Going anywhere over the weekend you see the scenario that Halloween has become everyone running around as Sluts, and Whores not that I am prude by any means I'm all for it but what happened to the horror ?
What happened to the Ghost's, Ghouls and Goblins that should over take this silly celebration .
I guess it wouldn't bother me if guys weren't doing it as well dressing as a Stripper or hunky doctor is sad to me maybe I'm being sexist or maybe I'm being prudish your thought's kids .
Should Halloween try to return to it's scary roots I mean the Naughty nurse has it's place don't get me wrong but when you go out and every female looks like a rejected member from Vanity 6 isn't there something wrong ?
Monday, October 30, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
The Places to Be
Good morning Coitusers and a joyous impending Halloween to all. Halloween is interesting as it provides us yet another pagan holiday to get drunk but it has also been described as the only holiday where we only purchase items for ourselves. Take that Dad!
QUESTION OF THE WEEK
Last weeks question took stock of the legal problems of actor Wesley “Blade” Snipes. In our poll we questioned our readers what should be done with the Blade series now that Wesley “Blade” Snipes is no longer an American. Overwhelmingly the public has spoken and by a resounding 20% voted that they don’t actually care as the Blade trilogy has sucked balls.
This week's question focuses on our countries physical policy with Mexico and how this would inpact our personal national security. President Bush recently signed a bill into law that would allocate 1.2 billion dollars towards the construction of a 700 mile fence with our neighbors to the South. While we here at Bad Mother Coitus recognize the fact that our schools are growing far too large and that there are definite homeless, jobless and hunger issues that also need to be solved but we first wanted to poll our readers.
This site cracks my shit up. The good General JC Christian, Patriot uses this space to help guide the morality play that is America. Follow him and also make sure to check out the Operation Yellow Elephant. Yellow Elephant keeps a staunch hand on an even keel while reporting on our US Military recruiters. Not only does it show what is making our country great, it also frees us from evildoers.
A hard hitting expose by the Twin Cities own Channel Four news. Toddler Trapped in Crane Machine.
Only in the South could this be used as an explanation to justify murder. Or, rather, only in the South could this be something that could actually happen.
I really don’t know how this came about but it was an extreme treat to find. It does make you long for the days of only a few years ago.
QUESTION OF THE WEEK
Last weeks question took stock of the legal problems of actor Wesley “Blade” Snipes. In our poll we questioned our readers what should be done with the Blade series now that Wesley “Blade” Snipes is no longer an American. Overwhelmingly the public has spoken and by a resounding 20% voted that they don’t actually care as the Blade trilogy has sucked balls.
This week's question focuses on our countries physical policy with Mexico and how this would inpact our personal national security. President Bush recently signed a bill into law that would allocate 1.2 billion dollars towards the construction of a 700 mile fence with our neighbors to the South. While we here at Bad Mother Coitus recognize the fact that our schools are growing far too large and that there are definite homeless, jobless and hunger issues that also need to be solved but we first wanted to poll our readers.
This site cracks my shit up. The good General JC Christian, Patriot uses this space to help guide the morality play that is America. Follow him and also make sure to check out the Operation Yellow Elephant. Yellow Elephant keeps a staunch hand on an even keel while reporting on our US Military recruiters. Not only does it show what is making our country great, it also frees us from evildoers.
A hard hitting expose by the Twin Cities own Channel Four news. Toddler Trapped in Crane Machine.
Only in the South could this be used as an explanation to justify murder. Or, rather, only in the South could this be something that could actually happen.
I really don’t know how this came about but it was an extreme treat to find. It does make you long for the days of only a few years ago.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Man Day Eve...Eve
This Saturday all good men will rise in unison, look at their spouses/loved ones/shebeasts, look them in the eye and say "I must go." The women (or for the single men, the computer and assorted lotion bottles) will look on longingly as they head out to the field of battle. Out of spite the women might just call repeatedly or accidentally wash the man's favorite shirt with something very, very red. (The lotion and computer are sort of limited in what they can do but it's likely the lotion will hose down the keyboard with a mixture of aloe vera, random chemicals and other assorted items that work just fucking spiffy on skin but not so much on delicate electronic goods.)
There is work to be done. Manly work. The repeated killings of teenagers and stoned guys in Texas and possibly bilingual fellas with crazy Mexican handles like "chupacabra14". It will be glorious this killing. Repeated killing. Mixed in with occasional deaths and shouts of "what the fuck just happened?" and "beer me".
There will be pizza consumed and severe reprimands if any grease ends up on the controller which then leads to the offender failing to offer cover fire when needed. Yes there will be shame, but there will also be glory. And maybe, just maybe, the single guy will casually mention how to shoot around fucking rocks rather than using your face. The married men will be pleased.
In between killing sessions the assorted Men of MANDAY will feel awkward about killing people who lack hair in the bathing suit area and have voices vaguely reminiscent of Hilary Duff or possibly her sister.... Mmmm Duffs. But we shall kill them nonetheless. Unless they're one of those shut in kids that just gayms all the damn time and has a USB port for a belly button. We'll boot those kids. They're crazy good.
It is MANDAY EVE...EVE. You can almost feel the excitement can't you? If you listen closely on MANDAY, behind all the shouting and gunfire you can just barely make out the sound of Angels singing. Because God likes this sort of shit. Let's make it happen fellas. You never know when the next MANDAY will come along.
There is work to be done. Manly work. The repeated killings of teenagers and stoned guys in Texas and possibly bilingual fellas with crazy Mexican handles like "chupacabra14". It will be glorious this killing. Repeated killing. Mixed in with occasional deaths and shouts of "what the fuck just happened?" and "beer me".
There will be pizza consumed and severe reprimands if any grease ends up on the controller which then leads to the offender failing to offer cover fire when needed. Yes there will be shame, but there will also be glory. And maybe, just maybe, the single guy will casually mention how to shoot around fucking rocks rather than using your face. The married men will be pleased.
In between killing sessions the assorted Men of MANDAY will feel awkward about killing people who lack hair in the bathing suit area and have voices vaguely reminiscent of Hilary Duff or possibly her sister.... Mmmm Duffs. But we shall kill them nonetheless. Unless they're one of those shut in kids that just gayms all the damn time and has a USB port for a belly button. We'll boot those kids. They're crazy good.
It is MANDAY EVE...EVE. You can almost feel the excitement can't you? If you listen closely on MANDAY, behind all the shouting and gunfire you can just barely make out the sound of Angels singing. Because God likes this sort of shit. Let's make it happen fellas. You never know when the next MANDAY will come along.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Explanation of American Football by Position
Due to lack of caring for the sport of American Football and having removed myself from the epicenter of the head moron fan capital (Minneapolis) I believed myself removed of this five month headache. But it is everywhere here in the Midwest, especially here in Wisconsin and the fans are equally as big of morons as those in Minneapolis (seriously, I think I met a girl named Brett Farve the other day).
Instead of going down the tried and true method of disproving the entire league this year I’ve elected to prove what a worthless sport it is by position.
Tight Ends: Too stupid to play the Defensive Line, now they find themselves running simple passing routes and throwing their body’s at Linebackers during running plays.
Offensive Line: Too fat and stupid to play the defensive line. Although this position should be congratulated as it is the only position, in all of sport, not have a statistical way of keeping track of it.
