I was in Lancaster this weekend to catch up with some friends. We went to a bar that a high school friend owns. While we were hanging out at the bar, a group of kids came in. I assumed that they were of age, because I can't tell anymore.
One of the dudes was a complete douchbag. How do I know this? For one, he looked like a douchebag... askew hat, stupid necklace, ironic shirt, fucking rich kid. Secondly, he acted like a douchbag... mistreating the bartender, running into people, aloof to the point of nausea.
Sadly, I wanted to punch the guy in the mouth.
Well, I must not have been the only one, because about twenty minutes later, there was a ruckus in the back of the bar and an employee yelled, "Call the cops!"
Word worked its way to the front of the bar that someone had got punched in the mouth. I said, "It was probably the douchebag." And it was. His friends started walking him out of the bar, but he went back to the back.
Cops showed up and went to the back of the bar. We assume they interviewed some people and low and behold, they came walking to the front of the bar with the douchebag. They weren't forcing him to move, but were telling him to get a move on outside. He was stalling and saying that he didn't want to leave. The cops had enough and dragged his ass out. The cuffed him and placed him in the cop car.
Cop came back in to show the bartender his fake ID. She said the front was a very good forgery, but that the bartender should look at the back of the license for some other telltale marks.
In the end, I felt bad for the kid... just kidding. We laughed our asses off.
20090803
20090802
My First Beer Bong
Have you ever bonged a beer? The beer bong is a wonderful invention. If you dislike the taste of beer and also don’t like to waste your time chit chatting at parties waiting for the buzz to kick in, then fear no more. There was a time in my life where I was unfamiliar with that MacGyveresqe contraption which employs a funnel, three feet (or sometimes thirty) of tubing and a hose clamp. It’s actually possible to buy a manufactured beer bong off the shelf in towns that you only go to once for Spring Break. Just avoid the pink ones. The best beer bongs are acquired via spare parts by sifting though the garage and under the kitchen sink.
So before we knew of beer bongs, Russ and I went on a road trip with the Widener twins to Bowling Green State University. We met up with our buddy Brett and went to a party at an apartment. While we were all enjoying a few Keystone Light pounders, the host pulled out what I soon found out was a beer bong. He proceeded to fill the funnel end with beer while another partygoer deftly held the tube pinched closed at the other end. The host held the funnel up, the tube went in the second guy’s mouth and chug chug chug… it was gone! Beer one second, no beer in three seconds. Amazing! How does that work? I can imagine Julius Sumner Miller explaining the physics behind the bong:
“I point out that we have a funnel. In addition, there is a plastic tubing of length being one metre. Are you not agreed that these two are connected? Yes. Now supposing we take this 12 ounce cylindrical container of beer. Where is the beer? Where? Yes, here it is. And pour this beer in the funnel. Oh shit, it poured out on the floor of the lab. Goddamn it Mr. Anderson! You were ‘sposed to bend the fucking length of tubing! Fuck!”
(I think we were all waiting for Julius Sumner Miller to snap. I loved the guy.)
A few other people used the bong and I was given the opportunity to try it. Pinch, fill, mouth, release… chug, squirt, choke, beer in nose, gag, chug… It was a lot harder than it looked. This was going to take some practice.
In the background, a soft voice seemed to rise up. “I’d like to try that please,” asked Russ (I think he was raising his hand.) “Sure!”
Pinch, fill, mouth, release… s’gunk. It was gone. I mean, he fucking just downed the thing in a quarter second on his first try. The host was impressed. The crowd roared! Russ was a GOD! He shrugged his shoulders and explained, “I just opened my throat and it went down.” Russ found his purpose in life.
We drank a lot. Russ continued to impress the locals with his bonging prowess. I continued to get beer all over me.
The next day we drove back to Lancaster. We were giddy with excitement about sharing our newly found technology that would make slow beer drinking obsolete. We both had to work that night at the Baskin Robbins. An hour before work, we went into an auto parts store and gathered all the necessary components. We would be the first people in Lancaster to own a bong and share our..“You all gonna make a beer bong?” asked the guy behind the register.
“You know what a beer bong is?”
“Hell, I thought everyone knew what a beer bong was. That’ll be $5.78.”
OK, so we were pretty stupid. Turns out the beer bong had been around a while and we just weren’t invited to the right parties. Still, we had a bong and we were going to practice.
At work, we built the beer bong. We wanted to practice so. we tried bonging water, but it was too plain. We tried bonging coke, but the carbonation almost took Russ out. We then got the bright idea to bong iced coffee. It had some flavor and no one was going to explode from carbonation buildup.
