Two years of sharing the hate

The Crack Young Staff of The Hatemonger's Quaterly and their interns, let's just call them Chip, are celebrating their Second Anniversary on Al Gore's World-Wide Web.

Congratulations guys, perhaps during the celebratory dinner tonight the Chip will drink one too many Fuzzy Navels and take her shirt off. Even though she's a graduate student and thereby ugly as homemade sin, boobage is boobage.

Now if we could convince your luddite technical support staff to open up your comments we could say thanks for the laughs.

Going the extra mile

Via Yahoo News:

BERLIN (Reuters) - German prostitutes are signing up for a career change, training to become nurses to tend to the country's aging population or working phones as tele-marketers.

"Competition in prostitution is fierce and the days when one could make a decent living out of it are long gone, especially once you hit the thirties," Zohren said.

She said prostitutes' fees had hit rock bottom and they were well suited to jobs on offer in the retraining program.

"After years of prostitution, they know how to listen, look after people and are savvy in selling over the phone," she said.

Experts in the care industry for the aged also welcomed the initiative.

"We have more and more old and fewer and fewer young people, so there is a strong demand for people working in care professions," said Franz Wagner, head of the German association of care professions.

Talk about service with a smile.

No word yet on how many course hours it take to keep the girls from asking if the customer like the "happy ending" with that.

Man Down, Man Down...

Via 7Online (ABC News):

James Wilson has been camping out on the roof of his home and calling himself "not only the CEO and director of the National Association of Desperate Husbands," but "also a card-carrying member."
So what will it take to get the 33-year-old independent marketing consultant from Redford, Mich., to come back down?

"Well, it is going to take for my wife to finally give in and remove the children from our bedroom, put them in their rightful places, in their own bedroom," he said.

James Wilson and his wife, Valentina, have a 3-month-old daughter, Jayla, and a 2-year-old son, James III. Valentina Wilson says the children will remain sleeping in the marital bed for now.

"Wait until my daughter gets older and he can get the bedroom back to just us," she said.

James Wilson, who has been chronicling his woes on his website www.husbandonstrike.com, says the children are causing an intimacy issue, but his wife says that's not the case.

"We get all the intimacy we need, you know," Valentina Wilson said.

Valentina Wilson said she was prepared to let James stay up on the roof because she was confident that he would return home on his own.

"I think he will come around," she said. "It will get cold up there. He will miss us and will get hungry. He will come back home."

Her husband said that he chose the roof as his place for protest instead of simply hanging out at a friend's house because he wanted to grab his wife's attention.

"I just decided I didn't want to protest using any normal striking method," he said. "I wanted to be as unique as possible.

phin's blog Presents: Real Men of Genius
Today we salute you, Mr. Involuntarily Celibate Husband.
Mr. Involuntarily Celibate Husband

Camping out on your roof, calling attention to the needs of involuntarily celibate men everywhere.
Sexually Frustrated

Sure you had sex, and a lot of it, a year ago, but where's the love now.
Rosie palmer just ain't cuttin' it

Standing your ground, as president and sole member of the National Association of Desperate Husbands, you've called attention to your selfish needs, ensuring years of continued celibacy.
Flying solo in the shower

So stand your ground Mr. Involuntarily Celibate Husband, not coming down, 'til she'll go down. Perhaps the other members of the National Association of Desperate Husbands shall support your cause and join you in a masturbatory celebration. Until then claim your victories, sleeping alone, on your roof.
Mr. Involuntarily Celibate Husband

Real Men of Genius idea gratuitously stolen afer reading Joan's Mr. Snarky Blog Commenter

Hooters Air goes down...

and not in a good way

Via The Sun News:

After a three-year run, Myrtle Beach's homegrown airline, Hooters Air, is bowing out of regularly scheduled air service.

The airline will cease its public charter flights April 17 and will run only private charters out of Winston Salem, N.C.

I just can't tell y'all how crushed I am. Add this to the list of the greatest travesties of the Amerikkkan Kapitalistik System. Damn you George Bush and your Neo-Konservative Value.

We can only hang on the fleeting hope that lap dances are included in the ticket price of the chartered flights.

BUSH LIED AND AIRLINES DIED.

Hattip: Agent Bedhead

American Hostage Jill Carroll Free

Rusty has the details.

