Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Overheard at Work: Sleepytime/Loll About the House Division

I caught wind of the following utterance whilst passing by the Employee Lounge today; the circumstances of said Statement are unknown to me but my impression was that the fellow was trying to WOW whomever was in there with him:


Now, I did not stick around to hear any follow-up to this statement (sad to say...I really should have) but really he can only mean one of the following about his particular footwear:

They are constructed of Beaver Pelt(s)


Are in the shape of either an actual Beaver (or a pair of Beavers) or, p'raps, a cartoon-ish Beaver

I'm of the mind that the former is the more likely of the two...but I'd really like to believe it's the latter.


Monday, January 30, 2006

Your Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids Moment

Image hosting by Photobucket

Saturday, January 28, 2006

My favorite Bit from today's St. Paul Pioneer Press

How DARE you ask the Age of an Elderly Woman trying to get her faux-Drunk on!!!

Tainted: To the Shoreview Target and the state of Minnesota for asking a 72-year-old gray-haired woman her birth date when she went to purchase a four-pack of strawberry daiquiri beverage. I refused to give my birth date and, therefore, I saved $2.99 and Target got to keep the beverage. The store has gone too far.

Take it easy, Grammy. Next time settle for a jug of Listerine and a loaf of Wonder Bread. Strain the former through the latter for your booze-ish desires and, I promise you, you'll never get 'carded.'


Friday, January 27, 2006

Should I put this on my Business Cards?

Today, at an in-service, I was referred to as "The Chuck Norris of Financial Aid."

After a moment of stunned silence (as I mulled over whether this was a positive or negative statement...and I should note here that I still haven't the foggiest idea which it might be...), I replied:

"Er...I'm not sure how to take that...but I can assure you I will NOT be growin' a Chuck 'stache in honor of this particular honorific. However, if any one of you happen to find yourself threatened and/or killed by a large Asian gentleman wearing one orthopedic shoe* I will defend your honor and avenge your premature death at his hands. Thanks, though, I guess."

*see Chuck's classic AN EYE FOR AN EYE for details of said villainous and oddly shoed foe

Thursday, January 26, 2006

One of the Odder Answers to the question "WHY'D YA GET THE LASIK EYE SURGERY?"

I'm a bit embarrassed to say but, to be honest since you asked so nicely and all, it's mainly due to fuckin' up my daily pre-work pastry selection at the corner gas station. See, I'm a bearclaw guy. Loved since I was a kid...you could say I cultivated a very selective swee' tooth for 'em thanks to that fact that my old man had a five year stint between tours in 'Nam at the Winchell's down the street from where we squatted. Pa knew his paws, as it were. In short order (not short order cook) it became a daily desire that I addressed...a gift to my gullet...by buying one everyday before work. Well, growing older has, unfortunately, robbed me of my previously eagle-eye squints status and I ended up having to get glasses. Problem is, the only optometrist in town is a fuck-off and has consistently screwed my prescription up for the last 15 years. Thus, more times than not thanks to this shoddy spectacles, I end up misidentifying the apple fritters or the cruellers or the friggin' eclairs for my precious, precious bearclaws. And, goddammit, that is not the way I want to start off my day when I get to work, fire up the 'puter, and expect the glorious taste of BC betwixt my choppers and instead I'm greeted with, say, the fruity filling squirt of a jelly-infused fucking peach kolache or whatever the fuck ill-chosen pastry these damn cheaters have caused me to purchase. Fuckin' co-workers think it's hilarious to hear my horrified screams 4 days out of 5. No more. The surgery's solved this problem and I'm the proud possessor of pristine peepers and a pleasured palette.


Wednesday, January 25, 2006

The Little Plastic Head of Lorne Greene: BACK

Image hosting by Photobucket
'Round the Ponderosa Galactica, ya had to be extra-careful with how ya dealt with the fortunes that came outta Hop Sing's homemade fortune cookies.  See, a lotta fellers get their Ya-Ya's off, in a Ha-Ha manner, by adding "in bed" or "between the sheets" tah the end o' their de-cookied fortune slips.  Like, for example, I had one that read "Beware the Dark Mechanical Bird" and the Hoss Droid chimed in with "IN BED" makin' it sound to the other Asteroid Rangers assembled in the mess like I've got some sorta inclination to bang 'bot birds in my quarters (never you mind the incident on Aviary III).  Funny, right?  Naw.  Not at all.  It's even less funny  if'n Hop Sing, hisself, catches a hearin' of the phrase "IN BED" since he's one of the randiest mofos ever to pole a junk (heh...that could be taken the wrong way unner these circumstances...s'plains a lot too 'bout his skills with the galley's butter churn) and is likely to poke you in the Dark Star o' yer Pants Nebula, if you catch muh meaning.  Nope, we learned damn fast after a dozen or so 'monoliths through the Gates of Ouch' events from him that it was best to use sumpin' else if'n yer gonna get's cutesy with yer ha-ha tag lines to fortune cookie fortunes.

