Peace Offering

Note: I had written the following post and prepared to post it here whne I realized that it has been over 3 months since I had written anything. Damn. As a blooger, I suck.

It's been a while. I know. I've had a couple of people complain. Life's been hectic, things have happened, but that's all irrelevant. To make up for my absence, I will provide you with one of the funniest things that I have ever seen: The Sound Tech Electronic Doorbell packaging. First, some history.

On my last trip to singapore, there was a mandatory fire drill in the office building. They don't screw around with the fire drills either. Your ass needs to get out of the building, via the stairs, and be accounted for. Understand that this is at least a 60 story building. Since I'm so into physical exertion, I made sure to take plenty of breaks, hoping to be outside already when they declared fire drill. My plan worked and, since it was going to be a while before we were allowed back in the builing, a friend of mine suggested that we go walk around the neary shopping area.

While we were there, he declared that he needed a new doorbell for his house. Since I'm from the US, I figured this meant that we needed a Home Depot or an Ace or something. Instead, he went into the first little electronics shop that he saw and he started haggling over the price of a doorbell. At the end of the haggling, he agreed to a price and the doorbell was his. One glance, and I knew I had to have the packaging.

I present the packaging at the following link (you need to see it full size to appreciate it) and will discuss it below. Enjoy the images.

Front of Package

Back of Package

OK. First of all, lets just start by asking ourselves what the hell the four small pictures have to do with a doorbell in any way shape or form. Let's see. I'm going to say doorbell, which of the following is in the first 10 words that come to your mind?

A. A folded up newspaper

B. A keyboard

C. A Woman smiling at her laptop

D. An old Mac G3 mouse

Answer? None of the above. I'm more likely to say "Naked Midget" before any of those.

Next, "Perfect Life, Incuding in Sound Tech". Huh? What? Are you high? That's some shit a really stoned Yoda would say.

There are so many things wrong with this that it just gets better everytime you read it. "Open the century door. Spread Evernew world." What? Who?

The installation instructions are written as if they were narrated by Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs.

Step 1: Opens back of doorbell, takes out the attachment and loads two AA alkaline batteris (for general battery may leak electrolyte easily), uses the scre to ang it on the wall.Step 2: It puts the lotion in the basket or else it gets the hose again.

Sometimes, it's the simplest things that make you laugh.

Wendy.....I'm Home!

Moving is always an adventure, even if you're just moving across the street. Moving to another part of the country is a fiasco unlike any other. Since it's been awhile (due to said move) that I've written everything, I'll try to make up for it with a bunch of unrelated thigs that have been bouncing around in my head.

Bridges ice over before roads. Did you know that? Apparently not because there's a damn sign before EVERY bridge that warns you of this. How much money are we throwing away pointing out this one rule? Here's an idea: add a fucking line to each states driver's manual that informs people of this. Put it in the same section that covers which direction you're supposed to turn your wheels in a skid. Put it on the driver's test. It has to be cheaper to add that 1 sentence to 50 handbooks than it is to put a sign in front of every bridge (in both directions) in the US.

Another sign that I saw that made me laugh was a warning sign for a "Fallen Rock" area. Not falling rock, that's of no concern, but there may be rocks that have fallen in the road. To me, this sign just points out a lack of highway maintenance. They're willing to put up a sign that says there's rocks in the road, but not willing to actually pick up the rocks. Another one along the same lines is the "Bump Ahead" sign. If there's a bump ahead that we have officially identified, remove the damn thing. Don't contract for a sign to let me know it's there.

Why the hell are grocery stores different in many parts of the US? Moving from California to Illinois and then to North Carolina, I've had to relearn grocery stores each time. Everyplace has Blockbuster. It's not like when I moved from California to Illinois I had to determine what the local equivalent was for Sears. Now I have to figure out Food Lion, Harris Teeter, Bi-Lo, and Bloom? WTF? Where is Safeway...um...or Dominick's.....or...ah crap...I give up.

I love it when a business decides to cover two bases at once, even if those bases are totally different. Two examples: A single point of business that is a Car Dealer/Attorney at Law and one that's labelled as "Car Audio and Fashion". In case you're wondering, "Fashion" does mean clothing, it's not some weird term for something car audio related. I also think it's hilarious when two businesses that are right next to each other either REALLY don't go together, or do in a funny way. The dentist next door to the smoker's outlet comes to mind, but my all-time favorite is in Palatine, IL where there is a Bait Shop next door to a Sushi joint. That's priceless, you can't write shit like that.

Sometimes I feel it is my civic duty to let business know when their advertising is just sending mixed signals. Although this is often countered by my desire to see stupid signs, so I usually keep quiet. On my old route from work, there was a little fried fish place. Now, what they were trying to convey was that they made succelent catfish treats. They made these little balls of breaded catfish meat and deep fried them to a golden brown perfection. Delicious wouldn't you say? However the sign in their window was advertising "Deep Fried Cat Balls". I don't want any part of that.

The chance of you hitting the lottery is pretty slim. When you're driving down the road, they try to get you to forget this and play anyway by putting the current jackpot in huge ass letters on a billboard. Yeah, it may be a 1 in 47 million shot, but there's 128 million dollars at stake, why not take a chance? It's only one measly buck you cheap, desperate bastard. Of course, when the sign malfunctions, it can have the opposite effect. On my drive home one day, the sign that was supposed to read "89 Million" read "-9 Million". The last thing I need is to finally hit the lotto when the jackpot is I give them 9 million dollars. Tricky bastards.

Useless Advice: Don't move heavy furniture in flip-flops. I have the blood spot under my toenail to help prove this tip.

Observation: Sometimes, the simplest way to do something is to do nothing. The house we moved into had wood panelling in the living room. We decided that we weren't 79 years old and on a respirator, so we are sheetrocking it instead. Last night, while sanding, my wife said "Isn't there an easier way to cover walls?" My response? "Wood Panelling."

Unlucky Lotto Numbers for today: All of them but 6.

Horoscope: Moon-Jupiter union in Capricorn. Sanctity of marraige is being challenged.

Rant #1 of 1,294,364.7623

OK....I'm really sick of politicians talking about how we need to "work on the electric car". Kiss my ass. Go to hell. We had electric cars 10 YEARS AGO. I remember them. If you don't, watch the movie "Who Killed the Electric Car".

lived in Monterey at the time and one morning, in our parking lot (the apartment complex I lived in also rented out units for weekends, it was fancy) was a huge truck with three electric cars in them. They were travelling around and showing them off. People had these cars, GM leased them (I think it was done under the Saturn brand). People loved them. And the rat bastards got rid of them. Took them all back when the leases ran out, drove them to the desert and crushed them. There were no problems, no recall issues, nada. They were taken away from people who BEGGED to keep them, offering to pay well over the listed value of the car, just to hold on to them. But no. Piss on that. They took them away and crushed them.

So every politician, CEO, reporter, etc that wants to stand on stage and tell us how we can gain our independence from foreign oil by WORKING on DEVELOPING electric cars can lick rotten rat ass. We had them. They worked 10 god damned years ago. Tell me that they wouldn't have been even more efficient by now. Everyone wringing their hands about oil prices and supply shortages needs to rewind their asses back about 10 years and look at where they were then. People knew this day was coming, and instead of being forward thinking, somewhat aware people, we buried our heads in the sand, wrapped ourselves in our Abercrombie catalogs, doused our souls with Venti nonfat Lattes and produced as many gas sucking SUVs as we could convince the world that they would be helpless without.

In short, we had the answer a decade ago. And we crushed it. The next politician that talks about "Developing Electric Cars" needs to be sodomized with one of these:

Useless Advice Mondays: Moving On Up (Technically Down) Edition

At the end of this month, we pack up the covered wagon and go south to North Carolina to settle in to our new homestead. Since it's coming at us with an unrelenting vengence, I thought I'd share some of the things that I've learned:

1. You're not going to pack ahead of time. Stop lying to yourself. I know that a month ago you were thinking, "We'll start packing early, get everything ready to go, moving will be a breeze." Bullshit. You know damn well that you're going to shove 85% of everything that you own into boxes labelled "Misc". It is inevitable. You'll get to the new place and have 632 boxes labelled "misc" and will be absolutely desperate to find the one with the can opener. This is the moment that the gods laugh at you.

