart’s place.
ELPRESGOD says; As we sadly approach the first anniversary of AT abandoning us, seemingly for ever, just to have a few quick shags with Carlita, I decided to recall the good times with;
All togther now…. memories
Thanks Dave,
Quick???????? 😉
This one brings back memories for me as well… Why, I have little to no idea.
Hee hee…
So SHE was the prototype for Carlita, all is now clear!
Hah! No. Carlita isn’t a southern belle. And more importantly, she has eyes.
Hands, knees, butt, boobs etc etc (maybe even a brain?)
night-night
All those, and eyes… Unlike others..
Just because:
DO THE HAMMERLOCK
DO THE HAMMERLOCK
DO THE HAMMERLOCK YOU TURKEYNECKS
EVERYBODY’S DOING IT
and also:
IT’S JUST WHAT YOU NEED WHEN YOU’RE DOWN IN THE DUMPS
ONE-HALF HILLBILLY AND ONE-HALF PUNK
BIG OL’ LEGS AND ONE BIG MOUTH
THE HOTTEST THING IN THE NORTH COME OUT OF THE SOUTH
[409 to go to 1K. I miss this anarchy, Alan. Of course, I don’t really have the time for it anymore, but c’est la fuckin’ vie…]
Hahaha!
Well I certainly appreciate you taking the time for the drive by lyric shooting. It gave me cramps and made me want to do the eye gouge. Which is a good thing… And apropos of something… I use my eyeballs for dials on my TV set.
(We’re going to have to do something about finding us some quality anarchy time. I suggest taking down the government… I know, I know, that’s what all the anarchists say… But it’s what they do, and they mean it, maaaan!)
WORLD EXCLUSIVE
READ IT HERE FIRST
First pictures of Calita with the fruit of spawn of AT.
http://postimage.org/image/12mbu77r8/
Seasonal whatsits to one and all.
Not been found yet then?
Seasonal whatsits it to you too, gg.
I must confess: the significance of the panda image eludes me. But then again so does the subject of geophysics…
[…] of noteriety and steady paychecks. He left behind a legacy of woefully (and perhaps willfully) mismanaged comment threads, pushing the limits of the semi-functional WordPress […]
We miss you Alpo!!
Why thank you, pinnythewu
We miss you too!
(And look, that’s today’s rhyming couplet written.) 😉
599
Which just happens to be my favorite number. Now where’s that “like” button…? Oh, right… Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! “Hi, my name is…”
FJ you gave me such hope when I saw the sickdays blog comment logo in my in box… so I nipped in to claim 600.
elpresgod of sadly nought now
I hope you claimed it in the name of the earth, Dave. I’d hate to see those Martians colonizing our comment thread.
ELPRES GOD CALLING
See the Sick Days final chapter campaign at;
http://hambocentral.blogspot.com/2011/03/we-want-more-sick-days-as-promised.html
Thanks, Dave. Me, I’ve always been a fan of non-resolutions. So, there won’t be an epilogue or a coda or an American Graffiti closing-credits-style litany of what happens to all the characters in the future ( e.g. “Carlita Paonessa had a sex change and, now transformed into a dude in power-suit, broke the glass ceiling and rocketed to the top to become President of Marketing for Hamish Industries…”) . But thanks again for the kind words. They are much appreciated. (No blogging =’s no instant gratification.)😉 All the best.
Ah well, worth the try! HAND
No coda? Can’t be…that’s like pizza, but no beer; burgers without fries;a penis, but no vagina; unicorns, but no glitter. We need resolution or at least full contact nude absolution. If an epilouge is not forth coming, then how about absolving us. This may set us free to find a suitable vagina or glitter or a unicorn glitoris.
Hahahaha! Riot! The whole world needs full contact nude absolution – which is my new favorite thing by the way. So, when you put it like that (and with an X in your name, no less), then I have no choice. You absolutely have full contact nude absolution. Please, from this moment hence, feel absolved. And fully naked. Now grab that slice and beer, find that glittering unicorn and fly to the land of vaginas!
