Are you pretty enough?

Let's face it, we all want flawless bodies, and most of us will achieve this, at least for six or seven minutes after falling asleep in a sauna for nine hours, but this wonderful time will be wasted trying to get things organized for our sudden need for a six month hospital visit. Then for the rest of the time we'll be a tad off our goal. And we'll know we are, because we have access to the media, and our eyes, and other people, and their use of the phrase 'eww'. 

Yet how would we even know if we were perfect, when there is one body part that, as yet, has been woefully unscrutinized to the point of us frequently panicking about our personal version of it, by the normally cruelly smothering and meticulous unrelenting media, and that's people's left middle to upper backs! 

This means that most people out there have little to no idea how they stack up on a pile of bodies ranked in order of left middle to upper back attractiveness (the organizational method preferred by most genocidal mass grave fillers). 

So, because I care about my readers, and the things they need and care about, and want to cleanse them from that horrific image I just conjured, here is a handy list of things to help you work out whether your left middle to upper back is gorgeous, or whether your left middle to upper back is so hideous that you should never wear backless clothes again (unless you put them on backwards). 

Signs your left middle to upper back is hideous: 

- You can see it in a mirror, and you're FACING the mirror. 

- You once had a left middle to upper lower back enhancement botched, by your local panel beater, and he even skimped on the silicone quality, which was particularly bad as you were actually trying to get 1968 ford mustang grill implant. 

- You're currently an half armadillo and half stonefish hybrid. 

- You're a Kardashian (zing). 

- You often hear people behind you saying 'oh look, they've installed one of those post feast of a human inside-out crocodile sculptures here, quick get a photo of me with it' before suddenly feeling an arm go over your shoulder.

- Due to a printing glitch, your personal version of the boardgame 'burn the witch' missed the words 'only ever PRETEND to burn the witch', and you play often, and regularly get declared 'the witch'.

-  It looks gross in pictures. 

- Whenever a nightclub bouncer asks you to take off your shirt and pirouette, they then never let you in. 

- When 'now boarding' is called at an airport, typically more than three people climb inside it.

- You once had a left middle to upper lower back enhancement done flawlessly, by your local panel beater, and you now successfully have a 1968 ford mustang grill implant. 

Signs your left middle to upper back is gorgeous:

- It's roughly similar to your right middle to upper back, and your right middle to upper back is gorgeous. 

So there you go? Is your left middle to upper back gorgeous or hideous? 

If you're lucky enough to be in the second category then congratulations! Worldwide fame and fortune shall be easy to find on the professional left middle to upper back beauty pageant circuit! 

(Although please be aware that in these tournaments they require you to cover up your right middle to upper backs, which many people, myself included, find barbaric, sexist, untoward, unfair, unassuming, unhinged, unaware, and often too warm, depending on what level the air-conditioner's thermostat was set, which usually makes at least the fame or fortune not worth it, and often both). 

If your in the second category then commiserations. And please put on a shirt, or at least turn around, the front may still be good, and that's regularly people's favorite bit anyway! Yay. 

Ps. If you ever enter yourself into a beauty pageant because you think you deserve to win, then you are probably a vapid, self-centered, vain as a heroin addicts veins, boring as a dried puddle, piece of shit (but if your pretty enough to be accepted, call me!)  

Pps. You wish you got the 1967 mustang grill implant now don't you? 1968! What the hell were you thinking? 

Ppps. Nine hours in a sauna only gets you a flawless body if you ACCIDENTALLY fall asleep in one. So if you're reading this on hour eight of an intentional stint then you're shit out of luck. 

Wow, what a deal

Something about me that you may not know is that I'm NOT an angry guy. In fact for the most part I am completely devoid of emotion. I used all my emotions up in the 80s making fluorescent shoelaces out of them, which I'd have sold for a buck a lace had I been good at making them, so it was totally worth it. 

