I Can't Make This Stuff Up
Has there ever been a better porn name than Dick Pound?
How about a porno called "The Righteous Fury of Dick Pound"?
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
On Second Thought...
Hijacked from rebar.vox.com:
I plan on taking some pictures of Scratch in his big humiliating blue cast and posting them. We're getting everyone that drops by to sign it.
End Broadcast Day.
I'll let my wife tell you about it:
Hijacked from rebar.vox.com:
I have a cat. His name is Scratch Fury: Destroyer of Worlds. He is adorable, and looks like this:
If you couldn't tell from the picture, Scratch Fury is a little on the pudgy side. Well, okay, he weighs 17 lbs. But in his defense (and mine!!), he really does have a large kitty frame. With a little extra pudge. He's only a year old, so we'll call it baby fat.
So anyway, Scratch Fury had a urinary tract infection about a month or so ago, and my dear husband took him into the vet and promptly got an ass-raping about how we need to feed Scratch Fury less otherwise we will be voted the Absoute Worst Kitty Parents EVA. So, we've been feeding him less, which has gone over about as well as a sack of dead toads.
Well, on Monday night - the night before my big presentation, for those of you keeping score! - Scratch Fury was full of woe because he could not move the bass amp which had been placed in front of the closet which contains the Rubbermaid bin holding his food. You know, the closet and bin which he has learned to open in order to circumvent our attempts to help him gain a more svelte physique. So Scratch Fury is full of woe, and being the pitiful emo kitty that he is, he decided to bail off of the top shelf of our closet. And land on his elbow. Which he dislocated.
Now, for those of you who have never had a dislocated appendage, it is apparently very painful. Which I gathered from the noises erupting from our dear Mr. Fury. Who, by the way, could not have dislocated his elbow during business hours when normal vet clinics are open, oh, no! The only appropriate time to dislocate an elbow as after 11:30 PM, when we must make a run to the emergency vet clinic, which charges $75 dollars to walk in the door. Where we learn that the highly experienced emergency vet has never seen a cat with a dislocated elbow, much less fixed one before, because wouldn't you know it? it's a RARE CAT INJURY! So Scratch Fury, who by this time is realizing that suicide is never the answer, needs to visit an orthopedic specialist.
So we thank Dr. Emergency Vet and pay her $220 for her time and lack of ability to fix our cat, and Kroy takes Scratch to Dr. Dislocation the next morning. Luckily, Dr. Dislocation is able to fix Scratch, for the bargain price of $740! What a deal! Maybe we should take all of our kitties in to be adjusted!!
Scratch, with his newly fixed elbow, is put into a cast which covers his chest, shoulder, and the entire length of his forearm. Which he is really not thrilled about. The only good part of the deal is that Scratch gets to take a morphine derivative for pain, which at this point, is starting to sound really good to Mommy and Daddy who have now shelled out the better part of a G for our adorable Destroyer of Worlds.
Scratch gets to keep his cast for about a month, and Kroy and I are learning what having a newborn must be like. Scratch is only really calm when he is being held, and has to be hand fed, hand watered, taken to and held up to use the litterbox, wiped afterwards, oh, and watched like a hawk to make sure he doesn't figure out a way to escape his cast. We haven't had much sleep the last couple of nights, and he absolutely can't be left home alone. Our only solace is that while parents of newborns have to deal with this sort of lifestyle for about two decades, we should be home free in another three weeks!!
So that's the latest! I'll post a picture of Scratch with his beautiful blue cast and face full of woe as soon as I get around to it. He really is pathetic.
I plan on taking some pictures of Scratch in his big humiliating blue cast and posting them. We're getting everyone that drops by to sign it.
End Broadcast Day.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Maybe I Used Too Many Monkeys
Up until recently I was under the impression that my nerd songs were pretty good.
The videos are produced by a fan. The real point of this whole thing was to turn you on to Jonathan Coulton. He's quite the talent.
Up until recently I was under the impression that my nerd songs were pretty good.
