Pictures

In case you're wondering, their super power is the ability to permanently repel members of the opposite sex. I think that kid in the middle is damaged goods at this point...the look on his face is either one of absolute, life-scarring embarrassment or the result of not pooping for 4 days...and neither of those is all that great.



Letting your hamster funnel twinkies is not good for his little heart. I bet the dust on his hamster wheel is so thick you could write your name in it. He's practically morphed into a tennis ball at this point!



The frightening thing about this next picture is that this guy looked at himself in a mirror and was happy enough with the way he looked to go out in public. He actually LIKES his haircut and thinks he looks good. Notice the old lady getting mugged in the background...heaven forbid this guy jump in and help - he's too busy trying to get a picture of a pair of squirrels mating.



I may not have told you this before, but I strongly suggest avoiding confrontations with ninjas. (in case you can't make it out, this move is called "Monkey Steals the Peach"...ninjas are so awesome that even their "de-balling" techniques are both incredibly cool and extremely painful. I'm not all that pumped about my "peaches" being in the clutches of a trained killer, so whatever Mr. Ninja wants, Mr. Ninja gets.)



Here below we find one of society's elite, the "upper crust" if you will, enjoying an afternoon of watching cars make left turns. This guy is killing the national IQ average...he's the reason we're only scoring slightly above primates. NASCAR draws those lacking intelligence in like a bug light on the back porch of a trailer up on cinder blocks...the easily confused simply cannot resist it's "charm". They may not understand math or science or the simple rules of grammar and spelling, but they seem to be able to understand that the shiny little cars go round and round and that this is a good thing. The bright colors keep their attention and the cars present them with familiar product labels they can relate to (beer, snuff, lawn maintenance, cereal). The drivers all keep in mind that these fans need to be able to remember their names, so they use names that are familiar and simple ("Billy Jo Johnson", "Jimmy Billy", "Ricky Timmy") or start with the same letters ("Jimmy Jackson", "Ricky Red", "Kenny Kenson") or have some sort of childish innuendo to them ("Dick Trickle" - yes, this is an actual driver name, which I know may shock some of you, but it's true, you can't make up stuff like this)



And now, the obligatory cute puppy picture...since it's the weekend and I don't want to leave on a sour note. Don't you just want to give her a big 'ole hug? Her name is "ginger"...or at least that's the name they gave her on that illegal dog-fighting site where I got the picture from.



Hamsters might be stupid pets, but they are light years ahead of goldfish. You can't do jack with a goldfish! Ever pet your goldfish? TOUCH THEM AND THEY DIE! Who wants a pet that dies when you show it affection?

Anatomy of an "infomercial"

Is it just me, or would the rest of you rather lick uncooked hamburger patties than have to watch more than 5 seconds of these TV segments we've come to know as "infomercials"? 

An "infomercial" is a phenomenon where unscrupulous companies buy hour long television segments and present you with the opportunity to buy products so low in quality that even the large chain stores like Wal-Mart won't waste shelf space on them.  There's nothing quite as cheesy, nothing quite as infuriating, nothing quite as...worthy of death by the over-consumption of broccoli...as having some stupid punk wasting your valuable couch potato time trying to trick you into sending him money.  There must be some sort of kit you can buy to help you produce one of these "infomercials" because they all contain the same elements.

First, you have to have some sort of stake in a company that has produced a product of absolutely no use to the general public...a product so ridiculous, so low-grade, so unworthy of the time spent creating it that your entire marketing plan has to be based around people accidentally buying your product.  No primate with any sort of brainwave activity at all would knowingly purchase what you're selling, so what you're counting on is that the people who've stayed up late enough to see your commercial are sleep deprived enough to mistakenly dial the number on the screen thinking they're paying the cable bill.  You'll then change the name of your company so that 4-6 weeks later, when the "Dance-O-Lot Cactus" arrives, they won't be able to track you down and try to return it. 

"Yes, this is Gimmick International, how may I help you today sir?" 

