RIP Manny

You made baseball fun.

Now go get a haircut, willya? You look like an idiot.

the AM/PM guy makes an appearance

GUY: "How much does this Batman cost?"

ME: "It's priced on the bottom of the package."

GUY: "How much is this Spider-Man paperweight?"

ME: "It's priced on the bottom."

GUY: "Where are the Captain America comics?"

ME: "I put them in the bins in alphabetical order."

GUY: "Can you show me?"

ME: "Yes...they are right....here...in the C section."

GUY: "Where are the Spider-Man comics?"

ME: "They should be in those bins over there ::points over there:: in alphabetical order in the S section."

GUY: "Can you show me?"

ME: ::shows him::

GUY: "How much are they?"

ME: "All the comics in the bins have a price tag on the upper right hand corner."

GUY: "How much does this one cost?"

ME: :::looks at price tag on upper right hand corner:: "That one is $4.75!"

GUY: "Where are the Flash comics?"

ME: "They are in the bins in alphabetical order...check the F section right over there :::points to F section right over there:::

GUY: "I can't find them...all I see are Fantastic Fours."

ME: "The Flash are right there next to them!"

GUY: "Found them! Thank you, My Friend!"

:::GUY brings up stuff to the register:::

ME: :::rings up stuff and gives him the total::: "That will be $48.91."

GUY: "Can you put my stuff in a bag before I pay you?"

ME: "Sure!" ::I do as requested::

GUY: ::gives me $50.00::

ME: "And here is your change...9 cents makes $49, and a dollar makes $50."

GUY: ::looks at change in a funny way:: "I gave you a Fifty."

ME: "Yes. the total was $48.91 and I gave you $1.09 in change which adds up to $50.00 on the button!"

GUY: "You are right! Thank you my friend! You'll be seeing a LOT of me!"

ME: "Thank you! Have a great day, My Friend!"

GUY: "What time are you open tomorrow?"

ME: "11:30am until 6:30pm"

Moral of the story?

Guy won.

a special evening interlude for all of the night owls in the audience

Every single DUDE in The Big Lebowski.

Crusty Bunker

So today is new comic book day and as I flip through a brand new series by Marvel Comics one of the characters mentions a sex act.

The dialogue goes something like this:

HOOKER: "He wanted me to give him a "Crusty Bunker"...and here I thought I've heard and done it all."

So I flip through the story some more and come across this passage:

HOOKER: "And before I forget...for those of you that need to know--there's no such thing as a 'Crusty Bunker'. "

--------

SO TO SUM UP:

The world apparently needs a new sex act and it needs to be called the Crusty Bunker.

PS
Thank you Marvel Comics!

I'm so busy blogging today that I can't blog

Idiot Savant to be alone

PHONE RINGS AT STORE:

ME: "Groovy Store, may I help you?"

GUY: "What are your hours?"

ME: "Monday through Friday 11:30-6:30, Saturday 10:00 through 5:00, and Sunday 12:00 through 5:00."

GUY: "What are your hours on Monday?"

ME: "Monday-Friday 11:30-6:30. Saturday 10:00-5:00, and Sunday 12:00-5:00."

GUY: "What time do you open on Monday?"

ME: "11:30."

GUY: "AM or PM?"

ME: "AM"

GUY: "What time do you close?"

ME: "6:30."

GUY: "AM or PM?"

ME: "PM."

GUY: "What time do you open on Tuesday?"

ME: "11:30."

GUY: "AM or PM?"

At this point I know I'm doing an Abbott and Costello routine with the guy.

ME: "AM."

GUY: "11:30 AM?"

ME: "Yes."

GUY: "What time do you close?"

ME: "We are open Monday thru Friday 11:30-6:30, Saturday 10:00-5:00, and Sunday 12:00-5:00."

GUY: "I was down your shop the other day and it was awesome and I can't wait until two and half weeks from now to come down and spend lots of money. I want everything!"

ME: "Great...looking forward to you coming down!"

GUY: "What time do you open on Wednesday?"

:::sigh:: This goes on all the way through the days until Sunday. I give the answers he needs, and I can practically see him writing down each individual day and their times (AM and PM...you know, cuz lots of my type of stores open at 11:30 at night and close at 6:30 in the morning)...but I slog through it.

GUY: "What time do you open on Sunday?"

ME: "12:00"

GUY: "AM or PM?"