Defensive Line: Too fat and stupid to play linebacker.
Linebackers: Ah, Sam, Mike and Will. A linebacker may be the only respectable position on the field.
Quarterback: Sure they may have to run the offense. Sure they might have to be able to read zone or man or cover two before the snap. But all quarterbacks are douche bags. I guarantee you that all quarterbacks definitely have had some history of child abuse in their past or are, themselves, child abusers.
Running Back: Recently proven a worthless position on the field with the advent of the Denver style of running game. No longer is a skilled person needed to achieve 1000 yards a year. A group of large, in charge and Hungry Man eating Offensive lineman capable of falling forward will suffice!
Strong Safety: Too stupid to play Free Safety; too small to play Linebacker
Free Safety: Too slow to play Cornerback; too small to play Linebacker
Cornerback: Too short to play Wide Receiver
Wide Receiver: Honestly the only position producing more douche bags than the Quarterback and single handedly why this article must be written. The NFL has finally given in and turned into the National Football League of Terrell Owens (or the NFLTO). Now not only is this a stupid sport it has finally reached its’ ultimate devolution of turning into NASCAR II. No longer do the fans no longer care about scores but they have replaced these scores with contimplating what sort of sandwich Terrell ate for lunch.
Ladies and Gentelman... I give you American Football
Next Week: Bad Mother Coitus: Stats and The Year in Review
Instead of going down the tried and true method of disproving the entire league this year I’ve elected to prove what a worthless sport it is by position.
Tight Ends: Too stupid to play the Defensive Line, now they find themselves running simple passing routes and throwing their body’s at Linebackers during running plays.
Offensive Line: Too fat and stupid to play the defensive line. Although this position should be congratulated as it is the only position, in all of sport, not have a statistical way of keeping track of it.
Defensive Line: Too fat and stupid to play linebacker.
Linebackers: Ah, Sam, Mike and Will. A linebacker may be the only respectable position on the field.
Quarterback: Sure they may have to run the offense. Sure they might have to be able to read zone or man or cover two before the snap. But all quarterbacks are douche bags. I guarantee you that all quarterbacks definitely have had some history of child abuse in their past or are, themselves, child abusers.
Running Back: Recently proven a worthless position on the field with the advent of the Denver style of running game. No longer is a skilled person needed to achieve 1000 yards a year. A group of large, in charge and Hungry Man eating Offensive lineman capable of falling forward will suffice!
Strong Safety: Too stupid to play Free Safety; too small to play Linebacker
Free Safety: Too slow to play Cornerback; too small to play Linebacker
Cornerback: Too short to play Wide Receiver
Wide Receiver: Honestly the only position producing more douche bags than the Quarterback and single handedly why this article must be written. The NFL has finally given in and turned into the National Football League of Terrell Owens (or the NFLTO). Now not only is this a stupid sport it has finally reached its’ ultimate devolution of turning into NASCAR II. No longer do the fans no longer care about scores but they have replaced these scores with contimplating what sort of sandwich Terrell ate for lunch.
Ladies and Gentelman... I give you American Football
Next Week: Bad Mother Coitus: Stats and The Year in Review
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
chicago dictionary
ok folks, i said no more blogs about traffic, and here you go. what do we gots instead? your first comprehensive chicago-speak dictionary. words every chicagoan takes for granted but tourists "scratch their heads" about.*
chicagoland – chicago and it’s surrounding suburbs. the only important part of illinois.
TJ's – Trader Joe’s. quite possibly the best, friendliest, cheapest grocery store out there. all the cool kids shop there.
the bean – the giant bean-shaped sculpture in millennium park. actually titled Cloud Gate. The biggest funhouse mirror you have ever seen. also, rediculously horrendous tourist trap in the middle of summer.
parking ticket – a small piece of paper slipped into an orange envelope and stuck to either your windshield or your driver’s side door (adhesive is very sticky and will mostly likely leave residue for 2 weeks after original removal). usually listed at $50 for breaking some sort of vague parking law. examples of violations include: parking in a regular zone during a cubs game, parking in front of a faded yellow line on the curb, and parking on the street during an alleged “street cleaning” day (whether or not they actually clean the streets is up for debate). legend has it that if you’ve got out of state plates, the ticket will not be entered into the system.
el – the elevated train. runs around the loop and branches out to the ends of chicago. see: chase scenes from blues brothers & the fugitive.
work commute – the length of time it takes you to get from home to work or work to home. varies by person. commute can be from suburbs to city or vice versa, from south side to north side (or vice versa), from north/south/west side to the loop, but NEVER the reverse. if your commute is under 20 minutes, you are fucking lucky. if it’s over 2 hours, that’s shitty. if it’s anywhere from 35 min – 85 min, you’re normal!
suppertime – the time at which you eat supper. suburbanites eat after designated parent arrives home, cooks supper and calls the family to eat (aprox 6:30pm). city dwellers… this varies… but the hardest time to get a table at a restaurant is after 8pm. if you eat before 7:30, you're out for the early bird special.
closing time – the time at which bars close. there is no closing time in chicago. some bars will wuss out at 2 or 3am, some eek out life till 4am, but really, you don’t have to go home. just don’t pass out there or you’ll end up in jail.
da bears – if you don’t remember the ’86 bears, that’s ok, see below to jog your memory. i only remember the football helmet shaped cookies our teacher brought to class to celebrate the superbowl win. apparently, all other NFL teams should look out: the ’86 bears have been reincarnated. oh yeah.
*definitions subject to irony and situation: not set in stone.
chicagoland – chicago and it’s surrounding suburbs. the only important part of illinois. TJ's – Trader Joe’s. quite possibly the best, friendliest, cheapest grocery store out there. all the cool kids shop there.
the bean – the giant bean-shaped sculpture in millennium park. actually titled Cloud Gate. The biggest funhouse mirror you have ever seen. also, rediculously horrendous tourist trap in the middle of summer.
parking ticket – a small piece of paper slipped into an orange envelope and stuck to either your windshield or your driver’s side door (adhesive is very sticky and will mostly likely leave residue for 2 weeks after original removal). usually listed at $50 for breaking some sort of vague parking law. examples of violations include: parking in a regular zone during a cubs game, parking in front of a faded yellow line on the curb, and parking on the street during an alleged “street cleaning” day (whether or not they actually clean the streets is up for debate). legend has it that if you’ve got out of state plates, the ticket will not be entered into the system.
el – the elevated train. runs around the loop and branches out to the ends of chicago. see: chase scenes from blues brothers & the fugitive.work commute – the length of time it takes you to get from home to work or work to home. varies by person. commute can be from suburbs to city or vice versa, from south side to north side (or vice versa), from north/south/west side to the loop, but NEVER the reverse. if your commute is under 20 minutes, you are fucking lucky. if it’s over 2 hours, that’s shitty. if it’s anywhere from 35 min – 85 min, you’re normal!
suppertime – the time at which you eat supper. suburbanites eat after designated parent arrives home, cooks supper and calls the family to eat (aprox 6:30pm). city dwellers… this varies… but the hardest time to get a table at a restaurant is after 8pm. if you eat before 7:30, you're out for the early bird special.
closing time – the time at which bars close. there is no closing time in chicago. some bars will wuss out at 2 or 3am, some eek out life till 4am, but really, you don’t have to go home. just don’t pass out there or you’ll end up in jail.
da bears – if you don’t remember the ’86 bears, that’s ok, see below to jog your memory. i only remember the football helmet shaped cookies our teacher brought to class to celebrate the superbowl win. apparently, all other NFL teams should look out: the ’86 bears have been reincarnated. oh yeah.