Two pots of coffee later…
Russ and I were vibrating around the store. I could almost scoop the ice cream through sheer willpower. Russ levitated about three feet off the ground in the corner. We’d pee in shifts and speak to each other only through our thoughts.
As we were closing for the night, our buddy Greg arrived. It seemed that a bunch of punk ass kids ganged up on him in the local Kroger’s parking lot. He was able to drive off and was looking for some reinforcements. We were primed to kick some ass. We all jumped into Greg’s car and went back to the Kroger’s, flexing and shouting the whole way.
Sadly for this story, nothing happened. The kids were gone. We ran around in circles for a few minutes and then got breakfast at the Family Restaurant. I remember coming down pretty hard. Not being able to sleep. Night sweats. 24 trips to the bathroom.
The last time I saw that bong was years later at a friend’s apartment. It had tape patching it up and smeared black marker on the funnel. It had a funk that couldn’t be washed out. I think one of the Widener’s cursed it when, while bonging a beer, someone poured a wine cooler in with the beer. I think he puked right back in and up through the bong.
So before we knew of beer bongs, Russ and I went on a road trip with the Widener twins to Bowling Green State University. We met up with our buddy Brett and went to a party at an apartment. While we were all enjoying a few Keystone Light pounders, the host pulled out what I soon found out was a beer bong. He proceeded to fill the funnel end with beer while another partygoer deftly held the tube pinched closed at the other end. The host held the funnel up, the tube went in the second guy’s mouth and chug chug chug… it was gone! Beer one second, no beer in three seconds. Amazing! How does that work? I can imagine Julius Sumner Miller explaining the physics behind the bong:
“I point out that we have a funnel. In addition, there is a plastic tubing of length being one metre. Are you not agreed that these two are connected? Yes. Now supposing we take this 12 ounce cylindrical container of beer. Where is the beer? Where? Yes, here it is. And pour this beer in the funnel. Oh shit, it poured out on the floor of the lab. Goddamn it Mr. Anderson! You were ‘sposed to bend the fucking length of tubing! Fuck!”
(I think we were all waiting for Julius Sumner Miller to snap. I loved the guy.)
A few other people used the bong and I was given the opportunity to try it. Pinch, fill, mouth, release… chug, squirt, choke, beer in nose, gag, chug… It was a lot harder than it looked. This was going to take some practice.
In the background, a soft voice seemed to rise up. “I’d like to try that please,” asked Russ (I think he was raising his hand.) “Sure!”
Pinch, fill, mouth, release… s’gunk. It was gone. I mean, he fucking just downed the thing in a quarter second on his first try. The host was impressed. The crowd roared! Russ was a GOD! He shrugged his shoulders and explained, “I just opened my throat and it went down.” Russ found his purpose in life.
We drank a lot. Russ continued to impress the locals with his bonging prowess. I continued to get beer all over me.
The next day we drove back to Lancaster. We were giddy with excitement about sharing our newly found technology that would make slow beer drinking obsolete. We both had to work that night at the Baskin Robbins. An hour before work, we went into an auto parts store and gathered all the necessary components. We would be the first people in Lancaster to own a bong and share our..“You all gonna make a beer bong?” asked the guy behind the register.
“You know what a beer bong is?”
“Hell, I thought everyone knew what a beer bong was. That’ll be $5.78.”
OK, so we were pretty stupid. Turns out the beer bong had been around a while and we just weren’t invited to the right parties. Still, we had a bong and we were going to practice.
At work, we built the beer bong. We wanted to practice so. we tried bonging water, but it was too plain. We tried bonging coke, but the carbonation almost took Russ out. We then got the bright idea to bong iced coffee. It had some flavor and no one was going to explode from carbonation buildup.
Two pots of coffee later…
Russ and I were vibrating around the store. I could almost scoop the ice cream through sheer willpower. Russ levitated about three feet off the ground in the corner. We’d pee in shifts and speak to each other only through our thoughts.
As we were closing for the night, our buddy Greg arrived. It seemed that a bunch of punk ass kids ganged up on him in the local Kroger’s parking lot. He was able to drive off and was looking for some reinforcements. We were primed to kick some ass. We all jumped into Greg’s car and went back to the Kroger’s, flexing and shouting the whole way.
Sadly for this story, nothing happened. The kids were gone. We ran around in circles for a few minutes and then got breakfast at the Family Restaurant. I remember coming down pretty hard. Not being able to sleep. Night sweats. 24 trips to the bathroom.