Sure I kept some emotions frozen in jars to use at a later date. I'm not a crazy person. And frankly I resent the accusation. And the fact you just made me defrost and crack open a jar of resentment to express that right now is really frustrating, and wow, thanks, that was my last jar of frustration. Now I'll never feel that again, do you know how much that leaves me feeling calm and neutral? 

Assholes. 

The problem of course is that I STILL somehow hold lots of grudges! But maybe I wouldn't hold grudges so often if just occasionally they weren't so soft, snuggly, cuddly, smuggly and totally smelling of delicious vanilla! 

The point is STILL fuck you grudges. 

The end. 

Today's blog brought to you by 'that'll do', earths great solution to the question 'it's not very good, are you sure you don't want to work more on this'? Buy a satchel of 'that'll do' today, and as a bonus, if you buy in the next hour we'll throw in a free fluorescent shoe lace made from a pre-pubescent boys overflowing emotions. 

Wow, what a deal. 

It's called love people

I know what you're thinking - 'I own a pet dog/ cat/ possibly a ferret or some other thing from the rodent family, and I think it would be fun for both it and I, if I were to print out a picture of a squeaky bone/ dead bird/ I don't know, what's in those pellets? Pigeon toe-nails and horse hoof? So I guess maybe a hollowed out hoof filled with pigeon toes, and take that picture, staple it to my face, and then have an extra special fun time playing with my pet, but I don't know where to start?' 

Well I'm glad you came to me, because I can absolutely help you with your dilemma here. Here are some steps I highly recommend you taking immediately: 

First up: try and figure out what EXACTLY your pet is. There is no point stapling a picture of a dead bird to your face, when a horse hoof bowl of pigeon toes was a better option. 

Here's is a fun trick you can play to tell exactly what sort of pet you have: - Get a jar of peanut butter.

- Now cover your hand in it, the peanut butter that is, you don't want to use the jar, because if it is glass it may break and cut you, we're not doing anything crazy today.

- Now slowly insert your entire hand deep into the throat of your pet.

- If your pet now licks it up, and possibly gnaws off several fingers, congratulations! You have a dog. Wow, s/he's strong! 

- If your pet says 'meow' in a tone that you can easily translate to mean 'no chance dude, I'm way too swift and agile for that' then nicks off, climbs a bookshelf and knocks down all of the pictures of your deceased family members, then congratulations! You have a kitty! Awww, I'm jealous. 

- If your pet explodes into a spray of flesh chunks, hair and peanut butter stuck to rodent organs then, commiserations, you had a rodent, but you can get a new one at the pet store for a buck twenty five, or get one in the sewer for the simple cost of a piece of cheese, a net, and a tip off from the mob as to where they typically dump corpses these days, find a fresh enough corpse and you may even find six or seven new pets!

By now you should know what sort of pet your dealing with, if it's the third one I hope you paid that mob guy for the tip, or else it will be YOU helping people get pets next week, ha ha. 

Secondly: Now it's time to talk logistics, so let's get practical.

Please do NOT use a typical desk stapler. Those require pressure from both sides, so squeezing your head between the arms could be awkward, and pressing on the back of your skull may hurt a tad, we don't want pain here. Plus the only way to get one of those is to steal one from work, which is just plain wrong, don't you know that the work experience kid needs to steal those to support his new glue habit? And if you steal them first he'll have to start stealing the office glue, which would be awful, because stealing is wrong.   

Instead I recommend that you use an industrial curtain mounting stapler. Your local curtain mountaineer will probably let you borrow theirs if you distract them by lighting their storerooms on fire. I recommend going with a chemical fire, they're harder to put out, which buys you time, plus the smells can be delightful. 

(Bonus points: Got a significant other? Nick a fabric sample book, you may be able to finally stop them complaining that you never help decorating your home, plus they usually have a good twenty - fifty samples, so you've got birthdays and Christmases covered for years!) 