"Uhh yeah...somehow you guys got the impression that I wanted to buy one of these cactus things and somehow you got me to call you and give you my credit card number...not sure what happened, but I definitely do not want this thing."

"Well sir, did you know that your 'Dance-O-Lot Cactus' sings 'Love Me Tender' when the voice activation system hears anyone in the room?  It's funny and ironic because you can't tenderly love a cactus...you know, because of all the sharp needles on it.  Most people really love that feature!"

"Uhh yeah...I'm not interested and would like to return it."

"Have you tried 'feeding' it some coins?  It burps and farts when you do...very popular with the kids sir."

"Uhh...listen...I hate this freaking thing and am fighting the urge to smash it to pieces.  I want to send it back, how do I do that?"

"Sir this particular unit has an easily removable 'butt cork' that allows quick access to any money you may have stored in the unit.  Have you tried removing and replacing the cork?  It's very efficient!  I don't love my son very much and so I got him one of these for Christmas last year...he's saved up enough pennies to put a down payment on a bag of tropical Skittles.  We're very excited sir!"

"I WANT MY FREAKING MONEY BACK NOW LADY!  I'M NOT KEEPING THIS THING!  IT SUCKS AND YOU SHOULD BE SMASHED OVER THE HEAD WITH A SLEEPING BAG FULL OF HORNETS FOR SELLING IT TO ME!"

"Please hold sir while I transfer your call..." 

And they never come back to your call, and when you call back the number is no longer in service and the company no longer exists and you are stuck with your very own 'Dance-O-Lot Cactus' forever. 

The key to selling any product is to try to convince people that their lives will be better if they own it, and this is where the out of work actors come into play.  Their job is to act as though purchasing the "Dance-O-Lot Cactus" means ending the search for meaning and happiness in life.  This simple cactus, with it's witty sayings and easily removable butt cork, has managed to do for these people what religion, family, money, fame, fortune, etc. could not do - bring joy to their lives and smiles to their miserable faces.  "Life sucks.  Purchase a 'Dance-O-Lot Cactus' and everything will be alright."  Flash to some guy sitting in his trailer next to a stuffed racoon and a half-empty can of hot beer - "Since I got this here cactus, my whole life changed.  Now everyone loves me, and at nights me and all my friends 'n family come over to the trailer and gather 'round this thing and just laugh and laugh.  Seein' this thing dance heals my soul...and my hemmorhoids don't burn nearly as much!"  Flash to some scantily-clad bleached blonde - "'Dance-O-Lot' has brought the romance back into our marriage...and Vince has finally agreed to go see a counselor once he gets out of jail!"  Flash to some extremely happy kids playing 'CandyLand' with the cactus.  Flash to some grandpa using the cactus as a place to store his dentures overnight.  Flash to a scene of the signing of a worldwide peace treaty between all nations and the "Dance-O-Lot Cactus" sitting in the middle of the table, somehow responsible for it all.  "Yes folks, eternal bliss with every purchase guaranteed or your money back!"  How do these smokeblowers sleep at night?              

Despite all the cheesy acting and utter uselessness of the product being sold, there will inevitably be some absolute void who'll be interested in purchasing a "Dance-O-Lot Cactus."  This is where they, while struggling to withhold laughter and the urge to mock you for your bad decision making abilities, have to tell you how much it costs.  At this point, they figure if you're stupid enough or incapacitated enough to want to buy the product, you'll also suck at math.  Thus the "3 sets of 4 payments of the coefficient of $19.99 squared"...because everything has to sound like it costs 19.99.  I'm guessing they surveyed stupid people and found that this was the monetary breaking point, so no matter what it actually costs they have to come up with a way to make it cost "$19.99".  Then they have another challenge to face - the desire that most people will have to return the product.  What they do to counter this is to throw in a bunch of other stuff that's even more useless than the original product, but which is hard to pack up and send back to them.  So not only do you get the "Dance-O-Lot Cactus", but you also get a 32-piece set of black market knock-off Tupperware that comes in strange shapes and sizes so you can, for example, store a single tomato slice for up to 3 weeks!  We all know how beneficial storing vegetables by the slice can be!   Plus, you get the "Demolecularizer 3000" - a plastic knife that uses sound waves to break down foods you're wanting to slice.  It contains scientific technology that even the government hasn't figured out yet, but which this fly-by-night company can afford to freely give away to anyone that buys a "Dance-O-Lot Cactus."  The bottom line is, you'll never get this stuff all packed up and ready to ship via UPS in time to get your money back.  Pretty brilliant strategy for such idiots...if only they spent their time working on better stuff to sell rather than scamming us all, they might not contribute to the lowering of the national IQ as much.

