The Coffee Note

Wifey and I live alone.

In the morning there is a pot of coffee waiting for me when I get up.

I have my java (hipster coffee) and then I wash out the coffee pot so when Wifey gets home she doesn't have to.

Husband of the year, correct?

So anyhow...

Every so often my youngest daughter stays over.

On those occasions Wifey leaves a note: 'Please leave the coffee for youngest daughter."

Makes sense...kinda stupid for me to empty out the pot if she wants some coffee, correct?

Youngest stays over ever week or two.

And every week or two there is a note 'Please leave the coffeee for youngest daughter.'

I understand the note the first time. Even the second, third, or fourth time.

But every week or so it's there...taunting me. Mocking my retardation. My special olympic brain.

'Please leave the coffee for youngest daughter.'

'Please leave the coffee for youngest daughter.'

'Please leave the coffee for youngest daughter.'

Week after week after week after week.

'Please leave the coffee for youngest daughter.'

And every week I leave the coffee for youngest daughter.

It makes sense.

But the NOTE!!! THE NOTE!!!

Every goddamn week! THE NOTE!! The reminder of my brain. My pea-brain.

'Please leave the coffee for youngest daughter.'

'Please leave the coffee for youngest daughter.'

'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!'

So last night daughter stayed over.

This morning I found a note:

'Please make your own sandwich...the bread was frozen when I was making lunch'

Hmmmmmmm....okay.

Time for work.

I look at the coffee pot.

It's filled with coffee.

Youngest daughter is upstairs.

No note telling me to save coffee.

Brain sparks to life.

I don't need no steenkin' note.

I have a brain! A big man brain!

I'm smart!

I look at the coffee pot.

I look on the counter for note.

No coffee note. Just make your own sandwich note.

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

SO TO SUM UP

I left the coffee for youngest daughter. I needed no note.

I forgot to make a sandwich.

I need sandwich note conditioning!!

Stephen Hawkings: Genius or Retard?

>>>>>>CBSNEWS.COM: In a new documentary for British television, Hawking warns that communicating with intelligent alien lifeforms could be "too risky."

He speculates most extraterrestrial life will be similar to microbes, or small animals - but adds that advanced lifeforms may be "nomads, looking to conquer and colonize." <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<


I'm guessing that when the "aliens" come down to earth they're gonna be looking to "conquer" and "colonize" creepy little freaks that are trapped in wheelchairs and can only move their eyelashes.

Stephen Hawkings: Smartest man on the planet?

I'm pretty sure that's a big no.

Have some Cocoa Puffs, Steve...

This will freak you out!!

Strap yourself in.

All set?

I'm gonna mention a word and I want you to think of said word.

And away we go...

PILOT

First thing you thought of was a man.

Now another...

BITCH

First thing you thought about was a woman.


Freaky, huh?

Spoons in the dishwasher.

So this morning I decide to empty the dishwasher.

I start with the silverware.

And right off I notice there are way more spoons in there than anything from the fork or knife family.

Spoons.

Lots of them.

I have ice cream maybe five times a year. Spoon.

Soup maybe five times a year. Spoon.

Cereal every so often. Spoon.

Me and Wifey share a spoon for stirring sugar into coffee. Spoon.

So what the heck is going on when I ain't home??

Lots of spoon action is what's going on! And I ain't part of it!

What is she eating?

Are spoons a chick thing?

Goldang dishwasher was filled with the things.

Spoons.

What is she eating that requires so many spoons?

I'm a fork kinda guy. Guys need forks for eating.

Seems like women need spoons.

Lots and lots of spoons!

Wifey doesn't eat ice cream all that often.

Is she some kinda closeted soup freak?

Cereal Princess?

Queen of the Pudding Mafiosi?

Maybe she plays the spoons in some weird kinda jug band?

I have no idea.

What I do have an idea about is that our dishwasher is filled with spoons and I have no idea why.

Spoons.

SO TO SUM UP:
Today's post was done just so I could say Queen of the Pudding Mafiosi.

Douchebaggery is not an exact science.

As the title of today's post says it's not an exact science, but we pretty much know who the douchebags are.

Now some of you may take offense to the following list because maybe you're on it.

Trust me, YOU aren't a douchebag.

But these folks usually are:

1) Dicks that ride unicycles. 98% douche ratio

2) Guys that nonchalantly walk around with a snake around their neck. 99.9% douchebags.

3) Guys that wear top hats on a regular basis (prom exclusion) 94% douchebags.

4) Fat guys in Smart Cars. 100% douche.

5) Folks that have read the Hobbit more than once. Or since 1986. 96% douchebag.

6) Guys that drive El Caminos. I've written this before. 99% douche. Or the Denali.

7) People that DEMAND to see Barack Obama's birth certificate. 100% douche

8) Barack Obama for not showing his stupid birth certificate. 100% douche.