Once it's time to jam this metal into your face I recommend that you do NOT aim for the eyes, sure it's a softer entry, but eyes won't grip as tight as say forehead, which means you may end up with several re-insertions, which could cost you valuable play time. 

Thirdly: Well that's all the important stuff out of the way, now I just have, well, I guess it's a personal opinion to get across, which I normally don't like to do when giving advice, but I feel like it should be said - ARE YOU INSANE, WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU STAPLE A PICTURE OF A SQUEAKY BONE, A DEAD BIRD OR A HORSE HOOF BOWL OF PIGION TOES TO YOUR FACE???????

Are you just fucked in the head? 

I mean seriously, if you genuinely love your pet, why wouldn't you staple an ACTUAL squeaky bone, dead bird or horse hoof bowl of pigeon toes to your face? 

It's called love people, and your pets deserve it. 

String Pulling - a Poem

Pete bought his wife a purse for her birthday.

But before he gave it to her he fell in love with it himself.

So as to not have his friends make fun of him for purse carrying, he simply got a lung removed and replaced it with the purse.

Which is fair enough, no one enjoys being teased. 

Six of his friends have since died trying to figure out why exactly Pete's  always sneaking off to snort a line of change. 

Down on the…

 Mitch headed for a farm.

(Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD, I think we may have a farm story brewing here. I am so goddamn excited that I could piss in the mouth of baby, a cute baby even, and those are the best type. Well depending on your personal baby preferences. That's not for me to judge. I'm not a judgmental chap. I'm getting off point, there's a farm story coming, I'm so freakin' excited!!!)

But Mitch's car broke down soon after departure. And having recently flunked out of Car Mechanics University he was sure he had no idea how to break it back up.

(Fuuuuuccckkk!!! God damn it. Oh fuck that. Why do I bother, why do I even fucking bother. I get my hopes up, I start to feel good, I go to a happy place, I feel alive for the briefest of moments, and then they pull it away from me. It's like I pissed on the baby but it turned out to be wrapped in some sort of plastic so it didn't even get wet. NOT EVEN WET. I was supposed to get a farm story for fuck's sake. A FARM story! Fuck you Mitch! How hard could fucking Car Mechanics University be? Plus they must have had some sort of application process. So how did you get in? They aren't dumb those applications people! They only would have let you in if you were capable of it, which means you're just not trying hard enough, you lazy fucking shit! I hate you, I want you dead! Dick).

So Mitch called up his friend to ask for a ride.

(He had a phone??? And a friend??? A friend with a car??? This whole time??? Holy shit, that's AWESOME! But why didn't you say that earlier. Lead with that for fuck's sake. 'Mitch, a guy with a phone, a friend, and said friend being a friend who had a car, headed for a farm, knowing full well that if his car broke down, and he turned out to be a lazy, opportunity wasting, massive disappointment to his whole family as a student, that he still had a back up plan to get there' - now that's a good opening sentence! It's like when you have a chance to piss on a baby, you're not going to go without water all day that morning are you? Of course fucking not! Don't be fucking stupid. Anyway, it doesn't matter, Mitch got a lift, Mitch got a lift. Ha ha, that's fun to say, Mitch Mitch Mitch, got a lifty lifty lift! I'm so happy).

But his friend didn't answer.

(Alright, alright. That one's on me. You never said the friend had answered. In fact if he or she had, we'd probably have found out more about them. See? Do you see? I am taking responsibility for MY mistakes! It's not that fucking hard you motherfucker, so why haven't you owned up to that fact you don't know how to open a story with all the necessary information! I bet if you do have a baby you think it's cute EVEN if it isn't, and I wouldn't piss in the mouth of one of those even if a monkey in a hat was watching, and monkeys with wearing hats watching things is DELIGHTFUL!!!)

But it turned out he'd broken down in front of the farm! So he didn't even need a ride, and that his friend hadn't answered because he was standing immediately adjacent to Mitch, grinning in anticipation of Mitch realizing he was there.

