I'm Back!...

Boy, it sure is fucking great to be back at fucking work, especially after driving in the fucking dark.

Megan and I had a wonderful time over the freakishly warm weekend. She even helped me come up with a new, more appropriate name for my cat. I may post about it and I may not. You just never know.

I will now open up the floor to questions. And Big Orange, let's keep 'em clean, alright?

This Time I Mean It...

It was too hard staying away from you all, but this time I'm serious. I will be incommunicado until Tuesday or Wednesday. I'll be sure to have some goodies for you then. The following is in response to a request by our good buddy, Echo.

Vagina!

Duvet Covers...

As I mentioned HERE a long, long time ago, they've added a Bed Bath & Beyond store here in Petoskey. At the time I decried its existence and, in general, the buying of shit you don't really need. Well, circumstances have changed and I decided there might be a few things I now need to go along with my sparklingly clean house (and new girlfriend). As someone who works in architecture, you'd think I'd be up on interior design terms. Turns out, I'm not.

I have a plain down comforter that is covered by what I have always called a "comforter cover". I didn't see anything in the store labeled as such and, as my fellow men will attest, you NEVER ask for assistance. I did notice things called "duvet covers". Megan later explained that this was indeed what I was looking for (I've had the same one now for a long-ass time). She thought my lack of knowledge was cute, even though I was wondering what had become of my life now that I was shopping for duvet covers. She informed me that it's not the type of thing most men buy.

But why? Surely there are plenty of single men out there that, at some point, have to buy such things. Was there something that could be done to get these men excited about making such a purchase? Some way, perhaps, to make the experience less emasculating? I think I know how: Make duvet covers men will want to buy. With the help of my 3-D modelling program, I was able to mock up a duvet cover I think most single men might appreciate. I mean, what guy wouldn't want to fall asleep under a blanket of delicious barbecue ribs?


Or, as Flannery suggests, sizzling bacon?

I think there is an untapped market out there. Just think of the possibilities! The variations are only limited by our imagination.

I Find It Hard To Believe...

...that THIS GUY would actually commit perjury and obstruction of justice.

Of course, there was always something a little suspicious about him. Notice that if he takes off his glasses, he has no eyes. That's fucked up.

*Total time spent on this post=2.5 minutes.

Two-Minute Post...

OK, I have a few seconds here to do a post. It's gonna suck. I'm warning you.

I always find it amusing when people call them "hamburgs".

See, was that lame or what!?

I'm Sorry...

I have sinned...

Well, not exactly, but I'm not going to be able to post much new stuff for the next few days. I apologize. Just way too much shit going down at work at the moment. I'll be back soon and will be blogging and commenting with a vengeance - I promise!

Some Guy Hires A Cleaning Lady...

Although, I'm pretty sure she doesn't look like this anywhere but in my head.

Yes, for the very first time in my life I am having my house professionally cleaned. I'm not sure what to expect, since I called some random outfit out of the phone book. You see, I'm having a special houseguest this coming weekend and I need everything ship-shape. A few things will determine just how thorough the cleaning was. They include:

• The absence of any and all stray kitty-litter granules. I'd be overjoyed if the cat hair was completely purged, but I'm not holding my breath.
  
• No signs of dried toothpaste spittle on my medicine cabinet. I'm like a damn jackhammer when I brush.
• The rotating plate in my microwave is gunk-free.
• The crumb tray in the toaster is empty. Bonus points if it's been polished.
• The water stains on the acoustical-tile ceiling (from the previous owner) have been bleached away. This one is beyond a long shot.
• The dust rags in my linen closet have been dusted.
• The water in my seven-foot bong has been changed.

(Just kidding. I don't have any dust rags.)

Northern Michigan In The News...

Yesterday, the police found 37-year-old Stephen Grant in Wilderness State Park, up in my neck of the woods (literally). The Friday before, police had found his wife's torso in their suburban Detroit home. I saw this story on CNN and you can read about it HERE. I am absolutely THRILLED about the inevitable influx of tourism revenue that will come from our sudden notoriety.

Fish Decoys...

Since Vikki asked and I've been asked before, I wanted to explain fish decoys and how they're used. Pictured above is a trout decoy. The stick is called a "jigging stick" and, unlike this one, can often be intricately carved itself. The decoy is hollowed out on the underside and filled with some sort of weight, either washers or lead or something. This makes the fish neutrally buoyant so that it "swims" like a real fish. Forgive the poor quality of the picture, but here you can see what it looks like:A hole is cut in the ice, much larger than if you were using a line and hook. The fisherperson "swims" the fish around in small circles to attract other fish. He holds the jigging stick (unlike this yahoo in the picture) which is attached to a short line which is attached to the top of the decoy. When other fish come near, they spear them with that trident-looking thing. It is a lot more involved than sitting and watching a line for nibbles.