2. They have the same shit there. Trust me. It might have a dumb-ass name, but it's there. When you do a Google map search and are dismayed that there is no "Marathon" gas station, don't worry, they'll have "Triathlon" gas stations that are equally willing to cut out your pancreas in exchange for three gallons of gas and a bottle of water.

3. Buying a house is a nutroll. This is intentional. They string the process out and make things ureasonably difficult so that, when closing time comes, you're willing to give them a check for any insane amount of money and your firstborn just to make the whole thing come to an end. This also reminds me that I need to start up a mortgage brokerage. Any occupation where you can charge someone $400 to apply for some shit is sweet.

4. Regardless of how well you plan, your shit will not fit in the truck that you rented. This is just a fact of life. Truck rental companies advertise that the truck will hold at least one more room than it actually will. This is because these companies are headed by ruthless bridge trolls who thrive on misery and self defeat.

5. When you finish the move, don't bitch about how much of a pain in the ass it was. Nobody wants to hear it. The all know it's a pain in the ass. That's why they stopped talking to you about it 2 weeks before. They didn't want your cheap ass to try and sucker them into helping.

Useless Advice Mondays: Buy Useless Crap!

Skymall is the single greatest product catalog ever. The crap that you find in that thing is absolutely priceless. Next time you fly, check and see if there's a Skymall available for your reading pleasure. If there is, don't pass on this chance to see what kind of senseless shit the retail market thinks you're brain-damaged enough to buy. Here are some of my favorites:

The Stealth Secret Amplifier - Sounds like a bad-ass piece of high-tech machinery doesn't it? Yeah...too bad it's a shitty hearing aid designed to look like a bluetooth headset. The tagline reads "Improve your hearing and enhance your image!" That's right, go from being that guy who's a little hard of hearing to that insufferable prick that always has his god-damned bluetooth headset on. Now, instead of you not being able to hear anyone, nobody will know if you're talking to them! Sweet! Of course what happens when your real cell phone rings and your dumb ass has to take the damn fake bluetooth headset off to talk on your big ass Jitterbug cell phone. Good job shit-for-pants.

The Fold A Weigh Scale - Get it? It's a scale...so it WEIGHS things....but it's portable and folds up for easy transports.....so it folds-a-way......wow. For those people who need to take their Bulemia to new levels, this helpful device let's you know when you shouldn't have eaten that carrot (you fat indulgent bitch) so that you can purge accordingly because, god forbid, you have to spend a day without knowing your exact body weight. Now you can even stand on the sumbitch 27 times a day if you want. One for each devilishly delicious Tic Tac you've eaten.

The Electrolysis Hair Removal Kit - I don't know...there are somethings I don't think you should do yourself at home. Pretty much, anything that involves you sending electrical current through your body makes that list.

The Dummy Surveilance Camera - Perfect for those who want a false sense of security.

Shortest Post to Date (Title longer than actual post about two things that I recently noticed that should never have been noticed).

Two things that prove we have taken our food preparation technology too far:

Clam Juice

Anchovy Extract

Useless Advice Mondays: On a long enough timeline, everything is a velvet track suit.

So you just bought the brand new ThingamajigXLPro? So you're the first one on the block with it? Don't get too cocky, in a few years, it really won't be a big deal. On a long enough timeline, everything is a velvet track suit. Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, I was in another nameless airport on another nameless trip where I was delayed 4 times and treated like an insolent pig by airport staff. While waiting for a plane to show up from another airport where people had been delayed for times and treated like insolent pigs, I saw a woman walk by dressed in a velvet track suit. Now I'm all about being comfy on a plane, but this stuck out for some reason. After thinking about it for a while (since I'm a petty bastard that obsesses on things like this), I finally figured out why this was stuck in the rotted cantaloupe that I have for a brain: the velvet.

Once upon a time, velvet was considered a sign of wealth, influence, and general I'm-way-more-important-than-you-itude. It was fit for kings and dignitaries. The King wore velvet robes (and by "The King" I mean like the king of England, not Elvis. Although I'm sure Elvis had his share of velvet as well). Move the timeline forward, and now velvet is the material of choice for ill-fitting track suits. This can be seen in several areas.

Indoor plumbing: Once reserved for the elite, now commonplace and used by college students everywhere for post-party stomach purging. There's indoor plumbing in RVs. Many people won't even consider relieving themselves outdoors.....well....not sober anyway (and clearly not the people that occasionally stop to pee in the alley behind my apartment).

Copper: Copper used to be a very valuable metal. It was used for money, trade, jewelry, etc. Now, we use copper to wire lava lamps. People won't bother to bend over and pick up a penny. Copper? Pfft.

DVD Players: Remember when DVD players first emerged? The were more than $1000 and everybody said that there was no way they would take hold because they just cost too much. Now you can spend $40 and get a DVD player in the shape of Sponge-Bob.

Cell Phones: OH MY GOD. To be back in the days where only people that had massive coke habits, Cigarette Speed Boats, skinny ties and didn't wear socks with their shoes could afford these. Now there are 10 year-olds texting until their thumbs are bloody stumps. I've got to try and figure out if the damn clerk at 7-11 is talking to me or to the person on the other end of the flashing blue dildo sticking out of his ear.

So yeah, puff out that chest. Call the neighbors over to take a look at your new iCouchXLT 2600 Pro. Show them all the features, "reluctantly" let them know that you sold your left testicle for it. Just remember, on a long enough timeline, everything is a velvet track suit.

Movie Review Review.....it's like Zsa Zsa......but more annoying.

I hate movie reviews. Let me rephrase that. I hate movie reviews written by people who really want you to be in awe of their deep intellect and vastly superior understanding of cinematic art history. Want to know why? Because they always suck. Every single last one of them. And the people that write them can eat my ass. That's right. Eat my ass. I know that's a bit rough, but it's fitting for the sub-sect of swine that writes reviews like this.

Let's just say that if you're reviewing a movie starring Adam Sandler playing a former Isreali Commando that wants to become a hair-dresser, you should not, at any point whatsoever, use words like: déclassé, triumvirate, oeuvre, nascent, or décolletage. Phrases such as: "exploring the darker social implications of his work", "married with the baby steps toward thematic resonance and social relevance ", or "cutting comedic satire about the Arab-Israeli conflict and stereotypes" should not be used. Never. Don't do it. Shove a god-damned BBQ fork into your left eye if you even consider it you self-promoting ass clown.

I get it. You took the GRE. You sat up at night going over these words in your head. Over and over and over. OK. That's cool. But you're writing a review of an Adam Sandler movie in which he plays a commando/hair dresser. This is not a review of the lastest (insert foriegn director name here) film set in 16th century England. This movie does not have a chance in hell of winning an Academy Award for customes (you know damn well that this award has never been given to a movie that didn't take place in Xth Century England). The movie features a fight scene that involves Sandler's character kicking someone in the face a la "Goldmember". Give me a break. All I need to know is 1) Am I going to be pissed that I went? and 2) After I allow myself to degrade to 13-year-old humor appreciation, will I think it's hilarious?

Usless Advice Mondays: Movies Provide Advice Too

Sometimes, you get a little piece of advice from a movie that really holds true. Most of the time movies offer candy-wrapped gimmick lessons that a ADD crazed 8 year old hopped up on Ridalyn and pop rocks could catch, but sometimes, there are clever little gems, tucked away in the dialogue, that prove to be most profound. Sometimes, these are simply statements that, when applied to daily life, can serve as sound advice. One example (but not the topic of this post) is "Nobody can eat 50 eggs."

This is simply a statement in the movie "Cool Hand Luke", but if we apply it to real life, it holds as solid advice:

EGG-EATER

Man I'm hungry. I could eat like, 50 eggs.

WISE NINJA-MASTER

Nobody can eat 50 eggs. While you think you can, and you may actully consume those 50 eggs, I assure you that it will result in massive digestive failure and you'll spend the next 48 hours passing the apocalypse through your bowels. So eat 50 eggs if you like, but it will not be to your benefit. In the end, the eggs will consume YOU.

See? That's pretty fucking deep.