*definitions subject to irony and situation: not set in stone.
Friday, October 20, 2006
The Places to Be
Gadzook and Gadzoondo’s my little Coitusers, Uncle Mule seems to have developed quite the headache after last night’s new holiday. But fear not, I will battle through and make the best of this little posting.
QUESTION OF THE WEEK
Last week’s question was a little bit obtuse as we quizzed everybody as to how comfortable with electronic money they are; it irked some of our readers so much that they went as far as to put a comment in stating such. The fear and loathing that began the question was how is all of the electronic money backed up. It certainly seems like play money when you think about it, especially since most of us don’t handle that much cash on a day to day basis. My fear was that it would represent something similar to the market crash of the great depression where banks were investing heavily into the stock market so that there was no real money that left over.
http://static.flickr.com/105/297047897_be791ef83d_m.jpg
I talked with an economic friend of ours who assured me that electronic money is backed still by real money. That electronic money is actually better backed than paper money because it is easier to keep track of. Good stuff though peeps!
Wesley Snipes was recently indicted on charges of tax fraud to the tune of claiming tax refunds of $12 million and not filing from 1999 through 2004. The problem for the US government is Snipes is currently filming in the country of Namibia, Africa a country that does not have an extradition process.
First Steve Irwin and now an American, this latest Sting Ray attack shows why the ocean is rising against us and action must be taken. As previously discussed on the pages of this website, this is obviously another direct attack from Namor the emperor of the sea and his do right lieutenant Aquaman. Each of you should write to your local congressman today and make this a prime topic of conversation in the upcoming elections. AND START EATING MORE FISH STICKS!!!
Before these are taken down I strongly believe that we should send Baldee to investigate. Before Baldee’s thoughts turned to women bathing in blood, which on a scale of 1-10 for creepiness is a 100, his first wishes were to pee on people- on the same 1-10 scale this only measured out at a 10. The Austrians have done it though but now it is about to be taken away from us.
Ladies and Gentlemen: The Leader of the Free World.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Apologies to Dave
"We're coming up on Alexandria" he said. Eyeing the map with a little flashlight in the dark. I know that. I've made this trip 100 times. Every other venture I've known what was on the other end. New friends, new classes, a degree on the one end. Pumpkin pie, snow football with my high school friends, gifts by candle light with my family on the other.
I don't know why he's looking at the map to begin with. From Minneapolis to Moorhead is all one road anyway. Probably just killing time. Trying to not be so damn awkward every second we're together. Can't say I blame him.
I still don't know why I asked him to come. He's just a friend of a friend. Another guy stuck at home in January with nothing to do except stare out the window at the snow. And he's not all bad. I just don't know him. He's good to drink with though. We'll have to grab a beer or maybe some cider once we get to town. After we see her anyway. Maybe before. Yeah, definitely before we see her.
We're almost there now. He's got Ani Difranco on the radio. She's not bad. I could definitely use this on her. She'd love this stuff. Pick out a line, a lyric to remember. It's got to be good. Memorable. Ooh, this song's good, not really a love song or anything but it's really fucking good. Remember the line...
you know i don't look forward to seeing you again
you'll look like a photograph of yourself,
taken from far, far away
and i won't know what to do,
and i won't know what to say...
"That line's really good. What's this song?" He says "Untouchable Face." Cool. I don't think he uses this stuff on girls. I think he likes it for real. He's not really a ladies man. Pretty much dead weight as a wingman. In fact worse than deadweight since he doesn't care. Sabotage the whole damn night just for a laugh. Weird guy, good, but I just don't get him. Why did I ask him to come along again?
We're almost to Moorhead. To her. I don't know what to say. "What do you think I should tell her? I don't want to be too obvious." He says "You just drove 4 hours in the snow for the express reason of seeing her. I think obvious has already been established." Dammit. "But there's nothing wrong with letting her know you're there to see her. I mean, you did drive 4 hours in the snow for her, that's kinda flattering isn't it?" Right, that's why I brought him.
There's her house. Not yet. Still need a cider. And we've got another friend that both of us will enjoy seeing first. Calm the nerves. Get the stupid road chitchat out of the way with friends instead of...well, whatever she might be to me.
The house is on a quiet street. I park the car and we move noiselessly up the walk. He stops. Looks like he's gonna say something but just sorta smiles. It's nice how quiet it can be up here. I should be at her place. It's perfect right now. How could she not fall in love with me when it's so quiet and the snow is falling and the air is crisp like this? I should be there. "Can we make this quick?"
He says nothing and just knocks on the door. A girl answers. One of the roomies. The arty one. She lets us in and we talk for a bit. Our friend isn't here. He makes her laugh. Why can't he do that when he's supposed to be a wingman? He only makes himself laugh. The arty girl's in a hurry if her walk is any indication. We'll go, grab something to eat, get a beer.
We head out the door. It's still silent outside. Still perfect. "She's the one." he says. "What?" "Her, she's the one for me."
What the fuck just happened?
"Let's get something to eat."
"What about the girl?"
"She knows I just drove 4 hours in the snow just to meet her. She'll still be here when we come back."
And she was.
I don't know why he's looking at the map to begin with. From Minneapolis to Moorhead is all one road anyway. Probably just killing time. Trying to not be so damn awkward every second we're together. Can't say I blame him.
I still don't know why I asked him to come. He's just a friend of a friend. Another guy stuck at home in January with nothing to do except stare out the window at the snow. And he's not all bad. I just don't know him. He's good to drink with though. We'll have to grab a beer or maybe some cider once we get to town. After we see her anyway. Maybe before. Yeah, definitely before we see her.
We're almost there now. He's got Ani Difranco on the radio. She's not bad. I could definitely use this on her. She'd love this stuff. Pick out a line, a lyric to remember. It's got to be good. Memorable. Ooh, this song's good, not really a love song or anything but it's really fucking good. Remember the line...
you know i don't look forward to seeing you again
you'll look like a photograph of yourself,
taken from far, far away
and i won't know what to do,
and i won't know what to say...
"That line's really good. What's this song?" He says "Untouchable Face." Cool. I don't think he uses this stuff on girls. I think he likes it for real. He's not really a ladies man. Pretty much dead weight as a wingman. In fact worse than deadweight since he doesn't care. Sabotage the whole damn night just for a laugh. Weird guy, good, but I just don't get him. Why did I ask him to come along again?
We're almost to Moorhead. To her. I don't know what to say. "What do you think I should tell her? I don't want to be too obvious." He says "You just drove 4 hours in the snow for the express reason of seeing her. I think obvious has already been established." Dammit. "But there's nothing wrong with letting her know you're there to see her. I mean, you did drive 4 hours in the snow for her, that's kinda flattering isn't it?" Right, that's why I brought him.
There's her house. Not yet. Still need a cider. And we've got another friend that both of us will enjoy seeing first. Calm the nerves. Get the stupid road chitchat out of the way with friends instead of...well, whatever she might be to me.
