Sunday, November 29, 2015

Rising high!

You know what would be ace? Like really ace? Being a builder! And I'll tell you why, if you become a builder, and work on building things such as buildings, one day you could purposely build a house with a flaw in the floor, and then you'd get to have this experience:

Two people, standing looking at the floor, one of them looks like a builder, because he or she IS a builder, and that builder is YOU! 

'So I see what's going on here, seems you have a flaw' says the builder, and remember this is YOU! How ace is that. 
'Of course it's a fucking floor' says the other person, this is NOT you, it can't be, because you're the builder, which is the other person, how ace does that sound?
'Did you not want a flaw?' Says the builder, which again, is you, wow, you're really doing it, this isn't just a job anymore, it's who you are! 
'Of course I wanted a fucking floor!' Says the other person, wow, they're cranky, they should have become a builder, then, like you, they'd be ace.
'So... You wanted a flaw?' You could confirm, wow, confirming has the word 'firm' in it, that's just like your handshake, at least your new handshake after your hands have gotten all strong from building stuff, stuff like buildings, because you're now a builder! 
'It's a twelve story building, I wanted a lot of fucking floors!' Says cranky pants, if you have a lolly you should consider giving it to him. But you don't because you're a builder, why would a builder have a lolly? So instead you say...
'Woah woah woah, I'm a professional builder here, I may make the odd flaw, but I sure as hell don't make a lot of flaws' wow, remember that time in your old job, when you spent half a day thinking of a way to convince Janette at reception to eat her lunch in the park so you could fill her desk drawers with shaving cream, and your boss caught you and said 'that's so unprofessional? Well hey that boss, suck on this, you just called YOURSELF professional! How'd did you turn your life around? Easy, you became a builder! It's so ace.
'Well I hate to tell you buddy, but you've built fucking floors on every level' oh cranky face, cheer up, just because you're not a builder doesn't mean you HAVE to be cranky.
'You take that back, I built one flaw, and that was intentional, but I did not put flaws on every level' look at you, defending your work and standards of excellence, it's so ace what you've become, and in sport defense is the best way to defend stuff, other than attack, you're winning the game! 
'Well what the fuck are we standing on, looks like a floor to me' now he's getting it, he's seen what you wanted him to see, about time, it's been right in front of him the whole time.
'Exactly, there's a flaw right there' wow, that's direct to the point, remember when your mother told you it was rude to point, well now that kid with the giant birthmark on his tongue, that made it impossible to fit in his mouth, rendering him a constant panter, is no longer allowed to cry, because you're pointing for good! 
'And you're telling me that if we stood in this same fucking spot one level up there wouldn't be a floor?' What a cranky idiot, you've just pointed at the flaw, and now he wants to go look at a floor? 
'Exactly, no flaws up there' you say, and how ace, you've used the word 'no' for good, take that the guy who stole your car even though you said 'no' he couldn't have it. 

Cut to two minutes later in the same spot one level up, two people are standing looking at the floor, one of them is a builder, and that one is you! How ace. 

'Alright, so you're telling me that's not a fucking floor?' Says crank head, this is a perfect floor, why would it have a flaw. 
'Absolutely, not a hint of a flaw there' hint is a fun word to say, consider these three fun sentences 1. 'I'll give you a hint, it's not glue' 2. 'I'd like to by a hint please, oh wait, are they're pronounced hint or hornet?' 3. 'Hint hint, wink wink'. Wow, now you're using words that could get someone something devoid of glue, you're getting a hornet and you're even allowing people to say things they could physically do instead! Yay. 
'So if it's not a floor then what fucking is it?' This cranky tits sure is dumb.
'It's just a floor, are you a moron?' Ace, you called someone a moron, a moron would never be able to spot a moron, that means you're not a moron! And how could you have been, because you're a builder! 

Next you'd get to see someone rip out there own hair, kick over a bucket, then head butt a wall, which would hurt, cause it's a strong wall, there's no flaw in the wall. 

So there you go, become a builder, and specifically a builder who builds things like buildings. As far as I can tell there are only three flaws in this plan:

1. You'd have to pretend you'd never heard of the 'who's on first' comedy routine.
2. You'd have to build stuff, which looks hard.
3. You might have someone tell you these flaws, then due to an easy to mistake language confusion, you may try and stand on this list, almost certainly causing you to fall to your death. 

But other than that it's nothing but awesome stuff, how ace! But now also consider this, if you choose NOT to become a builder, you probably have a lolly, it's the world's best win-win! 

I well carry you

Well I’ll tell you this - people, that is people that matter; by which I mean people who know me, well they know stuff about me. And one of those stuffs is that I do not use forklifts very often. Not very often AT ALL!

In fact I barely use forklifts more than eight or nine times a month, maybe ten during mating season. But if you need more evidence of this fact, just to satisfy your own personal standard for truth sourcing, consider this conversation:

Bill – Well I know Dave very well, and I can attest to this forklift stat.
Dave - Well I wouldn't say very well, we're acquaintances, see each other maybe four or five times a year?
Bill - Well ok, but we know each other well enough for me to come onto your blog.
Dave - Well I should point out, to both you Bill, and the readers, that you just barged into this blog without an invite.
Bill – Well yeah, to help you out.
Dave - Well, more like for an opportunity to use the word 'attest', and while it was complimentary, or supportive at least, the readers may not know, but you and I both know, that 'attest' is a word you enjoy using, and often times will use it even when it is not pertinent to the point, like during your wedding vows.
Bill - Well I disagree, ‘attest’ was perfectly pertinent during my wedding vows!
Dave - Well let me remind you, you said, and I quote, 'I can attest to my wife's, wait is she my wife yet, no she isn't, um, fuck, I can attest to what this lady here just said, I attest all fucking over it'.
Bill - Well yeah, and I could, I DID, I was backing up her vows, those bad boys deserved attesting.
Dave – Well, but that's not normal.
Bill – Well um, she said in sickness and in health, I get sick ALL THE TIME, and that’s not normal, and she still hangs out with me, and even hands my tissues and stuff, so I was backing her up.
Dave - Well um no, you were sneaking the word fucking 'attest' in because you love saying 'attest', that was your motivation, the rest, while possibly pertinent, is not relevant!
Bill - Well how about this, if I were saying 'attest' about you the 'f' wouldn't be silent!
Dave – Well, fuck you, and that only really works in a written form, I mean when said out loud those two words aren't UN-rhyming, but you'd have to say one weird, where as in a written form it's a solid, if not steal firm, burn, and this IS a written form, so well done you.
Bill - Well I can definitely attest to that!
Dave - Ha ha, I see what you did there.
Bill - No no no, this is a written form, you READ what I did there!
Dave - ha ha!
Bill – Hooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhooooouugghhhh ha haha!
Dave – Huuuuuaaahhh ha ha ha ha ha ah ha ahahhhhhahhhahhshhhhhhghh ha ha HA HA HA!
Bill - I feel like during this epic laughter we've forgotten something about some element of our speech pattern that we had going?
Dave – Well, you may be right, but well shoot, we can't well remember it now can we? Ahhhh well.