Notably Missing

The Dymistifying Divas and the Men's Club are discussing swim-wear.

I'm absolutely possitive Theresa, Silk, Phoenix, Ally, Mark, Jim, and James will do a great job "covering" the topic.

There are however a couple of options that I'm sure will be absent.

Note: The images below may not be safe for work or suitable for viewing by impressionable children, the mentally ill or those that lack intestinal fortitude.

First the virtues of the bubble wrap bikini.

Really, can you have open and honest discussion about beach-wear without bringing bubbles into play?

And most importantly our pal Steve-O sporting a Speed-O.

Somebody pass the mental floss.

Tin cup rattling

Jeff at Beautiful Atrocities needs a hand.

Stop by and drop in some coin if you can, else he may keep linking to pictures of Helen Thomas.

I love you more

Than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol

Trying on your camisole...

And so ends our Bare Naked Ladies sound-bite of the day.

Incoherent ramblings part deux

For some reason visitors to our home haven't found breast-milk to be an acceptable substitute for cream in their coffee.

Isn't swaddling the next best thing to putting your infant in a straight-jacket? Not that there's anything wrong with either of these approaches. I just wished the missus would quit trying to find somewhere to purchase a "swaddling" jacket for me.

Several of the sources we've read about breast-feeding say for the missus to eat a variety of foods as this will help to expand the phinlet's palate. I just find this hard to believe. I've tasted the stuff, breast-milk that is, and it doesn't resemble any type of food I've ever tasted.

Diaper manufactures are full of crap. Plain and Simple. Try we may we haven't been able to hit the ten pound weight limit on the phinlet diapers yet. Even when you consider add nine pounds of baby the crap starts spewing out of the sides long before the weight limit is reached. Perhaps if we duct-tape the top and leg opening shut it'll work, I'm just afraid the cleanup would be a bitch. I guess it goes to show there's no truth in advertising.

More pics of the phinlet below the fold after a quick warning to the other parents out there. You may want to lock your daughters up, teh cuteness may just be too much for the lasses to handle. We are of course beginning to negotiate doweries.

I really can't help but think of the family guy:
Peter: Brian, there a message in my cereal, it says OOOOO.
Brian: Peter those are Cheerios.

Of course after a hard day's work there's nothing better than a nap.

all your prophets are belong to us

The third and most powerful Miracle Fish of Allah.

You must pledge your allegiance and make your peace offerings now (preferably in unmarked non-sequential bills, certified checks or money orders), else I'll fatwa your silly ass.

Remember the 11th Commandment: Thou Shalt Obey Phineous T. Goldphish.

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn

Apparently the folks at FHM don't either. They've named Scarlett Johnasson as the Sexiest Woman in the World.

I.DON'T.GET.IT.

Really? Her? The sexiest woman in the world? Maybe I'm missing something, maybe I just ain't understanding where the rest o the world is coming from.

She does have mad drivin' skillz, think Mario Petty, on crystal meth.

Then there's the insight she gives into the "average" American's lives. Really, most Americans were disappointed by President Bush's re-election. That's why he had a majority of the votes.

Of course she's every man's dream, a faithful companion to the end. It's not her fault human beings aren't monogamous by nature. Relationships (among other things) are just so hard.

Her favorite feature? Her boobages. She was quoted in an interview with Harper's Bazaar as saying: "I'm proud of my girls. They're my charms, my feminine wiles".

Really, I just don't get it, sure she's got golden globes, but they aren't that golden.

Sure Scarlett's cute, but she's no Melissa Theuriau. Hell I bet Ms. Johnasson doesn't even have my name tattooed on her right butt cheek, yet.

ATTENTION: All your beaches are belong to us!

Seems that there's been a format change over at Cake Eater Chronicles: it's now the all Beaches, all the Time blog.

I guess the move towards easy-listening blogging was inevitable.

And the winner ...

for best description of collegiate admissions offers goes to:

The Hatemonger's Quarterly with this beauty:

After all, we, the crack young staff of "The Hatemonger’s Quarterly",have always considered college admissions officers slightly below crack whores and pirates on the official evil scale.

Fitting description for the Director of Admissions at the University of which I'm alumni. I still hope his crotch gets infested by the fleas of a thousand camels.