(They're AT the farm??? I take it back, I take it ALL back. Every bit of it! You sneaky, tricky, magnificent bastard, you have taken me on a ROLLERCOASTER my friend… it's a farm story, oh no it's not, or is it? No. Yes. Not a chance. But wait.... IT MOTHERFUCKING IS! God bless you. I can see your baby right now, it's genuinely cute and it has piss ALL OVER IT! If it was wearing some form of a protection layer of plastic, it was not that hard to get off vacuum pack stuff, no this plastic was easy to tear like a newspaper out of the hands of an old person.  Well played, take a bow, ha ha, no wait, let's go into that farm and let this story soar!)

And they went into the farm, and lay down and died. The end.

(Um.......  Let me get this straight, So it IS a farm story? But it's not even a good one? I said soar! I said SOAR! How is laying down soaring? Explain that to me? It's almost like you went out of your way to make them NOT soar. How the fuck can you have a farm story and not make it good? There's crops at a farm! CROPS dickhead. It's almost impossible to make a story including those not good. You know what? If you do have a baby I don’t think I am even willing to piss on it, let alone in its mouth. In fact I might put a hat on it, and make it watch things, and when people find that delightful I’ll yell ‘ha, it’s NOT a monkey, I just made you think that it was by putting a hat on it! Suck a dick you dick!’ and then people will blame you for their delight being FALSE, fucking FALSE!)

This story was a story about friendship, not farms, I repeat NOT farms.

(Now you’re just doing it on purpose. Fuck you. To think I gave up a trip to the orphanage for this. Boo. Boo I say. Boo).



PS. Today's blog brought to you by the national foundation for pissing on babies; an activity so normal that is referenceable no matter whether you're happy OR angry beyond belief. Try it today.

PPs. Probably don't actually piss on babies.

PPPs. Unless they're ugly ones.

PPPPs. Which almost all are.

PPPPPs. No monkeys were forced to wear hats during this blog.

PPPPPs. Now THAT’S a lot of pees, ha ha.

Slurp Perfectible

Here's a curiosity...

Saying - 'Don't worry, we've all been there' -

To a friend as their eyes swiftly expand the moment they for the first time have their minds blown into a stratospheric level of perfectly reasonable, shocked, compilation as they gaze upon a mustache as it eats the hair piece off a bald man, at festival of new vacuum technology demonstration, where one of the new technologies was hair vacuuming advancements, yet NONE of the new technologies have even mentioned, let-alone included, mustaches that can eat, or move, or that are alive - is an unhelpful, terrible and deeply cruel thing to say. Trust me, I've been there. 

And yet saying 'buck up' is perfectly fine! 

Sayings sure are weird. 

Prance Sweat

You know what I just realized, I'm regularly hot. You may even say that I am often hot. I'll be hot seven or eight times a month usually. Once I was hot seventeen times in a month, and it wasn't even a 31 day month, it was a 30, which is technically the most boring lengthed month, it's short, but not uniquely short, yet I pulled off the most unique thing ever, a seventeen hot month! That's phenomenal! 

So let's be clear here - have I ever been hot? 

Yes! 

I have. 

Sometimes multiple times a month. 

And I've been to trot. How could you not want be to trot? Being to trot is like being at the beach and not being looking for shells, or being in the county side and not be seeking out wells, or being playing poker and not unearthing for tells, or being in a church tower and not being searching for tits. It not possible. Yet with trot desire, you don't even need to be at a beach, county side, gambling den or church, because in a world where to trot is available, EVERYWHERE is a church tower full of sand with deep holes bored in them in search of water full of gamblers. Because trotting is like a fancy way of walking fast!

Let's look at that in another way.

Want to get somewhere? Of course you do, where you currently are sucks.

Want to get there fast? Of course you do? Where you currently are SUCKS, get somewhere else as fast as humanly possible! 

