Point scored for the wife who posed for this "fat joke" of sorts... after a minute or so of failing to pose myself in a way that would look like I was breaking the concrete with hulk strength, I said, Oh, you could sit on the end! In my defense, I first said that we needed one of our fat friends to sit there.
She hesitated but in the end, took one for the sake of comedy. Awesome!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
My Dad Sort of Wins Again
Don't drive down Farm Road 91 unless you want to build fence with this old man.
Most people give cops a wide berth. Some people get abused or intimidated by them. My friend Marcus, while moving stuff in his car, has had his boxes of breakfast cereal opened and dumped in the seat by cops who pulled him over looking for drugs, or just to serve him the ol’ humiliation platter. My dad apparently has the ability to turn the tables.
Yesterday he was rebuilding a barbed wire fence along the road, and a cop car drove past. It turned around at a neighbor’s house and came back by. My dad yelled, “Hey!” and the car stopped, backing up.
“Hey, I need your help,” said the farmer-dad. “You know how to build fence?”
“Oh no,” said the cop, “I never did anything like that.”
“Well, you better learn how—you might have to get some cattle in off the road, and then you’ll need to know how to fix a fence."
“Yeah, we do have to get cattle off the road sometimes….”
In the end, the cop did not do any work on the fence. Still, I don’t think this damaged my dad’s long-term goal to eventually Tom Sawyer a member of law enforcement into digging a hole for him or something.
Most people give cops a wide berth. Some people get abused or intimidated by them. My friend Marcus, while moving stuff in his car, has had his boxes of breakfast cereal opened and dumped in the seat by cops who pulled him over looking for drugs, or just to serve him the ol’ humiliation platter. My dad apparently has the ability to turn the tables.
Yesterday he was rebuilding a barbed wire fence along the road, and a cop car drove past. It turned around at a neighbor’s house and came back by. My dad yelled, “Hey!” and the car stopped, backing up.
“Hey, I need your help,” said the farmer-dad. “You know how to build fence?”
“Oh no,” said the cop, “I never did anything like that.”
“Well, you better learn how—you might have to get some cattle in off the road, and then you’ll need to know how to fix a fence."
“Yeah, we do have to get cattle off the road sometimes….”
In the end, the cop did not do any work on the fence. Still, I don’t think this damaged my dad’s long-term goal to eventually Tom Sawyer a member of law enforcement into digging a hole for him or something.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
In the Age of Plenty
Are we living in the golden age of consumer goods? Obviously not until the following products hit the shelves near ME.
• Individually wrapped raisins—They're not far off, considering we now have individually wrapped prunes (Sunsweet ONES). I know cellophane is cheap, so please, by all means, throw the freshness lever into overdrive. I also don't see why the Cheerios have to be touching each other so indiscriminately in one big communal Stale-apalooza. Get them bastards wrapped up private-like so's I can peel open like 300 li'l Cheerio envelopes before every bowl and crush them like brittle Spartans betwixt me teeth.
• BLOGURT—Because when I saw GoGurt, the sleeve-tube of yogurt for people on the go, which you can slurp out like a melted Fla-vor-ice, I thought, "I'm sorry, as yogurt delivery systems go, that's still not lightning fast enough for MY busy lifestyle." I propose BLOGURT, the creamy yogurt in a syringe. If you've ever seen tubes of horse wormer, you know what a treat you're in for. Just push the nozzle to the back of your tongue, depress the plunger and suppress your gag reflex—you just swallowed a cooool blast of yogurt. You'll never use a spoon again. And watch for the hypodermic version, YO-SHOOT-UP, the injectable yogurt that kicks like a mule.
• Full facial shaver—Three blades? Totally weak. Four blades? Just dandy, pantywaist. Five blades? Saw it and yawned. I'm just gonna sit out the rest of this penny-ante bullshit until I get what I want and DEMAND: a full-face mask of pure razorblade performance, custom-fitted to the contours of my face. Just submit a 3-D topographical scan of your face to Schick or whoever has the industrial fortitude to finally do something right for a change. A razor mask arrives by FedEx each morning, vibrating in its Hydro-Cool pack of soothing aloe gel. Just insert your face, pull down one-sixteenth of an inch, draw your eyebrows back on, and you're smooth again for only about 600 bucks per shave. What will we call it? The MegaShave? The Shave in the Iron Mask? The Motherfucking Endgame for Stubble? Clive Barker's Hellrazor?
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Little Means Cute
QUIZ
Why does he wear a stocking cap? In case he falls out of the uterus.
Are sasquatches marsupials? Only the southern varieties.
What's with the wind-up turnkey? For adding mechanical energy.
How long do sasquatches gestate? 44 weeks.
Can a sasquatch mother miscarry? Sadly, yes.
What can I do to help? Stay out of the way.
Why does he wear a stocking cap? In case he falls out of the uterus.
Are sasquatches marsupials? Only the southern varieties.
What's with the wind-up turnkey? For adding mechanical energy.
How long do sasquatches gestate? 44 weeks.
Can a sasquatch mother miscarry? Sadly, yes.
What can I do to help? Stay out of the way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)