Who wants a moustache ride? ¹
Mother of G-d. ²
Is she HOT? ³
Kyle's mom's a bitch and she is a stupid bitch. ⁴
Your mom goes to college. ⁵
You're so money baby and you don't even know it. ⁶
Follow your heart that's what I do. ⁷
America, Fuck Yeah! ⁸
Saaayy CarRamrod ⁹
Hey, careful, man, there's a beverage here! ¹⁰
Smmmmother me in gravy you big dirty man. ¹¹

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I want to meet the man from Nantuckett,
Visit Urugay,
Swim in Lake Titikaka,
And travel to Uranus.

I'll always let you know that your epidermis is showing,
See a cow and yell "moo",
Try to get the big rig driver to honk at me and
Order French fries at even the nicest of restaurants.

I'll always chuckle at the words "hard", "bulbous", and "cheeks",
Encourage my  friends to join the Pen 15 Club,
Refuse to eat choclate pudding and carrots for similar reasons,
And mix all the soda's together at the convenience store.

I'll always laugh at  boys named  Dick and Peter,
Call every lil boy I meet buddy, champ, chief, or sport,
Snicker at people that masticate their food,
And marvel at G-d's infinite sense of humor when I see a standard poodle.

I love finding the fun and looking for the funny.
I love it so much that I will marry it.

Helen Phoenix

She smiles like desert snow in July.
Her hazel eyes shine a reflection to the world.
She's always the same.
No joy.
No happiness.
No tears of pain.
Melancholy ambivalence and a nonchalant yawn.
She exudes grey.
No aura emanates from her pristine figure.
Her angelic face radiates no color.
Hers is a dangerous beauty - beauty of beauty.
Empty and hollowed.
Unfulfilled as a fabric rose.
A fading rainbow.
She is a star burning.
Listlessly spiraling in a quiet flame.
A supernova.
Ashes that will not rise.
She is meeting her destiny.
The place where her exterior and self  converge.
Finally revealing the blackhole she's always been.
And still, she won't care.

We all begin life as Woman.

XX chromosomes.

The introduction of a Y chromosome

makes some of us Male.

Woman is the default gender.

Woman is the starting point of life.

But if we all start life as Woman

and this is the reason why as a male

my X chromosome gives me two functionless nipples

then I truly wonder:

Did Adam,

Original Man,

First human being,

have nipples?

And if Eve,

Mother of Life,

First Woman,

was formed of Adam's rib,

then did  Eve's birth

somehow give Adam his nipples?

Either way,

The Bible hasn't cleared this up for me.

And I'm still stuck

With an X Chromosome

And two non-functioning nipples

inexpicably lying upon my chest.

People wonder why bad things happen to good people.
Where is the justice they'll ask?
I don't know and really I'm not too concerned.
You see,  I'm not really a 'good person'.
I guess I'm more of an 'okay' person and so far in my life I've never really had anything bad happen. 
Nothing too bad really.  The only negatives would be how often annoying things happen. 
So really I want to know why do annoying things happen to 'okay' people? 

For instance:

Why does my soda blow up on me dousing with me foam?

Why do all the dogs in my neighborhood find my yard to be the most appealing bathroom spot?

Why do solicitors call me Saturday night? 

(No.  I still don't want term life insurance.)

Why do Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons and Avon ladies think I might ever be the least bit interested?

Why do old people's houses smell like that? You know like mothballs.  I hate that smell.  Why can't they use pine sol scented mothballs & for that matter why do they need to use mothballs at all?  FUCK!

Why did 'Arrested Development' get canceled?  Funniest show of all time!

So basically, I'm sick and tired of being annoyed.
I guess if being  a 'good' person means a promise of cancer/AIDS/premature death/etc.   and being an 'okay' person  means a life of  senior citizens driving 45 on the freeway, then I'm ready for something new.

I'm off to burn down an orphanage.   I think on my way back  I'll stop by Circle K, rob the clerk, grab a 40 and a roll of lottery tickets.

I'll go home and wait to check out the winning jackpot numbers. 

I don't think there is any way I can lose.

I love America & capitalism. 

I love to point out only half-jokingly the reason "the terrorists" hate America.

It's not ideology, infidels, or whatever.