The house is on a quiet street. I park the car and we move noiselessly up the walk. He stops. Looks like he's gonna say something but just sorta smiles. It's nice how quiet it can be up here. I should be at her place. It's perfect right now. How could she not fall in love with me when it's so quiet and the snow is falling and the air is crisp like this? I should be there. "Can we make this quick?"
He says nothing and just knocks on the door. A girl answers. One of the roomies. The arty one. She lets us in and we talk for a bit. Our friend isn't here. He makes her laugh. Why can't he do that when he's supposed to be a wingman? He only makes himself laugh. The arty girl's in a hurry if her walk is any indication. We'll go, grab something to eat, get a beer.
We head out the door. It's still silent outside. Still perfect. "She's the one." he says. "What?" "Her, she's the one for me."
What the fuck just happened?
"Let's get something to eat."
"What about the girl?"
"She knows I just drove 4 hours in the snow just to meet her. She'll still be here when we come back."
And she was.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Pharrell to Pharrell: I Want To Work With You!
In a recent release from pharrellwilliams.com, mega producer/artist Pharrell announced that he will be the 
featured artist on his next album. After working with an assortment of artists from Dave Matthews Band to Jay-Z, from Britney Spears to Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Pharrell states in the release that “Finally it is good to be working with me.”
Bad Mother Coitus has obtained information that Pharrell’s attitude may have turned sour when as many as three artists, over the past year, have released albums that did not feature Pharrell.
Though not directly alluded to in Pharrell’s release, Bad Mother Coitus has also discovered that Pharrell was disappointed in the fact that long time friend and collaborator Justin Timberlake had elected to re-use rapper Timbaland. Our anonymous source close to Pharrell sites, “When Pharrell heard that Timber was gonna use Timbaland again he was all like… ‘Sheeeit’ but the whole posse of skateboarders in the house all thought it was fucking sweet. Timber and Timber, you know… like fucking trees and shit.”
This also heralds the end of the feud between Pharrell and Sean Combs (who begat Sean “Puffy” Combs who begat Puff Daddy who begat P. Diddy who begat Diddy) to see which artist could appear in the most music videos. Questions solicited to the Diddy camp have been left un-returned. BMC insiders report Diddy has poured out a small quantity of Crystal for the death of the feud.
This came as a large shock to the music community who as late as August 2003 had 43% of music played on the radio being produced by Pharrell and his group the Neptunes. Jessica Simpson, formally of Jessica and Nick now of boobies.com, was reached for comment and offered up this tearful remark “Musically, I’ve always wanted to be like Pharrell. I can’t play any instruments or produce, but to sit next to the producer or the instruments and sing. Yeah, that’s what I want to do.”
Next Week: The Annual Football Article
featured artist on his next album. After working with an assortment of artists from Dave Matthews Band to Jay-Z, from Britney Spears to Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Pharrell states in the release that “Finally it is good to be working with me.”Bad Mother Coitus has obtained information that Pharrell’s attitude may have turned sour when as many as three artists, over the past year, have released albums that did not feature Pharrell.
Though not directly alluded to in Pharrell’s release, Bad Mother Coitus has also discovered that Pharrell was disappointed in the fact that long time friend and collaborator Justin Timberlake had elected to re-use rapper Timbaland. Our anonymous source close to Pharrell sites, “When Pharrell heard that Timber was gonna use Timbaland again he was all like… ‘Sheeeit’ but the whole posse of skateboarders in the house all thought it was fucking sweet. Timber and Timber, you know… like fucking trees and shit.”
This also heralds the end of the feud between Pharrell and Sean Combs (who begat Sean “Puffy” Combs who begat Puff Daddy who begat P. Diddy who begat Diddy) to see which artist could appear in the most music videos. Questions solicited to the Diddy camp have been left un-returned. BMC insiders report Diddy has poured out a small quantity of Crystal for the death of the feud.
This came as a large shock to the music community who as late as August 2003 had 43% of music played on the radio being produced by Pharrell and his group the Neptunes. Jessica Simpson, formally of Jessica and Nick now of boobies.com, was reached for comment and offered up this tearful remark “Musically, I’ve always wanted to be like Pharrell. I can’t play any instruments or produce, but to sit next to the producer or the instruments and sing. Yeah, that’s what I want to do.”
Next Week: The Annual Football Article
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
unfolding the intricate oragami of chicago driving
yeah, i know last week's entry was about traffic, but for some insane reason (perhaps due to increased traffic incidents) it still remains on my brain. when i have extra time to ponder annoying things, i usually succumb, stewing in my own revelations.
pontification #1 - some people feel that it's to the benefit of traffic flow to keep a distance of 3 car lengths between them and the car in front of them. theoretically, this is a good idea. no stopping should be needed. just a slow coasting. it would prevent rubber-banding and break wear and tear. theoretically, if all cars on the road did this, we would have no stand-still traffic.
but communism looks good on paper too.
what really happens is, when that hole is spotted, at least 5 cars will attempt to squish into the 3 car length spot. this space gives the illusion that the lane is moving fast enough to create space. so you change lanes. you want to go faster too, dammit. fill that gap! why is there a fucking gap?! who does that? MOVE bitch!!
why? well, because it's every car for itself, that's why. i can safely say that chicago drivers are selfish byotches. i have heard that we honk more than other cities (excluding new jersey, of course), and that driving on lake shore drive causes most tourists minor heart attacks.
pontification #2 - traffic cops. i have seen the hirarchy. downtown and on major intersections, you see the uniformed cops in hats, with cuffs and a ticket board, sporting a bright orange POLICE safety vest. they have ear-piercing whistles and white gloves. you dont mess with them. then there are the kiddos you see lining every street corner after a sporting event.
i'll use cubs games for my example here. before and after cubs games, there are joes in blue polos and unmarked orange vests, holding dayglo orange singals. And, they stand in the middle of every single intersection for a 2 mile radius. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum (they work in pairs) attempt to usher traffic through the probable gridlock that would happen with an influx of cars at said sporting event. these douche bags are part time city workers. they have no authority to issue tickets. they have no whistles or white gloves. hell, half the time they dont even move aside for cars turning left. my biggest pet peeve is their disregard for traffic lights. if you neglect to take these into account, you invariably cause a back up down the road. why? traffic lights are synched. result: GRIDLOCK. you heard it here folks. these schmoes are traffic causers.
i did find a good interview about the traffic cop hirarchy and why traffic cops exist in the first place. But this is still no consolation when it takes me an extra 15 minutes to get the last 4 blocks home.
pontification #3 - driving in chicago is hazardous to your health unless you aquire the proper vaccinations. only experience will truely vaccinate you, but for visitors and fresh meat, here are a few hints: 1. make sure you know your route 2. yes, we honk at you when you dont know where you're going. try to ignore this. it's not personal. well, yes it is, but it's only because you annoy me. 3. if you're on lake shore drive and you start having heart palpatations, please, please, dont pull over or go 30 mph. simply get into the right lane and go the posted speed limit and pull off AT AN EXIT. 4. cabbies go anywhere they like. just think of them as 600 lb gorillas with no morals.
ok folks, that's it this week. i'll try to focus my attention elsewheres for next week's pontificating.