What's so troubling here is that people are buying stuff like this.  You know they are, or there wouldn't be so many hours of TV dedicated to this mule dump.  I didn't have much faith in humanity before, but this is really starting to worry me.  I guess this explains the popularity of things like country music, 'So You Think You Can Dance' and pickle flavored potato chips.

For a limited time, you can receive a printed copy of this blog for only 5 small payments of the square root of 789!  Well, that plus shipping and handling...and I'll throw in a picture of me typing it up at the computer in my boxer shorts and a top hat at no extra charge!  Supplies are limited, so act now before I run out of that printer paper I confiscated from work....

A moist butt?

My "home-girl" Alli wrote a blog about her recent shopping trip and it got me thinking about something... 

I actually saw a commercial the other day for toilet paper that actually has moisturizers right in the paper!  That's right...you can buy toilet paper now that will moisturize your butt during the wiping process.  Don't ever tell me America isn't the greatest country in the world, because when you can buy products to make your butt more luxurious you've really got something special in terms of a prosperous society.  If you live in a country where you can devote time and resources to having a better butt, you pretty much have it made.  You know you're doing well when you have time to ask yourself, "Is my butt getting the vitamins and minerals it needs to maintain a young, healthy look?"

Anyway, this got me thinking...am I supposed to be moisturizing my butt?  Is there an expectation that the skin of my butt will be silky smooth?  I have to admit that I have not, up to this point, spent a lot of time caring of my butt.  Nobody told me it was supposed to be a pleasure to behold...I had no idea there was this entire cultural push for butts to be pampered and maintained.  I always thought of the butt as a necessary evil.  You'd use it to sit on, and to do something else that's not really that great to think about or talk about, and that's about it.  I'm not all that big on hanging out down there, so the notion that I'm supposed to be "fixing it up" never occurred to me.  I understand wanting smooth, soft hands and faces and stuff like that...but my butt?  

By encouraging people to maintain their butts, are we encouraging people to grope one another?  I mean, if I decide to ignore the pressure to primp my tush and don't moisturize it, who'd ever know?  Is someone going to try to check me out on this?  (And yes, Regina and Alli...I do have a butt.  I already know what you're thinking and we don't need to go over this again...I know I've got a tiny tush and I can just picture the two of you chuckling your heads off going "Jeremy has such a little butt!")  Besides the admiration and approval of your peers, what else would having a well-moisturized butt get you?  Easier removal of your pants?  More enjoyable times going down water slides?  Better dance moves?  I guess I just don't understand - who would want this and why? (Please note that this is a rhetorical question...if you moisturize your butt, I don't want to know about it.  Just keep your greasy cheeks off my couch.)

I don't care what "everyone else" is doing...I'm not going to moisturize my butt and that's final!  If you don't like it, don't grab it!

"Tired of having a dry, cracked butt?  Try Gold Bond medicated butt rub and you'll have a smooth, touchable butt in less than two weeks!  Don't get caught with chapped cheeks - get Gold Bond and get moisturized!"

I hate the airport

First of all, Id like to send out a big "Thank you!" to all of the terrorist scumbags who have made air travel a nightmare for the rest of us.  You losers need to stop breathing our air and go to your blatantly fake, obviously-drummed-up-to-get-people-to-blow-themselves-up, "40 virgins chick paradise" that's reserved for the eternally gullible and easily duped.