The last time I saw that bong was years later at a friend’s apartment. It had tape patching it up and smeared black marker on the funnel. It had a funk that couldn’t be washed out. I think one of the Widener’s cursed it when, while bonging a beer, someone poured a wine cooler in with the beer. I think he puked right back in and up through the bong.
20090731
Guest writer Chris: What Joe Did
{Author's note: In a first for HolyJuan.com, I'd like to present, guest writer, Chris.}
In early June, Joe vacationed for a week near Clearwater Florida, which is 45 minutes from where Karen and I live. We scheduled an evening for him to stop by our place for dinner while he was here. A few days before his vacation I received a call from Joe “warning” me that he was traveling with a “female friend” and they were purely friends and he did not want to hear any crap from me or Karen.
I agreed and followed my commitment to Joe during his visit. But now his vacation is over. The following are the top observations of Joe and Suzanne that prove they are more than just friends.
11) Joe pulled me aside and asked to borrow my mix tape; “that really good one from college with ‘Lady in Red’ and ‘Tender Love’”, he said.
10) When I asked Joe if he listened to Fugazi anymore, he had this incredulous look and then stated, “Fugazi?”, as if it was so absurd to suggest he ever listened to them.
9) He and Suzanne kept talking about how the Broadway version of “Mama Mia” was so much better than the movie version.
8) When I saw him drinking Corona, I expressed surprise at that, and he said “You know, I always drank Corona in high school and college.”
7) He kept doing ring-around-the-rosie with my kids, and always was looking at Suzanne out of the corners of his eye to see if she was watching. My kids finally pushed him aside and ran to get away.
6) He and Suzanne began to show my kids how to do “patty cake” with their hands. 5 minutes later, my kids walked away as Joe and Suzanne kept doing patty caking without giving my kids 1 second of their attention.
5) When we started talking about how great “Seinfeld” was, he kept telling us how Elaine was his favorite character.
4) When I asked if his mom did anything dumb lately, he said sternly to me, “No! I love my mother.”
3) When we all went for a walk by the woods by my house, he and Suzanne kept stopping simultaneously to do the Macarena for 10 seconds, and then laughed out loud for 10 more seconds after do it. It wasn’t cute or funny the first time.
2) Joe and Suzanne had a 15 minute conversation regarding how they love oyster crackers in their soup.
1) He kept asking us if we wanted to play board games.
{If you would like to guest write for HolyJuan.com.... forget it.}
{Author's Note: After cutting and pasting this, I went to iTunes and downloaded Chris de Burgh's ‘Lady in Red’ and Force MD's ‘Tender Love’. Really.}
In early June, Joe vacationed for a week near Clearwater Florida, which is 45 minutes from where Karen and I live. We scheduled an evening for him to stop by our place for dinner while he was here. A few days before his vacation I received a call from Joe “warning” me that he was traveling with a “female friend” and they were purely friends and he did not want to hear any crap from me or Karen.
I agreed and followed my commitment to Joe during his visit. But now his vacation is over. The following are the top observations of Joe and Suzanne that prove they are more than just friends.
11) Joe pulled me aside and asked to borrow my mix tape; “that really good one from college with ‘Lady in Red’ and ‘Tender Love’”, he said.
10) When I asked Joe if he listened to Fugazi anymore, he had this incredulous look and then stated, “Fugazi?”, as if it was so absurd to suggest he ever listened to them.
9) He and Suzanne kept talking about how the Broadway version of “Mama Mia” was so much better than the movie version.
8) When I saw him drinking Corona, I expressed surprise at that, and he said “You know, I always drank Corona in high school and college.”
7) He kept doing ring-around-the-rosie with my kids, and always was looking at Suzanne out of the corners of his eye to see if she was watching. My kids finally pushed him aside and ran to get away.
6) He and Suzanne began to show my kids how to do “patty cake” with their hands. 5 minutes later, my kids walked away as Joe and Suzanne kept doing patty caking without giving my kids 1 second of their attention.
5) When we started talking about how great “Seinfeld” was, he kept telling us how Elaine was his favorite character.
4) When I asked if his mom did anything dumb lately, he said sternly to me, “No! I love my mother.”
3) When we all went for a walk by the woods by my house, he and Suzanne kept stopping simultaneously to do the Macarena for 10 seconds, and then laughed out loud for 10 more seconds after do it. It wasn’t cute or funny the first time.
