Wednesday, July 28, 2004

What brought you here?

another chapter of the web searches that brought a person to this blog

My hat (and, possibly, my shirt) is off to the gentleman (I'm assuming) that came across my lil' piece of the Internet when he entered the phrase ELONGATED NIPPLES into his preferred search engine and found my site pop up (heh...must be cold in here) as a hit.

What the hell are ELONGATED NIPPLES?  I've got a mental image of some fleshy jumprope-esque nozzles and a couple of folk playing Double-Dutch with them.


What a disappointing moment when he clicked the link and discovered nothing remotely resembling ELONGATED NIPPLES.  I suspect I may have even ruined his orgasm with all my silly words, inane ramblings, and piss-poor fiction* if he even bothered to scan TTPs for photos and finding none.

Can't win them all, buddy.

Good luck on your quest.


*And I certainly do not mean fiction about Urine and/or Urine-related activities.  That, too, would be a completely different site.




Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Scratch and Myth

"Y'know, Fred, if ya keep scratchin' yerself like that you'll go blind; least, that's what my pappy usetah tell me...and he WUZ blind in one eye, so he wuz the voice of experience."
"He wuz a wise fella...but I betcha he never had himself a case of Gnomes like I've got."
"D'you say you've got Gnomes?"
"Yeah, that's what my quack told me when I went to 'mergency room last week; a ragin' case o' Pubic Gnomevillagus. In other words, some mythic bearded little people have taken up residence in my groinal region."
"That wuz my reaction, too! I've got midget squatters in my business area."
"Uh, can ya see 'em?"
"That's the funny thing; I can't. Doc said it has to do with my lack of an imagination or some such BS."
"I s'pect yer getting yer leg pulled, Fred."
"That ain't my dam pegs what's gettin' PULLED, buddy...feels like them lil' folk are using my junk for a utility pole or a lighthouse...somethin'..."


Sunday, July 25, 2004

One Fan's homegrown 'Dance Moves' for Van Halen's DREAMS as witnessed by your's truly at their July 22nd performance at the Xcel Energy Center

Tis true; I attended (and very much enjoyed) Van Halen's concert here in Saint Paul last Thursday. For their particular style of music (cock rock?) they proved once and for all that even in their advancing respective ages (ranging from 49 to 56) they can still put on an energetic show; replete with all the self-indulgence we, their fans, have come to expect: from individual solos (do we really need a Bass solo from Michael Anthony? Or are we still pleased to see this box-ish gentleman pound down the Jack Daniels...if that was ACTUALLY the fluid dispensed from that bottle he gripped) to the fans and their ever-ready-to-be-lit lighters.

One particular thing I witnessed, however, deserves special note; and it wasn't from the stage...but from a fellow 50 or so feet away from where I sat. This guy proved to be one (of the many) great moments from the show that I will always remember...and it was all due to his impromptu dance moves to Van Halen's song, DREAMS.

What follows are the lyrics to the tune and the moves he busted during each (and I can assure you that after I first noticed this man I could not tear my eyes away from him; drawn, as I was, to his sheer unbridled joy...which, to me, was the pure and simple embodiment of hilarity). The moves are in parentheses:

World turns black and white
Pictures in an empty room
Your love starts fallin' down
(totters a bit from side to side...or it was the booze coursing through his system)
Better change your tune
(pretends to drop an unseen guitar)
Yeah, you reach for the golden ring
(reaches off to the side for an imagined golden ring)
Reach for the sky
(you guessed it...he stretched both extremities skyward whilst wiggling his fingers)
Baby, just spread your wings
(both arms then drop from their upward position to a semblence of a bird flapping its wings)

We'll get higher and higher
(both arms back up and are far-more earnestly scrabbling for the atmosphere)
Straight up we'll climb
(one finger now pointing directly above...p'raps to the good lord or a lighting rig)
We'll get higher and higher
(same as the first chorus above)
Leave it all behind
(looks backwards while doing a brushing off gesture with one hand...seemingly brushing cookie dust off a tabletop or dandruff from a pal's shoulder)

Run, run, run away
(now jogging in place...with the added visual delight of his roomy form jiggling to the beat)
Like a train runnin' off the track
(makes like Casey Jones and mimes tooting a train whistle)
Got the truth bein' left behind
(looks backwards again...and maybe notices the horrified looks of nearby fellow patrons at his truly non-Solid-Gold-worthy 'moves')
Falls between the cracks
(engages in a knickknack-paddywhack circular motion with his arms symbolizing something tumbling down; a la the meatball from atop of Old Smokey?)
Standin' on broken dreams
(looks down while lifting one foot and then the other as if marching across a bed of shattered glass...or a scattered swath of ill-placed finger and toe nails...crunch crunch)
Never losin' sight, ah
(one hand up to his a new recruit's first salute...and swivelling his head to and fro as if searching for something in the packed arena; quite possibly his dignity)
Well just spread your wings
(avian impersonation begins anew)