pontification #1 - some people feel that it's to the benefit of traffic flow to keep a distance of 3 car lengths between them and the car in front of them. theoretically, this is a good idea. no stopping should be needed. just a slow coasting. it would prevent rubber-banding and break wear and tear. theoretically, if all cars on the road did this, we would have no stand-still traffic.
but communism looks good on paper too.
what really happens is, when that hole is spotted, at least 5 cars will attempt to squish into the 3 car length spot. this space gives the illusion that the lane is moving fast enough to create space. so you change lanes. you want to go faster too, dammit. fill that gap! why is there a fucking gap?! who does that? MOVE bitch!!
why? well, because it's every car for itself, that's why. i can safely say that chicago drivers are selfish byotches. i have heard that we honk more than other cities (excluding new jersey, of course), and that driving on lake shore drive causes most tourists minor heart attacks.
pontification #2 - traffic cops. i have seen the hirarchy. downtown and on major intersections, you see the uniformed cops in hats, with cuffs and a ticket board, sporting a bright orange POLICE safety vest. they have ear-piercing whistles and white gloves. you dont mess with them. then there are the kiddos you see lining every street corner after a sporting event.
i'll use cubs games for my example here. before and after cubs games, there are joes in blue polos and unmarked orange vests, holding dayglo orange singals. And, they stand in the middle of every single intersection for a 2 mile radius. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum (they work in pairs) attempt to usher traffic through the probable gridlock that would happen with an influx of cars at said sporting event. these douche bags are part time city workers. they have no authority to issue tickets. they have no whistles or white gloves. hell, half the time they dont even move aside for cars turning left. my biggest pet peeve is their disregard for traffic lights. if you neglect to take these into account, you invariably cause a back up down the road. why? traffic lights are synched. result: GRIDLOCK. you heard it here folks. these schmoes are traffic causers.
i did find a good interview about the traffic cop hirarchy and why traffic cops exist in the first place. But this is still no consolation when it takes me an extra 15 minutes to get the last 4 blocks home.
pontification #3 - driving in chicago is hazardous to your health unless you aquire the proper vaccinations. only experience will truely vaccinate you, but for visitors and fresh meat, here are a few hints: 1. make sure you know your route 2. yes, we honk at you when you dont know where you're going. try to ignore this. it's not personal. well, yes it is, but it's only because you annoy me. 3. if you're on lake shore drive and you start having heart palpatations, please, please, dont pull over or go 30 mph. simply get into the right lane and go the posted speed limit and pull off AT AN EXIT. 4. cabbies go anywhere they like. just think of them as 600 lb gorillas with no morals.
ok folks, that's it this week. i'll try to focus my attention elsewheres for next week's pontificating.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Dancing with the Down low
A friend of mine is a Professional Dancer well formerly she and her husband teach Ballroom locally in the cities I bring this up because I was at there place a couple of days ago and they were watching Dancing With the Stars yeah I watched it big deal, the topic of conversation came about the current favorite Mario Lopez aka Slater from Saved By The Bell.
He and his partner are rumored to be an item good for him if it's true but as my friends pointed out to me he was married to the Nacho's Girl Remember her.
Since I didn’t care or know anything about this man I asked to be filled in, and he was married to this extremely Hot Women for a short space of time, this lead me to do some pondering.
Why or how could a Man divorce or lose an extremely hot women a poster girl if you will.
My answer, is because secretly they are Gay, and they are in denial, so they unconsciously sabotage their relationship, that may seem extreme to some of you but think about it for second lets look at an example.
Ex.
Eric Benet /Halle Berry
This dork lost her because he claims he’s a sex addict....
So let me get this straight your Wife is one of the most desired Women in the world and you are going to claim that doing the Retail girl from BeBe is sufficient?
I understand his image is that of a sultry soul singer type (Yawn) so he cannot come out and say that he likes guys but he does.
Let me Clarify Men, straight men for the most part are always thinking about the dream girl, the women that when you walk into a room everyone is envious yes it's shallow yes it's lame but it's true .A proven example of the shallowness of men look no further then Christie Brinks hubby yeah the girl was a teenager which I do not condone but was she prettier then Christie depends on who you ask.
But that’s another story.
He and his partner are rumored to be an item good for him if it's true but as my friends pointed out to me he was married to the Nacho's Girl Remember her.
Since I didn’t care or know anything about this man I asked to be filled in, and he was married to this extremely Hot Women for a short space of time, this lead me to do some pondering.
Why or how could a Man divorce or lose an extremely hot women a poster girl if you will.
My answer, is because secretly they are Gay, and they are in denial, so they unconsciously sabotage their relationship, that may seem extreme to some of you but think about it for second lets look at an example.
Ex.
Eric Benet /Halle Berry
This dork lost her because he claims he’s a sex addict....
So let me get this straight your Wife is one of the most desired Women in the world and you are going to claim that doing the Retail girl from BeBe is sufficient?
I understand his image is that of a sultry soul singer type (Yawn) so he cannot come out and say that he likes guys but he does.
Let me Clarify Men, straight men for the most part are always thinking about the dream girl, the women that when you walk into a room everyone is envious yes it's shallow yes it's lame but it's true .A proven example of the shallowness of men look no further then Christie Brinks hubby yeah the girl was a teenager which I do not condone but was she prettier then Christie depends on who you ask.
But that’s another story.
Friday, October 13, 2006
The Places To Be
A glorious Friday the 13th to one and all. On this Holiday, of sorts, let us not lose perspective on hwat is most important: Cat Sacrifices. Please let us know how you slayed your cat and we’ll make sure to post your email next week! If anybody needs a cat to sacrifice please contact me as well. I have two (not Pedro of course). One is rather large and the other is quite cagey. But… you know, first come first serve.
Happy Thanksgiving Weekend salutations are in order to our Canadian Coitus Cousins to the North. While the actual day does not arrive until next Monday, it is still good to know that fellowship will be occurring somewhere in the world. Especially if it is a day spent breaking bread with the Thanksgiving cat coming out of the oven (where the cat is perfectly cooked, not too tender not too dry with a nice stuffing).
QUESTION OF THE WEEK
Last weeks question of the week ended with our most lopsided victory as you pathetic, non-God loving, bleeding hearts voted in a resounding fashion. You, Coitusers, stated that Lynchburg is a fitting home to Jerry Falwell because it is also the home of J. Crew. Emails from the BMC to see if J. Crew ever considered including religious passages on their articles of clothing (a la the In and Out Burger) have not been answered.
From the deposit of paychecks to the use of check cards while buying food at a grocery store electronic money seems to surround us. With the exception of the major hiccup of the Millennium Bug there has been little opposition to electronic money and in fact the currency continues to build and become a more powerful tool for the future. With the creation of ATM’s and electronic deposit the physical bank has become more and more invisible to the common man.
Here is another brilliant and informative site brought to you by the smartest people in the world. As frequent followers of Bad Mother Coitus know this website is a blue state website and very pro Ninja. We despise the red stated Pirates that seek to usurp us. Ask A Ninja is both informative as well as helpful. This segment, which dispenses advice on how to kill a ninja, is offered to our pirate brethren both as an olive branch and a foreboding warning.