2) Joe and Suzanne had a 15 minute conversation regarding how they love oyster crackers in their soup.
1) He kept asking us if we wanted to play board games.
{If you would like to guest write for HolyJuan.com.... forget it.}
{Author's Note: After cutting and pasting this, I went to iTunes and downloaded Chris de Burgh's ‘Lady in Red’ and Force MD's ‘Tender Love’. Really.}
20090730
Reasons Why The Idiot In Front of You Can’t Drive
I know you know how to drive just fine, but the asshole in front of you has no idea what the hell he’s doing. Here’s why:
1. His mirrors aren’t positioned right
Mirrors should be adjusted to eliminate blind spots. A car passing should be visible in the rear view mirror and before it disappears, it should be visible in the side view mirror and then in a driver’s peripheral vision before it leaves the side view mirror. Most people adjust it to see if they’ve left the gas flap open and then leave it there.
2. He doesn’t look through cars
Most cars have a good bit of glass in them. In most states, that glass has to be clear. What this means is, get this, a driver can look through the car to see stuff. That’s right! Right through it. If they are turning left and the guy next to them is too much of a wimp to turn, they don’t have to wait for him, they just need to look though his car and see if traffic is clear. This helps with passing, too. Fuzzy dice are a problem with this theory. Fat heads, too, which is why not a lot of people pass me.
3. He doesn’t know how to yield
On ramps are launch pads. By the halfway point of the on ramp, a driver should be doing the speed limit, which is around 70. Yield does not mean “be a bitch”. It means playing a game of chicken where the dude they are about to hit. This continues until the mergee backs down or they merger give in and slides in behind him at the last second. Many idiots get up to 50% of the speed limit and start looking backwards at the traffic. Then they hit thebreaks brakes. If drivers do as I suggest, they will be at 70 MPH at this point and should pass them on the median.
4. He’s not a team player
Here is the biggest problem that idiot drivers have. They forget that this is a team effort. If there is a line of 50 cars at a stop light, the 50th guy has a chance to make it through if we all work together. The whole team is expecting that the #1 car has his shit together and will lead the team to victory. #1 car should be watching the cross traffic light. If they look close, they can see it change to yellow and then red. On yellow, the driver should take their foot off the brake as this will cue car #2 which will cue car #3 and so on. Watch their light turn red and make sure no one is going to run it. As soon as it is green, hit it. Don’t fuck around. Gogogogogogogogo!! Of those 50 cars, the first 25 can make it though in the first eight seconds. All cars need to commit! No slamming on thebreaks brakes if they get nervous, the team is counting on them! The last car through should be in the middle of the intersection when the light turns red. A team effort, people.
5. He sucks at left turns
I drove in Boston for about four months and the one thing I learned is that the guy turning left always shoot through the intersection as soon as the light turns green. I am cool with this. It always pisses off the guy coming straight the intersection, unless he expects it, which all drivers should. The second car in line should drive 49.9999% of the way into the intersection, almost nose to nose with the car doing the same on the other side of the intersection. Drivers just need a bit of space to complete the turn. The second guy in line to turn left should be on the #1 guys ass. #3 guy should do the same. When the light turns red, all three cars go. Just watch out for the dude in cross traffic trying to get the jump on the left turn.
6. He speeds up when you try to pass
While idiot drive guy is going 53 - 56 MPH on the highway, a normal driver would decide pass him. This is a challenge to him and he’ll speed up. I notice this all the time on my way to work because I slap the cruise control on for the first half of the trip and I am very aware of how fast I am going. Once again, my passing might as well be a reminder to the idiot driver that his genitals are still very small and he’ll take it out on his accelerator. Usually it’s just enough to match the passing driver’s speed. I’ve found that, within reason (hello officer) speeding up and getting past them is enough to dampen their aggression and as soon as they see the bumper, they will slow back down to their widely fluctuating speed until they are passed again. That is unless it’s to get a better shot at you though your rear window.
7. He’s going straight in the right hand lane
Rights on red are legal in my state. If they aren’t in yours, you should move. Nonetheless, idiot driver in front of you wants to be the first guy at the light so he’ll stray from the left lane to block the right so that you cannot turn right. This is a dick move. He should stay in the left lane, even if there is an opening.
8. He sucks at passing
When idiot driver passes, he’ll maintain his speed, even if it is .03 MPH than the car he is passing. It could take 12 days to pass at that rate. When a driver passes another vehicle, they should get a pair and pass it... now! They should make it thier mission to get around that slower vehicle as fast as possible and then pull over and resume their crappy pre-pass speed.