I have never done this, but I know of it through my involvement with fishcarving. Calling my fish "decoys" is probably misleading. Most of the fish I carve are purely decorative. I've only ever carved one working decoy. For those of you that haven't seen them, there is a link on the side to pictures of my work.

If I Could...

If I could, I would...

• vote someone who wasn't affiliated with any organized religion into office.
• spend a substantial amount of time living in a grass hut on some remote island in the South Pacific.
• try to catch Hannity and O'Reilly making out, film it, and broadcast it via YouTube.
• learn to like mashed potatoes.
• do nothing but carve fish decoys all day for a month or two.
• go on a helicopter skiing trip in British Columbia.
• ask Dick Cheney how we'll know when the "War On Terror" has been won.
• kayak the length of the Mississippi River.
• try hang gliding.
• play raquetball with Marcia Brady.
• get really good at playing an instrument, either the piano or trumpet.
• get that damn dog that lives a block away to stop his infernal barking.
• gather all my blog-pals together for a big, drunken party.
  

The Pinnacle Of Animation Laziness...

The Shmoo

I mean, seriously. All the hardest shit to draw has conveniently been left out. He's got no hair, no nose, no arms or hands, and no toes. He's also monochromatic. I suppose they threw some whiskers on him just so he wouldn't look like a marshmallow with eyes and a mouth.

Memorials Are All Well And Good, But...

I was reading the Talking Points Memo from O'Reilly's show last night. Yes, I know. I'm a glutton for punishment. It's entitled "Honoring Wounded American Veterans". If you can stomach it, read it. It basically deals with O'Reilly trying to drum up support to "fund a memorial in Washington honoring those Americans who have sacrificed their health in defense of this country." The price tag is $40 million.

Now, I can understand how a memorial can be of value. I think something like the Vietnam Memorial has helped many families and veterans with the grieving process. However, in this case we're talking about disabled veterans - people who are still alive and suffering because they don't have all their limbs or they're emotionally traumatized or they're blind. While I would never assume to know the minds of these veterans (maybe they really want a memorial), I question whether this is truly the best way to honor them, especially given what we've learned about what life is like for them after they return.

I think it makes more sense to make sure all the wounded get the care and attention they need (and then a little more) before we build fancy memorials that many of them will, quite frankly, be too poor, as a result of their conditions, to ever visit anyway.

Hell...

Not too long ago, I was out to lunch with my business partner and his friend, a hardcore conservative Catholic. He and I get into heated debates from time to time. Recently, we were talking about religion. I told him I didn't believe in the existence of hell.

"I can PROVE that hell exists," he said.

"Um, no you can't," I replied.

"Sure I can, but I'd have to kill you first," he said, completely serious.

"OK, but please make it quick," I thought to myself.

Now THAT is some stunning logic. Moron.

To Russia, With Love...

Hey, Comrades! What gives? I've noticed that, according to that Clustrmap thing I installed, no one from your country has checked out my blog yet.

Is it because I haven't done enough posts about Borscht or Matryoshka Dolls? If so, I apologize. I'll try to do better.

Is it because my president refers to your leader as "Pootie-poot"? What can I say? He's a jackass.

Maybe it's because Yakov Smirnoff chose Branson, Missouri over the bright lights of Moscow. Hey, I understand. I'd be bitter, too.

The most likely explanation is that you're too busy watching reruns of "Worker & Parasite".

Whatever the reason, I hope you stop by. I promise, no bread lines!

A Question For You...

All my life I have actively absorbed popular culture like a sponge with a strong work ethic. Television, movies, music, sports - you name it - I've taken notice of it. Much of it I've enjoyed. Even more of it has sucked ass. Either way, all of it can be considered popular culture. My question is this:

Is there such a thing as "unpopular culture" and, if so, what is it?

I Didn't Know She Had Glaucoma...

Drew Barrymore and Cameron Diaz enjoy a day of sun, fun, and "jazz cigarettes"..

Random Oscar Cleavage...

I noticed there was not as much cleavage at The Oscars this year, but I was able to scrounge some up. Feel free to guess which cleavage belongs to who if you like, but it's really not necessary.

The Finger...

THIS just came in the mail today. I can't wait to read it!

Dumb Donald...

As long as I'm making references to obscure Fat Albert characters, here's a pic of Dumb Donald.

My brother, sister, and I used to refer to him as "Gum Head".

You might ask why it's important for you to know that.

It's not.

Why Giuliani Can't Win...

I sense there aren't many people who read my blog that plan on voting for Giuliani, but in case you're afraid he has a chance of winning, allow me to allay those fears. He cannot win. It's not because he supports gay rights. It's not because his abortion stance is at odds with most republicans. It's not even because of his checkered marital history.

It's because his name is Rudy.

There can't be a president named Rudy.