Irony

Am I the only one that finds a clay sculpture of Britney Spears on a bearskin rug while giving birth an odd choice to make a "Pro-Life" statement?

Never you mind the paradoxical nature of her bringing a life into the world whilst sprawled out on the back of a dead animal. She's married to the farookin' poster boy for selective reproduction and justification of retroactive abortion.

Side note: I'd have never guessed that was Brit Brit being portrayed. The chick mounting the bear has well defined muscle tone, doesn't have a double chin, not a bit of cottage cheese on her thighs and most notably isn't wearing a trucker cap.

Milestones

Whilst away from the interweb several milestones were reached, all very worthy of celebration.

The Straight White Guy proves he's still Straight, White and the Man. He and Mrs. Straight White Guy celebrated their twelfth wedding anniversary this weekend. What's the proper gift for twelve years of wedded bliss anyhoo? I'm thinking twelve is the year of SPAM (the edible kind).

French newz hottie Melissa Theuriau got naked and pictures got taken. I still can't believe I got "scooped" on this story, damn it.

The LLama Butchers put up their 5000th post on Moo Knew, and y'all thought I was full of crap.

The Random Penseur published post number 1000. Thanks RP for sharing, if you're wondering I'm the knucklehead combing through your archives, often printing them out and sharing them with the missus (especially the tales about the boy child and girl child).

Chip, and the Crack Young Staff of "The Hatemonger's Quarterly" are going to celebrate their second blogiversary this month. Amazingly they having received a link from that Glenn guy. Herein launches the boycott The Instapundito Campaign.

A tad bit on the incoherent side of life...

I've been on a tad bit of a hiatus from the interweb the past couple of weeks. Primarily getting by blogidohexiweb fix via RSS Feeds (yes I know they're da debil) and leaving comments few and far between. This week marks my return to normalcy, somewhat.

Just a random smattering of incoherent ramblings to start of the week:

The missus and phinlet are doing well. I really can't put into words how much the everyone's kind words and well wishes mean to us. I never realized just how many friends (a term I don't throw around frequently) until now. The only thing I can come up with it. Thank you for your kind words, for keeping the missus and phinlet in your thoughts and prayers. Thank you for your words of encouragement. Thank you for providing a distraction when life was all too real. Thank you.

I've never been sure I'd measure up to the level of parenting my parents reached. I'm still unsure, but with the missus by my side I'm not as nervous as I once was.

I'm back at the office fulltime. I'd say back at work, but I don't want to be here. Kind of funny how priorities can change in the blink of an eye. Well not really the blink of an eye, you get the drift.

I'm constantly amazed by phinlet. I'd always been a tad bit nervous about being a father. In the two and a half weeks since his hatching phinlet has already taught me more than I'd ever thought possible.

It crushes me each time I have to leave home to go to work knowing that there are several hours I won't be around the two people I hold most dear in life.

Our pet boxer has already become quite fond of phinlet. If he's less than happy about something and we're not attending to his needs as she thinks we should she'll let us know by banging on the side of her kennel or with a bark (or two).

Amazing how life works ain't it?

Fatherhood

NOTE: Posted by Confederate Yankee, but written by our dad. I will not start talking about "the Phin" like one would talk about "the Manolo." He is right about everything else, however. My nephew is in very good hands.]

I had been asked by Phin to keep everyone up to date on how everything is going. Simply put Mom, Dad and Phinlet are all doing well. As the father of the Phin, I would like to make some observations:

I have had the great fortune to have three sons, all of whom I am very proud. I can look at them, each and everyone, and tell everyone that I have been successful as a father.

As a parent it has been a pleasure, mixed with an occasional headache and one or two heartaches watching them develop and mature into the fine young men, fathers and father to be. (Son number three just announced that he and wife are expecting in October. They withheld notification to keep from distracting from the excitement of the birth of the Phinlet. – See what I mean about fine men!)

Now to the Phin. He, of the three showed the least signs of being the cuddly type. He has always been the most reserved, even a little shy at first meeting. He has never demonstrated a “comfort” level with babies and small children, even his nieces.