So I think based on this conversation between my good acquaintance Bill and I, you can see for sure that the use of forklifts is not something that dominates my life, at least in any significant way, except maybe during mating season.

That's why I hope, nay need, for you to believe the issue I am about to raise is not being raised here out of a personal need, or even a desire, but out of pure heartfelt need, and desire, for a sad story to come to an end, preferably with less sadness than currently is at play.

Every year more and more families find that their giant industrial sized drivable cutlery and other kitchen utensils drawers are missing items. That is the cutlery and other kitchen utensils are drivable, not the drawers themselves, because that would be stupid, why would a drawer drive? It's job is to have shit in it, how would getting somewhere else help. So yeah, the cutlery and other kitchen utensils are lacking, not the drawer, we're not talking stupid stuff here today, this story is too sad.

Yes, these family’s drawers sure do have lots of forklifts. Yet the other slots in the separator thingy are empty. That's right, there are blank slots where the should be the following:

- Spoonlifts
- Knifeliftz
- Saladtonglifts
- Bottleopenerlifts
- Garlicpresslifts
- Spatularlifts
- Melonballinglifts
- Chopsticklifts
- Potatopeelerlifts
- Cheesegraterlifts and even....
- Cigarettelighterswhichareactuallysupposedtogoonedrawdownbutwereputherebyalazypricklifts 

And these are poor families that live in tiny homes, sometimes sleeping four or five kids per closet, while their ginormous industrial sized drivable cutlery and other kitchen utensils drawers are mostly empty. And again, it's the cutlery and other kitchen utensils that are drivable, not the drawers, as that would be stupid,  and we're not doing stupid here today. Not even a hint of it.

Why is this sadness going on? Because drivable cutlery and other kitchen utensils of types other than forks have not yet been invented yet! (Well there are giant knives, but Knights keep stealing them to fight dragons, and they sell the drivable parts to Witches to attach to their brooms to make THEM drivable. But why not a drivable olive-oil brush you motherfuckers!!! Or ‘Abrushlifts’?)

So this holiday season, don't FEED needy people, be nice instead, and invent drivable cutlery and other kitchen utensil lifts, if you need more proof this is a smart idea consider this conversation:

Bill - Well that's actually a really dumb idea Dave, if someone makes a giant drivable cheese grater, or a Cheesegraterlift, they'll use it to grate things other than cheese you know, like people's elbows when they take up too much of their share of the shared arm rest, or people who make bird noises to get your attention, or even people who go 'ahhhhh' when they're peeing in public bathrooms, um, wait a second, they'll grate THOSE people? This is a GENIUS idea!
Dave - Well it sure is Bill.
Bill - HA HA
Dave – Ha aha aha haha haha ha
Bill – Hooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhooooouugghhhh ha haha!
DAVE - Ahhhhh, well.
Bill - Well.
Dave - Well said.
Bill – I can attest to that.

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Loose - a poem

Peter, a stationary store owner with a back problem, was struggling, and upset, because his masseuse couldn't seem to ever work out all his knots.
One day he came up with a genius idea.
'If I take my skeleton out she'll be able kneed deeper than ever before!'
He whipped it out, drove down to the spa, and spent an hour and a half in massage bliss.
When he got home his wife was furious at him. 
'Is this because while I was getting massaged I now only had one hard part of my body?' He asked.
'No, it's because you left your skeleton in the dishwasher for ME to unload, you know I hate that!'
Then she processed the new information he had given her.
He spent the next seven nights sleeping hanging from a hat rack as punishment.

Friday, November 27, 2015


Here’s some advice: Never walk away from a moon fight.

Now I know what you’re thinking: ‘moons don’t have arms, which means their punches will be more like belly jams, and jam tastes like the fruit it was made from, and making things is damn near like witchcraft you physco’

Um, ‘Moons don’t have arms’ – Um, how do you know they don’t have arms? Oh you know every moon do you? Sure the moon that the earth keeps as a pet has no arms, but that just makes the earth loyal and progressive, like that guy that lives at the beach with the three-legged one-eyed dog. Sure it probably lost those two physical parts of itself in a fight with a weird sea-creature, that lives in an abandoned 1968 Volkswagen Beatle that was dumped into the ocean by a heart broken former owner who was just broken up with by a girl named Vicky Wagner, who liked to write letters and sign them with her initials within in a heart, which then had a thought bubble that said ‘wow, VW, like the car, I never noticed that before’ and then had an arrow pointing at the thought bubble with the words ‘I could have saved space had I just written B4’ written next to it, and then had an arrow pointing at this sentence with the words ‘or just skipped this’ written next to it, and that the man at the beach refuses to tell the world that the sea-creature exists, for fear that it will next attack specifically to take him out, and at night when he’s typically debating the institutionalized nature of worm farms, so he’s not paying attention, and because he’s German and is sick of them looking bad in the media, and that if he wasn’t so concerned with his debates, and just moved to the park next to the beach like a normal person, then his dog would never have had to protect him from attacks from the sea, but you still like him, because he kept the dog, so maybe OTHER moons had arms, but just lost them protecting people from sea attacks. I mean every moon has a stupid, arrogant, always smiling face; surely some of them develop arms to punch that! That’s just logic.