Basically, it's about QT.  The "terrorists" wish they had the ability to choose from a selection of 40 sodas and mixers.  52ozs of Diet Mtn Dew mixed with Frozen orange cream is freedom in my mind.  The terrorists hate us b/c they only got one thing to drink : (Pause)

 It's called Haterade ,it's the non-alcoholic and they got it all on tap. 

But, yeah it's not just QT .  It's Costco.  C'mon with its  samples, liberal return policies and 1.50 foot long  hot dogs.  G-d bless Costco and G-d Bless America!

So getting away from commercialism for a second, there are so many other seemingly small things in life that are awesome. 

Seriously. (Pause)  Some things I find awesome in no particular order or listing of importance  are:

Little kids in tuxedos,

Water balloon fights,

Grenadine based beverages ( Pause) you know shirley temples, roy rogers etc)

Free refills,

Good looking girls wearing wife beaters,

Popping packing bubbles,

Getting blackjack.

I love all this stuff and I love the internet too!

Yeah. I love the internet! And it's got nothing to do with porn.

 Believe it or not there are non-porn related sites on the internet.   (pause)

Yeah it came as a surprise to me as well.

I spend so many of my waking hours surfing the internet looking  through facebook, theonion, the drudgereport, and wikipedia.   (pause)

I really love wikipedia.  I don't really know how we knew the answers to the most random things in life before wikipedia.  I do know that I am thankful everyday for all I've learned browsing wikipedia.

Did you know for instance

That Ice-t's real name is Tracy Marrow?

That penny farthings are the names for those old humoungous bicycles with the big wheel in the front.

That Angola is in Africa and not S. America?

That I share a birthday w/ Vladimir Putin, John Mellencamp, Yo Yo Ma and Toni Braxton. We were all born October 7.

That cleveland steamers, soggy biskets, passing the cracker, rusty trombones and donkey punches aren't nearly as innocuous as they sound.  Not even close.

That birds fly in flocks, wolves travel in packs, and porcupines move in prickles.  I'm totally serious prickles.  Also sadly porcupine meat is enjoyed in some reginos of Italy and Vietnam.

Thank you wikipedia, and ouropenmic for enriching the internet and my life as well.

And thank you all for listening to me, or at least pretending to.

I live next door to a group home that houses 5 developmentally challenged young men. 

I stopped over there this morning with a fruit basket, two boxes of Thin Mint girl scout cookies and a bottle of Jack Daniels. 

I could hear noise coming from inside the home, but after ringing the doorbell twice  I decided to go around to the backyard to see if I could find any one.

Walking in to the yard, Bryan, one of the home's caretakers was leading the guys in some early morning calisthenics. 

"Hey guys," I said, " Just wanted to stop by and bring some snacks to help celebrate Autism Awareness Day.  Happy Autism Awareness Day everybody!"

Nothing.  No response from any of them.  No one even looked in my direction.

Joseph, one of the men living in the house, started loudly singing the opening song to "The Jeffersons". 

Bryan obviously realizing that he was about to lose control of the exercise class turned in my direction and said "Yeah. Thanks a lot for bringing the snacks over.  They'll definitely enjoy them during movie night.  Would you mind just putting them down on the patio table so I can take them in after  class? Oh yeah and Happy Autism Day!"

Leaving their house withJoseph now screaming "WE FINALLY GOT A PIECE OF THE PIE!!!",  I couldn't help feeling  dejected.  None of these guys were even aware that today was a day to party.

Did you get your tickets yet? 

To what?

The gun show of course. 

As you can see I don't wear sleeves anymore.

My biceps are just too monstrous.

Monsters.

Semis.

Boulders.

Stallions.

Jackhammers.

Samurais. 

 Kegs.

Monoliths.

Widowmakers.

These are just a few of the names people have used to describe my guns.

I  prefer pythons. 

Or  cannons. 

Or bazookas. 

Or dirigibles. 

Or Missles.

Or Bengalese tigers.

You want a piece of me?
Step off or
I will break you.

I'm hitting the gym 7X a week.

Curl.

Lift.

Flex.

Pose.

Repeat.

Which way is the beach?

Let me show you while I flex my guns.

Check me out. 

I'm cracking walnuts with my arms.

I'm Curling volksenwagen beetles.

My guns are mountains of muscly, sinewy striations of perfection.

So are you  going to give my arms a Squeeze or

am I going to have to give you a squeeze?

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

I reach over to my nightstand and grab the side of my phone to silence this most awful sound.  Back under my blanket, warm and comfortable I drift off again.