Well, enter the Phinlet. You would think that the Phin had spent his entire life caring for little ones. There is no doubt that this baby is his and that he takes his role seriously. We were visiting the day of the birth, when it became necessary for the baby’s diaper to be changed. Nana, the Phin’s mom, jumped up ready to come to the rescue – but NO. The Phin would have none of it, he made it very clear to one and all that the baby is his son and he is responsible for his life, liberty and clean diapers. (This may change when they really start smelling.) But he has been ever by the side of his bride and son, never shirking his responsibilities. (He even turned down a chance to go fishing – now, in our family that is serious devotion).

Kidding aside. It has been a real pleasure to see how the Phin has adjusted to the role of father. I can tell you from personal observation that this is not a role that all males readily adapt to, but in my humble opinion, it is a role that a “man” will not only adapt to but will relish.

So let it be said, once again that the “old one” is very proud of the Phin and his “older and sometimes wiser brother,” not so much for what they have accomplished, but for who they are and who they have indicated they will be in the most important job that a man can have - that full-time, long term job of being a father.

A pseudo triumphant return

Things are getting back to as normal as they've ever been around the phish bowl, just a little less sleep at night and a bit more during the day. Madam Bedhead was kind enough to keep the home fires burning whilst the missus and I adjust to life with phinlet. I'm still in awe of both her and him. Had anybody asked me two weeks ago I'd have never guessed how spellbound he would have in the short time since his hatching.

I've been asked a couple of times how it feels to be a father. It's something I haven't really been able to describe justly. The only answer that keeps coming back is now I get it, now I understand what life's about.

With the missus on vacation, since she had the c-section and all, for the next couple of weeks I've had a chance to show of my mad domestic goddess skillz. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, all being performed by my more than capable hands. I'll have y'all know that all laundry has come gone in and come out with their original colors in tact.

To say the past couple of weeks have been a learning experience would be an understatement. 'specially when it comes to my sense of humor and thinking before I speak. For some reason medical professionals aren't real keen someone saying "just a little off the top" when talking about circumcision. The missus has also let it be known that the process of pumping expressing breast-milk shall not be referred to as milking.

Over the past week I'd grown accustomed to spending as much time as I wanted with the missus and phinlet, but today I headed back to work for half a day. Well I showed up at the office. The girls were kind enough to decorate my office by hanging diapers from the ceiling and wrapping a good portion of my desk in the remaining leftovers. They also hug bottles, pacifiers and spare nipples from the ceiling. Pictures to come later. The list of calls and other crap to catch up on was endless, matched with my lack of desire to be there lead to almost nothing getting accomplished.

Which way was up again?

A Word From The Narrator

A number of Phin devotees have emailed me asking how he and the family are doing. To answer your question, he is quite well. In fact, I just got off the phone with him and though he had not yet experienced poop up the back, he stated that he, The Missus, and The Phinlet are all enjoying their postpartum bonding period. He will be blogging again shortly.

Have a nice day.

Gratuitous Melissa Theuriau Posting Week Eight

Well, well. What do we have here but Miss French Newscaster's plaintive cry for assistance?

Hello?

Y'all can say something...really, I don't bite.

Just minding the fishbowl while Phin takes care of his newly expanded family!

;-)

Selective Reading

Ever since Phin announced that he and the Missus evidently had experienced "the sex" and were expecting the Phinlet, I've been trying to warn the fine fellow of a certain phenomenon. Yet no matter how many other topics I covered in an email, he'd manage to adequately reply to all of them yet judiciously avoid one subject.

That subject unfortunately was a complete shock to me, and even moreso because when a couple is expecting their first child, it seems that everyone in the world revels in doling out advice. This advice is multifarious, varied, and contains tidbits both useful and completely without value, but it paints broad brush strokes on the wall that is impending parenthood. Yet I never received advice on that one topic that I wish someone had warned me about when my child was a newborn - the fact that what lies beneath will change all intuitive and learned theories in my mind regarding the laws of physics and biology.

How do babies somehow manage to defy gravity and crap upward? It isn't as if the babies hang upside down from the side of their playpens. To wit, I'd advise an "upright baby" policy which dictates that we In addition, most parents wise up and keep babies in an upright position if at all possible and place them on a slight incline when sleeping. This isn't a foolproof practice, because the inexperienced digestive tract just doesn't know how much strength it has at times. In fact, I would bet just about every parent knows the dismay of seeing their child in brand new onesies with a distinctive brown stain running up to the neck.

