Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Yesterday I was accused, by me, of possessing an unwillingness to answer a simple question - why do humans say 'I feel peckish'? - especially like when few of us eat worm more than a couple of days a week and that.
Well fuck you me, I will answer ANY question, and with honesty, truthfulness, historic accuracy, scientific relevance, and even human efficiency, the forgotten efficiency.
So here is it, the origin story of using 'peckish' to describe hungry.
Man was in search of a new term for the desire to eat. Sure there already existed a myriad of options, but over time problems began to arise among our favorites.
'I could eat a horse' had lost favor when it was discovered that horse is a regular ingredient in dog food and glue, two things regularly eaten by precocious children. 'Can I have a pony?' Little kids would beg 'you ate one in art class' the reply would come.
'I'm really, really hungry' had lost favor when it was discovered that it can come across as really, really whiny, I mean, what do you want me to do about it? If you're hungry go forage for fungi or kill a possum like everyone else.
'I'm starving' had lost favor, since it was discovered that parents had begun to reply to this with 'tell the kids in Africa that' and sometimes even add on 'how would you like to be a kid in Africa?' I mean my god parent, stop threatening to invent a parallel universe and just do it already, no one likes a fucking big mouth full of suggestions and no follow through, and make me a fucking sandwich!
Yes it was a difficult period in human existence, and difficult periods are most certainly times for new sayings. That's why so many popular sayings, ones we still use today, were invented during the Dark Ages, sayings like:
- 'Who turned the fucking light out?'
- 'Where are my keys?' And
- 'Didn't toilets used to be a thing? I mean seriously, why the hell are we pooing in pots that we keep in the bedroom? Also what happened to my pet sabertooth? Don't tell me they don't exist anymore either? This is fucking bullshit!'
A new saying was demanded, and so a nation wide international competition of the country was launched to coin new terms, and the suggestions came in thick and fast and wide and throbbing. Some of the initial favorites of the judging panel included:
- 'I want something coming in my mouth thick and fast and wide and throbbing'.
- 'Jam that thick sausage in my mouth'.
- 'I want you to fill me in every hole until I'm so filled up it reaches all the way to my tummy'.
- 'Put it in me, HARD'.
- 'I want my tongue tingling with your delectable quasi-liquid syrup'.
- 'Cum on my face, no no no, in my mouth'. And
- 'Put your penis, no that's NOT a metaphor for something else, I mean your actual penis, in my throat'.
At this point it was discovered that mostly teenage boys were submitting suggestions, and the illiterate branch of the covent of the sisters of the BC era gods, picking suggestions at random, were perhaps not the right people to make the short list.
Although, on a bright side, at least they'd never been able to read the suggestion - 'stick your cock in my cunt and then once it's all the way in slide the rest of your body inside them show me your best jazz hands'. I mean what kind of sicko comes up with that? Those disgusting teenagers.
The project was shut down. As the motion was passed at the committee of idioms few thought it would ever be mentioned again. But 'few' were idiots. Moments after the gavel had been gaveled down on the gavel spot, a man casually said 'well that was a failure, who wants to get something to eat, I'm starving'.
'How would YOU like to live in Africa!' His mother screamed as she immediately burst into the room, and as her handbag rained blows on to his gradually caving in cranium the rest of the committee fought for the gavel in hopes of immediately gaveling it on the gavel spot to officially open a decree to gavel the gavel on the gavel spot to once again gavel open a mission for a new gavel sanctioned idiom search.
This time they vowed to not out source the project, and to come up with the saying themselves. Swearing not to leave that room until a solution was found.
Soon decades had passed. It turned out that few of these men had creative instincts, most had been hired based on their gaveling skills. Creativity they lacked, but dedication they did not.
They began to consider the outside world non-existent, a destroyed wasteland in need of repopulation, repopulated with new ways to say 'I'm hungry' and also new children. Fortunately the mother mentioned earlier, had found caving in her sons head for his failure to think of the poor children of Africa, made her horny.
They turned her into a baby machine, and did the same with her daughters as they came of age. Smart as the men were, the had gaveled the gavel several times on a decree to ban inbreeding, which was voted in at a gavel sanctioned vote of 42-1. The lone stand out being the original mothers nephew, Harry, who was also on the committee.