And all of sudden I was the dumbest guy on the planet. I had a retard on the phone asking retard questions yet the retard stumped the Boy Genius. I had no idea if 12 noon was AM or PM.

ME: "12 noon."

GUY: "Is that AM or PM."

ME: "12 in the afternoon."

GUY: "AM or PM?"

ME: "And Sunday from 12:00 in the afternoon until 5:00 in the evening. Thank you, hope to see you soon!"

-----------------


former, latter, moon revolves around sun, left loosey, righty tighty, Winston Churchill....

Trial by Gravy

The other day I gave my dog a bit of my mashed potatoes and gravy.

I put it in her dog dish.

Puppy ate said mashed potatoes.

A few days later Wifey says to me: "Damn dog, she got gravy everywhere!"

One simple act. One simple statement.

But let's examine that further, shall we? Under the guise of a trial.

-----------
BALLIFF: "Please state your full name."

WIFEY: "Wifey D. Ogghader."

BALLIFF: "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

WIFEY: "Whatever."

DASH McLAWYER: "Did you state in your sworn deposition that the "dog got gravy everywhere"

WIFEY: "Yes."

DASH: "Did the dog in fact get the gravy everywhere?"

WIFEY: "Yes."

DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the countertop?"

WIFEY: "No."

DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the toaster?"

WIFEY: "No."

DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the phone?"

WIFEY: "No."

DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the doorknob?"

WIFEY: "No."

DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the table?"

WIFEY: "No."

DASH: "Did the dog get the gravy on the television set?"

WIFEY: "No."

DASH: "Can you please tell this court, where in fact, the dog got the gravy!?"

WIFEY: "Everywhere."

DASH: "No further questions. The prosecution rests."

Ex-astronaut turns out to be retarded

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,390161,00.html

Obama

Anyhow...

So I hear this on the radio this morning:

RADIO GUY: "So you gave money to Obama, huh?

CALLER: "Yup."

RADIO GUY: "Just practicing for if he gets elected?"

------

SO TO SUM UP:

There will be another major terrorist attack on US soil in a year or so and you're gonna pay more taxes but troops that enlisted and were willing to go to war might come home early.

Or something.

God Bless The USA.

Everybody has an opinion...this guy is just an idiot....and whipped cream and other delights.

So I get a phone call last night from someone telling me how awful the new Dark Knight movie is.

This person has in the past told me how good Christmas With The Kranks is.

I don't think I'll be paying for his movie reviews anytime soon.

-------------

Over on Cake's blog she mentions singing at concerts. Lots of people sing at concerts.

Wanna know something?

It's rude.

Don't sit next to me and sing at a concert. Shut up!

If I'm paying to see Celine, I wanna HEAR Celine!

---------------

So The Blonde is (was) part of buddy night and she missed four weeks in a row. So she got the boot.

But we decided to be fair and let her voice her excuses in an Arbritration Hearing this Thursday night (Buddy Night)...guess what? She blew us off once again. 5 weeks in a row!!

Wanna take her spot for Thursday night hijinx?

Feel free to submit your resume at iaintnooprah@aol.com

The note

A couple of things you need to know:

I have a small dog that stays in the house but needs to be taken out to the garage where the WC is.

The other thing you need to know is that Wifey and Youngest went away for the week.

And Wifey leaves the obligatory note on the counter telling us what needs to be done....you know, the kinda onlya wife would leave.

And in that said note, after all of the: don't light the couch on fire and turn off the shower when you're done with it kinda stuff she leaves this gem:

"Take the dog out constantly."

Constantly.

Take the dog out constantly.

So to sum up:

Wifey and Youngest are out in the sun on the beach drinking wine coolers and eating lobsters and me and Oldest are taking the dog out.

Constantly.

Jesse Jackson talks about the new Batman movie.

That's what today's blog was gonna be about.

And then I realized that except for the film being called The Dark Knight and the Joker kicking Batman in the nuts there really wasn't anyway to tie it all togther.

So then I thought maybe I'd change the title to: Hillary talks about the new Batman movie.

But then I realized except for when The Joker kicked The Batman in the cankles there really wasn't anyway to tie it all together.

So then I thought what if I changed it to Ed McMahon talks about the new Batman movie.

But other than Ed having a broken neck and not being able to move his neck...and Batman mentioning that he also can't move his neck with the stupid costume on, there was no way to tie it all together.

