Actual email sent to Cousin Saul for an ebay item from a douche from France (Where else?)

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Hello,

I well received your message being said me that it lacked 22.70 in dollars for expedier my toy, I send you of the that possible remains it of are it for I had small concerns of bank, but I always want this object therefore I would pay it to you trés quickly.

While thanking you.

Tom Cruise had an affair with Cher

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24375849/

Why do they call it an affair? Shouldn't it just be called dating?

Rumor has it that Tom Cruise also had an affair with Judy Garland, Liza Minelli, and Liz Taylor.

But not all at once.

Rumor also has it that Tom Cruise likes gravy.

I rolled the blog dice and up came GRAVY

I have an eight year old dog (puppy) and she's a tiny little thing...maybe 7 pounds.

For most of those years she only ate puppy food. We tried never to give her food from the table.

And she was fine with it.

But after about 7 years or so I started feeling a bit guilty. So I'd give her a bite of this or a bite of that (She preferred 'bites of that')

And then she came to expect it and she became nervy. Big time nervy. Panting and jumping and running around in circles whenever I was eating and not giving her some.

Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.

I'm trying to teach or manners. Or something.

So anyhow, last night I'm finishing up dinner at the table (my chair in the TV room) and I decided I'd give her my leftover gravy (how I had leftover gravy is anybody's guess)

I scrape the gravy into her little bowl and then go back to my chair.

She devours the gravy. Smacking her lips and making contented puppy noises.

And then comes back into TV room with a big ol' grin on her face, tail a waggin', and she's just about the happiest person on earth.

She looked like I just gave her a new ipod or something.

The Yard Work Princess

So last week was vacation week at school and my daughter got us a jump on spring yard work.

She edged. She mulched the front. She powerwashed the deck. She stained and waterproofed the deck. And general clean up.

But there was still work to be done. The whole back and sides needed mulch put down. Spring cleanup. And the lawn needed mowing.

But she felt she worked hard enough all week on her vacation so me and Wifey did the rest.

Numerous wheelbarrow loads later....

Wifey finished up her part.....I still had about a half hour to go.

When all of a sudden The YardWork Princess (Nazi? Vampire?) came out into the daylight and slowly sauntered around the house inspecting mine and Wifey's work!

She saw me out back. Lawnmower. Mulch. Rake.

Didn't wave.

Didn't say hello.

Just inspected. Random nods at our work. Slow stroll around the house. More nods.

Never a word.

Back inside house.



The point of the story?

I hope me and Wifey did a good job so we'll get hired again next year.

Happy Birthday, Oldest Daughter!

Back by popular demand...The Switchblade post.

All through the 1960's and 1970's The Hoag (My pal Hoagy's nickname) wanted a real switchblade knife. A big one. He could never get one as they weren't allowed in the state we grew up in. He wanted one bad.

He had every other stupid weapon a kid could want except the damn Switchblade.

Slingshots, wristrockets,brass knuckles,knives,those ninja star things,blackjacks, etc....but no Switchblade.

The 1980's begin and we decide to take a bus to New York City. Me for fun. The Hoag for The Switchblade. We get a hotel in Times Square somewhere around maybe 57th street (The Sheraton City Squire),dump our 'luggage' and head on down to 42nd street.

Now in the early 80's 42nd St. was still one wicked bad place...the second you turn the corner the dealers and whores and every other lowlife would approach you trying to get your money. The first guy just says "mescaline". The second guy says "Whatcha looking for?"

And this is where the story really begins:
So Hoag says (in his cool street voice) "A blade....a big one" And the guy (from now on called the Dude) says "I'll get you one for $100.00...in advance". The Hoag doesn't hesitate for a second and whips out $100 and hands it to the Dude. The Dude tells us to follow him and starts taking us into every sleazy place on 42nd street...peep shows, porn stores, whore houses, dope houses, Popeye's Fried Chicken,...in through the front door, out through the back or side doors, up and down the street when finally the Dude says "wait here"...so we do.

About 5 minutes later the Dude comes out with a package and is kinda panting and says 'Quick...jam this down your pants..the cops!" The Hoag follows instructions and then out of the blue says to the Dude..."here's a little something more for going the extra mile" and slips the guy another $20. The Dude says "Thanks...now cheese it..the cops!"

Let me tell you something, me and The Hoag took off so goddamn fast...we just started running down 42nd street and then took a left and headed to our hotel...15 blocks non stop as fast as we could with cops chasing us...panting, laughing, shoving people out of the way,back and forth across the streets dodging traffic and finally into the revolving door of the City Squire...up the elevator...and finally to our room.