'But the third generation are only like my second cousins once removed, or some shit, please fellas, I'm like the only one not getting any?' He begged years later, but by then the one gavel had been worn completely out by gaveling it down on the gavel spot for a myriad of gavel sanctioned decisions, so there was nothing they could do.
Harry kept himself busy in other ways, mostly catching birds that had been flying into the hall through a hole in the attic. Over the years the birds became not just the main food source for the committee and their children, but also the main source of teachers for the young mothers on how to care for their children. And over time mothers vomiting into people's mouths became the main way everyone ate.
One day, nearly a century since they had secluded themselves into the grand hall, a small boy, a great-grandson of one of the original committed members saw a bird pecking at the the body of his dead uncle and he casually exclaimed 'yeah, I'm feeling a tad peckish too'.
'That's it, THAT'S it, that's the idiom we've been looking for! Grab the spare gavel from the draw in the desk and gavel it into the gavel spot and with it gavel a decree to gavel in this idiom as an officially gaveled idiom!' Screamed one of the elders.
'You've had a spare gavel the WHOLE time? I'll kill you motherfucker!!!!' Bellowed the now 132 year old Harry. But no one was listening.
No they were pouring out into the streets, expecting to find an empty unpopulated wasteland, but instead finding a thriving world full of cars and planes and televisions.
'I don't get it, I remember distinctly father telling us that they had officially gaveled on human life outside the hall to be forbidden until we come up with a new saying for the desire for food' said one of the committee members to another.
'Me too, although I guess that does explain why we often heard people standing outside the hall doors saying things like "I wonder what's in there", oh and also that time a man walked in, then saw us eating from our daughters mouths and quietly back out' replied another.
'Yeah I guess, but it was gaveled, if you can't honor the gavel then what can you gavel?'
They soon found themselves in a restaurant called KFC, and asked at the counter for 'some bird please, and your finest ladies to puke it into our mouths?'
'Get out' screamed the pregnant teenage behind the counter.
'But we're feeling peckish?' The two pleaded as they were escorted out by security.
As soon as they were gone the people in the restaurant began mocking them, putting on upperclass British accents and saying 'I feel peckish gov'ner' and the new phrase was soon spread around the land, with the only amendment being that the word 'gov'ner' was later dropped when Arnold Scwatzernegger became governer if California and people discovered it was impossible to do an impression of a weird grand hall raised idiom committee member, mocked with an upperclass British accent, doing an impression of an Austrian attempting to sound more American, and the saying 'I'm a tad peckish' and its brothers 'I feel peckish' and 'I'm fucking peckish' fell into the states they are now, adored by people around the globe. Especially in Lithuania for some reason.
And that ladies and gentleman is the completely true story of how that saying came into being. So suck on that me, I'm the answer genius, there is NO question I cannot answer! NEXT!
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
If I'm being completely honest, and I'd like to be, I feel like the situation warrants it, so I will be - I never actually WANTED to eat five pairs of scissors.
Now I know what you're thinking:
- Then why did you Dave? Huh? WHY DAMN IT?
- How many pairs of scissors DID you want to eat?
- Why would anyone want to eat ANY pairs of scissors?
- All this talk of eating stuff has got me feeling peckish, got anything to eat?
- Peckish? What like a bird, when did humans adopt this bullshit term?
- Like I don't want to eat regurgitated worm alright.
- I don't swing that way.
- Although come to think of it, I could go a delicious bowl of beaks!
I think before I address these concerns of yours, it would be valid to discuss what scissors are actually INTENDED to be used for, and for that we need to go back to the day they were invented, it all began with a simple conversation (cue flashback wavy lines):
'I feel like cutting stuff'
'Yeah me too, I love cutting stuff'
'I cut the shit out of stuff'
'I cut stuff the way other people breathe, as in cutting stuff to me is as natural as breathing!'
'Yeah well I cut stuff easier than a duck takes to water, which is a more well renown saying for representing how easy stuff is to you, stuff like cutting stuff'
'Yeah but we're humans, and as a human I cut stuff better than any duck has ever cut anything!'