So then I thought maybe I could make it about Virgil Tibbs talking about the new Batman movie but all I had was a IN THE HEAT OF THE DARK KNIGHT joke, and though brilliant, I couldn't quite pad a whole blog out with it.

Or could I?

BATMAN: "I'm Batman."

VIRGIL: "They call me MISTER Tibbs"

So now I have two jokes. But two jokes about Virgil Tibbs and Batman still do not make a blog.

Or does it?

Conversation with The Bank Teller

So I go into the bank to make a cash deposit.

Here is the conversation:

ME: "Hi."

BANK TELLER: "Hi."

:::a few newer bills sticking together noise::::

BANK TELLER: "We've been getting A LOT of new bills lately."

ME: "Oh?"

BANK TELLER: "We get lots of old bills also."

ME: "Do you ever get any bills from like four or five months ago?"

BANK TELLER: "Oh yes, we get those also!"

ME: "So basically you get most kinds of bills that are in circulation, correct?"

BANK TELLER: "Yup!"

-------------

PS
And then she got up and walked over to the bill counting machine and I noticed that her lower half was at least six times larger than her upper half.

Though I'm not quite sure what that has to do with: Conversation with The Bank Teller.

Jesse Jackson wants to cut off nigger's nuts !

Seems Jesse got himself into trouble once again by saying the word Nigger .

(Last week it was cutting off of Nuts.)


The press would report it as:

'The Rev. Jesse Jackson wants to cut off N*****'s N***.

Or possibly:

'The Rev. Jesse Jackson wants to cut off the N's of a N-word'

Or maybe:
'The Rev. Jesse Jackson would like to cut off the testicles off of an African American peer.



Or something.

Back to fishing...

Still fishing.

Kids still play marbles?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Nujood Ali is 10 years old, but she already has been married and divorced. Chastised in Yemen for challenging convention, she recently told CNN she was raped and abused by her husband. "I didn't want to sleep with him, but he forced me to," she said, between playing marbles with her siblings<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

-----------------

The above was on CNN.com today.

I wonder if this story will make marbles popular again?

Gone Fishin' (sorry....I'm busy)

"They're a grubby-looking bunch of caterwaulers."

I have no real post for this. I just liked the sentence.

It might be on my top ten list of great sentences.


To find out what the sentence means in context, it's right here...


http://fieldnotes.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2008/07/15/1199774.aspx

I surrender.

Clinky is SO gonna win for the next month or so. We don't stand a chance.

It's a competition, correct?

Dean Martin has taken over this blog!

The :40 and the 1:03 points are just awesome

The volume on my radio goes up when one of these songs comes on.

Strange how that happens.

I especially like it around the 3:13 to 3:25 part.

The 10th anniversary of 9/11

How original, huh?

Everybody on the planet is probably writing a 10th anniversary of 9/11 blog today.

So sue me.

My Mom died in the North Tower that day, and I feel like I can write about 9/11 on it's anniversary. So shut up.

Everybody always asks if you remember what you were doing that fateful day....I sure do!

I was watching a documentary on the JFK assassination, then I switched over to one on the RFK assassination. I watched a bit of the OJ Bronco chase and most of Capricorn One.

And then the planes hit.

I've been a bit obsessive about it ever since (WOW! Ten years....went fast)

And today it hit me! I finally figured it out!

4 planes. Two hit the World Trade Center, one hit the Pentagon, and one crashed in a field.

Well guess what? Bin Laden wasn't after the Trade Center or the Pentagon....he wanted to destroy our fields!!

Our precious fields! Amber ways of grain. And stuff!

Ten years and I finally figured it out!

Our precious fields!

Bastards!

My mom could have been in that field.

Your mom could have been also.

(I wonder if our Moms would have liked each other? I wonder if they would have liked that field?)

And now....everytime I see a field I shudder (or do I shiver?) I always forget.

But I'll never forget this date, ten years ago, when evil tried to wreck our fields.

Never forget.

Field of Nightmares. Field of Dreams. Field of Tossing & Turning and Dying and Burning

Or something.

::wipes away one lone salty manly tear::

PS
Now I want popcorn.

The Sears Truck

A SEARS truck just drove by my shop and on the side of the truck it proudly proclamied:

SEARS: WHERE IT ALL BEGINS.