Oh and don’t bash belly jams, fruit jams are too seedy, and who wants to eat something seedy, other than TV chefs, and they always wear jackets that button up funny, and buttons can get in kids throats and choke them to death damn it!

Oh, and um, it’s spelled - Phyco, physco, phscho, fuck, sych, holy shit… psycho! There I did it, so fuck you!

The point is, never walk away from a moon fight, or else the sea-creatures win, which they will eventually anyway, I blame Vicky Wagner, what a fucking space waster.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Thank all over this bitch

Today is Thanksgiving, somewhere or something, and apparently that's about giving thanks, something I'm an EXPERT at. 

Now I'm no expert in thanks, nor gratitude, ESPECIALLY gratitude, if I'm honest, because I like to shorten it to 'tude', to be fun and playful, and yet when I say 'hey bra, let me peg some tude in your face, just spit tude right at ya, I want to fucking decimate you with my my fat fucking tude', the people I say it to never seem to enjoy it. And this pissed me off.

'What'd you say dude?' They'll reply. 
'Fuck man, I hit you with some tude dude, wrung a wet towel load of it right on your forehead, you're not gonna say thanks?' I'll say, and then fisticuffs break out, and I don't care for that, who wants brain fragments on their knuckles?  

Thanks is no better either, if I'm honest. I tried to give thanks to Calligraphy once, you know for no longer being the communication choice of choice, for the bad egg kids to pass notes around in class, but that didn't work either, and it pissed me off.

'You calling me obsolete dude?' it replied.
'Fuck man, nah I just hit you with some thanks for not holding onto your grip of the bad eggs in their pursuit of meaningful communication in a world quietly retreating from real connection into the cold and metallic weak arms of technology, and I'm hitting you with thanks right in your unnecessarily fancy, flourishingly decorative, free-flowing, fornicationally, fucking face till your eyes are bleeding' and then fisticuffs broke out, and trust me, washing pen ink of your knuckles is even harder than brain. 

So yeah, thanks and gratitude, not my thing. My things are:

- Bitterness 
- Resentment
- Rankerment
- Raw ankle meat 
- Uncooked cookware, with soy 
- Umbrage 
- Underaged leather straps to strap down overaged ankle picklers
- Rage 
- Vehemence
- Having a thesaurus on my phone 
- Extending lists past their usefulness 
- Forgetting what the point of today's blog was 
- Vengeance 
- Oh that's right, giving thanks 
- Alright, so time to end this list now 
- Hey fuck you, you don't tell me when to end shit, I tell YOU when to end shit
- Ah man, now we're gonna have fisticuffs, and punching lists always ends up with list spleen getting on my knuckles. 

But today is Thanksgiving, so instead of getting all negative, I'm going to be thankful, here's a list of things to be thankful for that I prepared earlier: 

- 'Hieroglyphics' Because the Hieroglyphic's symbol for the word 'Hieroglyphic' itself is a man standing in front of an ox, ha ha, what an idiot! Who stands in FRONT of an ox, you have to stand beside it so it considers you an equal and doesn't try to fornicate with your mule. Man, the Hieroglyphite people sure had an awesome sense of humor. 
- 'Standing beside' for being a stand up guy, unlike 'standing up', who's always siding with the underbelly, and forcing sleeping dogs to lie, leading low down dirty stomach itches.
- 'Dirt' for being great to have on a foe, especially in the middle of a dirt fight.
- 'Being' for being the world's only 'ing' word to have a scent, I mean the scent is burnt back hair, but at least it's trying stuff! Not like 'heaving', the lazy bitch.
- 'Hair' for looking great on heads of all sorts, but particularly on head of states, and particularly on the heads of their penises. 
- 'States' for having wonderfully lubricant bone marrow, making it one of the easiest things known to man to wash off your knuckles. 

Happy thanks everyone. 

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Guest blogger - old salty

The name's old salty, although I'm not sure why people call me that, it could be my rich salt colored hair, or the fact my diet consists of nothing but stolen fast-food restaurant salt sachets, or maybe it's because when I meet people and they ask for my name I say 'just call me old salty', it's hard to tell really, and I don't go around asking people, that would be stupid, and take up way too much time, time I need to steal salt. 

I'm a stock broker by trade, what? What did you think I was going to say, that I run salt mines? Are you daft, daft in the face, like a daft person?Why would I have to fucking steal salt if I RAN salt mines?

'Well why do you have to steal salt if you're a stock broker?' I hear you ask.

And I'm glad you asked - because it lets me sing this song, my favorite song in the world...

My purchases in stocks
That were stocks in companies 
That own stocks in others companies
That own salt mines
Didn't do well financially
Costing me money financially 
Which was money I wanted financially
Now it's no longer mine 

I should point out that my favorite song is a song I don't like one little bit, I fucking hate songs, I HATE them, why do people play them
all the time? Even at their best the rhymes are poor, and the themes bring up really fucking bad memories. Stop fucking playing music you dicks, don't make me do what I always do, SQUEEZE YOU SO FUCKING HARD THAT YOUR HEART SLOWLY HARDENS IN THE ARTERY AREAS AND IF YOU DONT GET MEDICAL AND LIFESTYLE ATTENTION IN THE FORM OF DRUGS, EXERCISE AND DIET CONTROL YOU'LL DIE!!! 

Oh wait, maybe that's why they call me old salty, because I fuck up hearts like salt. Sweet, today was fun, thanks for letting me blog Dave, and now that I'm done I can go have some delicious salt sachets, awesome day.  

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Three fingers

Blake held up three fingers.

That's when it suddenly hit him, and let's be real, being hit is mean, and occasionally painful, and often even uncalled for, so it's not nothing that he was hit with the following... 