'Well I even out human cutting stuff you! Because I've even cut a human. It was myself, once accidentally, when I was trying to cut a shirt, which is a type of stuff, as am I'
'Just to bring it back to cutting stuff as easy as breathing, because I just thought of a cool come back to that one, wait, did I say that one or did you? It doesn't matter, we haven't even been named, there may well be eight of us as far as anyone knows'
'Yeah but I think people probably assume there are only two of us'
'Maybe we just THINK that because there ARE only two of us'
'Good point, but then someone could enter the room, and how would anyone know?'
'Excellent point, but I really don't think anyone will enter the room'
Suddenly a man entered the room! (And that's how you'd know fellas, I tell the readers that stuff)
'Ah yeah, well I've been cutting stuff before I was even born, I even came out with a cut umbilical chord' said the third man, before retreating back out of the room.
'Oh fuck you, that's what I was going to say, you know when I said I had a cool come back to the breathing line? Like I've been cutting stuff before I was even breathing!'
'It's your own fucking fault, you were the one who tempted fate by saying you don't think anyone will enter the room!'
'Wait, was that me?'
'I don't know, I can't keep up with which of us is which'
'Well fuck you for not knowing'
'No fuck YOU for not knowing'
'You take that back or I'll cut you!'
'You take THAT back or I'll cut YOU!'
Suddenly a knife fight broke out, at one point they tried to thrust their knives into each other, but instead their knives got entangled, and magically two looping plastic handles developed, which was particularly cool as plastic hadn't been invented yet, and things magically appearing on things STILL hasn't been invented, and the two men discovered neither now held a knife, but they both held a pair of scissors.
They knew immediately that this invention was ace, so they bolted out of the room to patent it, and both tripped and were stabbed in the heart by that pair of scissors.
Right then the third man once again entered the room and grabbed the scissors out of their hearts, which sounds a tad physically illogical, but if you saw a drawing of how it went down you'd go 'oh right, THAT'S how that would look'. Of course you SHOULD be going 'oh my god, two dead men both stabbed in the heart by one pair of scissors, how sad, call a medic!' but it turns out you're savages.
As the third man left the room with the new invention, he turned, and with badass charm intoned 'never run with two entangled knives with magic plastic handles'.
As he was on the way to the patent office he suddenly slapped his forehead thinking 'that saying didn't WORK at ALL, I'm going to call these things Scissors, "never run with scissors" yeah, that's badass, I bet that will take off'.
Unfortunately he was holding the scissors as he did this, and he stabbed himself in the forehead. And as the cops used the jaws of life to get to his dying body, despite the doors of his car being unlocked and undamaged (jaws of life had just been invented and the the cops wanted to try them out) the man, bleeding and with scissors stuck in his forehead kept muttering 'just call them scissors, please just call them scissors, I need my quip, the one I said as I stole them from those dead guys? About not running with them? You know the one, I need it to sound cool'.
The cop grabbed them, and took them to the patent office, but it turned out he hadn't heard the man's muttering, the jaws of life were noisy, so he instead named them after himself, and Traffic Cop Sergeant Scissors became a very rich scissor baron.
And that's how scissors were invented. (Cue flashback wavy lines to present time).
So now back to your queries on why I ate five pairs of them.
Because of history, that's why I ate scissors. Clearly the baby, the one that wasn't born yet, you know in the story of the invention of scissors who came out having already cut the umbilical chord? Clearly he must have had access to scissors in that womb, therefore his mother must have eaten some, which sounds like it may be made up, and if that part of the story isn't true then maybe scissors have NEVER been invented! Spooky. So I needed to make sure scissors HAD been invented by eating some.
And I ate five because they turned out to be delicious, and WAY smoother to swallow than your average prison toilet-bowl moonshine.
Oh and the digestion was fun right? I hear you yelling sarcastically. Well STOP yelling. Because yes it's wasn't fun, but it had a fringe benifit, the scissors began to dislodged the about ninety-two beaks that were stuck to the insides of my intestines, and it took five pair of scissors to get them all, so it was WORTH it!
I guess the lessons here are clear:
- No one, not even answer genius David Tieck, wants to address the 'why do we say I'm peckish?' question. For shame. Or even, 'got something to eat?' Which should be easy to answer. Weird.