What the hell does that even mean? Where what begins?

Nothing begins at SEARS.

Except of course maybe the 1930s. Or something.

SO TO SUM UP:

SEARS: Where you go if all other options have already been explored and exhausted and you just have to have a Craftsman Circular Saw Clock for your workshop.

"I want to cut his nuts off."

That was the big quote of the week.

It was Jesse Jackson saying it about Barack Obama.

Jesse wants to cut off Obama's nuts.

Once cut off, what on earth was Jesse planning on doing with said nuts? Gonna cook up some brownies?

I wonder if Jesse was planning to cut Obama's nuts off when he visted HymieTown.

Jesse says some kooky things.

PS
I wonder if he also wanted to cut off Hillary's nuts ?

PPSS
I wonder what Jesse wanted to do to the Wax sculpture of Hitler?

http://elections.foxnews.com/2008/07/09/jesse-jackson-apologizes-for-obama-remarks/

Lamont has a blog

It's over there in the LINKS section (clever, huh?)

I give him three weeks and then he'll burnout.

Or something.

My Rolled Coin Blog.

Someone mentioned the other day that they were out of ideas for blogs and they were gonna post a blog about coin rolling.

And it reminded me of the time I fought off aliens, saved the princess, and rolled up about 40 large....all in dimes.

---------

I was flying shotgun (I don't even know what that means) in the X-27 Warp Modulator (no clue what that means) and trying to roll up my coin at the same time when all of sudden a fiery red carbopulation cane came streaming towards my docking bay (or something)....it broke of the hinge of the recess hatch.

I was doomed! Silver Roosevelts were floating all over my craft, the princess was still in dire need (winkwink), and I had dinner plans at 8:00!

So quickly I jammed the throttle to hyper-kill, reversed the props, rolled the coin, saved Diana, patched the hinge, returned to sector 52, had dinner.

I was in bed by 11:00.

I dreamt of rolled pennies and Malomar C-47.

But that's a story for another day!

Would this person be stupid or would this person be J*net?

PERSON: "So I'm driving by this clear building and..."

ME: "You mean a building with a lot of windows?"

PERSON: "Well, yes..."

The Stupid Joe Morgan

There are two Joe Morgans.

A good Joe Morgan. A bad Joe Morgan.

One used to manage the Boston Red Sox in the 1980s (remember Morgan Magic?)...and he was funny and smart and just an all around good guy. The Good Joe Morgan.

And then there is the other Joe Morgan. He's an idiot.

He used to play for the Reds back in the 1970s. He wa s agood player...made the Hall of Fame.

The Bad Joe Morgan.

But now he is an announcer and calls the national games for ESPN.

Did I mention he's an idiot?

So last night he's doing the Red Sox Yankees game and he starts to comment on David Ortiz who is out with an injury.

And he says (I'm paraphrasing....I'm sure his EXACT words were worse)

"David Ortiz can make a difference in a 1 run game but not much in a 4 or 5 run game."

------

What are you talking about Joe you big stupid idiot??? Ya big stupid idiot. Idiot.

------

I love baseball but it's painful to watch when this big stupid idiot opens his big stupid mouth.

Idiot.

I wanted to rip off Hitler's head.

The other day they announced that at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum they were putting up a Adolf Hitler exhibit.

But not to glorify him.

They were gonna treat old Uncle Adolf different than the other wax figures. You weren't going to be able to have your picture taken with Adolf.

They didn't want to glorify him. .

The display was going to show him in his final days as a frail tired man sitting at his desk.

They didn't want to glorify him.

And yesterday the exhibit opened.

And the first person in saw him and left.

The second guy to see the exhibit jumped over the barrier they had set up and ripped off Hitler's head.

But not to glorify him.

And he got arrested! For ripping off Hitler's head!

It's a crime to rip off Hitler's head!

And now I'm all jealous because Hitler Head Ripper Off-er is gonna be a prison celebrity!

"What are you in for?"

"I stole a car."

"What are you in for?

"I robbed a bank."

"What are you in for?"

"I ripped off Adolf Hitler's head."

-----------------------

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,376683,00.html

They call me MISTER Dibs !

So last night was Buddy Nite. It usually consists of me, The Hoag, and The Blonde.



Sometime during the day either through text messages, emails, or phone calls we decide where to eat or what to do.



But all during the day yesterday we never hear from The Blonde.