We'll get higher and higher
Straight up we'll climb
We'll get higher and higher
Leave it all behind
(as like the first chorus...but with a LOT more much so that a witness, like myself, momentarily considered it a strong possibility that he might attain flight...or a very short period of hovering)

So baby dry your eyes
(imagined hankerchief/oil rag to the eyes with a vigorous rubbing motion...capped off with a quick wipe across the nose)
Save all the tears you've cried
(wringing motion of the imagined rag over a likewise imagined container)
Oh, that's what dreams are made of
(points to himself, implying that he is Morpheus, Lord of Dreams)
'Cause we belong in a world that must be strong
(flexes both arms like the great bodybuilder he most certainly was not)
Oh, that's what dreams are made of
(pointing once again at his own form and his status of the Ruler of Nod)

Yeah, we'll get higher and higher
Straight up we'll climb
Higher and higher
Leave it all behind
Oh, we'll get higher and higher
Who knows what we'll find?

So baby dry your eyes
Save all the tears you've cried
Oh, that's what dreams are made of
Oh baby, we belong in a world that must be strong
Oh, that's what dreams are made of
(for the above two bits, see the moves of before)

And in the end on dreams we will depend
(wraps arms about his own torso/thorax...a self-inflicted bear hug that would surely squeeze the life out of just about anything smaller than a weasel)
'Cause that's what love is made of
(inexplicably points two fingers to his groin with all the implications you can imagine about LOVE being constructed of the fleshy nuggets lingering in his drawers)

With the song coming to a close and his obvious fixation on his nether regions, this Van Halen fan then did the unthinkable (and, in hindsight, a maneuver plainly exhibiting/exposing his need to share his LOVE with all within sight of him); he dropped his pants to his ankles (thankfully keeping his underpants about their proper sections) and exuberently spun about as Edward's guitar chime slowly faded under the roar of the crowd.

Nice, eh?

At a show such as this one, I expect to see the rare female flash her breasts stageward...not some rotound fellow in his late 30s/early 40s drop trou and pirouette in an orgiastic display of unbridled excitement.

Must be a sign of the times and/or a change in currently exceptable concert behavior.


Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Tall Tales Amongst Friends

"I thinks a volcano erupt-tuh-mated in my friggin' backyard, Ed."

" and yer shit-talking; yer bean's been touched inappropriately by an angel. It's prolly fire ants or a clutch o' spontaneously combustin' moles...ain't no volcano."

"Fire ants, ya say? Ya still have that sexy aardvark in yer garage?"

"Sven, for the last time, it makes me feel weird that ya don't know a vacuum when ya sees it AND that, even with the mis-identifying, yer oglin' it."

"Whatever, I gots eyes like Odin."

"Odin had one eye."

"Hmm...wonder what's gonna happen next; Atlantis surfacing in me terlit?"

"Sure...and the Tidy Bowl Man can dock there on his days off."

"Sooo...ya finally believe me about the fellow living in my terlit, eh?"


Monday, July 19, 2004

A Poor-Man's Ralph Lauren
or Slip(pers) of the Tongue
Stepping outside to fetch the newspaper one early morning I caught sight of a neighbor doing likewise, noted the slippers on his feet, and unsuccessfully choked off a snorting chortle at their threadbare appearance.  At the sound of this he angrily yelled to me (obviously picking up quickly exactly what it was that brought laughter to my lips):
"Laughin' at a man's...A MAN'S...slippers is a despicable slur--akin to a feral beast unleashing his fetid bowels upon the fresh grave of a recently dearly--and not a Bambi Deer-ly--departed!!!  Did you know that?  Did you also know that slippers are the new Birkenstocks?  I betcha didn't!  You certainly don't appear to be UP on your fashion trends whilst I--I--am a trailblazer.  Here's another one for ya:  thongs are the new unionsuits!  Stick those in your shorts and jiggle!!!  Don't think that I won't remember this transgression the next time we cross paths OR you're in need of a cup of sugar or a batch of my mother's famed rhubarb!"
Thank heavens he was wearing a robe which masked his choice in undergarments; the one-two-punch of his slippers/drawers combo would have elicited a far more outrageous outburst from me than a semi-throttled HaHa and, more than likely, a phone call to the Fuzz.
A cautionary tale, no doubt. 

Thursday, July 15, 2004

What If DeForest Kelley was reborn as a Sloppy Joe?
"Dammit, Jim...I'm a Manwich not a Warlock."


Wednesday, July 14, 2004

The Power of Selective (Preferential?) Memory
The Nerd-is-the-Word-Division

Each year I cannot recall which day my parents' wedding anniversary is celebrated (July 7th) nor my father's birthday (July 9th) but, inexplicably, I can pluck nerdly memories out of the deepest, darkest, and dankest reaches of my grey matter; such as the following which came to my lips just yesterday whilst talking to a friend:

"Pitfall II (made by Activision originally for the Atari system) has a board where a cavern floods and you have to get Harry out of it before he drowns."

"During Mark Gruenwald and John Byrne's short-lived run on Captain America, Steve Roger's alter-ego faced off against the likes of Baron Blood, Batroc the Leaper, and Dragon Man."