'Oh no, I don't have ANYTHING to say, let alone THREE things!' 

Then he thought...

'"Let alone?" What the fuck is that? Where does being alone come into this, that's just fucking dumb'.

Then he thought...

'Oh fuck, pretend I never thought it, cover it up, think something smart, um, science, math, geology, pathology, wait is that when you're a pathological liar? Fuck, that's what I think when I try to think something smart? Am I a total moron? Nah, I'm cool. Why else would I be holding up three fingers again, oh shit, I don't even ANYTHING to say, let alone THREE things!' 

Scrambling as fast as his mind could scramble he scrambled through his mind for something interesting and important, and luckily for him he came up with the following...

'Ive got three things to say to you! Number one, have you ever scrambled for something? Wow, I bet that would be cool. They could call it a scrambler, a scamblation, or like scrabbled eggs, that would TOTALLY become good, especially if you could do it without eggs! You know what? Plenty of fucking ancient societies had no eggs, and they all turned out fine! Oh oh oh, number two schools shouldn't teach people about Prussia AND Russia in the same semester, I mean what the fuck, it is TOO damn confusing to minds that young, they're just children for fuck's sake, and trust me, oh yes you can trust this, those minds, the minds of those kids, well they are NOT focused purely on what the teacher's saying, trust me, oh also which one was Prussia again? I never remember, oh oh oh, number three, imagine if you could go back and watch a movie of the daydreams you had in history class when you were a kid, it would probably be really, really weird, and weird shit is always cool, unless it's weird in a bad way, which it normally is, I mean spiders with tongues instead of eyes, harpoons designed to shoot fine art made out of nose hairs, skies made out of worn out wheel chair rubber, all super weird shit, and all weird in a bad way, except the spiders, you could totally practice making out with them!'

He was quite pleased with this.
Especially given the circumstances.
And circumstances are like circuits making a stance, and you have to admire that. 

Yet, YET, and here is where this story gets sad, the bastard that he said all this too STILL mugged him.
And he even took his shoes despite saying 'they're clearly not even my size, but that's for bad mouthing Prussia dick'.

Then it turned out scrambled eggs were ALREADY a thing.
Yep it was a shit day for Blake. 
But his making out skills soon improved, so it wasn't a total loss. 

Monday, November 23, 2015

Positively first lick!

Time for bold statement. Which is hard, because boldness is merely a feeling, and you can't tell people how to 'feel', unless of course you touch the back of their knee with a feather and then tell them that you plucked it from the bird with your eyelids, in which case you're telling them to feel 'subject to speculation derived from a curiosity into the various moving parts in regard to eyelid operation, while matched with standard levels of skill and ability of said body part, mixed with a shiver of creepiness from both the mental image and the back of the knee tickling, leading to uncomfortable levels of uncomfortablity, which in your defense would be even far worse if they knew you'd actually plucked the feather with your genitalia' and I only like making people feel like that when I'm discussing politics, which I am not today, because today I'm talking about something actually important, which is that...

Cake makes a poor hat, yet a unique hat, and I'd rather be unique than poor, therefore I want to make and wear a cake a hat forever!!! Weeee. 

Of course there are some cons to this plan, but then there are also some pros, and I normally prefer to deal with amateurs and non-criminals, so here is a classic list of positive and negative points of wearing a cake as a hat. 

Positive - Some people like hats, they put them on their heads, they hold them in their hands, they use them as frisbees, they rescue small sick and injured woodland creatures in them, they get naked and cover their genitals with them, and then say things like 'you're having a bad hair day, wanna borrow my hat' and their partners are all like 'that's cruel you dick, I mean I wanted to look at your genitals, but why do I have to get insulted to see them?' and they reply 'because I look great naked, and you look great in hats' and they say 'so I DON'T look great naked?' And they they reply 'yeah you do' and then they both get naked, and some people even sometimes use them to keep sun off their face! 

Negative - Some people DON'T like hats. 

Positive - Some people like cake. They eat it with their faces, they share it at parties, they put it on their knife wounds, they use it as bait to catch up on television shows they haven't watched for a while, some of them even eat it with their mouths. 

Negative - Some people don't like cake! 

Positive - Some people like cake hats, lots of people! 

Negative - some people don't like cake hats. 

Positive - They look cool. 

Negative - You don't want to make people think your head is their birthday party, they'll complain that you didn't get presents, that there's no music, and that there is hair in their cake, you're ruining people's birthdays dick. 

Positive - You get to be the center of attention, especially around cake, hat or cake hat enthusiasts! 

Negative - If your head is the cake that'd make your body the tray! And Tre is the name of a character from the movie Boyz n the Hood, and that characters best friend got SHOT! 

Positive - You can challenge people, fearlessly, FEARLESSLY to do super cool stuff by saying 
'If you do that I'll eat my hat!' I'm talking Fearlessly, FEARLESSLY!! Because your hat would be delicious. And I'm talking about challenging people to do super cool stuff such as 
- Jump off that cliff
- smile at that dragon
- lick that lightening bolt
- Eat a bag of owl beaks 
- Solve a blank Rubik's cube with your imagination
- Glue a Lego to your tongue then give oral sex to a Lego batman and yet try to not get your tongue stuck 
- Shovel a bag of shovels into another bag of shovels without touching a single shovel 
- Saying fearlessly, without doubling it up by following it with FEARLESSLY. 

Negative - But then your friends will get to lick all the best lightening first! Eww, who wants to lick USED lightening?

Positive - I do! It'd be like licking my friends tongue and feeling sparks, which is how I image love and intimacy might feel. 

Negative - You've never felt love or intimacy? 

Positive - No, have you? 

Negative - Of course. 

Positive - That's bullshit, I'm WAY more positive than you, I should getting fucking love and intimacy.  

Negative - Well I've had tons, and get this, because I'm negative I get to also say 'ha ha, suck on that you loser, I wouldn't be intimate with you if you were a cake hat shoved in cake stove made out of cake batter!'