"Come sail away. Come sail away. Come sail away with me. Come sail away. Come sail away with me."

Now somewhere between sleep and waking, Styx has invaded my consciousness.  Opening my eyes a little I see that it is 6:48.  I silence Styx with the snooze and am asleep as soon as I shut my eyes.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

My phone is letting me know it's time to get up.  Snooze.

"It's 7:15 on this beautiful Thursday morning.  You just heard Queen doing "We are the Champions".  Coming up we got "Dream On" by Aerosmith and -..."
I click the switch on the radio alarm from "on" to "off".  Rolling out of bed I have 45 minutes to get to my desk at work.

G: Hey!  I'm Krystal.  I'm 24 and a female.

 A: [Phew. Thanks for clearing that up.  I know lots of dudes named Krystal]

G: Are there any good guys left out there?

A: [Yes, however  we tend not to go looking for  women on craigslist personals]

G:  My friends and family are the most important people in my life!

A: [Weird.!? Complete strangers, jailed convicts, and Hollywood actors are the most important people in my life]

G: I just wanna find my soul mate. 

 A: [Yep. My grandparents have been married 65 years, and they also met on craigslist]

G: I'm voluptuous,

A: [You're FAT. Remember you posted your picture? I can see what you look like. Marilyn Monroe was voluptuos.  You're fat!!! ] 

G:  funny,

 A: [C'mom were not talking about  your looks?]

G: opinionated and the loudest person you'll ever meet! LOL!

A: [Every guys dream.  A fat, obnoxious, ugly yenta]

G: I love having FUN!

A: [crazy! cuz I HATE  fun]

G: I love fine dining, traveling, and shopping!!!

A:  [As long I'm paying?]

G: I love animals and have a dog named Brownie.

A:  [...and a dog named Champ,  two cats, an iguana, and a rabbit]

G: I'm looking for a guy who is funny

A: [rich],

G:  smart

A: [good-looking],

G: and close with his family

A: [rich].  

G: You should be goal-orientated

A: [rich]

G: and in good shape

A: [physically fit and rich]. 

G:  Looks aren't all that important to me

A: [as long as you're rich]

G  cuz the most important thing is what's on the inside

A:  [of my wallet?]

G: So, if you like what you see send me an IM. My screen name is GucciGoldigger1


 

This morning's news has truly made me feel like crap.  CNN, Foxnews, NYtimes,  reading article after article, and I want to vomit.  All these horrible stories that don't directly impact my life but which I am allowing to put me in this bad mood.  Just when I feel the worst about online news, I come across an article on Yahoo entitled: "Marathon hopeful, 101-year-old , training hard". After reading this article I am feeling a lot better about everything.  Hope you all enjoy.  Thank you Buster Martin and keep running.

101-year-old Buster Martin.
LONDON - Already Britain's oldest employee, 101-year-old Buster Martin now aims to become the world's oldest marathon runner by completing the London Marathon and celebrating with a pint of beer and a cigarette.

Sprightly and bearded, he completed a half marathon at the weekend in five hours 13 minutes. The former Army physical training instructor works three days a week for a London plumbing firm and says he has trained for the April 13th race in his spare time.

"I've said I'll attempt it," he told Reuters by telephone from his workplace at Pimlico Plumbers. "I haven't said I'll complete it. If I do make it, all the better. I hadn't thought of doing it before but someone asked me and the money goes to charity so why not?"

His sponsorship money will go to the Rhys Daniels Trust, which provides temporary accommodation for families of patients in specialist children's hospitals.

Martin, who had 17 children and returned to work at the age of 99 saying he was bored after two years of retirement, would beat the previous record for world's oldest marathon runner by eight years.

"If I finish, I'll do what I always do and have a pint and a fag," he said. "People ask what is my secret but I haven't got one. They say fags and booze are bad for you-but I'm still here, aren't I?"

http://sports.yahoo.com/top/news?slug=britmarathon030508&prov=reuters&type=lgns

A few times a week on my way to work I'll drive by two little girls waiting  to be picked  up by the schoolbus. 

I have  driven by these two  little girls dozens of times while rushing to work, seeing them but not really seeing them. They have always  just been a part of the backdrop encompassing my daily commute.  But  recently seeing the bigger girl  braiding the hair of the littler caused me to really notice these two for the first time.