The videos are produced by a fan. The real point of this whole thing was to turn you on to Jonathan Coulton. He's quite the talent.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Friday, December 08, 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
The Thanksgiving of '06
This one will definitely be one for the books. It's certainly the most memorable I've had. Here's Der Scoopen:
So me and my lovely bride, were driving down to the Heart of Dixie to give some serious thanks. We drive 10 hours because gas is free when you kick as much ass as the Yorks kick. Also we both have a masochistic streak a mile wide.
Anyway, we had just gotten off the interstate and were on the 'home stretch' which represents the last hour or so of driving. It was a lovely day, 70 degrees, cloudless sky. The kind of day that makes you look out the window at the driving snow and reevaluate why you live in the frozen tundra and not with good down home civil folk where snow is little more than a folk tale. So we're driving down this picturesque country highway and there's a truck coming from the other direction, as traffic in the other lane is wont to do. Like many highways that cut through hilly countryside, the road often plowed straight through. A hillside that had been lovingly shifted with the careful use of dynamite to make it more amenable. This truck is now roughly 200 feet in front of us. Suddenly it swerves hard to its right and off the road. Mind you, we're in a cleft hill so the sides of the highway are giant fucking rock walls. The truck smashes nearly head on (as best I could tell) into the rock wall and then proceeded to roll over two or three times.
Rebecca had been on the phone with a friend and shrieked, "We have to call 911," and hung up on the poor bastard. I felt a twinge of guilt in the moment thinking that he probably was afraid we were in some sort of trouble. I had little time to dwell on it though. We pulled over straight away and I ran to the truck. It was on it's side. My deeply embedded dorkmind assessed that this is probably tantamount to what an attack from a dinosaur or werewolf might look like. It was a mass of torn metal, bent and twisted from the rolls. When I got to the scene I could see a man's arms and one leg hanging from the driver side window that had been shattered. When I first saw him, I thought for sure he was dead. For a moment, I just stood there gawking, luckily there were others on the scene that immediately began turning the truck back upright. It took three of us to flip it over and I remember the hands and legs flopping in a sickening way when the truck settled into place. This only cemented in my mind that we were about to pull a corpse out of this truck. The other men and myself pried open the mangled door and pulled the man, in his mid to late fifties, out of the car and laid him on the grass several feet away from the smoking car.
It's a good thing I'm not an EMT because no sooner did we set him down than it was obvious the man was breathing. I remember feeling a rush of relief for this complete stranger who, for all I know, might have been a child molesting nazi teddy bear rapist ¹. Seemingly moments after we cleared him from the car a woman walked up with a calm demeanor about her that spoke of familiarity with this sort of crisis. She named herself a nurse and I dutifully got the fuck out of the way. From the other direction came a man carrying a small orange case. He too had a purposeful but unhurried stride of someone who knew how to handle these situations. I never got his name or his job but I suspect he was an off-duty EMT.
It was about this time that I got a chance to survey the scene around the car. I remember being struck at how much garbage was strewn around the wreck. I don't know if the man kept an overwhelmingly messy car or if that's just normal in car wrecks this bad, like plane crashes. Rebecca was doing much the same, taking in the whole scenario.
Suddenly, she looked me in the eyes and said in a certain tone, "there's a dog, we have to find it." She had noticed a ripped bag of dog food in the truck and come to the conclusion immediately. She looked down the road and started running (an activity that I've witnessed less times than I have fingers on one hand). She ran down the road and I looked ahead of her and noticed a dog about a quarter mile down the road heading away from the site of the wreck. How she spotted this dog from so far away I have no idea. I took off running in the same direction and caught up with the dog and a guy who'd stopped to keep the dog off the highway. The dog was unhurt but visibly very shaken so we walked him back to our car and got him some water. I could tell he was just happy to have a person there that he could count on to take care of him. While we were waiting for any kind of word from the rescue workers he kept burying his head into my chest the same way a child does. Needless to say my latent paternal instincts engaged and I would have kneecapped anyone who actively threatened this puppy on my watch.
As the EMTs were loading the injured man into the ambulance, we started asking questions about what would become of the dog. Strangely they had no idea what would happen. The animal shelter was closed for the holiday and would not reopen until Monday morning. With nowhere to take the dog we volunteered to watch the dog for the weekend.
To keep from this getting to be too lengthy the man's injuries turned out to be none too serious which is quite different from my diagnosis which was Stone Cold Dead. We were able to return the dog to the proper authorities that following Monday morning. Though I have to admit, there was a part of me that had really hoped we could keep him a little longer.