9) Jay Leno 84% douche.

10) Folks that say: "Hot enough for you?" "See you on the flip side." "We're not in Kansas anymore." and of course: "That's what she said." 93% douchebaggery.

11) Ellen on American Idol. 100% douchebag.

12) The guy that asked me what model number my fax machine was. 110% douchebag.

13) People that say 110%. 100% douchebag.

14) Hoagy. 90% douche.

15) The kid shaking the sign across the street. 100% douche.

16) Joba Chamberlain of the New York Yankees. Douche. Not sure of the percentage.

17) The guy that sells you an extended warranty. 100% douche. No exceptions.

18) Nothing for #18.

The Arizona Immigration Thingy

I'm gonna paraphrase the whole thing:

Cops ain't allowed to stop illegal aliens just for being illegal aliens.

Arizona has just passed something that now allows them to do so.

Civil Liberties freaks are now afraid that the cops in Arizona will profile Mexicans as illegal aliens.

---

Well, DUH!!!

Down in Arizona it's the Mexicans that make up the majority of the illegal (KEYWORD: Illegal) aliens.

What makes more sense for the Arizona cops to do: pull over the chick from Sweden in the BMW or the group of Mexicans in the back of a 1979 Ford F-150? (I would pull over the hot blonde from Sweden...but I digress)

SO TO SUM UP:

Profile the Mexicans.

TO SUM UP SOME MORE:

I'm pretty sure Canadians are sneaking in over our Northern Borders. Time to start profiling them, eh?

The Back Scratcher Guy

So I see this guy the other day holding a bag.

And I can see inside bag. And inside bag is a backscratcher.

No big deal, correct?

Wrong.

It is a big deal.

This douchebag just spent money on a backscratcher.

A piece of wood that he uses to scratch his back.

No big deal, correct?

Wrong!

It is a big deal!

Think about it.

I mean really...how often does your back itch?

Is it really that much of a problem that you need a backscratcher?

Now let's say that your back DOES itch all of the time.

It a hunk of wood really the answer?

I think not.

I think a de-lousing and maybe a shower might help.

Or a doctor.

Or something.

Now let's think about this a bit more.

You're at the store and you make a decision to buy said backscratcher. You know you have an itchy back problem.

How does one even get through the day knowing the back is gonna itch in that one little 3" square area you can't reach with your hand??

Shouldn't you have had a backscratcher already?

Now let's think about this some more.

You've bought the backscratcher. You bring it home.

WHERE DO YOU KEEP IT???

Does your back only itch when you're in your chair?

What happens if said backscratcher is next to your chair but you're upstairs when the 3" square part of your back starts a itching?

Now you have to walk all the way downstairs to scratch your back?

That's lame.

Now let's think about this some more, shall we?

You have an itchy back problem. You know this. You just bought a backscratcher for this problem. A backscratcher costs what...maybe two dollars? Buy a few of them.

One for upstairs, one for the car, one for next to your chair.

Maybe one for work.

Eight bucks.

Now let's think about this a little more.

On second thought, let's never think about this again.

Sorry for wasting your time.

I'm also sorry for making your back itchy.

(Brownies, cookies, Fritos)

I'm also sorry for making you hungry.

She don't know Jack. (or maybe she does)

So I'm sitting with Wifey.

I must have had my hand on my face or something. And I might have made a sound like a girl.

Or something.

Here is the conversation that followed.

WIFEY: "You are a fairy."

ME: "I'm not a fairy!"

WIFEY: "Fairy."

ME: "Am not."

WIFEY: "A Jack Benny fairy."

ME: "I'm not a Jack Benny fairy."

WIFEY: "Are."

-----

SO TO SUM UP:

Wifey thinks Jack Benny was a fairy.

----

Actual Jack Benny connection:

Back in 1969 Jack Benny gave my mother a blue and white striped sportcoat to give to me.

I looked like a fairy when I wore it.

The Dairy of Anne Frank.

Obviously some cheese.

Milk.

Yogurt. Curds and whey.

Buttermilk pancakes for Anne!

I'm guessing that liitle minx Anne Frank liked her ice cream and cottage cheese also.

Probably gorged herself on frozen custard.

Until the Gelato discovered her hiding in some basement or barn.

Or something.

The Lego Broad

THE LEGO BROAD: "So I just found out Andy swallowed a lego and has been in the hospital since Wednesday. I'm out of the loop."

ME: "What color Lego did he swallow?"

THE LEGO BROAD: "Dork."

---------

SO TO SUM UP:

Not only is she out of the loop, but so far out of the loop that it turns out the kid didn't swallow a lego...he had acid reflux.

And ya can't be building no buildings with no acid reflux.

(TRIPLE NEGATIVE!)

Slow Death.