I need to read up on unicorns – could be a whole new world waiting for me.
this thing still working? tap tap – is the mic on?
My new hip indicator – you’re nobody in blogland until you comment on sickdays
Lisleman !ӣ$%^&*?
How the feck did you find your way here, now?
ElPresGod aka Dave Hambidge aka gallowaygrave aka me…
Oh you would think I could put the comment in the right place on this thread. see below
remember when the comments were fast and furious here? I’m just addicted to comments.
I’m developing a 12 step program to help people with this addiction. Until then, all I can say about it is “no comment.” 😉
I hope some one monitors this comment section. Good Lord there could be terrorists plotting over here and no one would notice.
You rang sirrah?
This is true, lisleman. In fact, this is the first I heard of this plan. For some reason comments about comments, and addiction, and terrorists don’t make it to my inbox. I’ll need to do something about this. Stock up on ammo, I guess,
Dave, this was kind of weird. I was wondering how you were doing last night around 1.30 am here. To get an email asking “you rang?” was more than a little startling. Please get out of my head.😉
ELPRESGOD UTTERS
A little over 4 years ago, some 1461 days, over 35 thousand hours, way beyond 2 million minutes, a phenomena erupted into the blogging world, this place where so many of us exchanged laughs and life anecdotes, but no STD’s,(I do so hope).
Alantru abandoned us for new projects and novel sexual activities, lucky dog on both counts in late 2009 and is not going to return. Despite pleadings, threats and offers of hard cash. So be it…
To all who passed by sickdays, adieu and be good to each other, whilst you can…
Dave
Really wonderful to hear from you, Dave. And Happy New Year! I hope life is treating you well. All good here. There are times when I miss the Sick Days days as well. Such fun. So here’s a promise, if I win the lottery, I will happily continue the adventures of Alantru. I’m feeling optimistic…
You need to buy a ticket first though…
Oh, yeah. There is that.😉
Hi Dave, Alantru,
Did you notice that 2012 did not exist here in the comment section.
Dave you stirred up the bits and bytes of this comment list. I glad you didn’t do it before the Mayan end of the world. I would have been worried you might of set off a cosmic reaction.
These comments cause more questions than answers. A big one I have at the moment is why do I feel compelled to click the reply to Dave’s comment. What is the strange force of this comment section? Is there viagra spam within the list? I’m sure there are dead links to found here.
For now, I’ll just leave a nice hello to a future cyber anthropologist who might read this. Dear future reader – the Mayans didn’t kill us. – yet
Another note – I’ve been spoiled by the edit function included in the Disqus comment system I use today. I forgot to proof read my last comment before I clicked the post button. Sorry about the lacking grammar skills.
Happy New Year, lisleman. I too am relieved the Mayans didn’t kill us. But we must remain vigilant. We’re safe now — but for how long? I’m not sure on the strange force of this comment section. It has a kind of timeless black hole thing going on. Maybe that’s it. But don’t quote me on that, I’m not a scientist or a Trekkie. I just play one on TV.
(As for the missing 2012… I must have slept through it.) 😉
I had a dream/nightmare about the good ol’days and wondered, with faint hope, whether life still exists here. So calling anyone…
dave
Nice to hear from you, Dave! Alack (yes, I still say “alack”) it’s still quiet on the Hamish Front. Hope all is well.
Wow the internet has been strange this week. Madonna takes a spill in a show and breaks twitter, 2 llamas get loose in Arizona and the chase is better than OJ Simpson in a Bronco, Facebook and twitter goes nuts over the color of dress AND NOW – I get a comment alert from this ghost blog. I might just choke on this digital dust coming off the comment thread.
Yes, quite a week, indeed….
Up next: Putin murders Boris and Natasha for not killing Moose and Squirrel!
Goddamn I miss Alan……..
Thanks Jenny, me too. Nice to see you and hope everything’s groovy!