It's something that you cannot escape, and when you buy those adorable sleepers and overalls, you certainly won't imagine them smeared with poop up the back. Two things are certain, hoeever: (1) Blowouts will occur in public and at special events, and (2) The child will often perform these astounding feats against gravity while looking quite innocent and possibly even smiling. Hmm. I guess that I don't really have any advice to dole out after all...

Psssssssst!

SOOPER SEEKRIT AGENT EXCLUSIVE!!!

This is Agent Bedhead reporting on covert Operation Phinlet. I have uncovered pictures of the real Phinlet, as opposed to those pictures of some adorable human child that the parents are showing off:

Doesn't he look like a certain Google-Chumming Fool?

There's no place like home

Want to let y'all know that the missus, phinlet and I greatly appreciate your kind words and thoughts over the past several days.

I'll get a play-by-play (with commentary) of the hatching process up in the next day or so.

One question. Why didn't anybody tell me not to say he looked like Winston Churchill PRIOR to us heading to the hospital?

Enter the Phinlet

Our dad cobbled this together, and asked that I post this on his behalf since Phin, incredibly, doesn't seem to have the time to blog right now.

Just wanted to publish an update on family phin. The phinlet, came into this world, not of his own volition at approximately 0115 on the morning of March 9, 2006. As I mentioned yesterday Ms. Phin began labor at about 0630 on the morning of the 8th. After about 18 hours and little progress the decision was made to do a "C" section. Good move. The phinlet came into this world looking for a beer and a cigar.

At 8lbs 14 oz, with a full head of hair, he is at least half grown.

After seeing the little guy and verifying that Phin and wife were well, Nana and Papa went home to bed. After three hours of sleep and a days work we returned to the hospital for the formal introduction to our new grandson. Not that I’m biases, but he is cute as a "guppy."

I do what to say that we have some pictures and as soon as I can figure how to upload we will get them out. Maybe tomorrow night when CY and family arrive he can help educate an old man.

Frankly, I've been trying to educate the old man for years, so I doubt one more night is going to help all that much.

Oh... did someone say something about a picture?

Enter the Phinlet:

I gotta tell you: Phin and the Mrs do really, really good work.

Welcome to the family, kid. You'll be much loved.

Hatched

Sometime after 1:00AM... and a lot closer to 2:00 AM... Mrs. Phin gave birth to a healthy baby boy, weighing in at 8-14. Other details were sketchy when we finally crashed.

Both Mom and baby are fine; I didn't think to ask about Phin.

Update: Talked to Phin, the Missus, and some very proud grandparents this evening. You can see a picture of the little guppy here.

Phinet Update

Just got a call from my middlest, known in these parts as the Phin. Pitocin drip has been started and sweet thing is having contractions. The mid-wife says another 8-10. Will keep you updated.

My missus and I want to thank you all for your kind words and prayers.

The best laid plans...

If the missus doesn't go into labor on her own shortly, the vet is gonna induce labor sometime around 6:30am tomorrow. I'm not real sure why they choose this obscene hour of the morning, but from conversations it appears to be a bit of a conspiracy. Seems they'd let the expectant father get at least one more decent nights sleep, but nooooooooooo, it's all about the ladies, funny how that works.

As y'all might expect posting over the next couple of days will probably be sporadic, at best. For some reason the missus was against me live-blogging the hatching process. I'm thinking I may slip a pocket recorder in just so I've got proof of the verbal abuse.

I'm of course taking the advice of several folks and leaving a majority of my sense of humor at the door and also planning to keep my mouth shut, duct tape may be involved. That's probably the only way I'll make it out of the delivery room 1) alive 2) with the family jewels still attached and in working order. If I turn up missing it's because I said something stupid.

There goes the neighborhood

For some reason(s) most folks don't trust me with the keys to their blogs.

Whilst Sadie was out visitating with folks at the Casa De Feisty she let me hold on to a set of the keys. Now I know y'all are thinkin' what the hell'd she do that for? And I wished I had the answer, one of life's great mysteries it is.

But y'all should be happy. Otherwise you'd not been able to read: a Beaverlicous Interview, nor would you be able to learn everything you never wanted to know about Beavering and well, lets just skip this post, where I followed the advice set for by Our Maximum Leader, The Straight White Guy and the Velocidude.