Want to be boring on the way to get there? Um, seriously? You're leaving somewhere that sucks, and you're going to be boring in transit? That's the fastest way to have the new place reject your ass like a gargantuan gorilla rejects a Volkswagen hoping to move into its back hair. 

So let's take stock here.

Have I been hot? You're god damn right I have. At least thirty times! 

Have I been to trot? Does it suck where I am? You're god damn right it does, always, and I want to finally be accepted wherever I go next, so I'm getting there fancy walk style for SURE! 

Which brings me to my main point today - have I ever been... Hot to trot?

Wow. 

That's a HUGE question.

Fucking HUGE! 

Wow.

Almost mind blowing.

Almost.

Which is just another way of saying 'not mind blowing'.

I mean seriously.

Stop sensationalizing shit you stink snatch! 

Yet still.

Wow.

Have I ever been hot to trot?

Me????

I should answer this.

Because I raised the question.

So it's my responsibility to answer. 

And the answer is...

No I haven't.

I've never been hot to trot.

And I don't care.

Cause that sounds shit.

So to sum up:

I HAVE been hot.

I HAVE been to trot.

I have NOT been hot to trot.

I think the lesson is clear - if your Voltwagen is missing, stop freaking complaining, it's probably just in the back hair of the local gorilla. I mean 'duh'. 

Cracked ascendancy - a poem

Alan decided to to make eggs for breakfast.

It was a bold, ballsy, bithchin', badass, brash, and possibly even foolishly preposterous decision. 

Mostly because he didn't have any eggs. 

But in a lesser way, yet still slightly relevant way, also because: 

- He didn't have any money to buy eggs.

- Or a stove or any other cooking equipment to cook things on. 

- Or any idea what cooking equipment even was.

- Or any thumbs.

- Or any other hand parts.

- Or any wrists.

- Or any idea why he didn't have these parts.

- Or any ability for rational thought.

- Or any ability for fanciful thought. 

- Or thoughts about the nature and importance of ecosystems to maintain a harmonious, if not occasionally brutal, balance between all living things and their environments.

- Or any opinions on any of the currently most debated subjects in the news and pop-culture, including but not limited to, thoughts on social responsibility for social people to give back to societies, or even whether that new bridge should be built or not.

- Or a natural feel for body language and subtle facial hints.

- Or a grandiose philosophy of why when cream cheese sales rise the political landscape will often meet a simultaneous period of conflict. 

- Or any clarity to his recent conundrum in explaining to his curious child exactly why landscape painters are so focused on rural landscapes, even though urban landscapes are often closer physically to where their favorite multiplex cinemas are.

- Or any natural intuition into why accidental physical contact with a stranger can lead to sustained feelings of energy transference and mental fortress building.

- Or any hair bristling psychic revelations about how to create a new system of ascendancy that would eradicate all need for current stairs, escalators or even elevators! And this one really bothered him because he HATED stairs, escalators and elevators. They are so obsessed with minor changes in altitude, 'sometimes staying horizontally consistent is okay you dick!' He'd scream often. 

'Yep, if I had eggs, I'd totally make eggs right now' Alan thought. 

Then like a basket of trinkets, spilled over a bed of photos of broken tractor parts, rusted to the sounds of industrial music, reinterpreted as flute opera, a monkey climbed Alan and ate one of his kids.

It was a tough day to be a banana tree. 

In the beholder - a poem

Jeremy took out his left eye, Roger, and hid it on top of the medicine cabinet.

Jeremy was hoping to use Roger to catch a look at his roommate, Kathy, in the nude.

But when Roger saw Kathy getting ready for work,

Plucking eyebrows...

Wielding eyelash curlers...

Administering mascaras...

Squirting eye-drops to remove hang-over blood shots...

Squishing in contacts...

Swearing bloody murder at how hard it was to get contacts in, without once blaming her eyes themselves for said trouble, which would have been easy to do, believe me...