I don't know if these two little girls are sisters or not.  I  figure their ages at maybe 9 and 6, but I am not really sure. Truthfully, I realize I'll never know. 

Grown men can't (and shouldn't) stop to talk to little girls.   Not to ask them how old they are.  Not to ask them if they are sisters.  And certainly not to tell them that somehow the sweetness and innocence of seeing the older braiding the hair of the younger stirs within me a bittersweet feeling which conjures up memories of me waiting for my schoolbus years ago.

The days of my childhood.  Little league. Tetherball.  Nintendo.  GI Joes. Waking up as early as I could Saturday morning to watch cartoons.  Birthday parties as important as Christmas.  Surrounded by love.

I see these two little girls and hope they are still innocent and unaware.   Because I know that growing up isn't always easy.  Finding out that Santa isn't real.  Best friends moving away. Pets dying. School bullies.   First loves and  heart breaks.  Learning that our parents aren't perfect and that sometimes no matter how hard we try or no matter how bad we want something we just aren't good enough.  Pretty enough.  Smart enough.

Looking at these two little girls I only hope they are allowed to enjoy the wonders and delights that should be the right of every child.  

Meat is Murder!

Abortion is Murder!

Superstar.

Pornstar.

No war for oil!

Free Tibet!

Free Palestine!

Peace.  Please.

 Coexist.

I brake for antelopes.

In-N-Out Burger.

I don't suffer from insanity. 

I enjoy every minute of it.

Support our troops. 

Bring them home alive!

Si se puede.

Viva, Bush.

Boys are stupid.

Throw rocks at them.

Believe in whirrled peas.

I'll forgive Jane Fonda when the Jews forgive Hitler.

Proud Arizona Democrat.

Support the Troops!

Perform random acts of kindness.

Tool.

Weed/Blowjobs '08.

It wasn't just that there was no soap in the men's bathroom.  It also wasn't just that the coffee was cool and the milk unnervingly warm. And (even though maybe it should have been) it wasn't just that there was bacon and a long black hair in his veggie lover's omelet.  Being a frequent and understanding restaurant patron he could overlook all these things.

But 'Tina' standing at his table arguing with him about the bill was something he could not forgive.

"The omelet comes with onions, tomatoes, and mushrooms.  The peppers are extra."

He looked at her incredulously. "But $1.50 for the pe-". 

"Sir, excuse me," Tina interrupted him.  "But I got a lot of work to do.  I'll get you the manager if you want."

Before he could respond, she had turned her back to him and began walking towards the back of the empty diner.

Now almost seven minutes later she had finally brought him back his credit card.  Staring at the blank 'TIP' line on the credit card receipt, he now faced a true customer's dilemma. 

As a guy that usually tried to tip 20% (and sometimes even more on smaller bills where the service was good), he didn't really know what to tip for bad service like this?  A 10% tip on $9.81? Less than $1.00?  He realized she didn't even deserve this much. 

But then his inner consumer's conscience started with him. "C'mon she makes minimum wage.  She works the night shift at this crappy diner.  Really, how is leaving her $2.00 going to hurt you?"

He started to write '2-' on the blank and stopped.  Why should he reward this bad service with his hard earned money?  Seconds later, he put the pen down and walked out of the restaurant knowing he made the correct decision.

Almost half an hour later, while clearing the table, Tina decided to see what the customer had left for her.  "Over" was written into the "TIP" blank.  Turning the receipt over, she read her tip:

"When using Microsoft Word, holding ''Control' + 'Z' can be used to undo the last operation performed by the user."

Committing this new knowledge to memory, Tina crumpled up the receipt and threw it into the waste basket.  With a frown across her lips, she knew it was the best tip she had gotten all night.

He was standing on his chair bellowing his gospel to everyone and no one.  Ignored by the passerbys he would not be dissuaded:

"Repent sinners! Only through the blood of Christ will you be saved!

 Do not turn from His saving grace!

Sluts! Whores! Fornicating abortionists!  Homosexual pedophiles! Philanders and liars!  Jewish money lenders!  Sinners! Hell is your destination!

Accept Jesus Christ and live eternally!

You worship at the altar of money! Atheism is your creed.  But remember there are no atheists in foxholes! Je-..."

Then she interrupted him:

"Foxholes. Why the fuck would I want to hang out in a foxhole?  So maybe atheists aren't in foxholes because foxholes are full of Christian nuts like you!"

Before he could respond she had already continued on her way.