- Stop eating beaks for gods sake! They get stuck in your intestines. Do you want to have to eat scissors to dislodge them? DO YOU?
- Stop drinking prison toilet-bowl moonshine for gods sake! It's not smooth, it's NOT SMOOTH DAMN IT!
- Feel free to eat prison toilet-bowl regurgitated worm, mmm mmmm, that's stuffs GOOD!
- Oh wait, I did have an answer to 'got anything to eat?' See above. And weirdness officially abated. Smiles for all.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
A message from Thomas.
With all this talk of pets in the news this week, and it has been delightful, I
think we all particularly enjoyed the story of the man who owned a dog, it was quite special, but I've personally been a little nostalgic, a little sad, and a little bit very much upset.
You see, I used to have a pet. And it was the most marvelous and splendid time of my life.
This was many years ago, I was a naive little child, practically a baby still, no older than fifteen or sixteen years old. Still wet behind the ears, for I didn't yet own a towel, I was still patchy skinned, for I didn't know yet that you were not supposed to wash your face with methylated spirits, and I was still pig nosed, for I didn't know yet that standing with your nose pressed against the wall pointing upwards for six to ten hours a day was possibly only the fifth or sixth most fun thing to do in a windowless, furnitureless, light free room.
I'd been begging my parents for a pet to love for years, and they'd always say the same thing 'we don't love you, so what makes you think pet would?' They were sweet being honest with me. Some parents lie to their kids, not mine. 'But ME, I can still love it!' I'd plead, 'it wouldn't want your love' they'd reply. They sure were swell.
Although it turned out all this generous honesty was just a ruse, for one day, out of the blue, they brought me home my very own pet to love.
Sure it was full of soup cans when I first saw it, but I knew that the soup wasn't the real thing they'd brought home for me, because they'd never fed me before, instead making sure 'I learned to forage for mould, moss and silverfish'. Which is how I'd become so self reliant.
So I knew, the real gift was the box, a pet cardboard box just for me. I could see its little cardboard ears flapping the second it came home, and I raced to it and gave it the biggest hug I'd ever given anything. Of course at that time I thought a 'hug' was when someone slapped you in the head with their most ringed up hand. But I wasn't wearing any rings, as I wasn't at that time allowed possessions, so I tried something else, where I put my arms around it. It felt a bit faggy at the time, but at the time 'faggy' was what my parents called me when I asked what I'd be when I grew up, and so I knew it was something that meant 'strong'.
In fact my hug was so faggy that all the soup fell out. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, for one of the soup cans got a tiny dent in it, and as a reward for being so faggy, my parents locked me in the small closet under the stairs for six months, a perfect amount of time to get to know my new pet box better, for of course they were sweet enough to let him stay in there with me.
I named him 'Roger' and we had the best most ace time ever. We did everything together. Pooping and peeing our pants. Eating an old pair of skis. Drinking Windex. Wondering if our legs were supposed to be developing gaping wounds big enough to fit a fist into. Hide and seek. Although I always let Roger win at hide and seek. And if I'm honest Roger always let me win at the pooping, ski eating, Windex drinking and gangrenous legs games, that's the kind of buddies we were.
One day I blacked out from hunger, disease and from vomiting blue plastic and when I woke up Roger was ON MY HEAD! He was so silly.
Of course after six short months, my parents let us out, and greeted me with a big faggy hug. It was swell. My lip began bleeding and everything!
That was the day Roger and I first went out to play together. Play being what I called it when my parents let me clean their toilet with a toothbrush and then after use it to brush teeth. Roger was so helpful, he sat and watched the whole time, which was way more help that my parents who spent that time flicking lit matches at me. My parents were the best people in the world, and here was Roger being even less skin burning than them!
I knew for sure we'd be best buddies for ever.
But sometimes forever doesn't even last forever.
Six weeks later my parents let me have my first bath ever! I'd been a good boy and let them use me as a tennis ball for a few hours, and they were so nice and let me next play a game called 'holding Thomas's head under water till his frantic fighting for air dulls down to a deep black out, only to rewaken him by pissing in his face'. It was a swell game.