In the Charlotte, NC area, there is a church called the Kinetic Church. If you like, you can read up on them here. Apparently, this church had a trailer that they used for mobile ministry services, child wellness, etc. Somebody stole the trailer earlier in the year. Being a different kind of church, they decided to try and get the word out in a unique way. They were able to get the use of 5 billboards donated to them and the posted some messages to try to get the thief and/or someone who knows about said theivery to come forward. Now, a typical church taking this approach might put something like "If you have any information, please blah blah blah whatever we're still going to be nice about this." Not the Kinetic Church, no sir. They instead have apparently heeded the advice that is the basis for this post. It's from a movie that has served as an inspirational tale for millions: The Big Lebowski. To quote:

QUINTANA

You said it, man. Nobody fucks with the Jesus.

So they busted out with the following 5 billboards, each of which I personally beheld during my recent trip to Charlotte:

#1:
CHURCH TRAILER STOLEN
Stealing From God.....Ballsy.

#2:
CHURCH TRAILER STOLEN
Seriously? Are You Kidding me?

#3:
CHURCH TRAILER THIEVES
Enjoying Our Communion Trays?

#4:
CHURCH TRAILER THIEVES
Ever Worry About Lighning Strikes?

#5:
CHURCH TRAILER THIEVES
God Forgives You - But We Need Our Stuff Back!

Doubting me? Try this:

Now, I have to give it to them.....that's badass. If nothing else, I'm sure the CHURCH TRAILER THIEF feels like a damn chump right now. And there is absolutely no worse feeling than Chumpification.

Useless Advice Mondays: Location

If you're thinking about starting your own business, heed the time-tested advise when choosing a storefront: Location, Location, Location! This is especially true if you plan to sell items that the general public might consider to be perverse, crude, or just generally unacceptable by sound moral (lame) standards. These items may include: very revealing latex Catwoman suits, ball gags, exceptionally large "adult playtoys", barbed wire thongs, shirts that have fancy slogans like "Suck my Cheney", or any number of items that display your gayness...or if you want to open a store called "Gay Mart". In these cases, you can't go wrong with opening your store in the nearest gay area of town. There are many of advantages, as I will expand upon below. I speak from experience, as we currently live approximately 3 skips and a smootie from Boystown in Chicago.

Advantage #1: Window Displays

Most other stores are limited to what they can put in their window displays. These limitations are based on what is generally considered acceptable by the general public. In the gay part of town, throw that out the window. You want to have an overweight late-middle aged male mannequin wearing a leather thong in the window? Go for it! Assless chaps? Latex Nurse Outfits? Swing & Chains? Party. Hell, you can sell assless chaps in one store and comic book figurines in the next store....nobody will bat an eye. Want to set up a whole ass-slapping, leather dominatrix/super hero theme in the window? This is your place.

Advantage #2: Store Names

For the most part, stores have names that are pretty lame. "The Gap"......WTF is that? How does that relate to the products they sell? Is that a reference to the Gap between the price paid and the expected quality of goods? Now, in Boystown, they have stores like the automated female companion store named "Batteries Included". Now THAT gives me an idea of what is for sale in there. (Note: The gay part of town isn't limited to men only). Or the afore-mentioned Gay Mart. I've never been in Gay Mart, but in the window they have everything from Wonder Woman action figures, to statuettes of Judy Garland, to Felix the Cat wall clocks, to assorted faux-vintage T-Shirts.......which seems about right.

Advantage #3: Advertising

When your store is located downtown, or in a strip mall, your signs read something like "Holy Cow! Jeans 20% off!!". Or maybe even "Golly Gee we're cool! Shorts $20". Lame. Choose to own and operate your business in the right area and you can have signs like: "Sunglasses - $6 You Cheap Whore!!" or "Cheap-Ass $20 Shoe Sale". Now that's advertising!

So you see, if you want more freedom with your storefront and what you plan to sell, this is the neigborhood for you. Anything goes and everything's accepted. What a Country!

What a Wonderful.....Word?

Last night, Ms. HFJ & I attended our very first Cubs game at Wrigley field. For those that don't know, we've lived approximately 1/4 mile from Wrigley for the past 2.5 years. We have largely regarded it as the bane of our existence since doing ANYTHING around our apartment becomes impossible during a game. But we decided that we should go because we're moving away soon and it seemed pretty ridiculous to have lived that close and never have gone. That being said, it wasn't as bad an experience as I had thought and I actually had a pretty good time. Since I don't care about the Cubs as a team, it didn't matter that they lost.

While there, I noticed a certain sub-group of the female population that all had something in common, and a new word was spawned to describe this sect: The Skank-O-Matic. These ladies basically seemed like they were standing in front of the mirror, just before leaving, and a thought rose up in their mind...

"Damn...I look pretty hot, but just not.....I don't know.....how do I say this.......I just don't look like I could be bought for a half-eaten tuna sandwich and a bag of crack yet. How can I remedy this?"

Insert the Skank-O-Matic. I imagine the Skank-O-Matic to looks somewhat like a Ratchet & Clank gun...for those who have no idea what that means, here's some help:

This device, upon activation, automatically makes the average person looks like they would  gladly perform any required sexual service for the sum of a bag of M&Ms and a bottle of model glue. Some of the ladies in attendance last night took a full on, di-rect blast or 7 from the Skank-O-Matic, where some simply looked as if they only took a glancing blow. 

There were two ways that Mrs. HFJ could tell that a victim of the Skank-O-Matic was approaching:

1. I would nudge her an whisper "Skank-O-Matic"
2. The two middle-aged guys sitting next ter her would begin to comment about the hot chick walking up. The more heated their comments, the more blasts from the Skank-O-Matic.

Reality

Useless Advice Mondays: Bulletproof Glass

About 10 years ago, I made a mad dash from Cali-for-ni-ay to NYC. The reasons for said dash will not be discussed here, lets just say it was a necessary trip. Since I like to  drive long stretches, and since my arrival and return from the Golden Apple was time sensitive, there were not many non-danger-of-pants-crapping stops involved. Needless to say, upon my arrival at 2:30am, I was, as Austin Powers puts it, spent.

I feel that it is necessary to point out here that I had never been to NYC....or east of the Mississippi (and I did just sing the little song to spell that), well, not counting that one trip to Atlanta.....but I flew in and out of there, so we won't count it. So please keep in mind that I may not have been privy to certain metropolitan charms.

Having arrived (arrove...arriven....a rivet?) at such an ungodly time of night into an area with which I'd only known from movies and sitcoms where people with no jobs live in apartments I could never afford, I was a bit unsure of what my next move should be as I was not scheduled to arrive until 10 am....the next day (like I said....few stops were taken). I decided that the best course of action would be to check into a motel for a while.

So I'm technically in or around Weehawken, NJ (New Yorkers just chill out.....the rest of the world would consider this NYC) and I find a motel. Now, I'm not fully alert at this time, so some of the parts of the check in process that should have alerted me to what was coming went unnoticed until latter pontification. I walk up to the clerk, who is standing behind probably 4-inch bulletproof glass, and begin to arrange for a room. He asked me if I wanted the hourly or nightly rate (that's a key that I also missed). I opted for the nightly with some confusion. Keys and cash were exchanged and badda-bing I had a room.

I go into this room and immediately I realized that I had made a tragic error. The bed had an imprint of a roughly 5 foot 7 person in the center. By imprint, I mean that if the sheets were plastic, I could have filled it with water and bathed. OK....no problem.....old mattress. So I decide I'll pop on the tellie to see what's on....you know relax a little.

The TV had 5 channels. Each and every one of them were ass-slapping porn. Not just your run of the mill "Oh my pizza boy, do you have something ELSE you'd like to deliver?" porn. I mean the get the camera lens moist during close-ups, pull the sheets out of your ass porn. 

OK....so TVs out. Maybe I'll just take a quick shower and then go to sleep. Go into the bathroom and there is some kind of arachnoid hobgoblin that has set up domicile in the bathtub. Since I didn't have an arc welder or a low-yield nuclear bomb, I decided the shower wasn't the best idea. 

Out of options, I literally stood in the center of the room for a solid 30 minutes marveling at the various stain patterns on the floor, walls and (gulp) ceiling. I finally decided that there was no hope and walked out of the room to check out. When I went outside, it had lightened up somewhat...and I could really get an appreciation for the pit of rhino dung that I had checked into. Norman bates wouldn't check into this joint. It made Ed Gein's house look well kept. 

Now, in retrospect, I can see all of the little indictors that should have sounded the alarms in my head. I have stored them all in the cabbage salad that I call a brain, but I'll just give you the only one that you ever need to remember:

Advice: NEVER check in at a hotel through bulletproof glass.  If the hotel clerk is behind bulletproof glass, there is a reason, and you just need to leave.