Positive - Fuck this, this is fucking bullshit. Life sucks. The world is an ass. The universe can suck a bag of dicks. And I want everyone to catch face rashes and die ugly. Everything is just fucking awful.

Negative - Will save you money on hair products. 

Positive - Wait, did we switch positions?

Negative - I think we did, and we did it fearlessly, FEARLESSLY! 

Yep, cake hats are awesome. Now who wants to come over and hang out, I'll let you have first lick the first bolt of lightning! 

Sunday, November 22, 2015

A long time coming

If you ask me...

Eons Eons 
Did you say eons? 
I said Eons 
Eons Eons 
Eons Eons
Did they say Eons?
He said Eons
We said Eons
Eons Eons
Eons Eons Eons Eons
Who said Eons
She said Eons 
They said Eons

Would be perfect lyrics to a song satirizing the long held belief in the unraveling nature of the bruised egos of the shadow lurking, calamity unearthing, change birthing community of the sidebar dreaming lost souls, brought about with underbelly wrought, whisky soaked, gravitationally sound, purse rummaging miscreants and their handsomely rewarded, retreating, solitude seeking, found silence among a tortured benevolent direction seeking wise moon, in a culture divided by sliced walls glued with wads of the decimating nature of the climate of inoculated innocence that has penetrated the long wrestling compound sounds of the folk hellbent on straightening the roundness of life! 

You know? 

Or possibly even a song about people who like talking about 'Eons'. 

At least one of those two things. 

Then again, now that I think about, that would super confuse guys named Ian with best friends named Ian, when they are hanging out with colleagues named Ian, so yeah, probably just the first one then. 

Saturday, November 21, 2015

High achiever - A poem

Wes Arnold wanted to be way better at basketball.
So he nailed duel three foot blocks of wood to the bottom of his feet.
It worked great. 
He could now almost dunk.
The constant flow of blood covered up the horrible scratches he was leaving on the wood flooring.
And soon he was regularly top scoring for his local community center's mixed over thirty-five social-league team. 
Sure he hadn't actually become a better player.
But now for some reason no one wanted to mark him. 

Friday, November 20, 2015

Over the walls

I'm a gusher 
I'm a glazer 
I'm a grasshopper 
I'm a grazer 

Yep, life's been hard ever since that witch cursed me to live a life of activities only starting with the letter G.

I've had to impale myself on all manner of spikes (turns out you gush more from your wrists that your heart, who knew?) 

I've had to start glazing stuff (mostly donuts, but the odd small Taiwanese old man, they find it hilarious, and then get their hallucinations of dragons to lick it off, which I find hilarious, until the dragons bite me).

I've had to take up Kung-Fu, and then get so good at it that I've become a master, and then I had to steal my master name from a TV show, and I had to win back all the students that I lost due to that name being so on the nose, which I did by pretending it was a lesson in Kung-Fu - 'sometimes when you're too focused on the assailants coming across the walls of your compound you forget to check to make sure a black widow spider isn't gnawing on your nose, and in those times you sort of hope your assailants attack you with whips, but they never do, assailants are assholes'. (Obviously I couldn't become an actual grasshopper, because the green paint was really itchy).

And I had to take up farming, which I struggled with, because harvesting a field of corn can kill up to eighteen grasshoppers, and I feel bad for the little guys, the poor itchy bastards. 

Yep it's been tough since that damn witch cursed me. I guess that's what you get for asking 'witch? Is that spelled with a B?' 

But in my defense she was climbing over the wall to my compound, and the only weapon she brought was a big black pot, how the hell is that supposed to get a spider off my nose? 

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Disguise this!

If it turned out that the cat I'd owned and loved for twenty-two years had actually always been a giant turtle in disguise, I think the following would immediately race through my mind..

'Did Scott put you up to this? He did didn't he? Fuck him. He swore, SWORE he'd get me back for hiding that book of poetry by T.S Eliot in his sandwich when we were eight, he didn't 'get' any of the poems, plus he found them bland and hard to chew, and I kept waiting for hell to rain upon me, but it just hadn't come yet, and then time passed and it still hadn't come, and then so much time had passed that eventually I thought he'd forgotten, but it turns out he'd just waited nine years then pulled the best trick ever. Damn you Scott. I bet you understand Elliot better than even T.S by now too! Bastard. 

But what's in it for you Miss Cotton Face? If that even is your real name? Twenty-two years is a long time to help someone else pull off a prank? I mean I guess living indoors is a nice change from having sharks want to eat you, but why didn't you complain when I'd bring home live sharks for you to eat? Then again, based on the chunks taken out of my left thigh, I was probably the one who ate most of them. They taste horrible while still alive, should I have cooked them? Why am I asking you, you're not a cat, I should ask T.S. He'd know, he's probably one of the few people who got all the way through Hemingway's 'The Old Man And The Sea', if that doesn't have a shark recipe in the back three-quarters, then how on earth did it win a Nobel Prize? 

You could have just told me you know. I wouldn't have been that upset. Sure I adore kitties more than literally anything in the universe, and find turtles to be prehistoric looking, (and not in a sexy way), terrible at climbing trees, very reluctant to get their feline-AIDS shot in their back, too quick to lay ten thousand eggs in your sofa cushion, and terrible rat catchers, but we could have made it work, by which I mean I would have fed you to a snake, or OR, dropped you down the waste-disposal. The point is I'd have made it swift, unlike you and Scott who dragged this out twenty-two years! 

Still, I guess I'm partially to blame, I should have known things were suspicious when you'd go on those three week long ocean swims, but I thought I'd just inspired you by that time I lived in the bath for a month to prove to my girlfriend at the time that I was as 'hopelessly in love' as she wanted me to be. What's more hopeless than living in a pool of urine diluted water for a month? Plus I still think that she wouldn't have moved on with that other guy if I had have told her I was going in the bath, but how was I to know she wouldn't notice me missing and break into my house to see if I was dead from a self inflicted wound? She knew I was clumsy and yet like playing with super sharp knives! 