I think the Barenaked Ladies said it best with:
Would you please ignore that you found me on the floor trying on your camisole

The telephone is ringing

is that my mother on the phone

As I was headed to my parents house for my niece's and older but sometimes wiser brother's birthday get together my cell phone started buzzing. A buzzing which always brings me great joy. This time though, the joy was different 'cause I realized who was calling, at least I thought I did.

When I answered I was greeted by Sadie, after a brief chat I was passed over to Zonker, who in turn handed the phone to Chrissy, who then gave the phone to Dash and before it was all said and done I was able to chat with Silk for a bit too.

By far one of the best phone calls I've had in ages, warmed the ole pumpin' gizzard it did, hell I may not even be able to play the role of grinch next christmas. Maybe next time I'll even remember how to speak English, instead of stammering and sounding like an incoherent crackhead. What great peeps.

Gratuitous Melissa Theuriau Posting Week Seven

When you read a line such as this:

Since I'm getting ready to board an airplane tomorrow, I've been packing and practicing my pudding wrestling techniques by watching Christina Aguilera videos.

One can't help but say, Why yes Melissa dreams really do come true.

Warms the heart doesn't it?

Random Question #69874

Why do married men typically die before single me?

Answer below the fold:

Because we want to.

Blasphemy on the Tee Vee

If you've read more than two entries on this blog you've probably realized there aren't many things I take seriously in life. Some things I won't tolerate people messing around with are my family, faith, my Country and those who defend her, Melissa Theuriau, my friends and Barbeque.

As I've mentioned in the past some folks call whatever they toss on the grill or smother in a tomato based sauce Barbeque. As much as I've tried to edumakate them, there just ain't no learnin' folks decent taste. Which is fine, it just leaves more Barbeque for me, most of the time.

Well tonight as I settled in to watch Tee Vee, and nap a bit, Alton Brown, host of the FoodTV show Good Eats, was discussing Barbeque. His description of Barbeque was very close to mine, at least the cooking process. For y'all wondering about the proper cooking technique, it's slow smoked pork, and a slice of heaven when done properly, done wrong it's a greasy mess.

Then towards the end of the show he mentioned sauce. Now anybody with decent raisin', and a bit of good sense, knows the only sauce that touches Barbeque is vinegar based. I'll be damned if Alton, Mr. Brown if you're nasty, didn't mention making a sauce out of sweet pickle juice and mustard. I kid you not, I threw up, just a bit, in my mouth.

I got this sickened queasy feeling that soon turned into rage. Why, why the hell would anybody allow this to be run on national Tee Vee? Here we are censoring cartoon images of Mohammad, Muhammad or however they're spelling it this week, and this slips by.

Now I'm no religious expert, never claimed to be, but I'm pretty damned sure that suggesting somebody pour a bile type liquid onto otherwise perfectly prepared Barbeque is a one way ticket straight to hell, purgatory, the Clinton household for a game of slap and tickle or whatever your idea of eternal damnation is.

Blasphemy plain and simple.

The word for the day is...

Décolleté.

I always knew this blogging thing would be good for my vocabulary.

H/T: Lone Pony

Random Observation

Boy howdy is Matchbox 20's CD - Mad Season depressing.

Somebody hide the bullets from those depressing peoples before they decide to swallow one.

Snooze Button Questionaire

Paul! from Snooze Button Dreams has created a meme / questionnaire for the general public of the blogidohexiweb. I haven't done a meme in an while and since I've got nothing, the well runith dry, and the questions amuse me so here ya go.

1. You're futzing around with your iPod and slam your car into some other poor bastard’s in the parking lot of the liquor store. No one sees you and the owner of the other car is nowhere in sight. What do you do?
Leave a note with the contact information with the information of a co-worker that's pissed me off and run like hell to the nearest body shop.

2. You’re a guest in someone’s home for a dinner party. You excuse yourself to the restroom during dinner and have an episode of explosive diarrhea. Before you leave the bathroom you:
Walk out rubbing my belly and announce that my latest masterpiece is now available for viewing.