Observations: Post Life-Changing Event Edition

Last week, the Legandary Mrs. HappyFlapjacks and I returned from Mexico. For those of you keeping track, you will note the absence of the "Soon-to-be" portion of her name, which explains the title of this post. As always, I noticed several things during the trip and upon our return that require a quick mention here.

1. Once you go on a few international trips, you become used to things that really freak people out when they're not used to being out of the country. My mom could not get over the fact that in Mexico (and in every other country I've been to), they have armed security people in the airport. By armed, I mean real-life, bitch-betta-have-my-money sub-machine guns, not your average mostly concealed pistol. She kept commenting on it...and on the truckloads of army guys driving around (armed of course, but it sounds wierd to say "Armed Army Guys"). I guess once you've been severly scolded in German by a guy holding an Uzi for trying to feed his police dog a hamburger in the airport, you're just kind of immune to these things.

2. We stayed at a fairly fancy resort. Whenever you asked for anything, the response was "It's our pleasure." It actually became a joke. Any time one of us would ask the other for something, the appropriate response was "It's our pleasure". The best part about this is that you could call room service or housekeeping, ask them for something, know with 100% certainty that they had no clue what you were talking about, but they would still say "It's our pleasure" and then hang up. Example:

Me: "Hi. Our TV isn't getting any channels. Is there something wrong with it?"

Hotel Worker #216: "It's our pleasure!" *Click*

3. There seems to be a very loose set of driving laws in Mexico. Probably enough so that you don't frequently get run into, but not enough to actually warrant enforcement. On our way to the hotel, the driver actually sped up to about 20MPH over the speed limit to pass a cop....and barely missed getting whacked by a bus in the process. Not a moment of concern on his face, the cop's (actually cops, it was a truck with two in the fron and about 4 in back...all with BBHMM Sub Machine guns), or even the bus driver's. But, to be fair, traffic does seem to flow much more smootly, and nobody was honking or flipping one another off.

4. On my way home from work, I pass many cemeteries. I'll probably post more on that later, but what caught my eye today was that one of the headstones looked just like the Wu-Tang Clan logo. I'm hoping that this monument to the dearly departed was erected pre-Wu, but you can never be sure. Of course, maybe it was post-Wu. Maybe someone died and those left to concern themselves with a proper burial thought: "He's going out ODB style......bitchez."

5. Underneath Casa CrapStain (our apartment), are three dumpsters for the disposal of our fellow resident's trash. While taking out a nice big bag of cat litter, used,  (which reminds me of this Onion Headline), I noticed that someone had decided to toss out a bunch of trophies. But they didn't just toss them in the dumpster; they lined them up on a little ledge for all to see. It's like "Yeah, I'm still kinda proud of my little league trophy from 1983, but I've got other shit to decorate with.....why don't you look at them for a while?" It seemed really funny....and kinda sad at the same time. For this, I shall provide a photo:

Observations: Something Isn't Quite Right

It's funny how just a minor change in circumstances can take a situation from pleasant to just flat- out lipstick-and-fishnets-on-a-sheep wrong. I was reminded of this on my way home from work today. I was driving (for those familiar with Chicago) along the Eisenhower, just around Harlem, when my car was filled with the unmistakeable scent of Orange Kool-Aid. Just to clarify, I purposely capitalized "Orange" there because, when you're talking about Kool-Aid, we're not really talking flavors, we're talking branding. Now there have been plenty of times in my life where the smell of Orange Kool-Aid was welcome. Hell, there have been times that I have been pouring myself a tasty glass of refreshing Orange Kool-Aid and thought to my self:

Self -  we're not EVEN going to bother putting this pitcher away yet, because we're just going to go ahead and knock down about half of this glass of tasty sugar goodness right away. So we're going to want to have this pitcher right on standby, so we can replenish this glass with more of that unholy orange taste delight."

Now that's an example of a good Kool-Aid scent occasion. However, when you're driving your car 50 mph down the expressway, and the smell of Orange Kool-Aid fills your car approximately 36 seconds after the stench of the Hillside Landfill has left it, that's not so good. I just associated Orange Kool-Aid with the nostril-hair singing odor that is the Hillside Landfill (Closing in Spring 2008! Go to our website to track the progress!).

How will this play out the next time I am parched and the only source of thirst salvation is that frosty container of Orange Kool-Aid? I don't think it's going to be good.

Here's another example:
It gets cold in Chicago. Since I have chosen to make my residence in an un-insulated crap stain of an apartment, it gets a touch on the chilly side in here as well. Now we all have those late night bathroom moments. During the winter, I cringe a little as I near the toilet, anticipating the deathly cold surface that my tender ass will soon be sitting upon. Occasionally, there is a rip in  the fabric of the universe and the heat has actually come on. Since the toilet is immediately adjacent to on of the heat pipes (we have radiator heat), it does actually warm up.

This is good. It renews a certain justice in the universe and makes me oh-so-happy.

But sometimes I have to utilize the facilities in public. At an airport, for example. Or at work even. When I take my place on the toilet....and the seat is warm......ewwwww. That's just nasty. The first thought that goes through my head is that the person I despise most in my office has just had is ass all over the same place where my ass now resides. It's like a delayed ass to ass kiss. That's definitely not good. Funny how the same thing in a slightly different situation can be really disturbing.

Observations: Singapore Edition Part Dos

More notes on my Singapore experience.

1. Singapore is like a big Chinatown. Officially, the national language is English however most "native" S'poreans are Chinese. So Chinese is most common. You know how every Chinatown gets more Chinese the closer to the center? Singapore is the opposite. The center is the business district, which is very Western. This is where English is the primary language. The further you get from there, the more Chinese it gets. I saw a sign that read (this is not a joke): "Learn to talk good English."

2. Apparently, the day to day dangers for the average Singaporean are much different than elsewhere. When walking back from the store, I was informed that I should be careful due to "Frequent Peacock Attacks". A sign informed me of this. It said "Danger!: Frequent Peacock Attacks". I never thought that I would see the words "Danger", "Attack" and "Peacock" in the same sentence.

3. They have 7-11s in Singapore. I don't know why this strikes me as odd, but it does. They're everywhere. It's not as scary as the abundance of KFCs there. I bet they eat the hell out of some "flavored pieces".

4. When you arrive in Singapore, your little immigration card notifies you that drug possession is punishable by death. Death? Damn. I actually stopped to make sure that I wasn't carrying. I wasn't, and I knew that, but when threatened with death, I just needed to make sure.

5. For some reason, I read a lot of signs in other countries.

6. In the movie "Predator", there is a famous line that goes something like "If it bleeds, we can kill it." In Singapore, this has been translated to "If it bleeds, we can eat it." A friend took me to a street market where you could get such delicacies as sea horse, jellyfish, lizard, insects, and various other things that I'll not describe here. It made me long for the Egg McBurger.

7. While most people would say I was lucky to leave Chicago and go someplace warm, there is a limit. When you arrive at 2 am and its 86 degrees and 93% humidity........that's just not good.

8. Singapore is a very major shipping hub. I went to a beach on the resort island of Sentosa. There were people there, more on the way, everyone was having a good time....but when you looked out into the water, there were dozens of huge cargo ships and oil tankers. It seemed really weird. I've never been to a beach-beach with that many tankers there. One of the beaches was closed because "There has been some oil in the water"...really? Ya think? Maybe has something to do with the 48 tankers about 200 meters away?

Usless Advice Mondays: Be Careful What You Order

Sometimes, when travelling abroad, I start to miss regular-old American food. Usually, this happens at about 1:20am, so my dining options are limited. I always reach out for the hotel's room service menu, as most places seem to have some sort of American fare on their late night listings. One common choice is the Hamburger. Hamburgers are simple, and it doesn't require much to make one that's at least edible, so this is usually a fairly safe choice. However there are some places where this can backfire, as I recently experienced.

As usual, my late night craving hit. And, as usual, the menu did indeed include a Hamburger option. Fries too. Perfect. I grabbed the phone, ordered the delicious taste treat and prepared myself for the enjoyment that would commence with the arrival of my menu selection in 15-20 minutes. Upon arrival, and gracious tipping, I sat down to enjoy this delicacy of the western world when I noticed something slightly disturbing: My hamburger had an egg on it. A fried egg, it appeared after further inspection. In my confusion, I rechecked the menu. There was not an Egg McMuffin option. Yet here, in front of my eyes, stood something that more closely resembeled just that than a juicy ham-burger.