I begged them to let Roger play too, and so they threw him in the bath with me. He looked so peaceful floating in that misty cloud of water, rancid beef juice, my blood and three of my teeth, which had fallen out 'finally my third set of teeth were ready to come in!' I was so happy.
But then, when I stood up from the bath, and lifted Roger with me, HIS ASS SPLIT IN TWO AND HUNG DOWN BELOW HIM!!!
I screamed 'he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, my best friend is dead!' And my parents laughed and laughed. I guess it was kind of funny. THEY were my best friends after all. Roger was merely the first thing that had ever loved me.
To reward me for my sense of humor my parents then soaked Roger in lighter fluid in front of me, then lit him on fire and right as he was fully ablaze, chucked him in my face. Then they gave me faggy hugs till blood poured down my face and I passed out.
I woke up back in my favorite little closet, but it wasn't the same without Roger. So the day that the hole in my leg went all the way through and my foot fell off, I snuck out and put it in my parents soup.
Soon they were taken to somewhere called the 'hospital' and when their stomachs we're pumped and my foot parts came out they were taken somewhere called the 'big house' which sounds like a swell place, I hope they're happy. And now I live home alone.
It's not all sad for me though, because I always get to think about Roger, it's hard not to, seeing as half of him ended up melting into my face. And because of that, in a little way, Roger and I really WILL be together forever!
I sure do love happy endings, I hope you do too.
I think if I've learned anything from movies, and I haven't - movies are for entertainment, not learning, if you've been learning stuff then you've been doing it wrong my friends, unless of course you've been watching educational movies, in which case I take back everything I've said so far, except the word 'think' cause that's a real word, and I don't take back things that are real. Like if you gave someone a tree, you can't take that back, but if you gave someone sass you can take it back from this way till Sunday sister cause sass ain't no real thing, unless you name like a smoldering bag and shoe something your 'sass' look, but then why would you have ever given that to someone? It was smoldering, that means it's recently been on fire, and you shouldn't give people stuff that still in a rehabilitation stage, that's just making them do the work that you refuse to do.
The lessons are clear:
- Give someone a tree for a present. Sure it mocks them for their inability to afford the land to plant it in, but it also offers them a commitment that will potentially last centuries after their death, almost forcing them to enter purgatory post death, and saving them from the need to choose and properly worship a god here on earth.
- Don't light your shoes and bag on fire, I get that you want them to match, but if those are your main criteria why not just cover them with matching paper mâché, or bleed all over both, or just burn your own hair off so no one will notice them.
- Movies are ace, they teach us so much.
- You can't 'think' something that you didn't first already think about at another time, unless you're currently thinking about it now for the first time, and let's face it if it's worth thinking about now you'll probably find yourself thinking about it again some time in the future.
Today's blog was brought to you by - Confusing and Contradictory - your one stop shop for everything easy to understand and obvious.
Wait shouldn't it be everything confusing contradictory?
But that's the easy to understand and obvious description.
Oh fuck, it must be so hard I work there.
No it's not.
Friday, September 25, 2015
'Stace, you're acting mopey' I said to my friend Stace, having finally put a pin in what I thought her emotional state was.
It had been a long ride, I'd guessed wrong a hundred times already, but it turned out the journey wasn't over yet, she didn't respond, or even nod, it seemed I was still going to have to find some guesses up my sleeve.
'No? Or maybe you're just sad and stubborn, is that it'? I continued.
'I'm...' She tried to interject.
'No no no you're feeling forlorn?'
'SHUT UP, I'll get it, just give me a few more guesses, sorrowful?'
'Perturbed, it's got to be perturbed?'
'I said fucking be quiet, I'm trying to guess here. Um fretfully agitated? No irksome and irritated?'
'Exacerbated with extreme umbrage and emotionally pre-occupied with the plague of bothersomeness?'
'Maladjusted? Scorned? Despondent? Bleak? Some other words impressively sourced without use of a thesaurus? Log cabin fevered? Critically blue with comfortlessness? Frustrated and drearisomely gloomy? Bogged down in sullen wintry unhappiness?'
'Shut up damn it, I'm trying to fucking guess here!'
'Morosely maladjusted with much milieu?'
'Stomach acid tinged, sandalwood blasted levels of Mongolian inspired melancholy?'