And gently dabbing on eye shadow...

All to make her eyes look the best they could.

Well it made Roger feel sad...

And unloved...

And lonely...

And removed...

And scarred...

And misplaced...

And disenfranchised...

And desolate...

And unsalitatiable...

Although it wasn't really sure what 'unsalitatiable' meant.

Which made it feel stupid...

And uneducated...

And ignorant...

And re-disenfranchised...

And despondent...

And devoid from the loop center...

And out of sync with the rhythm of the cosmos...

And cocooned in a sorrow of insulation...

And cracked under a weight of feathers made from the heaviest malnourishment known to the unknowing lord of dumb...

Even though technically 'unsalitatiable' isn't even a word. 

So it dove into the toilet to commit suicide.

As the splash bounced around the porcelain, Roger felt awash...

With toilet water...

And regret...

And misinformation...

And overuse of ellipse...

And overwrought hairbrainedness...  

And fear of what was next to it...

Physically I mean...

I mean...

Ewwww, what else would be in a toilet bowl...

Gross....

Roger thought with an ewwwww on his breath...

Even thigh technically it didn't have lungs...

Making him feel like a liar...

And yet making him feel like he was about to suffocate to death...

Which proved he was NOT a liar...

Yet still an unhappy...

Sad...

Morose...

Broken...

Lost...

Forgotten loser...

Who was about to die from a FAILED suicide attempt...

And it was right then...

In that moment...

That he met a goldfish, named Jill, who had been dumped in the

toilet earlier...

While it was trying to have an, admittedly, poorly timed, and extremely deep nap. 

And Roger and Jill fell in love.

And got married.

With a generous, and very wet, toilet paper tube acting as celebrant. 

And somehow they had twenty seven kids over the next three weeks, despite Roger not technically possessing any sort of genitals. 

The end.

Jeremy went on to have his other eye eaten out by a rat, which proceeded to move into his skull. 

Kathy met a guy who said he fell in love with her 'when I saw your eyes'.

She has no idea that he actually meant the eye shaped orange 'bugs' with phenomenal emotional depth that live behind her toilet. 

But 'meh' it's still better than having your creepy roommate see you naked. 

Key chain

If you ask me, and you should, almost anything would be better if a key and lock were involved. 

Consider this list of normal everyday topics that one may discuss at a dinner party, or when visiting dignitaries, or when trying to look like you're at the beach for anything other than to try and spot people who should get a mole check, as a public service, yet secretly mostly because you have a weird fetish: 

- Grandpa

- Christmas 

- Porn 

- A Toaster

- Racism

- Girlfriends 

- Eating spiders 

- Star wars

- Synonyms for vagina

- Goat facts 

It's a fine list sure, but it's not an exciting list. I mean it will increase your pulse rate, especially if it were recited in deep booming voice at random right into your ear, art the exact moment you were about to bite into a three scoop ice-cream cone, but even then it will only increase that beat by barely six or seven beats a minute, and that's almost not even enough to justify calling into work sick siting minor stroke as your ailment! 

But now consider that very same list, but now with more information added to each topic, and with that information always including at least some reference to keys, locks and/ or keys and/ or locks. 

- Grandpa: Imagine if your Grandpa was locked inside something, and it took some sort of a key to get him out? You'd probably spend so much time pretending to find the person who put him in there, that you'd never have time to pretend you want to visit him, which means you'd never get to use your awesome pretend you lost the key mime!

- Christmas: Here's a fun thing to do at Christmas, break into a house, unwrap the kid's presents, then wrap them in a metal mesh padlocked cover, then wrap them up in the original wrapping again, then on your way out make sure the dad didn't get bolt cutters for a gift, and if he did steal them, and probably call the cops on him (he was probably going to use those to steal things! That bastard), then sit at the window and wait for the fun...

'Seriously Dad, really funny, unlock these!'

'I'm telling you, I didn't it, I don't know what this is!' 