But I'm an open-minded individual. I'm up for a little experimentation here and there. So I figured, what the hell......I'll try it. The logic here being that, since it was just a fried egg, and if I didn't enjoy this spin on the classic burger, I could just remove it. This was clearly the plan of the devious entity that had set the soon-to-be-sprung trap before me. I reached out and picked up the seemingly innocent treat and was immediately horrified that the egg was actually NOT fried, but over-easy. This resulted in a yolk explosion the minute I picked up the burger. I immediately thought of how a bank robber feels when that little dye bomb goes off in his bag of loot, ruining it completly. What I now had in my hands was a yolk-soaked meat sandwich, not a Ham Burger. But I wanted a Ham Burger. The bastards got me.

This reminded me of the time I was in Australia. This time, I thought I would be more safe, since I was actually at a small dining establishment during the day, where ordering a Hamburger would be safe. Since they were making it right there, I'd have a little more control over the assembly process. I walked up to the counter, and ordered a hamburger. The person taking my order asked me "Do you want everything on that?" Now, coming from the US, "everything" can have a fairly broad interpretation, but most of this list would be reasonable. When I said "Yes", the chap must have figured out that I was NOT Australian and decided that he better clarify this somewhat. The next question he asked me has been burned into memory and will haunt me to my death. He asked "You want a beet too?"

Wait
WTF?
Did that guy just ask me if I wanted a god-damned BEET on my burger?
Who the fuck puts a BEET on a hamburger?
A BEET!

I answered the only possible way I could...."Umm.....no?" Now some people might think that this went well....I mean this little conversation resulted in the absence of a god-damned shit-eating BEET on my hamburger, but no....you'd be wrong. There was no BEET on my burger, but the thought of such a horrible thing had been lodged into my brain so that, now, my burger (sans- BEET) seemed wretched and vile. Like it was just sitting there, laughing, saying "You know I could have had a beet on me. Nothing like a beet burger. MMMMMMM BEET-Y." As horrible as a talking burger might be, a talking burger that had BEET potential is much worse.

I ate him anyway.....mostly just to shut it up.

Observations: Singapore Edition

As a part of my duties as an evil-doer, I sometimes am required to travel to distant locations and far reaches of the earth. This week, I find myself in Singapore. While here, I've witnessed some things that are indeed post-worthy. These events have passed from me to you via the web in a neverednding miracle of magic called the world-wide web: which allows for a jacksass like me, to post details of a journey like this.

Observation 1: Lost in translation

And I quote "Equipment to cleansing the buttocks with warm water". I could try to come up with some witty comment about this, but, ultimately, would it be any funnier than that? This sign was in an airport bathroom in Tokyo......I don't know about an imropteu buttock washing in a Tokyo airport.

Observation #2: Familiarity is Key

Despite previous observations, I am now creeped out by elevators NOT made by Otis. Why the hell are these people using non-otis elvators? Cheap bastards! Don't they know that the Otis elevator company is the largest supplier of elevator technolgy to the free world? I find myslef standing in the evelvator, noticing its non -Otisness and thinking that this will be the last moment of my life, staring at the name of the elevator company that banned me to the third ring of Hades which is reserved for mimes, car salesmen and salvation army santa bell ringers.

Observation #3: Asian dudes make me cool

While I will admitg to having seen Def Leppard in concert, to having a secret place in my heart for "Pour some Sugar on me", I can say that I do not have an entire collecion of Def Leppard ringtones loaded on my phone.

Haunting

Driving home yesterday, I passed the ultimate abduction van. It was freaky. It was a nondescript white van with plywood covering all of the windows from the inside and what appeared to be a bullethole in the back window/plywood. We'll not go into details about the driver, needless to say, he was one creepy cat. This made me think of something that always bothers me.

I find it to be very disturbing when you see a shoe in the road or on the side of the road. Especially along a highway. I can't think of a good circumstance under which a shoe ends up in the street. Whenever I see this, I automatically assume that someone was snatched right out of their shoe by vile thugs preparing ransom notes or maybe even by starving space aliens in need of a quick snack. Maybe the person was hit by a car and their shoe was thrown so far away that nobody noticed it. Maybe someone was kicking for their life as some villainous heathen drove off into the woods to eat candy corn out of their eye sockets. Something horrible like that.

Even if it wasn't the result of treachery, I still think that this shoe is going to be a bad story. Maybe someone set their shoe on the top of the car in a rush to get someplace, only to arrive and find that they are sans-shoe. That would be pretty terrible too. Or maybe someone's shoe fell out of the back of a truck. That's going to be a sad fella when the truck stops. Maybe those were their favorite shoes.

There are many people in this world that don't even have shoes. Maybe they're lucky; at least they don't have to worry about the fate of random strangers when they see a shoe in the road. They may just think "Hey......free shoe."

Brief Observations (No, not those briefs)

Isn't it wierd when you notice something new about yourself? Today, I came to the realization that, while I love peanuts, I really don't like the smell of them when someone else is eating them. There was a guy eating peanuts next to me today and it was everything I could do to not hit him in the head with a frozen chicken to make him stop. Luckily:
1) I had no frozen chicken and
2) he didn't have a lot of peanuts.

Today I also noticed that the elevator in my hotel is manufactured by Otis. This kind of creeps me out because EVERY elevator is made by Otis. All it would take is for one rogue engineer at the Otis Elevator Company to program a hidden subroutine that causes all elevators to abruptly come crashing down at 11:11 UTC on December 21, 2012. Avoid elevators on that date.

Useless Advice Mondays: It's a small world, airplane

Since I am (once again) on the road, and since my latest airline experience was legendary, I figured I'd include som travel notes for those who do not fly all that often.

1. You smell bad. I don't care what perfume it is, what deoderant, colone, etc. If I have to sit next to you for 4 hours in a coke can with rockets and wings, please...pretty please, use some restraint when you slather yourself in Stetson. I can't escape. When I get off the plane, I'm going to call somebody to bitch about how I had to sit next to someone that smelled like the were covered in a Diamonds by Liz Taylor placenta.


2. Bullshit, you knew that bag was too big to carry on. Don't act all shocked now when you can't get it in the overhead. Don't complain about how they're made the bins smaller. I've driven cars smaller than that bag. When you get on the plane with your cello, do not act like you're being singled out when they make you check it.


3. If you require 8 bins to put all of your crap in at the security checkpoint, you brought too much shit. Downsize. You're getting on a 1.5 hour flight. I know this because you sat right next to me (see #1). Do you really need 4 books, 2 blankets, a pillow, a floatie, 3 garden gnomes, a leafblower and an Irish Setter for a 1.5 hour flight?


4. Yeah I know, it sucks that we're delayed again. Listing to your dumb ass sigh as loudly as possible every time the flight attendant walks by isn't helping. I've done the math, I could choke you and shove a rolled up copy of SkyMall down your throat before anybody even got close to stopping me. Don't think I won't do it; I read this edition of SkyMall two weeks ago, I have no need for it today.


5. Crawling half way up my ass at baggage claim is not going to make your suitcase show up any faster. Take a step back Michael Jackson, give me some breathing room. You must be the same guy who was actually standing less than an inch behind me in the security line. You pissed me off then too.


6. Yeah, I am watching Borat as a matter a fact. Yes, it was funny as hell. Suprising, I found it more funny when I didn't have someone interrupting me to ask me if I'm watching Borat. If you identified it as being possibly Borat based on the scene where two naked guys are wrestling on a bed with their faces in the other's junk, you know what movie it is you sick bastard.


7. Wow! Really?!?!? You have an iPod too???? And you can't live without it?!?!?!? Who would ever guess that TWO people with iPods would end up sitting next to each other on a plane. Sonofabitch!!! Next thing you know, everyone will have those mobile phones!!

Whistlin' Dixie

I'm pretty much over companies using pop songs from years ago in their ads. It doesn't make me reminisce, feel a camaraderie with you or even vaguely like you as a company. All it does is piss me off when I'm trying to go to sleep and I have "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang going through my head. Damn you marketing firms. Damn you all to hell. On second thought, don't use any popular music. Advertisements should be relegated to the jingle-hell that they deserve.