So now the whole house is Jonesing for a dog.
This one will definitely be one for the books. It's certainly the most memorable I've had. Here's Der Scoopen:
So me and my lovely bride, were driving down to the Heart of Dixie to give some serious thanks. We drive 10 hours because gas is free when you kick as much ass as the Yorks kick. Also we both have a masochistic streak a mile wide.
Anyway, we had just gotten off the interstate and were on the 'home stretch' which represents the last hour or so of driving. It was a lovely day, 70 degrees, cloudless sky. The kind of day that makes you look out the window at the driving snow and reevaluate why you live in the frozen tundra and not with good down home civil folk where snow is little more than a folk tale. So we're driving down this picturesque country highway and there's a truck coming from the other direction, as traffic in the other lane is wont to do. Like many highways that cut through hilly countryside, the road often plowed straight through. A hillside that had been lovingly shifted with the careful use of dynamite to make it more amenable. This truck is now roughly 200 feet in front of us. Suddenly it swerves hard to its right and off the road. Mind you, we're in a cleft hill so the sides of the highway are giant fucking rock walls. The truck smashes nearly head on (as best I could tell) into the rock wall and then proceeded to roll over two or three times.
Rebecca had been on the phone with a friend and shrieked, "We have to call 911," and hung up on the poor bastard. I felt a twinge of guilt in the moment thinking that he probably was afraid we were in some sort of trouble. I had little time to dwell on it though. We pulled over straight away and I ran to the truck. It was on it's side. My deeply embedded dorkmind assessed that this is probably tantamount to what an attack from a dinosaur or werewolf might look like. It was a mass of torn metal, bent and twisted from the rolls. When I got to the scene I could see a man's arms and one leg hanging from the driver side window that had been shattered. When I first saw him, I thought for sure he was dead. For a moment, I just stood there gawking, luckily there were others on the scene that immediately began turning the truck back upright. It took three of us to flip it over and I remember the hands and legs flopping in a sickening way when the truck settled into place. This only cemented in my mind that we were about to pull a corpse out of this truck. The other men and myself pried open the mangled door and pulled the man, in his mid to late fifties, out of the car and laid him on the grass several feet away from the smoking car.
It's a good thing I'm not an EMT because no sooner did we set him down than it was obvious the man was breathing. I remember feeling a rush of relief for this complete stranger who, for all I know, might have been a child molesting nazi teddy bear rapist ¹. Seemingly moments after we cleared him from the car a woman walked up with a calm demeanor about her that spoke of familiarity with this sort of crisis. She named herself a nurse and I dutifully got the fuck out of the way. From the other direction came a man carrying a small orange case. He too had a purposeful but unhurried stride of someone who knew how to handle these situations. I never got his name or his job but I suspect he was an off-duty EMT.
It was about this time that I got a chance to survey the scene around the car. I remember being struck at how much garbage was strewn around the wreck. I don't know if the man kept an overwhelmingly messy car or if that's just normal in car wrecks this bad, like plane crashes. Rebecca was doing much the same, taking in the whole scenario.
Suddenly, she looked me in the eyes and said in a certain tone, "there's a dog, we have to find it." She had noticed a ripped bag of dog food in the truck and come to the conclusion immediately. She looked down the road and started running (an activity that I've witnessed less times than I have fingers on one hand). She ran down the road and I looked ahead of her and noticed a dog about a quarter mile down the road heading away from the site of the wreck. How she spotted this dog from so far away I have no idea. I took off running in the same direction and caught up with the dog and a guy who'd stopped to keep the dog off the highway. The dog was unhurt but visibly very shaken so we walked him back to our car and got him some water. I could tell he was just happy to have a person there that he could count on to take care of him. While we were waiting for any kind of word from the rescue workers he kept burying his head into my chest the same way a child does. Needless to say my latent paternal instincts engaged and I would have kneecapped anyone who actively threatened this puppy on my watch.
As the EMTs were loading the injured man into the ambulance, we started asking questions about what would become of the dog. Strangely they had no idea what would happen. The animal shelter was closed for the holiday and would not reopen until Monday morning. With nowhere to take the dog we volunteered to watch the dog for the weekend.