I'm sure you're all glad you weren't there for THIS conversation, eh?

The nerdblood was coursing, lemme tell you.


Tuesday, July 13, 2004

Tell me about your Good Luck Charm

"I got a fist full of grit from my ol' lady's front stoop (could be cigar ash, come to think of it; she loves them Swisher's, man. So much so her mug looks like an ashtray) that I keeps in my front pocket. It must be bringing me a lil' o' that patented Mick Luck cuz, since I started keepin' it on my person, I haven't had a runny nose, chapped lips, fissures, or embarassingly indecent public flatulence. could be that I'm off the junk, too. Bah, it's the grit. True Grit, man...jez like the Duke...only more granule-ly, dig? 'Course, considering how long he's been in the ground, I betcha he's even more True Grit these days. Ashes to ashes, as the preacher used to spout."

Terrance McSploot, area ne'er-do-well and part-time Monkeyshriner


Monday, July 12, 2004

Another Overheard Statement Post-Spider-Man 2 Viewing

"Y'know, with the kinda budget this film had you'd think they could have afforded a few shirts or something for Doc Ock. I didn't care for the multiple scenes with him flaunting his man-breasts so brazenly...made me feel funny."

Gentleman fixated a wee too much on the bared torso of actor Alfred Molina


Friday, July 09, 2004

What your Nickname tells me

Your own natural flavor is enhanced whilst in a hogpile.

A innate preference for Inhumanly/Erotically tight trousers that broadcast your blood pressure from twenty feet away.

The Pissing Link:
You've successfully closed the gap betwixt Man and Pre-Man urinary evolution.

Three, Four, Five and Six superfluous nipples hide beneath your shirt and I'd also imagine your tendency to lie prone for 'suckling time.'

You're bound to have an elongated 'shelf-life' and suffer from what can best be described as a 'cream-filled thorax.'


Wednesday, July 07, 2004

An Open Letter to my friend, the Puppeteer

Right off the bat, thanks for letting me stay at your place while you were away; you're a real bud and I appreciate your good will.

That said, I've got something to tell you that might be a bit upsetting to you in light of your opening your home to me:

I accidentally put one of your many puppets on as a sock.

It was dark out when I was dressing and, apparently, I opened the wrong trunk (thinking it was my suitcase) and donned--what I thought at the time was a tubesock--Mister Chickles (at least I think it was Mister Chickles; is he the Hobo Clown puppet or is that Bum-Bum Sprinkleshorts? I can never tell the two apart even when I watch your might want to expand your collection to include other non-clowny-looking puppets) Anyways, it wasn't until I finally turned on the light to find my shoes that I noticed the error.

Have you ever worn a puppet on any other part of your body but your fist? Let me tell you, Mister C (or whichever one it was) fit like a nice high moccasin; it made me feel like a Davy Crockett or Johnny Appleseed or somesuch of them nutbags that enjoys a life of scampering around in the that. Even after I discovered my mistake I had a strong urge to put another one on (to make a pair) and see how that felt (don't worry...I didn't do it...although Little Jorge PuddleJumper looked REALLY comfortable...and, thankfully, I could tell him apart from the other ones by his tell-tale mustachio). I really think you should give it a shot. If you do AND you like it...maybe you won't be THAT upset with me. Heck, it might even help out with those arches of yours that you're always complaining about. Who knows until you try, eh?

There you have it. I felt it best to inform you of this slip-up (heh...slip-on?) in case you ended up wondering why your hand smelled like a tootsie after one of your shows.

Still friends?


Monday, July 05, 2004

An Overheard Conversation Post-Spider-Man 2 Viewing

Fellow 1: Doctopus* was cool!
Fellow 2: I hear ya. Alfred Molina wasn't nearly as greasy as he was in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
Fellow 1: He was in Raiders?
Fellow 2: Yeah...he was the 'Throw me the Idol" guy.
Fellow 1: Oh, no shit? He *was* greasy in that movie.
Fellow 2: Wouldn'tah needed that whip with them Doctopus arms.
Fellow 1: Word.

*An interesting shortening of Doctor Octopus/Doc Ock...intentional or not.

Sunday, July 04, 2004

A Guy walks into a Liquor Store...
Or Least Expected Thing to Hear when shopping for Beer: another true tale

Clerk: "Hey, man...I want that shirt you're wearing!"
Me: (say WHAT?) Uhm...the tee shirt?
Clerk: Yeah, man...I used to read that comic, Cerebus.
Me: (glancing down at the image of Cerebus-as-Pope on the tee in question...shit, this shirt's almost 20 years old...ew) I'll trade it to you for free beer.
Clerk: Naw, wouldn't lemme do that. I just want it.
Me: (is he going to forcibly take me tee-shirt?) Try E-Bay.
Clerk: Can I use your credit card?

I did eventually get out of the store with both my beer purchase and coveted shirt still on (who knew?)...but, now that I think about it, he has access to my bank card number. Why didn't I pay with cash?

I swear to you if the next time I'm in there and he's sporting a tee with an anthropomorphic aardvark in papal robes emblazoned on the front...