Thus far, the safest one's been "Especially in Mexico."  Like in, "He who expects no gratitude, shall always be poor."

"Especially in Mexico."

See?  Now that shits funnier AND safer for the resident bung in the back o' yer britches.



Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Happy 65th BD, Neil Diamond!!!

Image hosting by Photobucket

He made it hip to play the Air-Dong for generations to come *kaff*




Monday, January 23, 2006

Quote of the Day: Condiment as Death-Dealer Division

"There is enough mustard in that thing to choke a koala bear."

My friend Paul's comment about a rather largish container of said spread.


Saturday, January 21, 2006

Grape Balls of Fire

Sometimes some one does the Heavy Lifting for me.

Here's my favorite bit from today's Pioneer Press (Saint Paul's daily newsrag):

"Indeed I was dressed in an outfit of grapes, like the Fruit of the Loom underwear guy,'' said Rossbach, who lost to Longrie in the mayor's race but retained his spot on the council. "But I don't remember talking about any campaign stuff. We were talking about grapes.''

And here's a man in a grape(s) costume


Friday, January 20, 2006

Ishmael Wept Tears of Creme-Filling

Image hosting by Photobucket

As told to me by my friend John III:

Turns out that his wife, Sarah, has a classmate (she's currently attending Grad School somewhere in Michigan) with a quite peculiar tattoo (non-dead-midget-version).

It's a whaler (think Ahab a la MOBY DICK) in a boat out on the water, armed with a harpoon, taking deadly aim at a pod of Sea Twinkies.


Twinkies from Hostess.

Twinkies as Whale Stand-ins.

John III is going to get me a picture of it the next time he's in Michigan visiting his wife (he lives in Chicago but is currently in Hong Kong for a photoshoot).

I promise you that said picture will be posted here as soon as I get a copy.

Sea Twinkies.


Thursday, January 19, 2006

Boastin' 'bout yer Vice Presidential Mementoes

Don't take it personal like if I get a bit on the Bigheaded side when I start chattin' up my collection of random doo-dads once in the possession of our country's Second-in-Commands. Any ol' jackass with some Minor OCD tendencies can amass Presidential curios--who doesn't have one of Grover Cleveland's waistcoat buttons?--but it takes a real focused neuroticism (which I'm not afraid to mention, natch) to pursue and acquire the detritus of the men that have occupied Number One Observatory Circle (the Vice's resident, dig?).

Sure, ya might salivate unnaturally when you catch sight of the ruby monocle of Schuylor Colfax--one of Grant's VPs-- which was rumored to have been used exclusively on his many 'fact-finding missions' in the Capital's secret "booty larder" or even Spiro Agnew's yard-long piece of teak wood (referred to by those in the know as both his 'gnawing board' and "the deliverer of comical contusions...complete with teeth marks and scalp remnents) but the one item that I'm most proud of (and the one that the majority of VEEP hobbyists envy) is the playing card (Ace of Spades) that ol' Hubert H. Humphrey used as his tongue scraper when on the road.

Though I'm still puzzled by the alleged sunglasses of George Clinton (VP under both Jefferson and Madison); it could very well be that the E-Bay seller got his Clinton's wrong when he put them up for auction...especially since there's the word "Psychoticbumpschool" written in what appears to be sequins along the top of 'em.

Bah...doesn't really matter...most folk know I'm the shit when it comes to Number Two...wait...


Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Suspicious Minds in Dreamland

Some folk have cool dreams; dreams of world peace, of--perhaps--bagging the latest Starlet du Jour, of being wealthy, of being in charge of a starship on a quest to save the Universe from the Intergalactic Horde of BBBLLLRRRGGGHHH the Borg-9, of perfecting and marketing their very own salad dressing/spat-shine fluid, of partaking in a victory lap at the MouthBreather 500, of finally achieving the rank of Eagle Scout with the successful obtainment of the Ham Pugilist badge, of ingesting a whole side of llama and living long enough to brag about it to their fellow wool harvesters, and so on.

Not I.

My dream time is haunted by the mundane.