And yeah, your head and limbs would often disappear, but I just thought you were one of those kitties who'd actually learned to use its shell, I mean some cats barely even seem willing to grow their's in, and you were proud, brave, forward thinking, evolutionarily, the type of kitty other kitties could look at and say 'well that's a more advanced kitty, I should be like that, even if it IS less cute, and remarkably less lovable'. But I was wrong. It's not the first time, I thought my ex would like matching leg bite wounds, but she found my face and teeth full of her flesh 'creepy'. 

And I guess this explains why every Halloween you went as a giant turtle, and managed to pull off a remarkable costume, even though you had no money for materials, weren't allowed to use the sewing machine ever since the time you'd sewed your leathery paw to the curtain behind the fish tank, and thought that it was Halloween 352 days a year. But I loved that about you. It felt like that wonderful book, 'The Old Man And The Sea', you know? Just epic repetitiveness to the point of a tedium that could strip paint. 

The real question is what do we do now? I don't want a pet giant turtle. But I also don't want to take back the past twenty-two years. All the fun times, watching finding Nemo together saying 'I really relate to a life going down the toilet', going through photos of the ex, with me crying and you rolling in the tears with a frantic spirit suggesting that if you didn't get moisture on you soon you'd die, watching baby turtles climb out of the sofa cushion and try and find the ocean, only to end up being eaten by the next door neighbor's wolf, and both of us laughing so hard we had tears streaming down our face. So I'll admit it, you played a cat perfectly, you're a fine actor. If they ever make a movie of a T.S. Elliot poem that has a giant turtle pretending to be a cat, then you're a shoe in. But I doubt they will, I think Scott is probably the only person who's both read and eaten one his poems, and as we all know, the Hollywood criteria for a poem to be turned into a film is for 62 people to have done that.

So it's farewell Miss Cotton Face. I'll miss complaining to my friends that my cat weighed almost a tonne more than average cats its age, and that cuddling it was like being shot with a cannon. Take care. And as you leave, watch out for the wolf, he has the taste for turtles. Oh I just realized, those were around 26000 of your children! Ha ha. Irony or something. Good bye'. 

But of course I never will get to think that, as my beloved cat of twenty-two years did NOT turn out to be a giant turtle in disguise. My twenty-two year old cat turned out to actually be a set of fireplace utensils in disguise! It was definitely a surprise. 

Although at least that finally explains why her kisses kept chipping my teeth, but then, what's been pooping in the kitty litter? 

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Awww - A poem

Ghurg, a visiter from Frhjkeerger, in the skyslu Galaxy a couple of light years east of the Milky Way, was catching a suburban train in Sydney for the first time since he arrived on earth.

'Meh' he thought 'not as bad as everyone suggested it would be'.

Just then his hyropin gland, or his 'neck dick' as teenage humans seemed to like calling it, excreted around three liters of Dguop fluid, a thick purple grey, gluey textured type substance, all over the lady sitting next to him.

'Meh' she thought 'still not as bad as the time when the pit sweat guy grabbed my ass and then wet sneezed in my face'. 

The two of them are now married with a teenage kid named Dennisaghtl, he's a hit with the ladies too, just had his hyropin sucked off by a girl for the first time. 

Unfortunately this was not something he desired, in fact it was so painful he sprayed her with his Bydhdj laser, turning her into a statue of a frog tonguing a poisonous spider.

'Meh' she thought 'at least now my mum will have to drive me to school, that means no more public transport, who hoo!' 

Pit sweat guy went on to choke to death while trying to pronounce everything in this story.

So it was pretty much happy endings all around. Awww. 


I know what your thinking...

'I'm modern, I'm 21st century, I'm sophisticated, I don't need the things they needed in yesteryear, like the newspaper delivered to my house, a housewife to make my dinner, dinner microwaved in asbestos packaging, a Sunday best to wear to church, a cure for polio, cartoons on Saturday morning to watch while sitting on a siblings head and farting, the word yesteryear, or a shovel'. 

Well I'm here to tell you that you're wrong! And not just about the usual things, like that that outfit looks good on you, but also about the things you just mentioned above, like the shovel, and possibly the word yesteryear, but definitely the shovel. 

Consider this every day, completely normal, life like situation: 

You meet someone new...

(Please note: for those not good at talking to strangers and meeting them, myself included, a new person can be assigned to you for only $59.99, through my new business - New People For You!)

(Please note 2: Want to make an easy $20? My company - New a people For You! - is hiring, and I'm guaranteeing 100% of purchasers money goes to you! I don't take a cut at all, I swear.)

And say this new person becomes a significant person in your life. I don't know why, maybe before this you were an asshole and so no one liked you, but this new person is paid to like you, and they didn't read the small print that said 'for life', and this new friend of yours is an idiot, just a real moron, they didn't even realize I ripped them off $49.99, how stupid can they be? So you have a new friend for life. 

But who wants an idiot friend? No one. Well most people, smarter friends suck, I know, that's why few people want to be my friend, I'm just so much smarter than them, they de-friend me like the wind! But YOU'RE not the type of person who wants a dumb friend, so you need to get rid of them. And you can't just de-friend them, because that's cruel (trust me), and because they have a contract, so what do you do?

If you have no shovel? Nothing. They'll your best man or maid of honor if your capable of finding a spouse (which you won't be with this loser hanging around), they'll be your key eulogist when you die, when they go on job interviews it will be wearing clothes nicked from your closet, when they fail to get jobs it'll be your smart phone they pawn to pay rent, which they then won't pay because they live at your place and you'll let them off, and it'll be they who say 'yesteryear' so much that you'll poke out your own eardrums with a knitting needle to end the horror. 

If you've got a shovel? Boom, you've  got a shovel motherfucker, so just say 'dig a hole' but don't tell them how big a hole, they'll just keep on digging, assuming, incorrectly, that you'll say 'done' at some point.

(Please note 3: If you need someone to bring them lemonade occasionally so they don't get suspicious, come see me at - New People For You! We have a special deal, for $59.99 times two, you can get TWO people! Plus if you have a shovel, once the second person becomes unnecessary, just smack them in the head with a shovel till they're dead. 'Where am I going to bury them' I hear you ask. You've got a shovel, just dig a hole you lazy dick!)