9. He’s on your ass
(I realize this detracts from the “Idiot In Front of You” theme, but stick with me, it’s the last one.) I keep my distance behind the car in front of me because I do not want to ride up his ass when he slams on hisbreaks brakes for a kitty cat crossing the street. Idiot driver behind thinks that somehow a driver will speed up if he rides their ass. This is just not cool and does not work into the whole team work theory we spoke of earlier. Drivers should back a couple car lengths. I have learned a trick where I step on the break brake pedal with my left foot just enough to trigger the break brake light, but not trigger the breaks brakes. That usually freak them the hell back.
10. He does the following
Throws shit out the window
Makes out with girlfriend
Can’t handle road head
Can’t find a CD under the seat
Doesn’t know how to talk and drive
Is out of windshield wiper fluid
Is missing a mirror
Smoks a pipe
Eats a footlong sub (guilty)
Masturbating (also guilty)
To end this article, I tell you a story I swear is true: on my way home down 670 one fine evening, I witnessed a car swerving and sped up to see what the hell was going on. In the drivers seat sat a female. The passenger seat there was a male. The male leaned over and grabbed the steering wheel and the driver leaned over and, I assume, BEGAN TO BLOW THE PASSENGER. The car continued down the highway with the dude leaning over, swerving every so often. This continued for six or seven minutes, even as they transitioned between 670E and 270N, until the girl popped up and they pulled off an exit ramp.
For reasons which you may be aware, I have always called this Postal Head and think about it whenever I travel down 670.
1. His mirrors aren’t positioned right
Mirrors should be adjusted to eliminate blind spots. A car passing should be visible in the rear view mirror and before it disappears, it should be visible in the side view mirror and then in a driver’s peripheral vision before it leaves the side view mirror. Most people adjust it to see if they’ve left the gas flap open and then leave it there.
2. He doesn’t look through cars
Most cars have a good bit of glass in them. In most states, that glass has to be clear. What this means is, get this, a driver can look through the car to see stuff. That’s right! Right through it. If they are turning left and the guy next to them is too much of a wimp to turn, they don’t have to wait for him, they just need to look though his car and see if traffic is clear. This helps with passing, too. Fuzzy dice are a problem with this theory. Fat heads, too, which is why not a lot of people pass me.
3. He doesn’t know how to yield
On ramps are launch pads. By the halfway point of the on ramp, a driver should be doing the speed limit, which is around 70. Yield does not mean “be a bitch”. It means playing a game of chicken where the dude they are about to hit. This continues until the mergee backs down or they merger give in and slides in behind him at the last second. Many idiots get up to 50% of the speed limit and start looking backwards at the traffic. Then they hit the
4. He’s not a team player
Here is the biggest problem that idiot drivers have. They forget that this is a team effort. If there is a line of 50 cars at a stop light, the 50th guy has a chance to make it through if we all work together. The whole team is expecting that the #1 car has his shit together and will lead the team to victory. #1 car should be watching the cross traffic light. If they look close, they can see it change to yellow and then red. On yellow, the driver should take their foot off the brake as this will cue car #2 which will cue car #3 and so on. Watch their light turn red and make sure no one is going to run it. As soon as it is green, hit it. Don’t fuck around. Gogogogogogogogo!! Of those 50 cars, the first 25 can make it though in the first eight seconds. All cars need to commit! No slamming on the
5. He sucks at left turns
I drove in Boston for about four months and the one thing I learned is that the guy turning left always shoot through the intersection as soon as the light turns green. I am cool with this. It always pisses off the guy coming straight the intersection, unless he expects it, which all drivers should. The second car in line should drive 49.9999% of the way into the intersection, almost nose to nose with the car doing the same on the other side of the intersection. Drivers just need a bit of space to complete the turn. The second guy in line to turn left should be on the #1 guys ass. #3 guy should do the same. When the light turns red, all three cars go. Just watch out for the dude in cross traffic trying to get the jump on the left turn.
6. He speeds up when you try to pass
While idiot drive guy is going 53 - 56 MPH on the highway, a normal driver would decide pass him. This is a challenge to him and he’ll speed up. I notice this all the time on my way to work because I slap the cruise control on for the first half of the trip and I am very aware of how fast I am going. Once again, my passing might as well be a reminder to the idiot driver that his genitals are still very small and he’ll take it out on his accelerator. Usually it’s just enough to match the passing driver’s speed. I’ve found that, within reason (hello officer) speeding up and getting past them is enough to dampen their aggression and as soon as they see the bumper, they will slow back down to their widely fluctuating speed until they are passed again. That is unless it’s to get a better shot at you though your rear window.