The latest vintage was a thoroughly engrossing dialogue between myself and Elvis Presley discussing his royalty payments.

I shit you not.

Hunka Hunka Burning BORING!!!


Saturday, January 14, 2006

Is this Progress?

The History of the Tar Shingle Business

A site in Saint Paul evolves in the following manner:

Begins as a blacksmith.

Then to a pickle and vinegar manufacturer.

Then to a streetcar repair site.

Then, finally, to a shingle plant.

Flashback to the late 1800s and a possible dialogue that took place:

"Say, Blacksmith Raoul, I see that you're planning on selling your establishment and getting out of the business. I'd like to buy the place, get rid of the anvils and what not, and turn it into a Pickle and Vinegar business. What's your asking price? The people need their modified cucumbers and oxidized fermented fluids."

From Today's Paper: Quote of the Day

"...wiping condensation off the windshield with a towel and sucking the moisture."


Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Overheard at Work Today: Laughable Music 'Know-it-All' Division

"There's this CLASSIC Joe Satriani quote--he's a wicked guitarist--about making a face while playin' guitar like you've got a Hot Potato in your mouth."

I beg your damn pardon?!?

Or is this something that Joe gleaned at the wise and spandexy knee of Yngwie Malmsteen? Although, come to think of it, the Malm probably uses ice cold yams in lieu of spuds...


Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Pork...er...PERK Up your Ears

"I said Pork RINDS...not Pork Rhymes. And, NO, I would not be impressed if you came up with some lyrics that rhymed GOUTS with SNOUTS or CURLY-CUE TAIL with BARBEQUE PAIL, all right?!? GET THAT MIC AWAY FROM ME and QUIT BEAT-BOXING!!! I said BEAT Boxing, not BEEF Boxing. What's the matter with you?"


Monday, January 09, 2006

From the mouth of a youngster: Orchestral Dreams (if, in fact, he misspoke):

"I wanna grow up to be a World Famous hoboist!"

Unless this child meant he actually wants to study hoboes...or maybe even discriminate against them?

All three?

I guess they kinda come with their own spit valves and all...


Sunday, January 08, 2006

This Image is called:

Image hosted by Photobucket.com


Quite inspiring. In fact I'm of the mind that this needs to be album art and/or the inspiration for a song of the same title. Perhaps a comeback Hit for the likes of Julio Iglesias, Freddy Fender, the reanimated corpse of Jim Croce, or maybe even Tom Jones.

A Marital Moment

Unnamed Wife: Can I ask you a serious question?

Unnamed Husband: (shit...what have I done now?!?) Sure.

UW: Did you do something to my yoga pants?

UH: ...


Saturday, January 07, 2006

I'm Not Sure that I Believe You: Rock And Roll Division

"Listen, pal...I'm the kinda guy--well-schooled, as I am, in all-things rock 'n roll--that can catch sight of a shirtless drummer's back, mid-performance, and totally identify the band he's in AND the song they're playing without the benefit of sound or nothing...like if you're watchin' a video or something. That's right; the sweaty back of a skins pounder is all it takes. Hell, I've been known to be able to ID the last fellow that worked the Theremin simply by sniffing it's electrical cord. And forget about trying to fool me with a set of steel drums; if they smell like mango extract we ALL know who the culprit is..."


Thursday, January 05, 2006

How Checkered Pants Turned by Ass into a Target
A cautionary tale of flamboyant donkey dressing

An Excerpt:

"I was gettin' damn sick and frikkin' tired of the same question being asked of me time and time again about where (but not WHY oddly enough) the checkered pants my coffee bean beast of burden ass, the Hooved Slackser, came from. They come from a god damn store like any other pair of frikkin' pants, okay? They were NOT--and I repeat NOT--constructed from the pelt of a dead lumberjack regardless of what you might have heard about my time in Northern Minnesota with a rogue tailor/bountyhunter...not to mention the fact that the hide of a tree-felling fellow AIN'T gonna be plaid or checkered or WHATEVER..."


Tuesday, January 03, 2006

A Disagreement

"Listen...It AIN'T right lettin' an animal get his lips all over a good corn cob pipe. In some communities that'd be be just like pissin' onna fella's hammock."

"He got lips?"

"The skin area encirclin' the oral hole of any mammelian type creature can be referenced as LIPS...at least that's what my 10th Grade Biology teacher taught us."

"What? Mister Van Der Scoop? He was a damn drunk."

"Sure...a damn drunk genius that knew a thing or three 'bout animal lips and pipes."