Not only is it annoying when I'm walking down the hall humming 1-2-3-4 by Fiest (Apple, you sadistic bastards) but I really hate it when a song that I actually like is butchered and forever destroyed, like the dreams of all Green Bay fans, by some damn commercial. The most glaring example of this is the current set of ads for Jamaica (isn't it really weird to advertise a country??). I used to actually like Bob Marley's "One Love". Now, when I hear the real song, I find the lyrics in my head replaced with "Come to Jamaica and feeeeel allllllriiight". Fuck you Jamaica. I hate you. I'm never coming to Jamaica. Kiss my ass.

What I more frequently find is that I end up really hating these companies. Usually, the way this works is that I don't register the ad with the song. I'm just whistling "The Time of My Life" one day and really upset about it. Then the ad comes on that caused it and I yell at the TV "YOU BASTARDS!"

Aboard this tiny ship.....my ass!

WARNING: If you live with me, please do not read this post, it will only annoy you.

I have a problem today, and that problem is Gilligan's Island. I don't know why, but on my drive home last night, I got to thinking about yet another thing that bothered me about this show. Since most of you are not familiar with the many things Gilliganian that disturb me, I shall fill you in:

• It was a three hour tour, a three hour tour. Why the HELL did they have luggage? Who brings luggage on a three hour tour? You know who? Homeless people, escaped convicts, drug traffickers (although the "luggage" may be something else entirely) and people trying to disappear. If I'm getting on a boat for a three hour tour and I see other passengers boarding with luggage, I'm getting the hell off of that boat.


• They were stuck on that island for three seasons (actually considerably longer if you count the rescue episodes, but we won't go there). In those three seasons, the Professor wore the same thing every episode (as did the Skipper and Gilligan, who clearly were not in on the drug trafficking trade that the other four were). The professor wore a white button up shirt. A white one. It was always white. I can't keep a white shirt clean for more than 37 minutes and this dude kept his white shirt clean, after having shipwrecked on an island, for 3 years.


• How many people showed up on that "uncharted" isle? You have to think that if that many people showed up, it would eventually fall into the "charted" category. In one episode, the military is testing rockets by firing them at the island. That seems pretty fucking charted.


• Numerous things wash ashore. They use these items when possible. One of which was a case of plastic explosives. They used this to make golf balls, plates and even use it as a filling for one of Gilligan's teeth. There are several things wrong here. First, you'd think that someone (*cough* Professor) would have noticed what this was, I mean the dude's identifying insect species native to the island. They figure out that the stuff is exlosive when it dries. OK...wait. First off.....do you really want someone filling your teeth with some random substance that washed up on shore? Next, what made you think that this stuff would be suitable for golf balls and plates? Third, why did the plate make such a small explosion compared to the golf ball? Fourth, if I were Gilligan, I'd be a little more pissed about someone putting explosives in my head.


• They built huts, tables, chairs, a bike, washing machines, hell even a car out of bamboo but couldn't make a god damned raft? Jesus christ people. I can make a damn raft.


• I realize it was the 60's, but how many Mad Scientists can there be??? On a few occasions, they were vistied by mad scientists. WTF???


• It took 14 episodes for them to realize that they didn't have drinking water.


• Tell me Howell wasn't a child molester. I dare you.


• A space capsule splashed down in the lagoon. I'm no rocket scientist, but I'm only fucking guessing that NASA keeps track of those things. I seem to recall the thing splashing down in real life and there being a damn armada waiting for it. Instead, they just remotely blew it up. Really? That's the way they roll? The same can be said for the Jet Pack that showed up there, the experimental Air Force robot, the satellite that's supposed to be heading to mars, etc.


• What kind of batteries were in that damn radio?!?!?!


• Since when are Gorillas on remote Pacific Islands?


• Given all of the people that kept showing up (and leaving) the island, wouldn't you think that, at some point, somebody would have gone completely batshit on one of them and bludgeoned them with a stick? If I've been on an island for a year, and someone shows up with a boat, no amount of talking is going to stop me from caving in their skull with the first inanimate object I can find.


• The island is hit by a meteor, several hurricanes, even a damn tsunami. These assholes built huts that can withstand all of this crap.....people in Sacramento can't build houses that survive the wind.

I could keep going, but I'll just stop here. End Gilligan rant. I should also point out that I obviously watched this show way too many times.

Useless Advice Mondays: Life Lessons

Learn from the mistakes of others. If you can't do that, when your feeling blue, laugh at the mistakes of others.....that usually works too.

The other day, I was feeling kinda blue. The typical "life sucks", "what the hell am I going to do?", "Should I have really eaten that?", "I miss Bigfoot", you know, just a bummer. Then a thought entered my head that made me kind of chuckle. I've had this thought on several occasions, and it never fails to make me smile. I remembered what is probably the greatest example of instant karma in the last 10 years. I'll provide a link to the moment below. Burn it into your memory and refer back whenever you need a pick me up, because no matter how bad things are going, watching someone botch a once-in-a-lifetime chance is always going to make you feel better.

Here's a warm up for the video: It's the 2006 Winter Olympics, you're going down the final stretch in your snowbaording event with a seemingly insurmountable lead. Two fairly simple jumps left. All of a sudden, you think "I'm so damn cool, I'm gonna get a little slappy with this here jump. Take that Olympic tradition! The whole world's watching, I'm kicking ass. Wheaties box here I come......" and then:

Yeah. You get em tiger. (Just to make it clear, I am having a hard time typing right now because this makes me laugh my ass off eveytime I see it.)

So what's better than blowing your shot at an OLYMPIC GOLD MEDAL? Lying about it later and saying that you "got off balance and were trying to correct" yourself (she later admitted that she was trying to do a trick).

So whenever you're having a bad day, just remember this: At least you didn't just throw away an olypic gold medal because you got cocky. Karma's a bitch.

Planes, Trains, and the $9.25 Ham Sandwich

There are few things in this world that are as loathsome as navigating airports. Ariports are nexus points of demonic energy where gremlins, hobgoblins, and really slow people congregate. It is at these points where their evil powers are their stongest, and these dark beings use them to delay flights, institute random security policies and empty the paper towel dispensers in the restrooms. When the Apocaylpse comes, it will be via flight 98 from London/Heathrow and will be delayed for 90 minutes while the mechanics try to figure out what some light means.

Here are some examples of demonic work that I have observed:

• You can't bring a bottle of water/juice/coke through security. The diligent TSA demons will notice this and assault you with cold tater tots if you try. What you'll need to do is go through security and then apply for a 2nd mortgage to finance your beverage. At last check, a bottle of water is between $3 & $4. They use the money from these sales to fund the clearcutting of the rainforest and to stifle research into the cure for childhood diabetes.


• Depending on the airport, you may or may not need to show your boarding pass to the person manning the metal detector. Keep in mind, that at the beginning of the Shining-esque maze that you entered to get to the metal detector, you showed both your ID and boarding pass to the TSA hobgoblin. While there is a chance that after inspection of said documents you were comically transported to a paralell universe and replaced with a militant jihaadist, I believe this chance to be fairly low.


• You must remove your laptop from its case and place it in its own bin. Allegedly, this is to prevent the laptop from blocking view of a cleverly hidden gigaton nuclear device in your laptop bag. Since laptops have embedded X-Ray jamming devices, it is imparative that we remove them from the case. Hopefully, nobody will ever think of just hiding the doomsday device in the bottom half of the laptop, underneath the X-Ray shield. That would be bad. Oh crap.......


• To take advantage of the fact that most people assume (and some of the more evil demons insist) that you can't bring food through security, most of the dining establishments in the airport have consulted with their enslaving entities and have decided to fairly price their items. This has resulted in such wonderful treats as the $9.25 ham sandwich. This ham sandwich does not sing, dance or play a mean right wing for your local hockey team. It's just a sandwich. I deconstructed the sandwich to see if there was some hidden prize or secret ingredient that would justify the price. Maybe if it came with a Booster Gold decoder ring or had a thin layer of childhood dreams, it would be worth it. To my suprise, it didn't even include mayo.


• Your flight is always leaving from gate 97E, which is approximately 4 nautical miles past your actual destination. You have to walk 637 miles through a mob of people that all are stunned that they are in an airport and have stopped to look around and figure out where they are. While making the journey to your gate, you may see people waiting at other gates and wonder why you couldn't be on one of those flights. Do not be fooled. Those people are either actors making you think that there are actually flights coming into those gates or they are lesser demons that are travelling to Akron, OH or Selena, KS.