This may seem like an innocent proposition but I assure you as an American you should oppose this with every bit of God loving patriotism within you. First they’ll start being in our homes, then people will start saying we cannot treat them as lesser beings and then, finally, some liberal sympathizers will implore all of us not to eat them for Thanksgiving. Lest we forget, please view this hard hitting picture.
It would seem that Mr. T has not only begun his own talk show but is also helping our President. Instead of “pitying fools” our President is declaring things “intolerable”. The best bit is when President is talking to some eighth graders about how their test scores are “intolerable”. Pot is to ______ what us pitying a fool is to our President.
To bring the article full circle the artist of this week is a Canadian girl who goes by the name of Esthero. Her voice lacks the sweet soul of the finer jazz singers and ends up sounding more in the realm of a pop singer with a sense of history. Still her music does grip to a body like refreshing breeze after leaving a sweaty dance floor. It grooves and chills you out like a beer at the bar; not taking you out of the party but giving you that sultry acidic jazz that taps a tow while making you feeling cooler than you are.
Happy Thanksgiving Weekend salutations are in order to our Canadian Coitus Cousins to the North. While the actual day does not arrive until next Monday, it is still good to know that fellowship will be occurring somewhere in the world. Especially if it is a day spent breaking bread with the Thanksgiving cat coming out of the oven (where the cat is perfectly cooked, not too tender not too dry with a nice stuffing).
QUESTION OF THE WEEK
Last weeks question of the week ended with our most lopsided victory as you pathetic, non-God loving, bleeding hearts voted in a resounding fashion. You, Coitusers, stated that Lynchburg is a fitting home to Jerry Falwell because it is also the home of J. Crew. Emails from the BMC to see if J. Crew ever considered including religious passages on their articles of clothing (a la the In and Out Burger) have not been answered.
From the deposit of paychecks to the use of check cards while buying food at a grocery store electronic money seems to surround us. With the exception of the major hiccup of the Millennium Bug there has been little opposition to electronic money and in fact the currency continues to build and become a more powerful tool for the future. With the creation of ATM’s and electronic deposit the physical bank has become more and more invisible to the common man.
Here is another brilliant and informative site brought to you by the smartest people in the world. As frequent followers of Bad Mother Coitus know this website is a blue state website and very pro Ninja. We despise the red stated Pirates that seek to usurp us. Ask A Ninja is both informative as well as helpful. This segment, which dispenses advice on how to kill a ninja, is offered to our pirate brethren both as an olive branch and a foreboding warning.
This may seem like an innocent proposition but I assure you as an American you should oppose this with every bit of God loving patriotism within you. First they’ll start being in our homes, then people will start saying we cannot treat them as lesser beings and then, finally, some liberal sympathizers will implore all of us not to eat them for Thanksgiving. Lest we forget, please view this hard hitting picture.
It would seem that Mr. T has not only begun his own talk show but is also helping our President. Instead of “pitying fools” our President is declaring things “intolerable”. The best bit is when President is talking to some eighth graders about how their test scores are “intolerable”. Pot is to ______ what us pitying a fool is to our President.
To bring the article full circle the artist of this week is a Canadian girl who goes by the name of Esthero. Her voice lacks the sweet soul of the finer jazz singers and ends up sounding more in the realm of a pop singer with a sense of history. Still her music does grip to a body like refreshing breeze after leaving a sweaty dance floor. It grooves and chills you out like a beer at the bar; not taking you out of the party but giving you that sultry acidic jazz that taps a tow while making you feeling cooler than you are.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
At Mule's Funeral
Three days and 50 years ago Don Larson through the sixth Perfect Game in the history of baseball and the only perfect game ever thrown in the World Series. In the two hour and eight minute epic it would be nice to believe that everybody observed the common courtesy and not mentioned that a perfect game was occurring, but there are a lot of assholes out there, especially in New York.
Life does not resemble a Perfect Game. Most people spend their time talking about what is going on, living life in the past and, on occasion, take abbreviated looks towards the future. The vanishing point on the horizon is not a concept discussable; according to custom It is a subject that should not be broached as if not speaking Its’ name will somehow either prevent It or not jinx It into happening.
A person that discusses their own death is often considered to be suicidal or an attention seeker, the purpose of this article is not for either of them. It is more in the vein of: ensuring that a Romantic Comedy or item of similar ilk is not played in a room should I fall into coma. It is to tell you that I love you. That my ashes should be placed into a bottle of 18 year old Macallan whisky with only a mouthful of scotch left in it (the rest is to be enjoyed by friends and loved ones at an earlier date). It is to tell you that my ashes should be spread on the pitching mound at the new Twin’s Stadium (should that not be possible hopefully technology would evolve to the point where I could be made into a CD, though as further proof I am not ready to shuffle off the mortal coil it would take at least 400 years to construct the play list for this album)
The service should be simple, the location is not important as long as it does not occur in Minneapolis or the suburbs.
At the service the following texts should be enjoyed in the following order (Seriously, I’m not trying to be a Corpsezilla here but… c’mon it is my big day):
Opening Song (join in everybody!): Satisfied Mind by Rhodes & Hayes
Opening Text: By Mule (to be read by a well trained eight year old)
Okay, this hasn’t been written yet, but the general theme will be designed to make everybody cry and feel generally bad that I’m not there to celebrate. Heaving bosoms and general lamentations on how much people loved me are expected.
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
(Chapter 9: “Gatsby’s house was still empty when I left”… “So we beat on, boats against the curtain, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
John 15:9-17
A two-hour interlude for everybody that wishes to say nice things about me will be opened and moderated upon. In all expectations this will go significantly longer. Also at this point the open bar (This is to be a full bar. None of this wine and beer only bullshit!) should begin handing out drinks and little sandwiches or quartered sandwiches. In the unlikely event that people do not have two hours worth of praises to say about me, everybody is expected to sit reverently and stare at my rotting corpse until they do think of something good to say (the booze will help with this).
Mr. Tambourine Man by Bob Dylan
(only this verse)
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,Closing text
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.
The Lake of Innisfree by W. B. Yeats
Close: Go, Tell it On the Mountain by John W. Work, Jr.
Why? Why not? It’s my fucking funeral. Boom, done. Having gone through a few dry runs, the estimated time for the entire thing is only 7-10 hours.
I’m aware that there is a noticeable lack of songs and that this will cause a bit of a stir. I think that Mule’s of all ages will agree that people cannot sing as well as they think.
Okay so that’s pretty much that, kind of a grisly business, huh? But again, planning ahead is all part of the game. Don’t let Dad or Jordan get too involved in the texts. I mean they can read something, I’m sure they’ll do that well. Do not, this cannot be stressed enough, let them “enhance” the reading by adding to them or reading a different text from the same book. It’s my special day dammit.
Next Week: Pharrell Williams
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
mythbusters: more people ride than drive??
i'm not a typical Chicagoan at this very moment in time. ok, let me clarify. when i think of a real Chicagoan, i think of, say, my roomie. she gets up at the crack of dawn, stumbles bleary-eyed into the sunless morning and hikes 4 blocks to the el. she switches lines at the belmont stop, gets squished into the red line car with the 200 other early morning commuters, blesses her ipod and yawns toward the horizon. after fighting up the stairs and pulling her coat close against the wind, she arrives at work. 7:30am. come quittin' time, she does the same in reverse.
it is said that a typical chicagoan will bump elbows with humanity at least 500 times a day. after all, this is a city of 2.8 million.
i bump elbows with the girl from accounting while she gets off the elevator at the 3rd floor. that's about it. why? because i'm a reverse commuter. i get into my car and plunge into the arteries of the windy city, avoiding blockage where possible, hating my long commute into the demure southern suburbs. however, when i return home, and i hear about how smelly the el was from said roomie, i am grateful for my car.
i digress... more on the glory of car in another entry. my point is that the myth is: a good, typical chicagoan is my roomate. i am here to debunk that myth today. from observations made by yours truely.