Oh sure, she pretends she loves me.

Oh sure, we've been married longer than Methuselah lived (Methuselah was the guy who lived a long time, correct?)

Because of my good looks? My charm? My bags full of cash?

Who the hell knows.

What I do know is that she's trying to kill me.

And that would be for my bags full of cash.

Or maybe full control of the TV remote.

Or something.

So how do I know she's trying to kill me, you ask?

Gather 'round and I'll tell ya.

So the other night we are in the kitchen and we're getting ready for bed when all of a sudden she says:

"Hey....did you see what I got you?"

And with that she opens up the freezer and shows me a box of frozen pancakes wrapped around sausages! (We call 'em 'Pigs in a Blanket')

And a box of frozen corn dogs!

My first reaction is "Wow! She loves me!"

Split second later I realize she's trying to slowly kill me without ever having to be charged with murder.

She's a clever one that Wifey.

Pancakes wrapped around sausage is also pretty clever.

And so are hot dogs, covered in batter, on a stick.

SO TO SUM UP:

Food that comes on a stick probably isn't all that good for you.

Food that comes on a stick usually tastes wicked good.

I would have loved it had she become President.

All that's missing is me wearing a dress.

So last night I watch American Idol. I talk about pitch. Changing it up. Making it your own. Outfits.

I put on a bra. Frilly underwear.

Made sure the dvr was set for a Lifetime movie.

Then I watched Glee.

I shaved my legs. I sat to pee.

I am a fem.

Or at least I was last night.

American Idol followed by Glee.

And I liked it.

A touch of lipstick.

And then Wifey went to bed...

The following is not made up:

I watched about thirty minutes of a World War Two movie on TCM.

Hair grew back on my legs (ok, ok...I made that part up)

And then I checked out my ON DEMAND menu.

And there it was!!

My manhood.

All nice and tidy, wrapped up in a sixteen minute Three Stooges short!

From man to woman to man again in two hours sixteen minutes!

SO TO SUM UP:

The Three Stooges episode was the one where the crazy scientist wants to put Curly's brain inside of a gorilla.

Hijinx followed.

I just like this. It's not great or anything...I just like it.

Yesterday was a joke, today is real.

So yesterday we made fun of what wasn't allowed to be said at The Masters.

Well, for the last two days I've read the Masters 'blog' shot by shot.

Here are actual things being said:

http://blogs.golf.com/presstent/2010/04/masters-live-coverage-round-1-blog.html?eref=sihp

>>Woods bangs his<<

>>>Tiger takes full advantage<<<

>>Tiger could be staring at his first-ever<<<

>>That's not the first fortuitous bounce TW has received today<<<

>>That'll drop him back to 2-under<<

>>He has blisters on top of blisters<<

>>Woods drains his<<

>>just bounded off some mounds<<<

>>You have to think he would have taken that entering<<

>>Wow. We now have a four-way<<

>>Tiger just carded his first birdie<<<

>>Tiger's first hole in 144 days<<

>>Billy Payne gave Tiger Woods an earful yesterday<<<

>>>Vijay Singh's ball isn't yellow<<

>>Tiger yanks his<<<

>>Tiger makes a good bid to get inside 5<<

>>Tiger was less lucky, landing about 8<<

>>Tiger's group is hoping to make up<<

>>I'd love to see whether or not Woods can control himself down the stretch<<

>>the pairing I'd like to see most is Tiger/Watson<<

>>Look for Tiger to make his move right here<<

>>Tiger leaves his long<<<

>>Tiger's threesome will all have<<<

>>Tiger comparing himself to Hogan yesterday<<<

>>my Tiger-fever was stoked<<<

>>He popped a nippy little pitch-chip to a few inches, and tapped in<<

>>Tiger pulls his<<<

--------------
SO TO SUM UP

I love being mature.

The Masters, Tiger Woods, and Naughty Bits

Today is the first day of Tiger's return to golf.

The Masters.

Probably the most prestigious (snooty) tournament on the PGA tour.

On one hand they need Tiger. On the other hand they wish he stayed in rehab.

This year because of the embarrassment of having Tiger Woods here, they've made a few rule changes for the media and sponsors.

They can no longer say:

'In the rough'

'He shanked it!'

'Those are a couple of nice balls for Tiger!'

'He's in the trap!'

'Nice shaft!'

'GET IN THE HOLE!'

'Tiger is now approaching the 18th hole'

'He nails it straight down the middle!'

'That bag of his is filled with lots of iron'

'Nice wood!'

'Just Do It!'

'He's workin' up a sweat.'

'What a grip he has on it!'

'He's in total control.'

'The back nine'

'That looks like a good eight or nine inches to the hole'

'OHHHH!! In and out!'

'What a nice slow easy stroke he has.'