• You can't smoke in airports. This is not due to any health issues, don't let them fool you with that. This is because the major demonic entities at Phillip-Morris like to witness the power they wield by watching people go through security 26 times while waiting for a flight that will never actually arrive. Their minion bretheren at TSA like to mark smokers with several scribbles on their ticket so that when they arrive at the gate to get on their airplane (which will promptly sit on the runway until the 2012 Olympics), the attendants can identify them as enslaved souls and mock them quitely.


• At the airport, there are any number of electronic devices running. TVs with CNN telling you who to vote for, flight displays, electric chairs, etc. However there are only two power receptacles in the entire airport that you can use to charge your iPod. This is done so that the people manning the security camera monitors can place bets on which person will win the ensuing battle royal over the plugs.


• After you arrive at your destination, the captain of your plane will inform you of the baggage claim area that your luggage will NOT be at. This is commonly mistaken for which claim area your baggage WILL be at. They do this to see how long people will stand in front of one conveyor belt before actually walking over and checking the other one where the bag that looks just like theirs has been sitting for 45 minutes.

Useless Advice Mondays: Take a Bus

If you find yourself on LSD, Crack-Cocaine, or under the influence of hypnotic bridge trolls, and discover that you have made travel plans between the months of October and May that include flying into or out of O'Hare, cancel them or face the wrath of Baalgzaar, the evil lord of snow and airport snack bars.

The timestamp on this post may help explain its brevity. Please forgive me as I must prepare for my unceremonious return to the salt mine tomorrow. I will expand on this post then with the forthcoming blog post: "Planes, Trains, and the $9.25 Ham Sandwich."

Please remove your laptop from its case and remember to take off your shoes.

Useless Advice Mondays: Screw the Man

The man is evil. The man wants you to buy furniture on credit (no payments until 2047!), work in a cubicle, and procreate until your loins can't take any more. The man wants you to pledge allegiance to Best Buy and to grovel at the feet of Larry King. The man wears a bowtie.

Screw the man, that's my advice.

Some might question why I'm posting my "Useless Advice Mondays" blog on Tuesday. Why? It's simple: I'm saying screw the man. Today is my first day back to work since I was busy celebrating presidents past and present (and, at least theoretically, future) on Monday. As such, today is my Monday. It doesn't matter what day you come back to work on. If it's your first day back, it will suck and it's Monday.

Some other ways one can screw the man:

1. On the day after Thanksgiving, don't run out to buy crap. It's all a sham. They're discounting crap you didn't want anyway and are telling you what a good deal it is. That's how you end up with a case of light bulbs from your Aunt Bernice and a combo TV/Melon Baller from your Grandma. The man tricked them. Aunt Bernice had a shiny new iPod nano all picked out for you and then she say the Mega-Low Mart ad for the light bulbs (retail price $17.97, special price $.02). She couldn't resist. The man doesn't want you to have the nano. The man hates Apple.
2. When you get a new mattress, DO NOT remove the tag. The man wants you to do that. That's why he put a big "DO NOT REMOVE" tag on something that has no need for a tag. It's a mattress. I'm not going to need to refer to care instructions down the road. If there's a fire in my house, I'm not going to pause to determine if the mattress is flammable or not. But there it is, all big and glaring.....just begging you to tear it off. That's the man trying to exert some passive control on you. Screw the man.


3. Collect junk mail. When you get an adequate amount, shove it all into the first pre-screened credit card offer reply envelope that your receive. Make sure to include a note such as "No thank you. I'm not interested in your offer. Here are some other offers that YOU might be interested in though." Send postage prepaid envelope back. The man hates junk mail.


4. Don't sign up for one of those grocery store club/preferred customer cards. You're not in a club, and they don't prefer you. That's just the man trying to keep tabs on you. Alternatively, for those who really want to screw the man, DO sign up for one and disperse the 4 cards they give you to different people in different parts of the country. Let the man try to correlate your simultaneous purchases of cat food, tampons, BBQ sauce and baby carrots in 4 different states. The man hates statistical analysis anomoles.


5. Refer to the man as "Hank". This is not the man's name and the man hates it when people get him confused with anyone, especially Hank.

Invariably, if you screw the man enough, the man will become angry and start a new telemarketing campaign with you as the sole number on the dialing list. This is to be expected and is typical man behavior. Fortunately, someone before you has been screwed by the man and created the Do Not Call list. Use this to your advantage, it's Man Kryptonite. Until the list takes effect, screw the man by confusing his minions. Since the advent of caller ID, you generally have a good idea when the man is calling. This display looks something like this:

The Man, LLC 1-800-877-2793 (1-800-URSCRWD)

When you see this number, answer the phone with one of the following phrases:

1. "Thank you for calling Giavanno's Pizza, pick up or delivery?" (Don't use Domino's. The man owns Domine's and he knows that he doesn't have a franchise in your house, yet.)


2. "THANK GOD YOU CALLED OFFICER!!!! THE CAT IS STILL STUCK IN THE MAYONAISE JAR AND HAS GONE COMPLETELY BATSHIT!!!!"


3. "Hi, this is an automated message for (use a robotic voice) Tom Jones. Is this Tom Jones?" Then just pause. When the man's lesser demon starts talking, just say "I'm sorry. I did not understand your response." repeat until minion terminates call. (The man hates Tom Jones because he's jealous of him. Nobody ever threw their panties at the man.)


4. "Hola. Gracias por llamar a doctor Javier Lopez, proctologist. ¿Su nombre por favor?"

God Save Us All...and Fez.

Since I'm new to blogging, I'm not sure how often this happens but I was all set to write today; had a topic picked out and everything. Then something happened that may have permantly scarred my soul. . . .

Last night, I was watching the Tonight Show with Jay Leno. Everything was going relatively well, he had some animals on and I always enjoy that. I have a thing for large baggy lizards, and the Crocodile Monitor did not fail to get me all giddy. I was even able, on some strange level, to get past the part of the show where Larry the Cable Guy came out in a speedo......now that's scary. But what followed........what followed was just flat evil.

Jay's closing act was a performance by Mika. For your own reference, and to help illustrate the points I will be making, a recording of that performance can be found here. I'll give you some time to watch that, and to let it really sink in.

UPDATE 2-15-08: Mika the Devourer of Cute Furry Chipmunks and Dreams demanded that YouTube remove the video (YouTube is fronting some lame NBC copyright story) of said performance. However it can still be found (if you dare) on NBC's web site. Choose the episode for the 13th and go to chapter 6.

OK. So. First of all, I want to let the 80's know that they are now off the hook for having contributed any bad music, fashion, synth pop to the world at large. You are forgiven, your evils have been overshadowed by the dominating beast of hell that is Mika. I have identified the origin of this beast and, to help you prepare your defenses against his ungodly terror, I shall share this with you now.

You know how in the movie The Fly (80s version please) Seth Brundle (Goldblum) gets all pissy and tries out his flashy new teleporter thingamajiggy on himself while there is a fly in there with him. Said machine gets all confuzzled (there weren't supposed to be two life forms in there after all) and combines the two together, leaving us (ultimately) with Brundlefly. So that was just a movie, right?

Apparently not. It appears that these teleportation doohickies exist and what happened was the remaining members of ABBA, Fez from That 70's Show, a My Little Pony playset, Barney, any one of the characters from Welcome Back Kotter, Apep (Egyptian Diefication of Darkness and Chaos), and Yanni all wallked into it at the same time, supposedly mistaking it for the heart of a child TV star. The device kicked off and combined these creatures into one being that, at a sub-atomic level, was created to shatter the dreams of angels, salt the land and subject modern society with a musical product that even the 80's would have rejected. This mega-being was dubbed "Mika", which is a clever disguise of the acronym M.I.K.A, which stands for Malevolant Incarnation of the Koming Apocalypse (they spelled "coming" with a "k", those evil bastards). Mika walks among us, protect your children.....and your glitter glue.

I can't begin to describe the number of things that are wrong about this performance or the vile beast of Hades that created it, but I can tell you one thing: I forgive Boy George, Wham, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, A Flock of Seagulls, Ah-Ha, et al for everything they ever did in the 80's. They were only trying to entertain us in a way that was acceptable at the time. The Beast Mika has come only to eat your mortal soul, and to steal your Pop! magazine phtoto collage of Ralph Macchio.