To keep from this getting to be too lengthy the man's injuries turned out to be none too serious which is quite different from my diagnosis which was Stone Cold Dead. We were able to return the dog to the proper authorities that following Monday morning. Though I have to admit, there was a part of me that had really hoped we could keep him a little longer.
So now the whole house is Jonesing for a dog.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Stunned Silence
Life Gems
When you absolutely must compress a chunk of your deceased loved ones into a precious stone to be worn on your person. Accept no substitutes.
Life Gems
When you absolutely must compress a chunk of your deceased loved ones into a precious stone to be worn on your person. Accept no substitutes.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Here Come the Bastards
Ought Six will henceforth be known as the Year of Concerts. I've already seen these guys and my friend's band. Tonight is the main event. Primus. I'm hoping I can touch the hem of Les' robe and then expect to improve as a bassist ten fold.
As if that weren't enough. Next week we're seeing MC Chris, maybe twice.
Ought Six will henceforth be known as the Year of Concerts. I've already seen these guys and my friend's band. Tonight is the main event. Primus. I'm hoping I can touch the hem of Les' robe and then expect to improve as a bassist ten fold.
As if that weren't enough. Next week we're seeing MC Chris, maybe twice.
Friday, November 03, 2006
A Rare Day of Fun in Substitute Teaching
I ripped a phone book in half today. Okay, so it was more like half a phone book. And one of these guys got me started. But still, I got guns like John James Rambo.
I ripped a phone book in half today. Okay, so it was more like half a phone book. And one of these guys got me started. But still, I got guns like John James Rambo.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
I'm as confused as you are
Twice in the same week, I know. The mind boggles.
Several times now I've wanted to share with my millions of reader a band for which I feel quite a bit of affection. Every time I try to write something I can never bring myself to post it because of some dumb reason I manufacture. I've decided it's because the quality of the band and the music is of such pedigree that I feel the need to write something on par with excellence; a task for which I generally consider myself unqualified. So I'm not even going to try:
This is the band. They're called the Drive By Truckers. I went to high school with/played in a garage band with one of the guitarists. They have a new album. It is very good. Finally, there is this song, which is the first song since "Sky Blue and Black" to bring me to tears.
Twice in the same week, I know. The mind boggles.
Several times now I've wanted to share with my millions of reader a band for which I feel quite a bit of affection. Every time I try to write something I can never bring myself to post it because of some dumb reason I manufacture. I've decided it's because the quality of the band and the music is of such pedigree that I feel the need to write something on par with excellence; a task for which I generally consider myself unqualified. So I'm not even going to try:
This is the band. They're called the Drive By Truckers. I went to high school with/played in a garage band with one of the guitarists. They have a new album. It is very good. Finally, there is this song, which is the first song since "Sky Blue and Black" to bring me to tears.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
Screeching Halt
I apologize if you've been checking this space slavering for an update. It just hasn't happened in the last month. I can tell you why but it won't really make any difference. I have started working during the day time hours like a normal person. Generally that's not a huge problem but I'm still working in the evening time hours like a not-normal person. Furthermore, I've been picked up by a roving band of troubadours and they have forced me into actually practicing and rehearsing twice a week.
As if all that wasn't enough, we got cable a few weeks ago.
I think that pretty much sums it up. I will update when I find a time to do that kind of thing but it may be nothing more than a sentence or me bitching and complaining about how I need a foot rub.
I apologize if you've been checking this space slavering for an update. It just hasn't happened in the last month. I can tell you why but it won't really make any difference. I have started working during the day time hours like a normal person. Generally that's not a huge problem but I'm still working in the evening time hours like a not-normal person. Furthermore, I've been picked up by a roving band of troubadours and they have forced me into actually practicing and rehearsing twice a week.
As if all that wasn't enough, we got cable a few weeks ago.
