Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Be Wary of your Piss Lean
A Cautionary Tale from Earlier Today

I'm in the hopper at work taking a twizzle. There's another fellow a few urinals down doing the same (presumably). The Golden Sounds of Tinklebelling jingle-jangle throughout the Bathroom.

Suddenly, the other fellow starts screaming. This cuts off my stream. His screams are followed by loud NO NO NO NO NO NOs. He sees me looking at him and relates his dilemma.

Long story short:

While leaning into the urinal his cellphone unclipped from his belt and fell into the wee-wee basin. He'd been pissing all over it during his entire pit stop.


A Doodle from 'round 1998

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Friday, July 27, 2007

The Saint and TIP: Part Whatever

The Saint wrote:

Flonk, have I ever told you something's upsetting the buffalo by the pale moon light. When firsts get you seconds and the last piece of pie is tempting (but in the company of others you never know how long it's been sitting out). You never know how it would have tasted--melted, texturized, fishy'd--in your mouth if you swagger on over and pierced it like a costco sample. On your way back thinking, "no one would have noticed if I snagged two." Coming up with a fake relative or girlfriend isn't that hard. Does Tammy sound made up? Tammy's probably good for a square of cheese but If I wanted more sausage I would have to come up with something interesting but forgettable so I could go back on the same day. Maybe I wouldn't even have to come up with a real name. Maybe I could sneeze it like they do in the movies. Yeah, ta*sneeze*ie. That could get me roasted garlic with spinach and artichoke apple.

TIP relpies:

You can tell by squinting in just the right manner at the porthole to my soles (them dern gimlet...giblet...doodleys...in my Piggie Floppers) that we are in almost complete agreement...except when it comes to stylized and monogrammed towels (or moist towelettes...who the fuck needs THAT action when trying to get BBQ sauce off your knuckled digs, dig?) and see-through shower curtains. Not interested. It was like that time at the former Burger Chef turned Club Buff, remember? The Stairmaster meets the girth of Clarence?

Sure you do.

I've peeped your shoes, Winky.

To which the Saint responds:

Poor Clarence. Hard to use any exercise equipment when your fat molds to said equipment.

That reminds me of the time when I took a lover to the island I inherited from Jarre after the 10th time he died trying to prove the existence of bizarro smurfs. Ain't no laser harp going to help you now, I always said. I was proven wrong but adapting his main laser harp Bessie with a flux capicator to endless Smeared Smurfs over time periods was rather harsh. Whether they took his 26th son Klitpah Jarre or not (he was one of those green aliens Kirk always plooked so they were never sure if Klitpah was a true Jarre or not but it didn't matter the bond was true and--don't kid yourself--Jarre invented the Star Trek universe after a time binge in his teens, crazy years those were...Tribbles and all). As I was saying the lover I took after a long night of drinking the patented Bill the Lump shots, no his name really looked like that on account of researching the shots. The worst thing is to have no walls between the bed and the bath...especially see-through shower curtains. Well I guess the worst thing would be that I was on a island with her and no razor for miles and miles and miles. It was then that I took up pleasuring myself til the tide came in.

Which ended with TIP saying:

Ah, yes...wading out in a tidal cascade of Mother Earth's own Spooge. A delight hardwired into our very beings (as evidenced by the popularity of Sunny Oceanic Vacation Spots...like the Canary Islands and Timbukspoo). A Constitution Fortifying Exercise...like trying to reset your synapses by putting your tongue to the business end of a 9 Volt Battery or the syphilitic palms of a reformed studio drummer...only this time there isn't the Waders Requirement NOR the One Poke, One Pucker exclusionary clause (first introduced into practice by one G'wayne-doline Dalahmatree after the Fortnight Mastication Massacre of '68) which tends to put people right out of the Get in the Pool sentiment stirred up by our Homo Sapien breeding.

Launching a Pig into Space
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Thursday, July 26, 2007

Selections from my Forthcoming Children's Book

Chapter Two:

Run through with an errant Oscar Meyer package of so-called luncheon meat delights, I'm of the mind that if the Blorg Lord of the Pungent Swipe Rags of Toddly of Irkham's got a taste for hot turds served steaming over a platter of my own gelatinized tears...welll...well, indeed...he can eat unprocessed raisins from the downspout of my own yelpling's gutter prayers.

Then Theodore opened fire.

Chapter Three:

Or I will...steeped in my own rendered knee slatherings. The taters take note and flinch when the downpour of Ouchy Nourishing Sluice spatters hither and non 'bout their potentially edible sploochiness.

Ed tips back a thermos full of fermented sock waste and ponders Idaho.