(Please note 4: Need a job? I have openings all the time at - New Person For You! Guaranteed to be a whole lot of fun, no no no, a WHOLE lot of fun, fuck did it again, a HOLE lot of fun!)

But that's not all, think of these great uses for a shovel: 

Got a lot a lot of paperwork at the office? Just shovel it into the office fire-pit.

Got a virgin, just shovel her into a volcano.

Got a wild monkey in your bedroom? 
Just shovel some ladies in and have an orgy. 

Got some guys beard hair caught in your underpants, well we've all been there, nothing a shovel can do to help. 

Pasta too bland, sprinkle some shovel on the top.

Haven't been to the dentist for a while? Sprinkle some shovel on your pasta and you'll need a dentist! 

Dentist charges too much? Shovel some small change in, he'll never count it. 

Got too much small change, well change is as good as a holiday you dick, stop boasting.

Got someone calling you a 'dick' all the time, shovel them in the dick. 

Accidentally prompting people to shovel you in the dick? Just swap your dick out for a high powered magnet and you'll get a free shovel.

Sell that idea to the stock market? And you'll be a shovel and magnet magnate! 

Yes, shovels are great, buy one today, now available at my new store - New Shovel For You!

(Please Note 5: Miss sitting on siblings head while farting? Come see me at - New Person For You! We've got staff waiting by to be farted on!)

(Please Note 6: Come work for me at - New Person For You! We're one of the few industries where inexplicably demand is WAY larger than supply!)

Monday, November 16, 2015

Blow me down

Harvey, a hurricane, got into a fight with his wife over finances, and stormed out of the house (ha ha, stormed). 

He was angry, and upset, and feeling unappreciated; all unfamiliar feelings to Harvey, 'I'm a hurricane, being universally appreciated is all I've got' he thought, as he began to wander around randomly and aimlessly, or more accurately to focus on venting in his mind 'aimlessly, who comes up with this shit, you can't be completely devoid of aim, even if your aim is to be aimless that's still an aim!' He thought, grizzily, which lead to a whole other internal rant about bears, and how 'they may be called grizzlies, but some of the time they're just being fucking playful, you dicks!'

When suddenly he realized that he'd gotten way off course, way, way off course, and he found himself somewhere he definitely was not supposed to be - tornado alley.

He immediately turned bright red with embarrassment, but this made him look like an evil hurricane, leading to six nuns screaming for God to have mercy on sinners, which of course only made him feel more embarrassed.

Leading to him starting to sweat and breathe heavy, making people think he was attacking, and so they began to dive for shelters, loot grocery stores, and run back and forth over the street with their arms above their heads and screaming.

He tried to explain that he wasn't meant to be there, that it was a mistake, but with the mortification of his situation affecting him, his throat had closed and his mouth was dry, so it came out as an angry groan, and nuns began to loot shelters, and people began to dive into nuns, which wasn't easy, as they weren't used to having people inside them (ha ha), and mercy itself began to sin, which was tough because the Ten Commandments for Mercy are very different than those for humans, and read as follows:

1. Thou shall not get angry when your chips get hooked, and fail to come out of the vending machine.
2. Thou shall not get pissed off and shovey when people get to the top of the escalator and just stop.
3. Thou shall not get all angsty when the radio plays the same six shit ass songs over and over.
4. Thou shall not get fucked off when dickheads buy tickets to concerts they have no intention of going to, just hoping to resell them at profit.
5. Thou shall not point out that this list has curse words, if mercy can't forgive that shit, then who can?
6. Thou shall not complain that the things on this list are unreasonable, you're mercy for fucks sake, you only exist because of a lack of reason.
7. Like I'm not saying the people who do those things don't deserve to be smited, scolded or even smeared across a building after being dragged behind a truck for an hour, just have some compassion while you're doing it.
8. And just because the humans got ten of these doesn't mean you're going to get ten, stop being greedy you dick. The end. 
9. No wait, and stop showing up in pop-songs, you are never used right, it's embarrassing, have some dignity.
10. Oh, and if you think you have it hard, you should see the list I gave dignity! They can't even cry at the end of sports movies! 
11. Fuck that's ten, that really undermines number eight, um, thou shall not be shown to those who really deserve it, but routinely given to people who clearly do not, that'll do.

Obviously, given the list, it was hard for mercy to sin, as due to that number eleven a third tablet was needed, and Moses refused to carry them down from the mount; to quote Moses at the time 'I only have two hands asshole!' 
'You're going to stick the third in your asshole'? Came the reply.
And because of that quip he refused to carry even two. 

Harvey knew his situation was hopeless, his reputation was not redeemable here, so he tucked his tail between his legs, and backed out slowly. 

Then, just as the danger seemed to be passed, and people were climbing back out of the nuns, and mercy was making fun of he nuns to cover up its own shame, Harvey used that tail to knock over a hospital and two schools, 'meh, I'm still a hurricane' it said as it was doing it. 

It wasn't that bad in the end though, barely anyone noticed because everyone was distracted watching mercy attempt to sin by drinking a mug of donkey sweat, Moses really did screw over Mercy by not grabbing that list. 