Hoag slams the door. Puts the chain on the door. Bolts the door. Grabs a chair and puts it in front of the door. Draws the curtains. I've never seen him so happy...so excited, so nervous. He pulls the wrapped switchblade out of the front of his pants and sits on the bed. I sit on the other. He's giddy. He starts unwrapping his holy grail...it's beautiful. It's black like he wanted. He holds it. Turns it over in his hand. Smiles. He pushes the button on the handle and the blade swings into action.

The blade is a comb. A $1.49 switchblade comb you can buy in any joke shop in America.

It just might have been the greatest moment of my life.

A Shrimp on Barbie

So did everyone read the creepy story of the 73 years old guy from Austria that kept his daughter stashed down in the basement for about twenty years and had like 6 or 7 kids with her?

http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/europe/04/28/austria.cellar/index.html

Some of the kids never ever saw sunlight.

I don't think I'll ever move to Austria if they don't have sunlight there.

GO RED SOX!

Space Shuttle flights...big freakin' deal.

All these years I've thought the Space Shuttle was awesome....blasting off into "space".

Such a risky thing!

Or maybe not.

You see, the Space Shuttle "blasts off" and goes up roughly 100-1000 miles up into what is called low earth orbit.

A hundred miles or so...maybe a few hundred miles up. Whoop-dee-woo!

Big flippin' deal. I drive about 60 miles a day to work.

Earlier this year I flew to Texas which was probably 1800 miles or so.

Am I a "hero" like Space Shuttle "astronauts" who fly all of 100 miles up and then turn off engines and just glide around in a circle?

I don't turn my motor off and I drive on bumpy roads. A hero.

And I have gravity to deal with.

Tech Tone is just a faint but still annoying memory

So to sum up:

Wanna piss me off? Just start beeping.

Wanna make me happy? Don't beep to begin with.

Wanna make me super happy? Don't vote for Hillary.....She's a *beeping* asshole!

Tech Tone

See if you can follow this:

If you've talked to me on the phone in the last two days you've noticed a super annoying beeping on my phone line (tech tone)

I hate super annoying beeping (I get earaches you know!)

So anyhow I call up Verizon to have them fix the problem.

Verizon tells me they are not my provider and I should call whoever is my provider.

So I call AT&T and go thru about 20 minutes of Sexy Computer Voice Tech Help Robot Girl. I'm never actually allowed to ax a question. She prompts me every step of the way.

Just now VERIZON (apparently possibly my provider) called me to let me know a technician will be sent out to fix the problem.

I ask if I'll have to pay them.

They said no, but I might have to pay AT&T.

I've got the tech tone on my line from AT&T and Verizon tells me they'll be out to fix it but I might have to pay AT&T if they come in my shop.

If they don't come in my shop I don't pay AT&T or Verizon.

So if you want to hear actual tech tone give me a call within the next hour or so. It's REAL LOUD on my end....a bit softer on yours. But it's a constant beeping tone due to tech.

Tech Tone.

(I HATE CHEW!)

Basketball Jonez

So I'm listening to the radio this morning and they're interviewing one of the Boston Celtics.

It went something like this:

RADIO GUY: "Pretty impressive win...what are you going to do in game 3?"

BASKETBALL BRAINIAC: "Well....I'll tell you what we're NOT gonna do...we're not gonna rest our laurels."

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Now as a sports fan this concerns me. I get nervous when my sports heroes have tired laurels!

(I'm resting my laurels right now)

SO TO SUM UP:
Play the game, don't speak.

The Wisdom of Cousin Saul

So Cousin Saul is in a store a few months back and sees this woman with a helium-filled mylar balloon with the proclamation in bright letters emblazoned across it that said something like: WORLD'S GREATEST HUSBAND (or something as equally stupid)

So Cousin Saul approaches her and says (I'm paraphrasing):

SAUL: "Hello ma'am, you do know that NO man on Planet Earth likes getting a helium filled mylar balloon for ANY occasion. EVER."

MA'AM: "Oh."

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We also don't like calendars, stuffed animals, 'joke gifts', plants, and other crap you think we'll like.

We DO like: movie passes, gift cards, money, ballgame tickets, t-shirts (NO writing on them) and laser pointers.

Sum Yueng Pup

So I get home last night and notice that my puppy has had a haircut (a furcut?) so asked my daughter.

Here is that conversation:

ME: "Did puppy get a haircut?"