'Harebrained, marrow sucked, juxtaposed, loon faced, disconcerted dismay?'
'Oh please, please stop interrupting me, I'm trying to guess your God damn emotional state for fucks sake!' I yelled.
'Unhooked, heal-poked, garbage juiced, dwindling customer serviced, crime created, rainwater flushed, chandelier falling, development proposed, ill-disciplined induced, ice-sculptured, donkey breathed, dread-locked, moments of miserableness, peppered with gargantuan glass thrown, fully harnessed, judgmentally thirst quenching, crest crawling, arm severing, scandalous and scrumptious scorn, with hieroglyphical levels of hysteria hyphenated with hyperventilating unharnessed heroic humidity escalating hypersensitive, histrionic......' This last guess was to continue for several more hours.
Anyway, Stace was in some sort of bad mood,
I never did figure out why.
The oldest man in the world suddenly jolted upright in bed.
'Oh fuck' he thought 'since I was born literally every other human on earth that was alive is now dead'.
'There have been a lot of unsolved murders in that time, I'm probably a prime suspect!'
'Where are your alibis sir?' They'll ask.
'There's only one thing I can do - kill everyone'
And so begun one of the biggest slaughters in the history of the world.
By which I mean he climbed out of bed, put on his slippers, took a weak shit and ate a bowl of soup.
He was a hundred and thirty two! What did you think he was going to do?
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Richard Hoaks refused to wear any clothes that were not hand knitted.
Hand knitted pants.
Hand knitted shoes.
Hand knitted underpants.
This caused his mother no end of stress in acquiring enough yarn.
Eventually she started to make her own from shaving possums, raccoons and skunks.
It turned out Richard was only the second biggest psycho in the household.
Or so he thought.
As he scratched his inexplicably itchy scrotum.
It was a nice reprieve from focusing on the bloody stumps that were his feet after the end of soccer season.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
We've all been there before, you've just made a very special trip to the supermarket to buy a head of lettuce, and you get home and discover ...(Dum dum dum)... The fridge was already full!
Suddenly all sorts of thoughts race through your mind like a car race full of cars racing other cars that look like they're the same type of car but end up being vastly different types of cars, at least based on how fast they can race, thoughts like:
- Ah man
And sometimes even...
- Ah crap, seriously?
But I'm here to tell you, it's not the end of the world, no no no, it's not, it just FEELS that way. And feelings are often valid, so even though right now I am about to suggest your feelings in this scenario are not valid, I don't want you to stop having feelings all together, and just to make sure of it, here are three things that should make you have feelings:
1. Floods, like really bad ones.
2. The price of potato chips made from organically sourced potatoes.
3. A tiny little kitten or puppy, depends on your personal preferences, or even a baby bunny, turtle or pigmy giraffe, sitting in your lap, and it can speak English, and it now says 'I'm the one who stole your campervan'.
Alright, you should all be feeling feelings now. If you ARE currently feeling feelings then feel free to forage ahead in this blog. If not please seek help. And then once you get one of those fancy feeling facilitating injections they sell down the ally behind the liquor store you may return and then read ahead.
Let's take a quick pause and wait for the people in scenario two...
Alright we're back. Doesn't that feel great to feel stuff? Good for you. Ok, NOW STOP FEELING LIKE IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD THAT YOUR HEAD OF LETTUCE WONT FIT IN THE FRIDGE!
Look, I get it. You saw on TV, a healthspert, saying 'eat more salad or you may not live beyond a hundred' and you've thought 'but what about my dreams of banging Dakota Fanning's grandkids'! We've all been there. So you race, RACE, to the supermarket, just like the cars we mentioned earlier, and you've bought yourself a beautiful, bulbous, big, juicy, throbbing head of iceberg lettuce, and you've promised yourself to eat at least the outside three layers, and now disaster has struck. But you DO have options, and here they are:
- Sometimes people dump refrigerators on the side of the road, and occasionally these refrigerators have doors, no blood from murder victims in the crevices, and even motors. Simply haul one back to your house and stick your lettuce head in there.
- In certain areas beyond the Arctic-circle, on top of the Himalayas, and inside lawyers hearts (zing) the temperature never gets above freezing, just stick your lettuce head in one of those spots.
