As it turns out, elaborately performed disrespect is hilarious.

One Christmas break my friend and I snuck to the woods outside a families house that we hated. When the coast was clear, we stole the baby Jesus out of his families manger set and put Joseph doggystyling Mary in the manger, and either a donkey or a camel had his head in there, helping out somehow. I believe Myrrh and Gold were finger-cuffing Frankincense in the stable, also.

As we were running away shouting Taliban slogans and laughing our asses off into the pitch black night, I sprinted, nipples first, into one of those high tension wires stuck into the ground to hold up telephone poles. Instantly, I literally made a C shape with my body in mid air, legs parallel to the ground as all the air escaped from me. I remember seeing my baseball cap frisbee off my head, like it was still going running speed. It whizzed 10-15 feet ahead of me. I didn’t feel any pain, I now believe my body was more interested in wtf had just happened than to register pain. As I sat there, my friend notices I’ve stopped and retreats to collect me. He thought I saw something, so he kneels down next to me and I told him what happened. He blamed it on the ghost of Jesus. I told him I thought we would have had a three day head start.

Anyway, we sent a ransom letter to the family, with a Polaroid of baby Jesus blindfolded and guns pointed at his head. Letters cut out of magazines and everything. During my buddy’s family vacation, he sent them a postcard from Martha Vineyard with two hot babes on the front. He taped a picture of baby Jesus with sunglasses and a Mai Thai between the babes and told the family he escaped his captors by turning 97% of their bodies into wine. He said he was going to travel a bit and he’d be back in time for the Holidays. Sure enough, we returned him the following year with stickers from across the globe on him.

As it turns out, the “Leap Second” ruins New Years.

For those of you who don’t know, scientists have added an additional second to the end of this year to keep up with the fact that the Earth is spinning a little bit slower every day.  I have no issue with that.  That seems legitimate.  A little excessive reaction maybe, but it makes sense.

Do we really have to add one second to the ONLY TIME DURING THE YEAR PEOPLE ARE COUNTING DOWN?!?!?!  Ridiculous placement.  I have to think that only scientists who spent as much time being socially inept as the ones who are calculating the slowing speed of the Earth and ways to combat it, would consider this timing to be a good idea.

Here we go!  Five…  Four… Three… Two… One… One…  HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Assholes.  For people who claim to control time, you have a terrible sense of timing.

As it turns out, gay people aren’t so happy.

Proposition 8 passed in California, which essentially is the legalized discrimination of a group of peoples. I can marry a woman, but a woman can not. Full disclosure, I don’t really care all that much. I don’t care about gays, or black people, or religious people, because I am none of those. There are two groups of people in the world; those who say “Do whatever you choose, as long as it doesn’t hurt me, I have no issue”. And the rest have the “What you are doing is wrong, and I’m going to stop you.” mentality. Thats what I care about. I care about stopping people who take themselves too seriously, that somehow they matter enough to be able to force their beliefs into my home.

So, to Homosexuals, I offer this solution. Get married. “I/They can’t,” you say, “that’s the whole problem.” Hear me out. I think Homosexuals people should protest with gay couples finding lesbian couples, pairing up men/women and having a double wedding. In a church.  After the ceremony, you go off with your original partner and live happy lives.  Maybe you call the lesbians twice a year; once to celebrate your anniversary, another dinner party to fill out your taxes. Maybe exchange Christmas gifts for laughs. But, the whole point, is that homosexuals are getting married. Just to each other. Confused? Good, thats the point. Confusing the issue makes the opposing argument lose weight. How could a conservative Christian be angry with a man and a woman marrying each other? Because they are gay? They can’t be gay, they just got married! See the fun that can be had?

The end game; Homosexuals get the same rights as married couples because they are married. And Christians are pissed off because gay people are getting married in their churches and making a circus of the institution that already has a 50% failure rate, and a joke of their beliefs.

Gay men, help your cause, marry a lesbian.

As it turns out, my vengeance is excessive.

At least, it was, when I was a child. There was this bully, he ruined everyones life for a number of years. He spit in my face, and others, countless times. He would knock textbooks out of girls hands, and when they bent over to collect them, he would grab the back of their head and mash his crotch in their face. You would be walking down the hallway, and you would get punched in the back of the head hard as hell. He poked people with pins, mostly girls in the ass. He scattered thumb tacks around the locker room. He was very violent, put a kid in the hospital for some insignificant drama.

Anyway, he got his own car for his sixteenth birthday. It was nice, Pontiac something. He used to park it waaaay in the back of the lot by the woods in three spaces so no one would scratch it. it only took two weeks of seeing this happen every day that I decided to make his new car, my target of retribution.

I thought it would be best to pull my stunt just after the second period bell, everyone who was late would be in, and it’s too early for anyone to leave, they just would have taken the day off. I skipped first period and hid in the woods. Two minutes after the second bell, I;

- Was ready to break his window with a rock to get into the car, but the dumb bastard left it unlocked.

- Tore his leather seats with a pocket knife. Shredded them.

- Left a hot steaming food canoe in his ashtray. (I squatted in the back seat and let piss flow throughout his back leather seats. Before I did this I emptied the contents of his glove compartment into the back, so his documentation was soaked in urine.)

- Emptied a five pound bag of salt into his gas tank.

- Stole every fuse in the box and put them in his gas tank also.

- Kicked a screwdriver through the faceplate of his stereo system.

- Ripped his visors/sunscreens from their holdings, folded them neatly and left them in his glove compartment.

- Left a note that said “If you weren’t such a **** to soooo many people, you’d know who’s ass to kick, ****tard.”