HER: "Yup, I did it today. Doesn't she look Chinese?"

ME: ::laughs::

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But then I thought about it for a few minutes and realized that I never knew that Chinese dogs looked different from American dogs.

Gorilla Warfare 1966

Back when I was a little kid I'd watch the news with my Uncle Len. I'd sit quietly with him each night and watch Walter Cronkite tell the nation (the USA) about the war in Vietnam.

I vividly remember Walter telling us that Guerillas were killing US soldiers.

But I was a little kid and all I heard was Gorillas were killing US soldiers.

GORILLAS!

And as horrible as it was that Gorillas were killing our Army Guys (I called them Army Guys)....it was still kinda neat that we were at war with Gorillas.

And when I went to bed I often thought about my Army Guys fighting Gorillas. And Gorillas killing them.

And once in a while Walter would mention that the Army Guys killed a bunch of Gorillas...and that was cool.

It seemed to get a nod of approval from Uncle Len.

It never dawned on me to question my Uncle Len about the Gorillas. No need to. Walter Cronkite told me every night that Gorillas were surprising and killing our Army Guys.

I think adults thought I was weird watching the news every night.

But it was Gorilla War and I was fascinated by it.

Then for some reason I stopped watching about the Gorillas.

Maybe a year went by. Or so.

And then Uncle Len's son came back from the Army.

He came to my house and he looked awesome in his uniform. Big. Handsome. Tough.

And I remembered the Gorillas.

So I pulled him aside and pretended I wanted to show him something in my room and then asked him if he fought any gorillas.

And he just kinda smiled and said no.

And he had no idea why I asked him that.

But I knew in my heart he killed some Gorillas.

The N Word

So last night Hoag is telling a story and it's vital to the story to use the N Word (Nafrican Namerican)....but we're in a crowded restaurant.

But he says Nafrican Namerican anyhow. Numerous times.

And I'm cringing because he's saying it fairly loud.

And the guys behind him can clearly hear him say Nafrican Namerican.

Like I said...it was important to the story to use the Nafrican Namerican word or the story wouldn't have the impact it did without it.

But still....

::cringe::

The Cerebral One

So last night on buddy nite, Me, The Hoag, and The Blonde were joined by an old friend from the 1970s.

We'll call him Greg.

I haven't seen him since probably 1982.

So we picked up right where we left off and yucked it up for about 4 hours or so. It was better than fun.

It was Greg Fun.

And at one point Greg says to me:

"I always thought of you as the cerebral one, and Hoagy as the slapstick one."

At first I didn't quite agree with that.

Until I thought about it. And dissected it. And mulled it over.

(I'm a muller)

So now maybe I agree.

But I also kinda wish I was the slapstick one. That's a good rep to have.

"Hey! There goes the Slapstick one!....he sure is fun!"

Nobody ever says: "Hey! There goes Joey Cerebral...I wanna hang with him!"

So now the gauntlet has been thrown....and I'm gonna be the Slapstick Cerebral one!

Or at least laugh at Hoag as he tries to win.

Which he won't. Though he does do a mean baby cry, a great Elvis, a fantastic Vinnie Barbarino, a decent Robert DeNiro and most cartoon characters.

Crap.

I'm gonna lose!

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Dear Greg,

Thanks for ruining my life.

Love,
The Cerebral One

The Nerd Store

This super cool guy just walked by my shop with his babe-tacular girlfriend (I know he was cool cuz his hat was on backwards) and he said:

"And that's The Nerd Store."



::hold me::

Unpublished blog drafts

Usually when I write one of these blogs I do so right when I get into work before it gets busy.

But every so often I get interupted right off the bat and the blog never gets finished and I lose my whole train of thought.

A few weeks ago I deleted all of those drafts...or so I thought. Three of them I forgot to totally delete.

Here are their titles:

1. AAA

I have no clue whatsover as to what that was gonna be. Baseball? Auto clubs?

2. (untitled post)

Once again no clue. Normally I start with the title first. It makes it easier. But an untitled post could be just about anything. Hillary? Hitler? Hoag? Maybe a blog about food? Country Fried something or other?

and now #3

#3 had potential but looking back on it I have no idea what my train of thought was that day (5/23/07)

3. Beatle on Beatle Crime

I love the title! I'm sure it was a winner!

But I never finished it (or started it)

So guess what? You're gonna write my blog today.

50 words or less on Beatle on Beatle Crime.

Winner gets a prize. Possibly even from me.