- Experts say that if you've gone more than six months without regularly eating salad and then eat a whole head of lettuce you're an idiot, and will probable get diarrhea, wouldn't it feel nice to prove an expert right for a change? YOU get to be right in your job occasionally you selfish dicks, experts NEVER get to experience this.
- Grab ten bottles of beer, your lettuce and a hallway and you've got bowling! Wow your lettuce us getting you active, that's a health win! (Rules: every bottle you get down your opponent chugs. Every bottle you miss you chug, Boom).
- Remember if you pass on banging Dakota Fanning's kids you can chuck the lettuce out, grab a slab of bacon and focus on her kids. Or even her. She's only like nineteen herself you animals. Eat your bacon and have a nice long think about yourself.
- You can easily pull your lettuce apart layer by layer and cover your passed out roommate in them for a fun practical joke. Remember if your really want the joke to sing you'll need to staple in each leaf in place.
- Or just take up illegal street car racing, by the end of the week you, and three innocent school kids walking home from killing it in their science exams will be dead, and you don't need lettuce in hell! Actually it's probably nothing But salads in hell, why did you ever want to eat it here too?
So there you go, your disaster has been mitigated. Well I'm off, I hear Mike down the ally behind the liquor store has a new injection that can make you feel sound! I'm sure I'll see you all down there.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
I couldn't find a bucket so as a substituted I used a bag of grasshoppers.
My salamander was pissed off because they were her dinner.
Which was a nice distraction from my sister who was pissed off and wanted to know why I was washing her car with bugs.
Just then a giant robot fountain came and bit my sisters head off and swallowed it in three mere chews.
This shocked me.
Because this was a fountain shaped like a huge bowl.
And bowls don't have mouths.
And fountains normally only consume water.
And my sister mostly drank juice and coffee.
And why build a robot fountain, surely the water will fuck up the robotics?
And how did I know it was 'giant'?
Fountains come in all sorts of sizes, this could have just been life sized.
And where was this fountain when I was looking for a bucket?
That could have been very useful.
And I wonder which was invented first, buckets or fountains?
And I bet it was buckets, but I wish it was fountains, cause I'd love to see the first guy slap his forehead when he realized that there could easily be a more useful and easy to create receptacle for water.
And when guys slap their girlfriends in the forehead with their dicks are they trying to manufacture an 'ah hah' moment?
And why did I just think of that, there was no need to add a hypothetical dick reference to a true story about my sister.
And why do people pose hypotheticals?
Why not just create detailed and controlled scientific studies and get accurate results?
Just then I realized why the giant robot fountain wasn't responding to these questions and statements.
Because I was only thinking them, not saying them.
And it didn't have ears.
And it was too busy eating the rest of my sister.
Just then a giant robot bath plug appeared.
'You've just met your match!' It cried.
'Wait I can do better' it added.
'Um, put down that partial human, or I'll plug you up! You know, like "fuck you up" but replacing "fuck" with "plug" cause that's what I am! No? Doesn't work? Okay, um' it added.
'Things are about to get a "hole" lot harder for you! You know, cause holes are what I block!' It added.
'I know, wait, I'm about to block you up, you bully! No fuck, that's terrible, I can do this I promise. I really should think of these before I leave the house, it's hard in the moment you know?' It added.
'Can I substituted "luck" for "plug", as in "you're shit out of plug"? No, cause I am a plug, that's stupid' it added.
'You're about to have the plug ripped out from under you! You know like "rug"? Shit' it added.
'Freeze, put down the girl or I'll plug you!' It added.
'Everytime a door closes a plug opens!' It added.
'I don't know, fuck. Look, put down the girl or I'll plug you! Yeah that's fine. I'll stick with that. So yeah!' It added.
'Sorry to tell you buddy, but I'm not a sink or a bath, I don't have a traditional drain, mine runs the length of the lip of my bowl' chimed in the giant robot fountain.
'Then why did you let me go on trying to think of a good, badass, pun based catch cry ?' Screamed the giant robot plug.
'I don't know I wasn't really paying attention, I'm eating dinner' the giant robot fountain replied.