Thanks to you, I can't take toothpaste with me on the trip.  Yes, that's right, my TOOTHPASTE got confiscated by security because there was more than 3.4 ounces of it in the container.  Apparently, there are concerns that scurrilous fellows like myself might try to forcibly whiten the pilot's teeth and reduce his cavity count, and therefore we can only bring "travel size" toiletries on the plane.  Please note that when you hear the term "travel size", what you are talking about is a tube of toothpaste the size of a hypodermic needle that's only good for one or two uses. 

Thanks to you, I can't go to the bathroom without taking all my bags with me.  Even though my bags were thoroughly scanned and all the felonious toothpaste removed, there still might be bombs in there.  So now, when I need to use the bathroom, I have to carry all my stuff with me...and let me tell you, that's a real joy.  Please don't bother to add shelves or anything to the bathroom...I'll just put my bags on the dirty, smelly, urine-soaked floor in there...no problem.  

Speaking of airport restrooms...have those places ever seen a single drop of disinfectant or cleaning solution?  It's never a good sign when you can skate from stall to stall in your dress shoes on a layer of "something" that's manifested itself on the floor.  Nice smell too...but hey, if you're worried that sitting down on a toilet seat amidst such filth and decay might jeopardize your health, you can always use one of those paper toilet seat covers and that will make everything alright.  My only question is, why do they have the water pressure jacked up so high on those toilets that it sends water spewing 3 feet above the rim?  Nothing feels quite as refreshing as being splashed by water from an overused airport toilet!  Between the thin layer of paper and the butt washing, you should feel fresh as a daisy when you walk out of there!      

What I love is how cheap airlines have become these days.  You used to get a meal if you flew at lunch or dinner time, and even though it was one of the lowest quality meals you can legally serve without the FDA shutting you down, you'd at least have the choice.  Now they don't offer those meals, which is amazing considering how little they are saving by doing this (because you know those meals didn't cost more than $1 each).  You used to get a toy if you were a kid...those little jets or a plastic set of pilot's wings...but not anymore.  They stopped making kids flights more enjoyable to save the 3 cents per kid it was costing them to give those out.  But the worst was when they started serving pretzels instead of peanuts.  This was a truly disgusting show of greed and depravity on their part.  Pretzels are the suckiest, most boring, most butt-tacular snack ever invented (well, besides vegetable trays...freaking broccoli or carrots for a snack...no way to disappoint a kid more than offering them something like that) and the airlines just offer them knowing half the folks won't take them.  When they served peanuts, old people would be like, "Ehhh...could I have a few bags so I can give them to my grandkids?  There parents make them eat vegetables for snack time" and they'd walk out with a few sacks of them.  Now, no one is requesting extras...and no one wants the one bag they're entitled to.     

I guess what I'm trying to say is that air travel sucks and I hate it.  But I'm guessing you figured that out by now...

"I'm sorry to have to do this sir, but I'm going to have to confiscate this jar of peanuts.  You might try to hand these out to other passengers who refuse to eat pretzels and this is strictly prohibited.  If you'd like, I can take three of the peanuts out and put them in a paper cup, thus making it a 'travel size' version that you could take with you."

Tagged?

I've seen in a few people's blogs that I've been "tagged", which I think I finally figured out means I'm supposed to put down seven random things about myself that no one knows or something.

Now I usually don't participate in these sorts of "tests" or whatever...because I'm not in high school anymore and don't like taking a pop quiz every other day to find out what kind of bodily function I most resemble (and NO, I don't want you to guess at it either...and I KNOW what most of you are thinking right now...). However, since I saw a few folks "tag" me, I'll bend my own rule just this once and put down some things about me that are, uh...unique. 

1. I obsess over smelling bad and having bad breath. In my opinion, the worst thing I could learn about myself is that I've been stinking up the joint and not even realizing it.  I can't imagine having that much of a lack of self-awareness, but then I see so many people who do and I freak out wondering if I'm like them.  I try to always have breath mints with me, and will take several showers a day if possible to make sure I don't reek and don't have "the butt breath".  The downside - my teeth will be completely rotted out within another year or two from the constant sucking on "Altoids."  This will finally complete my transformation into a grumpy old man, so it won't be such a bad thing. 
   