3. You’re sitting at a traffic light thinking about your sad, mundane life. You witness a minor traffic accident where no one is injured but plenty of damage is sustained to both vehicles. You clearly saw who was at fault. When the light turns green, you:
Drive off, while pointing and laughing at the poor sap who's gonna get one helluva increase on his next insurance bill.

4. You and several friends stop to pick up another friend on the way to a party. Your friend comes out wearing something that makes them look ridiculous, like a transvestite or you can clearly see a naughty bit sticking out somewhere. Do you:
Keep my yap shut until we reach the party, arrange for several photos to document the historic event, tell everybody at the party, then point it out on the way home.

5. You’re sitting in the conference room awaiting the start of a meeting. Six people are in attendance. Just as the handouts are coming around you hear audible flatulence, loud enough to be heard by everyone and certainly unmistakable. Do you:
Ask the boss what the hell they ate and offer to book them an appointment with a mortician or gastroenterologist.

6. You are on your way to the store. Your wife/husband/other asks you to get them something. Due to your own inability to either listen or think about anyone but yourself, you forget. When you come home, you:
Deny, deny, deny. Tell them you not only searched that store, but stopped at two others that were out of the way, which is why it took so long to get home (when I'd actually stopped at the bar for a pint or two).

6.5 When they ask you, "Did you ask someone who works there?" You:
Say "Damned skippy", the next shipment comes in tomorrow, I'll pick it up on the way home.

The only person I'm personally tagging is The Straight White Guy, mainly so he'll pass it along to his rabid fans that love memes. To the others, if you're reading and you're interested, consider yourself tagged.

Dreamscapes

It seems the old melon has reached critical mass, the synapses just ain't firing right, something's gone amiss and it's interfering with my typically warped amusements. This morning I woke up from a dream in a sweat and was already mentally exhausted, lemme tell ya, that's one helluva way to start the day out.

The dream was as real as any I can remember, typically I remember my dreams, but they're abstract, off the wall crap or a continuation of work (yeah I'm one of those freaks that writes code & algorithms in his sleep). The part I remember starts at one of the most seedy strip joints in the state, I know how seedy it is cause I've been in there a couple of times to check it out, research folks research, oh and a bachelor party or two. Well there I am almost at the entrance of the club trying to make a break for it, I'm headed anywhere but in that club and fast, but the missus has a different idea. She's sending me in on a mission.

Seems that her baby sister, the attractive twenty year-old living with us while she's in college, has decided to take up the performing arts, and I'm the one that's been designated to convince her otherwise. So there we are arguing, okay I'm whining, about why I shouldn't be the one to go in. My primary reasoning, I haven't seen the sister-in-law's boobages and I don't think it'll do anything for family harmony for me to see them now. The missus, being the saintly lady she is, feels it's my "brotherly duty" to get her out of the club, no matter how many years of therapy it'll take to get over it. I keep bitching, "but I haven't seen her chesticles, and I don't think it's a good idea for me to see them now". Over and over I kept telling her that, finally she snaped and yelled at me, "DAMN IT IF YOU'VE SEEN ONE PAIR OF TITS YOU'VE SEEN THEM ALL".

With that bit of sulking, I did what any reasonable man would do, I tucked tail and walked into the establishment. The whole while I remember being afeared that I was gonna get a gander at her mammaries and they were gonna be engrained into my memories. Terrible folks, it's a damned terrible feeling. So I'm making my way through the club, the chicks are still unattractive (yeah, I'm troubled by that too, you'd think they would all look like Melissa Theuriau and Faith Hill, but no these chicks were nasty, fugly even) until I find the sister-in-law, who's getting ready to go on stage.

She's pissed 'cause I'm making a scene, not that I'd ever make a scene, 'specailly in a strip club, but finally she listens to reason. We're making our exit and the guys in the club start tossing beer bottles because I'm leaving with the only attractive chick in the joint. We get outside and the missus is pissed at me "because I took too damned long" and that's when I woke up.

Really folks, I'm starting to think that living in a house full of women is driving me batty. The most disturbing part of this, to me at least, is the ugly stripper part. I mean sure they're not the most attractive girls, but I was DREAMING. Damn it, I think I've got to turn in my man card, or perhaps head back to the Cheetah in Vegas, to refresh my memory on the intricacies of the performing arts. If I'm not willing to make that sacrifice to help pay some poor girl's college tuition who is?