Chapter Four:

Like opposing walls of a gulch, Sheriff Loink and Arch-Duke Fluppity train steely eyes 'pon one another.

A vulture emitted a high-pitched ass squelch of three-day old carcass batter.


Meanwhile in Tempest Rolo's Travelling Poodler of Delight, the grunts overheard by the hired hand were mistakenly identifed as foul beasts working the maples for the Sap of the Most Vile.

Chapter Five

Spent...the Lords of Cinematic Ogling scrummed into a ball of myraid limbs and, eventually, a prismatic spray of Ooomph that startled the Elder Pants.

Chapter Sick:

The wrenching in my lower portion were clearly (after adjusting my rakish monocle) the result of a lumbering anthropomorphic toss rag--with a two-fer-one deal at the prosthetics factory warehouse--getting a sound ladle-turned-clinch 'pon the areas most of us in the Toot Huffing Sweat Lodge Community ref'd as Patella Town...or Bendy Sqaure.


Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Tuesday's Euphemism: Milking the Tauntaun

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Monday, July 23, 2007

Dear TIP: An excerpt from my forthcoming Advice Column

Dear TIP,

Do you have any advice on how I can keep Astrophysics out of my Non-Astrophysical Workplace? There's a fellow here at work that is CLEARLY one of those damn backyard/garage/attic/shed/whatever faux-Astronomer types and cannot NOT mention (several times a day) his love for Celestial Bodies; dropping references to a White Dwarf during a Business Review or the Oort Cloud over a Sales Pitch to prospective Buyers. This ain't NASA, for Pete's Sake!

No Astronaut Pants Here
Akron, Ohio

Dear NAPH,

An easy solution to your troubles!

Step One:

The next time he drops a reference to Protoplanetary Discs or Globular Clusters or even the Adromeda Galaxy, casually steer the conversation to Black Holes. Once he bites on this tasty morsel, move on to:

Step Two:

Point out that you have recently read that, Thanks to the Politically Correct Crowd rife throughout our Society, that Black Hole is no longer the proper nomenclature for these particular Celestial Bodies. Curiosity will get the better of your Amatuer Copernicus which will allow you to seal the deal with:

Step Three:

Matter of factly state that Black Holes are now called Afroles.

Also mention that Disney has renamed their film THE BLACK HOLE to The AFROLE (it would help if you have a Photoshop savvy friend doll-up a fake pic of the renamed movie poster).


Friday, July 13, 2007

The Potential Birth of an Urban Legend

Setting: Cost Cutters.

Participants: The lovely Stephanie (the stylist) and TIP (sporting a Fro-esque mop desperately in need of a paring down)

S: ...has a friend that is a nurse at Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles; y'know, the hospital all the celebrities go to. The nurses there actually get tips from the patients. This gal got 150 bucks from one.

T: Wow. Can you imagine some of the stories they could tell? Something like "I had my whole FIST in Jack Klugman's throat. After the procedure he was so grateful he gave me a roll of nickels."

S: Ha ha ha!

T: Klugman Nickels! Hell, they could trach the guy and turn him into a cyborg change dispenser. Certainly would simplify the gratuity process.

Other Customers eye us with an aura of disgust swirling like a cloud about their respective well-coifed domes.


Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Laura's a What Now?

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While the Muse Basin refills...

Howbabout Paradise Garage by Tim Curry?

Friday, July 06, 2007

Marvel Versus Hormel

Spam: A canned pre-cooked luncheon meat (comprised of chopped pork shoulder meat with ham meat added, salt, water, sugar, and sodium nitrite) introduced by Hormel in 1937.

Spam: The sound made when punching the French Master of Savate (Marvel Comics' Batroc the Leaper) in the melon.
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panel from Captain America #252 during the classic Roger Stern/John Byrne run


Thursday, July 05, 2007

Directed to the Sputteringly Drooltastic Fans of the TRANSFORMERS film

More than Meat, you guys.

Hum along if you know the tune.

Feel free to adapt the other lyrics to the original theme song for your own amusement.

A Treasure Trove of Comic Book Martial Arts Ads

Two of my Fave Bits from One Ad:
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Click here for more


Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Malaprop or Euphemism?
A...turn...of phrase that sputtered through my fingertips yesterday

"I'm blowing smoke up your Sweat Lodge."


Monday, July 02, 2007

A Har-dee-Har-Har typo thanks to the iPhone's Touch Screen (I hope)

An e-mail exchange from this morning:

Friend 1: Did you like the movie (the movie in question is LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD)

Friend 2 (with iPhone): I liked it aloe.