Slut Control 2

So last night Wifey was next door and I was alone and wanted to watch the Red Sox.

But the Red Sox were pre-empted by the Bruins(??) playoff hockey(??) game. And the Red Sox were gonna be shown on some other channel.

So I started clicking thru the channels to find the Red Sox (not the Bruins) and came across Slut Control 2 on a On-Demand channel.

And I had this weird desire to watch Slut Contol 2. I might have even demanded it. It was On Demand, afterall.

But it didn't feel right to watch Slut Control 2. Wifey was out and somewhere the Red Sox were on.

But Slut Control 2 kept demanding that I watch it.

But I refused. I was in control. Not Slut Control 2.

There was NO WAY I was gonna watch Slut Control 2.

Slut Control 2.

I could and would resist it's tempting premise.

At least until I saw Slut Control 1.

(Which I heard is the better of the two...though not as good as Slut Control 3.)

PS:
I ended up watching the stupid Bruins game which was actually kinda exciting...though it would have been even better if they were sluts.

The New York Yankees

So I'm at the Red Sox/Yankees game last night. The first seven hours were kinda fun, the second seven hours kinda dragged.

But that's not what I'm here to discuss.

I'm here to discuss fans.

Fans are stupid. Red Sox fans have this urge to chant: "Yankees Suck! Yankees Suck! Yankees Suck!"

Now while true, it gets old quite fast. It's just not clever. Though true.

Truth is not always clever.

Now I'm about to do something I never thought I'd do. I'm about to compliment Yankee fans.

Me.

Complimenting Yankee Fans.

The Yankees have a player named Jorge Posada. I hate him more than any smelley Yankee ever. Chinless milksop that drives me nuts.

And he's good. Looks a bit like a weasel. No chin. Smells odd.

I hate him.

And the name 'Jorge' is pronounced: Whore-Hey!

So the Yankee fans in attendence last night get this chant going when he comes to the plate....and it goes like this:

"Hip Hip Jorge! Hip Hip Jorge! Hip Hip JORGE!"

(Sounds like Hip hip Hooray! Hip hip Hooray!)

And there you have it. Even the suckiest of sucks can be clever.

Yankees suck!

Horror and suffering. Possibly some gravy.

Let's be serious for a bit...there is trouble all around the world.

The US is in a few wars, starving children and genocide in the Sudan, Japanese internment camps still in California, Global warming, flooding, earthquakes, tsunamis, social unrest in China.

So much suffering all around us.

The 'Feeble Minded' experiment north of our border that's gone awry.

Drought, famine, racial bigotry.

So much horror all around us.

So the other night I'm out to eat and I'm sitting at the bar area and the waiter delivers my meal...turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, biscuit....and all covered in gravy.

So in my little part of the world things are good.

WRONG!

I go to put salt on my turkey and instead of just having a normal salt shaker that folks have used since the dawn of the dinosaur I have to use this stupid salt shaker that I have to turn over and grind up the large chunks of salt that is in the jar so it becomes like the FREAKIN' SALT SHOULD BE IN THE FIRST PLACE!
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Dear 99 Restaurant,

Don't complicate my life! Put a damn normal salt shaker on the table! Sorry I didn't go to MIT to learn how to use your stupid salt mulcher!

Idiots.

Something as simple as salt should be as simple as salt. Don't make me think when there is gravy on my plate!

Love,
Steve

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So much suffering in my part of the world.

The Standing Ovation

Very strange.

I'm driving to work today on the Mass Pike and I notice a car pulled over with a guy standing next to it applauding. On the Mass Pike.

And then the more I drove the more I noticed more and more cars pulled over with the (I assume) drivers applauding while standing next to said cars. Dozens of cars.

At first.

So I'm thinking maybe the Red Sox are scheduled to drive by or maybe some soldiers or Obama or something. But there is no mention of it on the radio.

Maybe the marathon is early? Perhaps a parade?

Then I drive by the rest stop/ gas station thingy and now there are like hundreds of people there standing and applauding. And not really at anything in particular.

The closer I get to Boston the more cars are pulled over...on both sides of the Pike! Motorcades don't drive down both sides.

The Pike is now almost deserted of actual cars driving....everyone is on the sides and the lines are now two deep. It's starting to freak me out.

The applauding stays constant.

Finally it's time to get off the Pike and the off-ramp is now clogged with folks clapping and whistling and hooting and hollering!

And the Toll Guy is standing in front of his booth and waves me thru without paying! And he's clapping.

Very odd.

So now I'm driving on side streets to my shop. And guess what?