   
2. Remember that show "Saved By The Bell?"  Well, I used to watch it...and yes, I know how sad and pathetic this is.  I fell into a common trap - my sister used to watch it regularly, and I thought the show was so freaking stupid that I used to make fun of it every chance I could get.  How I longed to beat the ever-loving crap out of "Zach Morris", because if ever a kid needed a good beating it was him.  My hatred for the show became a religion to me, and my heavenly calling in life was to tear it down every time the opportunity presented itself.  In the process, it attached itself to me like mold on a bagel (note to self - next quiz should be "What kind of bagel are you?") and I started sort of liking it.  Well, it wasn't that I liked it, but if I was bored I'd watch it while munching on "Popcorn Cheerios" (my secret snack recipe).  I completely understand if you lose all respect for me over this admission - it's what I would do.
   
   
3. I observe everything...and people most of all.  It's fascinating to me to watch people, because you can glean so much about them from what they do and how they react to things.  If you are in the room with me, then yes...I saw what you just did.  I'm not a stalker or anything though...I don't have binoculars or any scraps of your clothing that I hug and smell all the time.  Besides, I don't think you can officially be called a "stalker" until a strategically placed dead animal comes into play.
   
   
4. Every morning, when I am in the shower, I pretend I'm on a radio talk show debating someone over some issue.  I'll pick a topic and pretend someone is interviewing me and another guest who holds a different viewpoint.  It's not just me talking either, because I'll actually throw pauses in there to let the other person respond to what I've said, and then I'll proceed to shred that argument to pieces.  My wife always tells me that I'm very quick with responses to just about any question you ask me and that I must be "quick on my fee" (which is also true), but what I tell her is that there isn't any subject you'll bring up that I haven't already debated several times in my head.  I'll also do this when driving, and I'll "wake up" and realize I'm in the parking lot at work.  It's difficult living with such a large, active brain...but I manage. 
   
   
5. I'm afraid of being bitten/stung/poisoned by bugs.  Seriously, it's completely BOGUS that something the size of a penny can inflict serious pain on a creature of my size, but it's God's call and he made it so, and my job is to live with it.  It's a stupid fear, because for the most part we're just talking about a little pain...and yet if a bee or a spider gets in my car, I'll just about wreck trying to get pulled over and get out of my car...and I won't get back in until I see the dead body of the bug.  This coming from a guy who was going to be a police officer at one time!  Bullets are ok, but a wasp sting is out of the question.
   
   
6. I always fold the waistband of my underwear over one time so that the elastic part is not actually touching my waist.  It leaves those little indentions on you and sometimes presses into your skin, so I fold it over one time and have the cotton part there instead.  I wear boxers so real estate down there is not an issue, as this strategy would not be possible if you wear "nut grabbers" (i.e. the old white underwear, "whitey-tighties", whatever)
   
   
7. Sometimes I'll look at my reflection in glass, in a room that's dimly lit, and I'll sort of scowl and pretend I'm posing for a movie poster or an album cover.  It'll be dark and you'll only really be able to see like half of my face, and my eyes will be all serious and I'll have this intense look on my face...and I'll hear the movie voice guy in my head going "A man can only take so much...before going...OVER THE EDGE" ("Over The Edge" would be the movie title, and it would be about me going nuts on some scumbags who did something really, really bad...and I'd be like, all out for revenge ninja-style)  I can make a good serious looking eyes face...I'll probably make that my new profile pic one day.

Ok, this is my first and last quiz participation...so don't "tag" me anymore!  All this sharing is making me feel like a weeny!  I mean, I just told you all that I liked "Saved by the Bell" - proof that NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS WHEN YOU SHARE!  Emotions are like Peanut M&Ms...not meant to be shared with anyone else.  Keep 'em bottled up inside of you is what I always say.  That's where they belong!