I think that pretty much sums it up. I will update when I find a time to do that kind of thing but it may be nothing more than a sentence or me bitching and complaining about how I need a foot rub.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Humble Folks Without Temptation
Because of my not having cable for the last five years, I've missed out on a lot. One of these things is the progression of South Park beyond about season 4. I remember seeing Timmay's debut and the advent of Butters. But once I moved to South Carolina, the only time I saw the show was on visits to see my parents. Even these had to be carried out in secret because of my parent's stringent religiousity. They actually had the cable company scramble MTV when we first got cable when I was in high school. To this day, Channel 35 comes in like a softcore porn station. You can just barely make out the excited ramblings of Carson Daly and Three Box Matches or whatever it is kids these days are listening to.
Anyway, as in all things, the internet has saved me. I give you South Park Videos. While not entirely comprehensive it definitely covers the bases. It even has the South Park Movie divied up into a 9 part mini-series.
I you haven't been disturbed by cartoon animals in a while I highly recommend the Woodland Critter Christmas episode.
Because of my not having cable for the last five years, I've missed out on a lot. One of these things is the progression of South Park beyond about season 4. I remember seeing Timmay's debut and the advent of Butters. But once I moved to South Carolina, the only time I saw the show was on visits to see my parents. Even these had to be carried out in secret because of my parent's stringent religiousity. They actually had the cable company scramble MTV when we first got cable when I was in high school. To this day, Channel 35 comes in like a softcore porn station. You can just barely make out the excited ramblings of Carson Daly and Three Box Matches or whatever it is kids these days are listening to.
Anyway, as in all things, the internet has saved me. I give you South Park Videos. While not entirely comprehensive it definitely covers the bases. It even has the South Park Movie divied up into a 9 part mini-series.
I you haven't been disturbed by cartoon animals in a while I highly recommend the Woodland Critter Christmas episode.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Opposite Day
Somedays this feels more like a repository for dumb internet videos than a fo' sho' blog but I can live with that. Everyone knows that retarded videos are the cold fusion that drives the internets. So here's this groovy site with videos gigawatts aplenty. I could try to explain it but it's actually much funnier if you don't see the punchline coming. We must bow our heads to Pork, who unconvered this treasure.
Jackhole Pick O' The Litter
Somedays this feels more like a repository for dumb internet videos than a fo' sho' blog but I can live with that. Everyone knows that retarded videos are the cold fusion that drives the internets. So here's this groovy site with videos gigawatts aplenty. I could try to explain it but it's actually much funnier if you don't see the punchline coming. We must bow our heads to Pork, who unconvered this treasure.
Jackhole Pick O' The Litter
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Packed With Fiber
I started a new diet this week. If all goes well I'm going to put all my ideas into a book and sell it for ridiculous amounts of money to all the fat fucks out there that need a leg up on not being a fat fuck. I am calling it the, "Don't Eat So Goddamn Much Initiative." It is related, philosophically, to the "Put the Fucking Twinkie Down" diet. It came to me the other day in a fast food joint which remain nameless. I had ordered some manner of 'combo' meal. While waiting on the food people to finish my fries, a guy came up behind me and they took his order. The man was older than me, he was taller than me, and very likely outweighed. Then something weird happened. He ordered a small chili and a diet soda. That was all. It all came crashing down on me at once. The gravity of just how much we overeat because resturants make us think we need 2 cheeseburgers, a rowboat of fries, and a bucket of tasty beverage. So I figured even if I don't always eat things that are spectacularly good for me, I can ease the damage by eating less of it at least. I'll let you know how the "diet" goes.
I started a new diet this week. If all goes well I'm going to put all my ideas into a book and sell it for ridiculous amounts of money to all the fat fucks out there that need a leg up on not being a fat fuck. I am calling it the, "Don't Eat So Goddamn Much Initiative." It is related, philosophically, to the "Put the Fucking Twinkie Down" diet. It came to me the other day in a fast food joint which remain nameless. I had ordered some manner of 'combo' meal. While waiting on the food people to finish my fries, a guy came up behind me and they took his order. The man was older than me, he was taller than me, and very likely outweighed. Then something weird happened. He ordered a small chili and a diet soda. That was all. It all came crashing down on me at once. The gravity of just how much we overeat because resturants make us think we need 2 cheeseburgers, a rowboat of fries, and a bucket of tasty beverage. So I figured even if I don't always eat things that are spectacularly good for me, I can ease the damage by eating less of it at least. I'll let you know how the "diet" goes.
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