And the plug was suddenly picked up by a giant robot toddler and hidden from its parents meaning it's giant robot mother didn't get her bath that night, leaving her irritable and cranky.
Something only exasperated when the toddlers giant robot father slapped her in the forehead later that night with its giant robot dick.
As I listened to them quarrel that evening - sample 'what the fuck man, are you trying to manufacture an "ah huh" moment? Cause that shit don't work on me' - something just didn't feel right.
The whole day had felt a little weird for some reason.
But then it hit me!
I sat bolt upright in my bed.
Slapped myself in the forehead.
And exclaimed 'I know why this is weird... I don't have a sister!'
Then I flushed my whining salamander down the toilet and went to sleep.
Monday, September 21, 2015
Hello, and welcome to Dave's big store of awesome things, but mostly zippers, sandwiches and monkeys, and we're out of stock of sandwiches and monkeys.
To be honest the monkeys ate the sandwiches and then had allergic reactions to them and died.
Now that I think about it they may have done us a favor. It turns out making sandwiches from things you find in the creek behind the pharmaceutical company is bad idea. But we didn't know? We figured anything dangerous and deadly would be in the pharmaceuticals themselves.
You live and learn.
Or die and get the authorities sniffing around your former owners, in the case of the monkeys.
Although the monkeys may actually done us a favor. It turns out that selling monkeys is illegal. We found that out when the authorities came
around and said 'do monkeys live in these monkey cages?' And we answered honestly 'no they don't' and the authorities answered 'good, cause selling monkeys is illegal'.
The point is we've got zippers.
We've got zippers, zippers, zippers.
We've got zip zip zipity zippers.
We've got zippers for day time! We've got zippers for night time! We've got zippers for earth dwellers. We've got zippers for mole people and tree folk! We've got zippers for EVERY occasion!
Got a big anniversary coming up? Sure you do, you're not a lonely loser? Well get him or her a zipper! A zipper let's your lover subtly know that you want to get to know him or her on the inside, which you probably should have done by now, but better late than never. 'What's this?' They'll ask. And you'll be able to say 'that's a zipper!' And they'll be able to say 'oooh la la, want to open me up?' Which is only slightly weird. That's an anniversary win!
Got a foe? Of course you do, you're not some loser adored by all. Next time you see them just whip the motherfucker with a zipper, they'll go 'what did you just hit me with?' and you'll be able to go 'a zipper!' And they'll say 'knock it off, that's dangerous' and you'll be able to say 'yet allowed on planes!' Boom, that's a foe DOMINATION!
But there are even more uses.
Lost in the desert with no food? Just eat a zipper!
Given birth in the back of a taxi? Just wrap the baby in a zipper!
Can't decide what to wear on that big job interview? Just wear a zipper!
Committed a murder? Just put the murder weapon in bag with a zipper and get a bit of fabric caught in it, the cops will NEVER spend the amount of time required to get that thing open, that can sometimes take up to two minutes! And now you're off Scott free!
Been murdered? Haunt your killer by following him around anytime he's carrying a full backpack and open zippers behind him, he'll keep thinking his stuff is falling out and sometimes think he may have lost something, that can be annoying, and occasionally even frustrating!
Is there nothing zippers can't help?
Dating an elephant? Get it a hoodie with a zipper and your elephant can tuck that trunk away and people will just think your dating a four footed overweight person!
Ever find you penis or (because we're not sexist and only thinking about the men) possibly even flappy vagina parts stumbling out of your pants at the worst possible time? Get a zipper to close up your pants!
Got a dog that keeps eating your wallet? Install a zipper on his belly and a second one on his stomach and that wallet will be yours again in minutes!
Yep there is literally no circumstance a zipper can't aid. Can't find your keys? Pick your lock with a zipper! Got no friends? Zipper to the rescue! Need more money? Open a zipper, sandwich and monkey store!
Going to come on down to Dave's big store of awesome things? Of course you are, you're not some zipperless loser. Well just for you, here's a limited time offer, buy sixteen zippers and mention this ad, and we'll throw in a seventeenth zipper free!
(Please note: offer not available to people who want to complain to us about our record with monkey keeping-aliveability - in fact keep up those complaints and you might find yourself whipped - with a ZIPPER!)