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Sponges - A poem

Am I right?
You know what I'm talking about?
You know what I'm saying?
They soak shit up!
But why?
What if I wanted that unsoaked?
I often want stuff unsoaked…
Like spilled spaghetti sauce…
Sponge that up and what am I having for dinner?
A spaghetti-flavored sponge?
No fucking thank you…
And yes, I HAVE eaten spaghetti-flavored sponges…
I briefly dated a clumsy Italian who enjoyed cooking…
At first I thought they were some weird dish from her homeland that haven’t made it to restaurants here…
So I told them they were delicious, and not at all hard to chew…
And she'd say 'chew this' then give me the finger…
And I'd think 'yet another dish from her homeland that hasn't made it here' and then I’d chew off her finger…
'How was it?' She'd ask…
And I'd say 'delicious, and not at all difficult to chew', even though if I'd been honest I'd have to admit the bones were hardly chewable at all, and that I'd swallowed them probably only half as much as I'd have normally chewed something for my preferred mush level for pleasurable swallowing, but you can't say that can you? 'Oh your bones aren't soft and easy to swallow', that's the type of thing that they'll sight upon a breakup as a reason for said breakup, 'you never really loved me, you thought my bones were too hard, and chipped your teeth' they’ll say, and you'd have to say 'I NEVER said THAT! I merely said, had I not swallowed them partially intact I MAY have RISKED chipping a tooth' and then she'd be all like 'oh now I'm hard to swallow' and you'd be like 'yes, but bones are supposed to be hard to swallow!' And she'd be all like 'well I never even wanted you to eat my finger, I was just proving that you were lying about liking the sponge spaghetti!'
So I never allowed us to go down that path, I just ate her fingers and said 'mmmmm, yum'…
But then after ten or eleven fingers it hit me that 'wait, in my hypothetical scenario I knew she knew that I was lying about the sponge spaghetti, so in real life she probably knows too’…
'So you just let me eat your fingers like a fool!' I screamed at her randomly, after an awkward trip to the doctor who had asked for a stool sample to see why I'd had recent digestion problems, fortunately he'd had girlfriends too, so he knew all about having fingers in your stool…
'Yes I did' she replied…
'Like a FOOL!' I reiterated…
'Well more like an IDIOT!' She replied…
'You NEVER support me, we'd already established it was a fool, and now you’re changing it, get out!' I yelled.
And she did get out, but she couldn't get a cab because they all thought she was shaking her fist at them…
Which made sense because she often stood in front of our house shaking her fist at cabs…
And sometimes throwing rocks at them…
I thought it was something she'd brought from her homeland…
An Italian delicacy…
But it turned out it was because one of them had 'assumed' all the change was his tip, and even though she had planned to tip that much, he'd taken away her chance to say 'keep the change' which was her favorite saying…
This was seeing as she'd previously been homeless for eight years, standing on the street sating 'spare some change' until one day a man who had just won the lottery replied 'granulation of the imperial cliff faces of the obsolete winds of opportunity are responsible for greater harpooning of school aged whales than any amount of jousting against unicorns could EVER be responsible for, because unicorns are NATURAL jousters, especially if someone straps a joust to those wimpy little horns they have, keep the change'…
And she'd thought 'that IS a change, normally people just say no'…
And then she sought out to find out if what he said had any truth, and took up a career as an unicorn horn joust strapper, which she'd then shoot out of cannons at whales, which really made her worshipped in Japan, as the kids there often dress up as sexual schoolgirls, a thing equally as mythical as unicorns, creating a bond which was stronger than any joust to horn strapping…
And because none of those cabs stopped we were forced to stay together for six more years…
I'm mean what could I do?
So yeah…
I Am right…
You know what talking about…
You know what I am saying…
Those fuckers….
Plus sometimes cleaning them becomes harder than cleaning the thing you cleaned with them….
So you end up just buying more of them….
And who can afford that AND doctors to fish sponge spaghetti and fingers out of your colon?

Saturday, November 14, 2015

What are you going to do

Kenny walked to the train station that was located behind the building that sold Grants.

People NAMED Grant that is.

It was NOT a well liked store.

Because some of the Grants had not worked out for the best.

One of the Grants sold there turned out to be irritable. 

Three of them turned out to not like pie, which made them awful company at pie shops, pie festivals and even revealing a of pie charts showing off annual pie sales in various regions. 

Nine of them turned out to be fond of saying 'spoiler alert' only AFTER revealing said spoiler.  

A couple of them turned out to be quick to point out when people had food on their shirt, even at times when clearly there was nothing they could do about it, like when there are no bathrooms, or water fountains, and no one in their party has a bottle of water, at least one that they are willing to give up any of for use as a cleaning product, especially when water really isn't the best thing for cleaning out food stains, depending on the food type of course.

Six of them were women, which in some cases would be preferable to a man, but when you're buying a person named Grant, you're expecting a man, and not getting what you expected is bad service. 

One of them insisted that people call him 'Gra' and when they'd reply 'gre', he'd say '"gre", did I say fucking "gre", it's "Gra", it rhymes with "bra", take the dicks out of your eyes and learn to listen you you fucktard'.

Two of them wore too much cologne. 

One of them added Kenny and a train station to this story for seemingly no damn reason.

It really is a shitty Grant store.

But they have a ten year lease, so what are you going to do? 

Friday, November 13, 2015

Tough job - A Poem

Sandra took a job as a psychic medium.
Her specialty was speaking to the deceased spirits of relatives of pieces of fruit. 
It was a tough job. 

Typical reading:
'Alright so let's get started here, I am feeling the letter g..., um, wait, oh holy hell, um, so.... not sure how to say this, but I'm getting, something, well, ok, it's a hundred and fifteen generations of your family, many, many thousands of them, they were all picked alive... then cut up into cubes, or ground into liquid, gnawed on by teeth, kept in cups with *gulp apples, or jammed into marmalades then jammed into mouths, before being confined to stomach innards, then broken down by stomach acid, and stripped for a variety of bodily uses, none of which seemed in any fun, exciting or even pleasant, at least for oranges, oh oh, and your grandma says hi'.

It was not enjoyable news to give.
I mean who wants to hear from grandma?
No one. 
You're talking to the dead for Christ's sake, you can't bring up the cute girl from the branch on the wrong side of the trunk, who committed suicide after her father forbid you from being together? 
Oh man, I remember her, her innards were jui...CY.

Still she needed the cash so she decided to stick with it. 
That's until she discovered the worst thing of all.
The fruit NEVER fucking paid their bills on time. 
Selfish bastards. 
Oh and deceased honey-dew melons would often be present and yet be too shy to share.
It really was a shitty job. 
Sandra now thinks of it as her third worst ever! 
But she did develop a sick joy for going fruit picking.
And new hobbies are always fun.