Think it’s excessive? I do now, also.

But, at the time, this was for a reason. If I just slashed his seats, he replaces his seats, and goes on with life.
When you do so many different things, he never quite knows if he fixed all the problems you caused, so it adds to the psychological warfare of it all. Additionally, I was sure not to mess with the outside of his car, so he wouldn’t consider it a loss and wreck it.

I wanted to see him driving around in it for the next 3 years just knowing that it still contained traces of my fecal matter, and more importantly, that he knew it did.

Made three years of laughs possible at any corner. The mall, my girlfriends house (he lived near her), the school, at a stoplight. I saw him in his car and I laughed.

As it turns out, everyday activities can be new experiences.

I was in the middle of a week of vacation and this girl was increasingly into me. We make plans to go to the beach at night to watch fireworks and I can tell minutes in she wants to sit on my boystick that night. The more it becomes apparent she wants to do the no pants dance, the more I realize I have to grow tail.

So, after the fireworks, she invites me to her place which sounds great, but I need to lay cable. And Im not rocking her tiny motel room toilet with corndogs and chinese food right before poking her. So I told her that I wanted to go swimming first. I didnt expect her to follow me. I should have seen it coming. She thought it was romantic.

And, thats what happened. I shat standing up in the Carribbean Ocean while flirting and hugging a naked hot girl. The funny thing about pooping in the ocean is that crap floats. I could feel the turds tugging up when they were still attached, and every time I cut free a candy bar it floated to the surface. I would lean forward in the hopes I wouldn’t feel a fecal torpedo scrape up my back. This is when I would push her or tackle her out to sea. I was herding her against the current of my fleet of food canoes.

I used the salt as an excuse to shower, to which she joined me. From that point on the vacation was a haze of room service, candlelight, me putting things in fantastic places.

Special thanks to Dave of http://www.poopreport.com for the shitty link.  (Yuk Yuk Yuk)

As it Turns Out, I have a Tagalong Problem

Seriously.  I have eaten two boxes this season, have an open one on my desk, own two more in the freezer, and have at least 4 more boxes coming from different sets of girl scouts.  Tiny green bitches and their chocolate crack.  God help me if those Samoas solicitors are hanging around the front of any building I have to go into.  I can’t walk by without buying two boxes.  Remember that old Tootsie Roll song, “Whatever it is I think I see, becomes a Tootsie Roll to me”.  Thats me, only with orange boxes.  Those tiny little delicious disks, they’re well worth a quarter a piece.  Which, coincidentally, is about the cost of each cigarette.   Just as addicting, but if I was still smoking, Id be losing weight.  Keep your eyes on the news in June.  Ill be the one arrested for shaking the shit out of a little girl wearing a green dress, begging her for my fix.  Will I care shes not even a girl scout?  Probably after I spend a few hours in the detox tank.

As it Turns Out, this Chinese Food system is Gold.

  Recently, a friend of mine explained his system for finding a good chinese restaurant.  “I only eat at places with Wok, House, East, or Tasty in the names of the restaurant.”  From that point on, truer words have never been spoken to my ears.  Everyone has to modify the system to their liking, but it works.  After much deliberation and testing, my four words for the perfect chinese food restaurant are Golden, Lucky, Panda and Dragon.  My favorite local restaurant is the Golden House in Latham.  Awesome Szechwuan, and if you like Sweet & Spicy, the Chicken Amazing is for you.  I was eating at Lucky Wu’s in Boston, and the Eastern Dragon in Ireland.  All great eateries.  Then I find the “Lucky Dragon” in Clifton Park, coming through with both names in my system, and holy god if its not the greatest mall chinese food Ive ever had.  All original stuff too, none of that Bourbon Chicken stuff you see everywhere.

Try my system, it’ll work!  Here are the rules; four words only.  Two adjectives, two nouns.  Chains (PF Changs and Panda Garden)  and buffets do not count.  Its all the same food there, either you like them or you don’t.  (Im pro chains, but very selective when it comes to the buffet restaurants.)  Take your 2 favorite chinese restaurants now.  Those are your starting names.  Now when remembering or finding eateries you like, modify your list by adding a name from the new restaurant and removing an old.  Then, when you eat at a restaurant you don’t like, you know which name to remove, and add another qualifying name from the past or a new restaurant.  At first, its alot of fiddling, but after a year or so has passed, you’ll find you’ve got a foolproof system for finding new delicious chinese eateries.

As it Turns Out, Oscar nods dont mean shit.

So, my wife likes the Oscars. She feels like she has to see all the movies nominated so she can have an educated vote.  Makes sense. Its too bad she doesn’t get a vote.  So instead, in effect, shes seeing these movies because the Oscars tell her they’re good.  Which is okay, unless they suck.  Like the one we saw this weekend, “There Will Be Blood”.  Only there wasn’t any blood, save the final scene.  The movie would have better off being titled “Crazy asshole fucks everyone close to him.”  I spent the first ten minutes of the movie wondering if this guys motives were any good.  Then, events occurred, it was obvious this guy was a douchebag, and the movie continues to tell a story with no real feel to it.  It was long, like 2 1/2 hours.  That was no problem though, I was interested enough in the movie, but when it was over, I thought “What the fuck did I just watch?”  The music was crazy distracting.  I had to recognize that I was paying too much attention to the music at least 4 times.  So the movie is basically 150 minutes of this guy screwing people he originally seems to care about.  Except for this one guy he really hates, a preacher.  So, you just knew, that shitcaker was really going to get it.  And then he did, roll credits.   Fuck you, Upton Sinclair.