'It's not fucking funny dad, open them up'

'I can't, I can't, what's going on, I have no idea what's going on?'

'STOP IT! You're not fooling anyone Dad, OPEN THE FUCKING PRESENTS!' 

The fun would go on for hours and hours, and possibly even HOURS! Depending on the kids access to weapons. 

- Porn: Remove a man's penis and replace it with a lock, remove a woman's vagina and replace it with a key, make a porn, then everyone watching will be like 'the other way round would have made more logical sense'. And logical is a word that's pleasing to the ear, YOUR ear. 

 

- Toasted: Throw a toaster off a building for fun, if you forget to unplug it first and it had just been cooking toast on high, and it bounces back and smacks you in the head and burns your face it'll 'unlock' the information to you that your chord is way too bouncy.

- Racism: Lock up all racists in a huge pubic cage. Then when people go to taunt and abuse them, lock those people up for letting hate breed hate. Then you know that comphy chair at your favorite cafe you never get to sit in? Well almost everyone is a giant cage now, including the owners of that cafe, so it's not open anymore, that backfired didn't it, yet frontfiring is the direction that hurts other people, and your didn't do that, so good for you. 

- Girlfriend: Get a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Wait, it was that easy for you? Fuck you! I know who's house I'm visiting at Christmas in fourteen years, depending on how it works out, your respective stances on child baring, fertility levels, consistency on living locations, and window lock installation skills, my god that's going to be a lot of work for me to keep a track of, I hate lots of work, fuck you! 

- Eating spiders: They say on average every person eats something like eighteen spider in their sleep in their lifetime, but if you pick the lock on people's mouth locks, and jam them full of spiders they'll eat MORE than average, and you may only have to eat six or seven spiders! 

- Star Wars: Put a lock on the Millennium falcon,

seriously, have some fucking pride! 

- Synonyms for vagina: Well if you think I'm going to get all crass and say something like 'a pussy is like a safe, cause I'd like to bust it open' then you're sadly mistaken, I'd NEVER say something like that, EVER! 

- Fun Goat fact: goats make awful safes, I once tried to hide ten thousand dollars cash in a goats stomach and the greedy bastard used stomach acid to break it down and turn it into fuel and energy! 

See! Say all that in conversation and now you don't even have to call in sick, the hospital will notify next of kin of your passing due to total heart failure, which will ultimately make its way to a cryptic Facebook post referencing missing you, which your co-workers will pass off as a joke for at least three weeks, until your absence is finally also NOTICED, and you'll be able to escape to the Caribbean and live freely on your life insurance pay out, as long as you survive the actual heart attack you had, but only come to in the morgue, and nick out of there moments before several corpses are stolen, and also as long as your aware that you will no longer be able to partake in your sick mole fetish (the moles themselves are sick, not your fetish) as any future sexual arousal will be far too much for your heart to take, so you'll have to mostly spend your time in the Caribbean enjoying their many famous activities away from the sun and beach. 

Yep, adding keys, locks, and/or keys and/or locks is awesome! 

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 - HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Dave - HA HA HA HA AAAAGHHA AHHHHHAAAAGHA!

Bill – Ha…. Ha…. HHHHHHAAAAGGHHHHG!

Dave – H.h.h.h.h.h..hHHHHHHHHHHHHaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

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 HA HA HA HA HA
Bill - HA HA AGGHAAHAHAHAHA

Dave – Ha aha aha haha haha ha

Bill - HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Dave - HA HA HA HA AAAAGHHA AHHHHHAAAAGHA!

Bill – Ha…. Ha…. HHHHHHAAAAGGHHHHG!

Dave – H.h.h.h.h.h..hHHHHHHHHHHHHaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Bill – Hooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhooooouugghhhh ha haha!
DAVE - Ahhhhh, well.
Bill - Well.
Dave - Well said.

Bill – I can attest to that.

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.