'Dipsy-doodle!' (They should make this rule for all sporting events...NEVER SAY DIPSY DOODLE!!!'

'I think he needs a wedge.'

'Looks like he just took out the 9-iron!'

'He needs a sand wedge or a sandwich?' (no idea what this even means)

'Looks like Tiger is about to go down'

'Vi-jay-jay Singh is on top of Tiger!'

'Arnold Palmer? Arnold Palmer? He hardly knows her!'

'And the winner of the 2010 Masters is Tiger Woods!'

SO TO SUM UP:

Tiger will win the Masters.

The Keychain Passerby

So I'm standing outside at 'breaktime'.

Here is what happens next:

GUY: "Do you have those floating keychains?"

ME: "No."

GUY: "I think I've asked you that before."

A Question to a Pretty Smart Guy

So this gal comes in...here is the conversation:

GAL: "Is it okay to ask you a question?"

ME: "Sure...hopefully I'll have an answer for you."

GAL: "Well, I wanted to ask you because you're pretty smart."

ME: "Thank you. What's the question?"

GAL: "Do you know where I could buy some bubblewrap?"

No Signs of Life From Trapped Miners.

That's what the headline on CNN.com screams.

'NO SIGNS OF LIFE FROM TRAPPED MINERS'

If I was in charge of HEADLINES, mine would read:

'NO SIGNS OF LIFE FROM DEAD MINERS'

25 Cold Mimes Die in West Virginia!

>>>ABCNEWS.COM) The West Virginia community rocked by a massive mime explosion that killed 25 people are holding onto fading hope that the four mimes believed to be trapped deep in in the mountainside will be found alive. <<<<<<

Lots of unanswered questions:

Why were they cold?

Why were they in West Virginia?

Why is anybody in West Virginia?

What can one possibly say to the family of a dead cold mime?

Any last words from any of these mimes?

When they put a dead mime in the casket, can anybody see the casket?

Does the funeral director put the mimes hands on the inside lid of said casket?

(Please see www.abcnews.com for the complete story)

Easter Wrap-Up

I don't think anybody said 'Happy Easter' to me. (Maybe Wifey did)

I don't think I said it to anyone. (I might have said it to Wifey)

I didn't get or give candy.

I didn't give or get a card.

I didn't see my kids.

I texted my kids. They didn't text back.

I didn't color eggs or see eggs. Or hide them or find them.

Not only didn't I go to church...I'm pretty sure I didn't even see a church.

For Easter Dinner I had Waffles and Sardines (I'm not making that up)

Waffles and Sardines sounds like a book Oprah would adore and promote.

Or maybe a punk band.

Or Peaches and Herbs when they get older.

Or of course, something.

Smokin' Joe i-Pad

(And people think comic book fans are weird)

Two Gals, One Bench (no cup)

So yesterday was a great day. Sunny...maybe around 75 degrees or so.

I'm driving home and I cruise by this little park that has a bench facing the street (and real close to said street)

On this particular bench are two beautiful girls (women)...dressed normal (jeans and t-shirts) and they're just smiling and waving to everybody as they buzz by.

We make eye contact.

They wave.

I wave.

All of us are smiling.

And then it hit me!!

Two gorgeous gals should always be on a bench waving to me as I drive home!

Or something.

Racist Blog Post #483: HONKERS!

Dear People from a country I won't mention by name (we'll call it Honksylvania),

You love honking your horns, dontcha?

Is it a learned behavior for you?

Or were you just born douchebags?

It's a gorgeous day out...my door is wide open (not because you didn't close it this time) and the sound of you jerks honking your horns is driving me insane.

How do I know it's you? BECAUSE I CAN SEE YOU!!!

People that are born in America rarely use their horns.

We might even be polite. Certainly compared to YOU we are.

People from backass countries like Honkslyvania LOVE to honk their horns.

Why?

Are horns a sign of prestige in your filth encrusted country?

I see footage on the news from your country and your crappy roads are always filled with WAY too many of your shitsuckin' cars and you all leaning out the windows, waving a fist, honking, screaming!!

YOU ARE ANNOYING!

SHUT UP!

I DON'T LIKE YOU!

America doesn't like you.

(Individually one or two of you might be fine)

As a culture?

Not so much.

Someone is stopped in front of a store...maybe loading a few things in car and you decide you have to honk?? Honkin' on Bobo!

The guy was gonna move anyhow. No need to honk. He doesn't want to keep his car double parked. He just wants to put two bags of groceries in it.

Or maybe he's just waiting to pick up his kids.

Don't honk at him.

When the kid gets in the car he'll leave and you can be on your merry annoying way.

"But, but, but I'm an American citizen now!"

So act like one, Honker!

And stop honking!

Crazy Jason and Luke Cage

CRAZY JASON: "Would you hire Luke Cage?"

ME: "No."