Nothing. El Nada.



So use our back up plan and we meet at the "usual spot" just in case she had some communication breakdown.



Or something.



But she's not there.



And it's at that moment we realize that she must have died. Cuz she would have called , correct?



Here is how the conversation went once we figured out she was in heaven:



ME: "I've got dibs on her new Sony flat screen!"



HOAG: "Dibs on her Bose!"



ME: "New rug...MINE!"



HOAG: "Her undergarments!"



ME: "The grill !"



HOAG: "Good...I hate that grill"



ME: "Her new sectional sofa!"



HOAG: "Fuck."



ME: "Laptop!"



HOAG: "Hammock!"



ME: "Meats and snacks!"



HOAG: "Booze!"



ME: "I don't want anything else."



HOAG: "Me neither."



ME: "What should we do now?"



HOAG: "Go eat."



ME: "I'll miss her."



HOAG: "Me too."



ME: "What should we eat?"



HOAG: "Italian"





So To Sum Up:



They Call Me MISTER Dibs.



They call Hoag, Hoag.

A George Carlin story by proxy

I should have told this story last week but I had forgotten about it. Hoag reminded me.

Years ago we went to see George Carlin in concert.

The concert was held at a predominantly Jewish college so when we got to our seats we instantly were feeling kinda out of place as two of the only white guys in attendance.

It's not that folks were mean to us or anything but you could see their stares and points and stuff.

No big deal. We were there to see George. A white guy.

But we were in our seats, which were fold up chairs, all tied together with those plastic fastener thingies that cops use when busting up large crowds.

And it was very uncomfortable. Everyone was sitting way too close together and it was just awkward.

So Hoag takes out his switchblade (knife, not comb) and starts cutting the fasteners away on our seats.

And then some folks close to us see what he's doing and ask if he'll cut through theirs.

So Hoag (friend of the Jews) starts going seat to seat cutting the plastic things and freeing everyone from sitting in rigid rows.

And by the time the show started the two white guys were now pals with a room filled with non-white guys.

POINT OF THE STORY:

Comedy is colorblind.

Or something.

Don't Feed The Brids

Years ago we saw that sign up in a restaurant in Laconia, New Hampshire.

DON'T FEED THE BRIDS. The brids.

Was it a typo?

Surely someone must have noticed and told the owner of the place that his sign was all wrong.

Or do brids live in Laconia? Are brids native to Laconia? I never saw them anywhere else.

And why shouldn't we feed said brids? Do they get fat? By feeding the brids do they hang around too long and scare off the tourists?

Now when you go up to Laconia as a teenager and see a sign telling you NOT to do something....well, guess what?

You want to do what it says not to.

SO TO SUM UP:

Me and Hoag fed the brids.

The Circle Of Life

So this past weekend I went camping.

Camping, as in near a lake. In a tent.

In fact, a whole bunch of us went. Near a lake. In some tents.

So anyhow around two in the morning I wake up and need to go to the campground restroom to check how my hair looks (or something)

The restroom is up a hill in the middle of the woods (but close by)

2:00 am hair looks pretty good and I start back to my tent when all of a sudden I spot a bear!

There is a bear standing next to a tree about 20 feet from me.

I remember my bear training from The Hoag and I stand motionless (except for my hair which is blowing nicely in the wind)

And then I hear the bear roar!

"DAD! It's me!"

Holy crap! I'm the father of a bear!!! I'm the father of a talking bear!!"

"Dad, it's me...I'm over here!"

And then it dawned on me....that was my human daughter standing by the tree. At 2:00 am.

I was still wary of bear and remembered my teenage girl training I received from The Hoag...always approach with caution.

So what was human daughter doing at 2:00 am, in the woods, pretending she was a bear?

Turns out she was pretending to be a queasy bear and she was vomiting at the base of the tree.

And I did what any human father would do. I said:

"I hope you feel better in the morning...I'm going back to my tent. Be careful."

Fast forward 6 hours or so:

I get up and head to the campground restroom to check on my hair and I notice two chipmunks messing around with my daughter's vomit that is still pooled at the base of the tree.

I quickly name one of the chipmunks 'Dale'. I can't think of what to name the second one.

POINT OF THE STORY:

When camping, you experience the Circle of Life (or Cheerios, or whatever it is she ate that made her sick) first hand.

Or of course, something.