1. on any given day, the travel time on the Kennedy, getting into Chicago is at least 45 minutes. This is a 16 mile stretch of FREEWAY that totes EXPRESS LANES.
2. at least 27 million daily trips happen in the greater chicagoland area. in my experience, at least 1 million people are moron drivers. then you have the 2 million grannies and little old men in hats driving huge sedans. then you have the 12 million other drivers (aka ME) just trying to arrive at a destination in one piece. in my best estimate, that leaves less than half of chicago commuters as public transportationists.
3. you always see construction on illinois highways. you rarely see construction on public transportation (only the brown line right now, and yes, albeit ishy, still gets people to work). i'm going to get flack for this observation. but seriously folks, look at how much highway construction there is, and for how long it lasts, and how much havok it reeks on drivers in illinois. why would we do this? so that we can fit more people on the roads.
based on these weak observations, many hours in the car spent fretting about lost time and many minutes spent on rare public transit trips, i believe that the majority of chicagoans drive to work. the myth will always be there, guys. but i am living proof that this myth is debunked.
why am i debunking this myth? because i need to live with myself every day. or perhaps the exhaust fumes finally got to me...
it is said that a typical chicagoan will bump elbows with humanity at least 500 times a day. after all, this is a city of 2.8 million.
i bump elbows with the girl from accounting while she gets off the elevator at the 3rd floor. that's about it. why? because i'm a reverse commuter. i get into my car and plunge into the arteries of the windy city, avoiding blockage where possible, hating my long commute into the demure southern suburbs. however, when i return home, and i hear about how smelly the el was from said roomie, i am grateful for my car.
i digress... more on the glory of car in another entry. my point is that the myth is: a good, typical chicagoan is my roomate. i am here to debunk that myth today. from observations made by yours truely.
1. on any given day, the travel time on the Kennedy, getting into Chicago is at least 45 minutes. This is a 16 mile stretch of FREEWAY that totes EXPRESS LANES.
2. at least 27 million daily trips happen in the greater chicagoland area. in my experience, at least 1 million people are moron drivers. then you have the 2 million grannies and little old men in hats driving huge sedans. then you have the 12 million other drivers (aka ME) just trying to arrive at a destination in one piece. in my best estimate, that leaves less than half of chicago commuters as public transportationists.
3. you always see construction on illinois highways. you rarely see construction on public transportation (only the brown line right now, and yes, albeit ishy, still gets people to work). i'm going to get flack for this observation. but seriously folks, look at how much highway construction there is, and for how long it lasts, and how much havok it reeks on drivers in illinois. why would we do this? so that we can fit more people on the roads.
based on these weak observations, many hours in the car spent fretting about lost time and many minutes spent on rare public transit trips, i believe that the majority of chicagoans drive to work. the myth will always be there, guys. but i am living proof that this myth is debunked.
why am i debunking this myth? because i need to live with myself every day. or perhaps the exhaust fumes finally got to me...
Monday, October 09, 2006
Why men Cheat -Has been cancelled
Due to an email I received from a source that I cannot disclose at this juncture.
" The Why Men Cheat Blog has been cancelled due to pending Legal action that will be transpired against my person if it's posted .
Thanks to the hundreds of people who took part in my survey .
Friday, October 06, 2006
Conversations ~ two of nine
i know i am loved.
of course.
it hurts.
why?
i have nothing greater to earn. i've achieved everything without doing anything.
love is not achievement.
agreed.
you've achieved nothing.
i understand.
no, you don't.
i care what people think.
i know.
i hate that about myself.
i know.
i'm helpless to stop it.
i know you think that is true.
why?
helplessness absolves you of guilt.
i should be more than what i am.
you are.
and yet nothing changes.
you're searching for the honest conversation. the connection with others.
yes.
maybe you should be searching for something else.
like what? my grandmother's watch? my favorite t-shirt?
the end of conversation.
go on.
where you don't have to talk. where it's all in the eyes. where your every movement means something to someone and you can understand and feel and honor and love and despair and destroy and open yourself to a life without words.
that could take years.
years you have.
i don't understand.
you will.
when?
the moment you look yourself in the eye.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
How You Feelin?
So I was watching South Park last night and it got me to thinking, which it usually does, which is why I watch it. The kids were playing a video game and the thematic joke of the show was that people take their fake lives within the game more seriously than their real life. Which is obviously sad and yet completely understandable.
I work at an office doing a job that any reasonably intelligent person can do. If you measure how important something is by how many people can capably do it then it ranks fairly low on the list. But I'm pretty dang awesome at video game baseball. I can make trades and make financial decisions and everything and I'm successful. So why would I bother investing time into the real life when I'm just average at it? We all want to be special and I'm pretty fucking special when it comes to certain video games.
This also applies to other hobbies. I'm a solid golfer. I've shot par, which is something few golfers have any chance of doing. The average golfer shoots something like 90. I typically settle in 10-12 strokes less than that. If everyone was measured on their golfing ability I'd be in the top 15 percent, or higher if the non-golfers of the world weren't given some time to learn the game before being tested. And yet I only golf once a week at the most.
So why not pursue the things I do really well? Other than the fact that they don't pay me? Good question. I think I need to find out. I'm not saying I'm quitting my job to play video games, I'm gonna need electricity for that so I have to keep money coming in, I guess that I'm just bummed out that much like Loverboy predicted, I'm still Working for the Weekend.
I work at an office doing a job that any reasonably intelligent person can do. If you measure how important something is by how many people can capably do it then it ranks fairly low on the list. But I'm pretty dang awesome at video game baseball. I can make trades and make financial decisions and everything and I'm successful. So why would I bother investing time into the real life when I'm just average at it? We all want to be special and I'm pretty fucking special when it comes to certain video games.
This also applies to other hobbies. I'm a solid golfer. I've shot par, which is something few golfers have any chance of doing. The average golfer shoots something like 90. I typically settle in 10-12 strokes less than that. If everyone was measured on their golfing ability I'd be in the top 15 percent, or higher if the non-golfers of the world weren't given some time to learn the game before being tested. And yet I only golf once a week at the most.