The most frightening aspect of this is that Mika the Destroyer can reach so far into the teenage soul, that some poor babe actually broke out the VIDEO CAMERA and taped the transmission emitting from their television set like they were pirating the latest Harry Potter movie!

Useless Advice Mondays - Tem anti-séptico?

Despite our own confidence or ego, there are times when we must accept that others know better, and we should heed their advice. While watching the stunningly-bad film "Night of the Creeps" Saturday night, I was reminded of this (I was also reminded as to why I shouldn't be allowed to go over channel 75). For those not fimiliar with this film, I would suggest it as a case study in what can go wrong when one tries to tie too many horror genres into one film. This one tries to combine aliens, parasites, zombies and axe murderers into one.....it doesn't really work. The redeeming qualities are that a) it's set in the mid 80's which, by itself, makes it hilarious and b) in one of the scenes, this kid is in a public bathroom that has "Stryper Rules" written on the wall. How hilarious is that?

So in the begining of this movie, this couple is in their car at (what I'll refere to as) "The Point" when the announcer on the radio comes on with a news flash announcing the escape of a homicidal axe murderer from the local mental institution. They largely ignore this right about until the announcer comes back on later (after the kids have left said "Point" and are now in the woods investigating some unidentified object that fell from outer space .... yeah ... see?) when the girl is by herself in the car and basically says "The Axe Murder was last seen in the remote wooded area, where you are currently parked, wielding an axe ....... just above your head." At this point, our fair lady actually begins to pay attention. Needless to say, things do not work out weel for little miss can't be wrong, and the "story" progresses (or regresses, not sure) from there. This reminded me of the following bit of advice:

If you ever find yourself on the coast of Brazil (or on the coast of an island off the coast of Brazil, to be more exact), and you are about to embark on a lovely kayaking trip on the ocean when a weathered old Brazillian fisherman comes running up gesturing wildly and saying something in Portugese about "wind" and "water", all the while looking very concerned, DO NOT ignore this man. He has some good information and should be listened to, even if you've only made out two words form his wild arm movements. Take my advice on this. That cat knows what he's talking about. Lets look at his qualifications:

1. 
   He's a fisherman, therefore it would stand to reason that he knows the sea. Unless he was a really bad fisherman, but then he probably wouldn't still be a fisherman, so that kinda cancels itself out.


2. 
   He's old, therefore he has yet to be killed, maimed (one could argue that just being old does not disqualify one from having been maimed however I can assure you, he was quite spry as he ran over with a sense of urgency to be ignored by my all-knowing ass) or snatched by vicious sea creatures, so he must be doing something right.


3. 
   He's observant and kind-hearted: I mean he noticed that we were preparing to embark on our S.S.Minnow-like journey and tried to prevent us from doing so.

So, in hindsight, I can completely translate what this guy was saying, and shall do so for you here. Heed this advice, should you ever find yourself in this situation (Translated from Brazillian Portugese):

OWF (Old Weathered Fisherman): "Hey! You! Dumbass getting into the kayak!"

OWF comes loping over, waving arms, clearly concerned


OWF: "Yeah you. Check it out home boy: The wind's coming in pretty damn hard and once you get to the end of that penninsula,"

OWF points to penninsula

OWF: "It's going to get pretty nasty and hard to continue. Now I'm telling you this because you look like the kind of dipshit that would get in a kayak and try to get around that thing, but I'm here to tell you chief, you're ass will be toast. Not only your ass, but the LSMHFJ will be ass-out as well."

Author's Note: (how he knew her code name still bewilders me)

OWF: "Here's what I'm suggesting numbnuts: Sit back, have another com Gas and just chill for a little bit. That shit's gonna die down in about an hour and then you'll be alright. But if you go now, your definately screwed. Not only is it likely that you'll be swept out to sea, but you'll probably either drown or be eaten by the Kraken. I'm just sayin'."

ME (clearly confused having only understood "Water" and "Wind" and having a severe case of cockiness): "Umm, no thanks. We'll be fine."

I am forced, at this juncture, to point out the the LSMHFJ did indeed have a better understanding of Wild Old Fisherman Sign Language and uttered the oft-reminded phrase of "Maybe we shouldn't go out, I think he's saying it's a bad idea."

So, needless to say, things did not go well. Right about the time we got to the end on the previously pointed-out penninsula, things turned fugly. This resulted in the eventual abandoning of ship, water rescue of LSMHFJ's kayak, gashing of leg on barnacle encrusted rocks under sea, eventual salvation of land, portage of kayaks trough jungle territory (with no map or real sense of location/direction), and unfortuante requirement to learn the following phrase in Portugese: "Do you have anti-septic?". I can assure you, when on a remote island in a country where English is not the primary language, you really don't want to have to learn that phrase.

Screw It.....Just Throw Money at the Problem

So we're getting close to that time of the year again. The time when we are encouraged (at EVERY opportunity) to show our special someones how much we care by giving them a gift of love........or by just throwing as much money at them as we possibly can. This may come as a suprise, but I really despise the Marketing Event of Valentine's Day. Don't get me wrong, the idea of the actual really-real holiday is nice. But what we have come to participate in is not "observed in honor of St. Valentine and as a time for sending valentines" (Mirriam Webster). What we have now is the time of the year that we use every single cent of advertising revenue to tell men:

"Look, you're a bumbling ass. Give up the idea of being romantic and just go buy the largest rock you can afford/finance/sell you mortal soul for. That card? Forget it. You're going to pick out the cheesiest cornball one anyway and just scratch you're name on the bottom. Add that $4.25 to the rock and be done with it."

For ladies, the message is strikingly similar:

"Look, he's a bumbling ass. Give up the idea of being romantic and just go buy the largest, loudest power tool/electronic gadget/franchise licensed sports thing that you can afford/finance/sell your mortal soul for. That card? Forget it. He's too stupid to get it and won't really read it anyway. Just use the $4.25 to get him a Happy Meal from McDonald's."

There are articles written, news segments about, and the social expectation of the acceptable gifts and what is considered cliché. What this holiday has really become is Christmas Expisode 2: Enter the Guilt Trip. There's the social pressure to conform to the holiday standards and just spend spend spend or been seen as a fool/chump/cheap bastard/bowtie wearer. Even when you truly do not want to participate, you have to deal with the slew of "What did YOU do for Valentine's Day?" Usually this question is asked as an excuse for someone else to tell you what THEY did or got. It's all crap.

Here's the deal: do whatever the hell makes the two of you happy. That's it. Tell the marketing department at Zales to go to hell. If you want to just make it a nice dinner out, rock on. If you want to sit on the couch and crunch on Cheetos together, bring extra napkins. Do what will make you guys happy. Piss on the advertised norms. One year, the LSMHFJ (Legenday Soon-to-be Mrs. Happy Flapjacks) and I got each other houseplants. It was great and we both still have something that we can look at that reminds us of that day (and, although there have been close calls, they are still both alive....mine even reproduced...that dirty little bastard!). Another year, we went all out and got dressed up to go out to a nice dinner at a place that was showing Cassablanca on all of the walls and had a 6 course Morroccan dinner. That was great. The point is we did what we wanted to. We spent time together. Isn't that what really matters?

I also find it funny that the day also shares space/time with the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Nothing says I love you like blood and bullets. You go Big Al.

So, if you are preparing to go out shopping for Valentine's Day, because you really want to give that special someone a gift (not because Hallmark told you that you had to or they would electrocute your puppy), and you're just completely stuck as to what would really say "I love you more than anything in this world", I have two suggestions. One comes from a movie (although it wasn't a Valentine's Day gift in the movie, it still applies) and the other is just my own take on it. One for each gender. This should cover all bases (as long as you don't actually buy these, well....maybe they one for him would be OK):

• For Her: A set of very nice, very sharp kitchen knives. When she looks confused, simply quote the mystery movie by saying "I've never liked a girl enough to give her sharp knives."(Special bonus points to those who can name the movie without cheating).


• For Him: Come on, this is easy......Ninja Throwing Stars!!!!!!

Side note: "Electrocute your puppy" could easily be taken as "Electro-Cute your puppy!!!". As in put some really bright scary outfit on it, smotehing with shoes, sunglasses and rhinestones, and show it off to everyone. I'm not sure which would be more cruel........