Rudy is this guy:

Or this girl:
Of course, he could use his given name, Rudolph, but then people think of this:

Periodicals Of My Youth...

Ranger Rick
It had cool pictures of animals and shit. Well, it didn't have pictures of actual shit. I meant that it had pictures of animals AND OTHER THINGS. You probably figured that out, though.

Highlights For Children
I would only read this while waiting for the dentist. I liked to find out how big of a lame-ass Gallant was in each issue.

Boys' Life
This came free with your Cub Scout membership. I never read any of the articles, but I WAS intrigued by the ads in the back claiming you could build your own hovercraft out of an old vacuum cleaner motor and ride it to school. I bet it was bullshit.

Mad Magazine
I remember laughing my ass off reading this, but I don't dare read one now because I know it would shatter any memory I have of this being funny.

Swank Magazine
What can I say? I blossomed at a young age.

Orco...

You suck, dude.

Ask Dick Cheney...

Few people have proven their prescience better than our Vice President, Dick Cheney. From WMDs to flower-bearing Iraqis to Al Qaeda/Saddam connections, he has been right on the money each and every time. It is clear that a talent like this is wasted on a lowly job like Vice President. His true calling was obviously as an advice columnist. I asked Dick to field a couple questions and he generously obliged:

Dear Dick,
We have a neighbor that continues to let their dog poop on our lawn. We have asked repeatedly that they keep the dog on a leash, or at least out of our yard. Nothing seems to work. We'd like to keep the authorities out of it if we can. What should we do?
Signed,
Confused in Carson City

Dear Confused,
I'm 100% certain that your neighbors actually hate their dog. My intelligence sources tell me the dog has been spreading Rabies all over your town. I would recommend acquiring one of those steel bear traps. You know, the ones with the big jaws. When your snare the dog, drape its corpse over the hood of your neighbor's car. Believe me, they will thank you for it and may even bake you a pie to express their gratitude.
-Dick

Dear Dick,
My boyfriend and I have been together for six years. Everytime I bring up the subject of marriage, he gets really quiet and changes the subject. I'm beginning to think he'll never be ready for that kind of commitment. Should I just be patient?
Signed,
Confused in Corpus Christi

Dear Confused,
Patience is something you can ill afford at this point. Decisive action is needed. You need to get to a sperm bank and get yourself artificially inseminated right away. Pregnancy has a way of motivating cold-footed boyfriends. If this doesn't work, I know some CIA guys who'd be willing to have a chat with him. After some "prodding", I think he'll come to his senses. Once he does, I guarantee with absolute certainty that your life together with your new child will be a bed of roses!
-Dick

If anyone has any other issues they'd like Dick to weigh in on, leave them in the comments.

Something To Look Forward To...

Get this. I asked a past Oscar-nominee that I've been in contact with if they'd be willing to be interviewed for my blog. They said yes.

Feel free to leave your guesses for who it is in the comments.
A hint: You probably don't know who it is.

A Hornet's Nest...

This POST by Tenacious S reminded me of my own extermination story. Before you remind me, yes, this probably violates my pacifist ideals, but I was young(er) and not yet ready to refrain from insecticide.

At the house I grew up in outside Chicago, we had these planter boxes made from salvaged railroad ties in our backyard. I believe this happened after I had graduated college. I was outside, sitting on one of the ties, using a power drill for some reason. I had forgotten that hornets had taken to building nests in one of them - the one I happened to be sitting on. As soon as the drill fired up, I realized my mistake. Apparently hornets aren't too keen on loud noises close to their nests. You've probably seen cartoons where a swarm of bees attacks someone who fucks with them. They form a cloud to pursue the disruptor and sometimes form an arrow or spell out words. In no time, I was running down my driveway like a crazy-person, violently shaking my arms and legs trying to shoo them away. This just made them angrier. They were all over me - under my shirt, in my hair, and on my face. I even felt one on my eye. I got a bunch of stings - enough that I called the hospital to see if I was in any danger. Fortunately, I'd be OK.

Still, I was upset. Who did these fucking hornets think they were? This was MY house. I decided to ignore the instructions on the can of Raid that said to wait until evening when the hornets were asleep. This needed immediate action. So, I went and gathered up some protective gear. I put on long pants (it was about 90 degrees out) and a long-sleeve shirt. I put on work boots and tucked the pants into them. I got a pair of gloves and tucked the sleeves into them. Around my head was a problem. How could I close off any possible way for these buggers to get at exposed skin? My solution: I found a plastic bag and my ski goggles. I punched two eyeholes in the bag and a tiny mouth hole so I could breath. Then, I covered the eyeholes with the goggles. I looked like a complete idiot! With this protection, I felt emboldened to go right up to the nest's entry point and unload the can of Raid. Hornets came pouring out, writhing as they fell to the ground dead. The little neighbor kids laughed at me for taking such extreme measures, but fuck them. I felt vindicated.