So why not pursue the things I do really well? Other than the fact that they don't pay me? Good question. I think I need to find out. I'm not saying I'm quitting my job to play video games, I'm gonna need electricity for that so I have to keep money coming in, I guess that I'm just bummed out that much like Loverboy predicted, I'm still Working for the Weekend.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
the fruits of autumn
so yesterday i donned a clothespin on my nose, put on sunglasses and ventured into the BMC headquarters to post my latest hum drum. but when i entered the shag carpeted room, i stopped, stared, stepped back out to check the number on the door, blinked, took off the sunglasses, stepped back in and let my jaw fall to the floor.
ellen is back.
i know most people dont read comments as religiously as Balddee, so please refer back to Harmon's shame-faced return for my comment about last week's awkward encounter.
it was embarassing (not for Todd). it was revolting (again, not for Todd). and it put me off cleaning for a good long time, especially since the last time the swiffer saw that much action, it was in Ellen's hands, who was wiping harmon's fluids from the tabletop a few months back.
ok, i'm exiting memory lane now. and showering. thoroughly.
anyways, so i'm in the headquarters, not expecting anyone to be there (and who could stay in there for more than a few minutes at a time - it stunk of sex and rotting bananas and the naked lightbulbs dangling from the ceiling were enough to blind a bat), i'm ready to fire up the computer, enter article, press "submit" and run outta there at top speed when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Ellen the Intern-cum-Senior Vice President of Advertising.
smiling a Tom Cruise crazy-ass, pearly white smile, Ellen gestures to the table in front of her: carmel apples (6), cranberry torte (1), blueberry pie (1), double fudge brownies (2 dozen) and chocolate chip cookies (3 dozen). all of the goodies piled high on the checkered cloth, accented with seasonal gourds and a crock pot of spiced cider. i looked at Ellen and noticed that her left eyelid was twitching in an unnatural way. i followed her dazed, glossy eyes behind me. i turned around to behold a fresh coat of paint on the walls (a nice latte brown), all of the previously random literature sitting well-organized in seperate bookshelves and stacked on coffee tables - wait, coffee tables? yes, i saw brand new ikea tables, chairs, pictures, shelves and even a vase of fake flowers, standing solemnly in the windowsill.
"did you do this?" i ask
no reply. just a creepy jerking motion in her right shoulder.
please understand that when i agreed to bestow my presence at the BMC, i immediately tried to form an alliance with Ellen, the only other girl. but after a few fruitless attempts, we came to an understanding of respect (her to me) and distance (me to her). Now i can see that this distance was absolutely necessary. i can see that if i dont back slowly out of the room thisverysecond, that she will accost me, and i will know about Todd, the closet and the swiffer. in detail. i will also have to deal with the reprocussions and (probably) be her anchor and confidant about said events for the year to come.
so i casually pick up a cookie, shuffle my feet a bit, turn tail and RUN. and so, yet again, i am submitting via internet cafe, another article that was not what i had intended. but who else will report this shit to you guys? right?
ellen is back.
i know most people dont read comments as religiously as Balddee, so please refer back to Harmon's shame-faced return for my comment about last week's awkward encounter.
it was embarassing (not for Todd). it was revolting (again, not for Todd). and it put me off cleaning for a good long time, especially since the last time the swiffer saw that much action, it was in Ellen's hands, who was wiping harmon's fluids from the tabletop a few months back.
ok, i'm exiting memory lane now. and showering. thoroughly.
anyways, so i'm in the headquarters, not expecting anyone to be there (and who could stay in there for more than a few minutes at a time - it stunk of sex and rotting bananas and the naked lightbulbs dangling from the ceiling were enough to blind a bat), i'm ready to fire up the computer, enter article, press "submit" and run outta there at top speed when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but Ellen the Intern-cum-Senior Vice President of Advertising.
smiling a Tom Cruise crazy-ass, pearly white smile, Ellen gestures to the table in front of her: carmel apples (6), cranberry torte (1), blueberry pie (1), double fudge brownies (2 dozen) and chocolate chip cookies (3 dozen). all of the goodies piled high on the checkered cloth, accented with seasonal gourds and a crock pot of spiced cider. i looked at Ellen and noticed that her left eyelid was twitching in an unnatural way. i followed her dazed, glossy eyes behind me. i turned around to behold a fresh coat of paint on the walls (a nice latte brown), all of the previously random literature sitting well-organized in seperate bookshelves and stacked on coffee tables - wait, coffee tables? yes, i saw brand new ikea tables, chairs, pictures, shelves and even a vase of fake flowers, standing solemnly in the windowsill.
"did you do this?" i ask
no reply. just a creepy jerking motion in her right shoulder.
please understand that when i agreed to bestow my presence at the BMC, i immediately tried to form an alliance with Ellen, the only other girl. but after a few fruitless attempts, we came to an understanding of respect (her to me) and distance (me to her). Now i can see that this distance was absolutely necessary. i can see that if i dont back slowly out of the room thisverysecond, that she will accost me, and i will know about Todd, the closet and the swiffer. in detail. i will also have to deal with the reprocussions and (probably) be her anchor and confidant about said events for the year to come.
so i casually pick up a cookie, shuffle my feet a bit, turn tail and RUN. and so, yet again, i am submitting via internet cafe, another article that was not what i had intended. but who else will report this shit to you guys? right?
Monday, October 02, 2006
Quality vs. Quantity or Why Men Cheat coming soon
I'm wasting my brain power on one of those talk shows like Extra or whatever and the topic on the table was "What Men Find Sexy or something like that,
what they did is go around and ask various men what they think is sexier Breast or Butt , Smile or Touch , Walk or Laugh ect .
The end result I didn't agree with, what it was is unimportant but if you want to know the winner was, well at least on that Poll was Breasts and Laugh which I disagree with 200 % .
This lead me to a different thought, If you have not gathered by now I am a Love Wizard I am the Sultan of Amore I bring people together it's what I do .
And if you have just stumbled onto our little blog site welcome and do yourself a Favor and inspect some of my past insightful relationship pieces Life altering ?
Yes they are ..
What I was thinking about is testing the mental state of Men with a little ditty we will be calling Quality vs. Quantity
As I have said countless times over, Men are Mentally inferior to Women I don't give a rat's ass if you disagree that's the way it is .
So next week, this topic will be put to the test " What is it oh Wise Balddee " thanks for asking in a nut shell one question women ask is" Why do men look at other Women or Why do Men Cheat ."
There are a lot of Ideas going thru my head on this one and it will take some time to cover it correctly .
In the meantime I will be pounding the Pavement this week doing research and trying to setup educated scenarios to better discuss this topic until then kids ..
Feel free to express different ideas that you would like me to cover .
what they did is go around and ask various men what they think is sexier Breast or Butt , Smile or Touch , Walk or Laugh ect .
The end result I didn't agree with, what it was is unimportant but if you want to know the winner was, well at least on that Poll was Breasts and Laugh which I disagree with 200 % .
This lead me to a different thought, If you have not gathered by now I am a Love Wizard I am the Sultan of Amore I bring people together it's what I do .
And if you have just stumbled onto our little blog site welcome and do yourself a Favor and inspect some of my past insightful relationship pieces Life altering ?
Yes they are ..
What I was thinking about is testing the mental state of Men with a little ditty we will be calling Quality vs. Quantity
As I have said countless times over, Men are Mentally inferior to Women I don't give a rat's ass if you disagree that's the way it is .
So next week, this topic will be put to the test " What is it oh Wise Balddee " thanks for asking in a nut shell one question women ask is" Why do men look at other Women or Why do Men Cheat ."
There are a lot of Ideas going thru my head on this one and it will take some time to cover it correctly .
In the meantime I will be pounding the Pavement this week doing research and trying to setup educated scenarios to better discuss this topic until then kids ..
Feel free to express different ideas that you would like me to cover .
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