Folks are standing in front of their houses and clapping and hootin' and hollerin'...so I decide to start going down even smaller side streets to see if it ends.

It doesn't! Every little side road all the way to my shop has folks applauding and smiling and just whoopin' it up.

Finally I get to where I'm going. I park out back and walk around to the front.

HA!

All the shop owners and customers are lining the street as if a parade is coming by or something. Smiles everywhere!

But there is no parade. No police. None of the usual signs of anything unusal.

Virtually no traffic. Just folks clapping.

And clapping. And clapping.

Finally I just go up to the guy next door and ask him:

ME: "So what the heck is going on? Did we win a war or something? For the last twenty miles folks have just been screaming and clapping and having a good old time. What is going on?"

HIM: "It's 65 degrees out and the sun is shining! Rejoice my friend! The long winter of hell is over!"

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PS: I made all that up. It didn't really happen.

It should have.

The Hitler

About two weeks ago this guy walks by my shop and he's sportin' a Hitler mustache.


Really.


Is that a chick magnet?


A statement?


A drunken style choice?


A new trend?

What posseses one to walk around with said Fuhrer Fuzz?

Now most guys at one point or another in their lives have 'experimented' with a Hitler 'stache. But only when alone in a locked bathroom when they can seig heil in private (and maybe comb their hair in the Hitler 'do.)

But out in public? A Hitler Mustache? I think not.

In fact it's in the handbook: NO HITLER 'staches IN PUBLIC. EVER! (Halloween exemption)

I havn't seen ol' Joey Stachey McGruder since he walked by....but I'm hoping he pops in sometime. Might be a hoot.

Did I mention I think he was Mexican? (The guy, not Hitler)

(I love mentioning race when it has nothing to do with the story. OLE!)

It's Opening Day at Fenway Park

Leave me alone.

Scoldy, The Kung-Fu Panda

So the other night I was at the movies and in the lobby was a large cardboard stand-up advertising a new Pixarian film called KUNG-FU PANDA.

Seems like a cute idea. Giant panda that uses the lost art of kung-fu.

Kung-Fu Panda.

I was sold just by the name alone.

Until I got to my seat and the lights went dim.

The show started by having a 'presentation' of the rules of the cinema told to me by...yup, the KUNG-FU PANDA.

No this, no that. No Cell Phones.

And then he got angry and pointed right at me and said in his deep menacing Panda voice: "AND NO TEXTING!! People can hear YOU!!"

Keep in mind I was at an IMAX theatre about to see the Rolling Stones. Nobody could hear me texting. If in fact I was texting.

Which I was.

Until ScoldyLocks shamed me.

I HATE CHEW KUNG-FU PANDA!!!

Chuck Chuck Bo Buck, Banana Fana Fo Fuck

Fee Fi Fo Fuck....CHUCK!

You will be missed my friend.

(Soylent Green was people)

Ladies and Gentlemen....The Rolling Stones!

So we go to the IMAX theatre last night to see SHINE A LIGHT (the new Rolling Stones movie by Martin Scorsese) and it was amazing how distracted The Hoag got by the Kung-Fu Panda cardboard stand-up thing in the lobby.

But anyhow....the movie review:

Fantastic sound, great to look at.

The actors playing the Rolling Stones seemed a bit old and ugly, but all and all they did a great job making you believe they were really The Rolling Stones.

I think it was Kurt Russell playing Keith and I think Jon Cryer played Mick.

The Robot Burger King...Marty?

Did I imagine this?

Did I Have A Dream?

As if the Burger King king ain't creepy and scary enough, now they have Robot Burger King.

I'll call this king Marty, in honor of Martin Luther King who was "shot to death" 40 years ago today.

And everytime from this day forward when eating a Burger King burger I will think of Marty.

The Civil Rights Marty, not the robotic new Robot Burger King.

(I wonder when someone will shoot the Burger King?)

Why I'm a failure.

I'll tell you why.

As hard as I try I can't talk like Yoda. I just can't get the speech pattern down and it kinda pisses me off.

Hoag can do it well. He says stuff the Yoda way and even sounds like him.

Cake can do it well when typing. I have no idea if she can actually sound like him.

When I try and speak like Yoda (and who doesn't!) I sound more like Bizarro Superman.

Or a retard.

It ain't fair.

I could try right here for you all but I'd just be ridiculed. And we can't have that.

(GOD....I hope I don't throw a baseball like a girl)

Bad Palindromes

A Man, A Plan, A Canal, Suez