7. He’s going straight in the right hand lane
Rights on red are legal in my state. If they aren’t in yours, you should move. Nonetheless, idiot driver in front of you wants to be the first guy at the light so he’ll stray from the left lane to block the right so that you cannot turn right. This is a dick move. He should stay in the left lane, even if there is an opening.
8. He sucks at passing
When idiot driver passes, he’ll maintain his speed, even if it is .03 MPH than the car he is passing. It could take 12 days to pass at that rate. When a driver passes another vehicle, they should get a pair and pass it... now! They should make it thier mission to get around that slower vehicle as fast as possible and then pull over and resume their crappy pre-pass speed.
9. He’s on your ass
(I realize this detracts from the “Idiot In Front of You” theme, but stick with me, it’s the last one.) I keep my distance behind the car in front of me because I do not want to ride up his ass when he slams on his
10. He does the following
Throws shit out the window
Makes out with girlfriend
Can’t handle road head
Can’t find a CD under the seat
Doesn’t know how to talk and drive
Is out of windshield wiper fluid
Is missing a mirror
Smoks a pipe
Eats a footlong sub (guilty)
Masturbating (also guilty)
To end this article, I tell you a story I swear is true: on my way home down 670 one fine evening, I witnessed a car swerving and sped up to see what the hell was going on. In the drivers seat sat a female. The passenger seat there was a male. The male leaned over and grabbed the steering wheel and the driver leaned over and, I assume, BEGAN TO BLOW THE PASSENGER. The car continued down the highway with the dude leaning over, swerving every so often. This continued for six or seven minutes, even as they transitioned between 670E and 270N, until the girl popped up and they pulled off an exit ramp.
For reasons which you may be aware, I have always called this Postal Head and think about it whenever I travel down 670.
20090729
Stinkin' Redhead
I was cleaning off my desktop when I ran across this. Some redhead blogger ran a contest to make up a 300 words or less story about how she broke her ankle. The winner would get a blahblahblah gig iTouch. I entered. I didn't even make it into the top seven that she picked to be voted on. Here is my story:
Redhead knew that handing over her car keys was a mistake, but the guy in the bar with the crappy goatee wouldn’t shut up and he said it was a magic trick that she would never forget. She dug the keyring out of her black purse; the streamlined sexy one that barely held her keys, cash and lipstick.
He stood up on his stool, held the keys up, said, “Ladies and Ladies!” and in a drunken lurch, spun around and bent over. He mostly stood, half bent over for an uncomfortable minute and then stood and spun with a “Ta-Da!”
The keys dangled from his nobody’s business that, half heartedly, poked out from his open zipper. Not just dangled… that son of a bitch had the keyring shoved down his dick.
“Take it off!”
“Come get it!” he shook his feeble groin at her.
In one very coordinated move, Redhead swung her purse forward, up and cockward. Her aim was true. Goatee fell backwards, clutching his keyrung goods, and landed on the bar floor.
“Give them to me!”
“Here…” he croaked.
“Give them.”
“They are stuck! Oh my God… It’s swelling up!”
Everything was… an awful blue.
An hour later, against doctor’s orders, Redhead stood by goatee dude, insisting that she would not leave that scumbag’s side without her keys. Lubricants had failed to release the keys and in the end, pliers were called for and sterilized.
The doctor leveraged and applied force. He snipped. Simultaneously, Goatee let out a desperate howl and a gob of man goo shot out from his pent up loins.
Redhead reached forward and grabbed the lubed up keys with a pre-gloved hand.
“Fuck you.”
She turned to walk out and promptly slipped in his load on the floor, breaking her ankle in three places.
Yeah, it sucks. But it beats out the other drivel. I'd give you her website to compare, but I don't want to give her any traffic. Yeah, I'm a sore loser. Fuck you.
Redhead knew that handing over her car keys was a mistake, but the guy in the bar with the crappy goatee wouldn’t shut up and he said it was a magic trick that she would never forget. She dug the keyring out of her black purse; the streamlined sexy one that barely held her keys, cash and lipstick.
He stood up on his stool, held the keys up, said, “Ladies and Ladies!” and in a drunken lurch, spun around and bent over. He mostly stood, half bent over for an uncomfortable minute and then stood and spun with a “Ta-Da!”
The keys dangled from his nobody’s business that, half heartedly, poked out from his open zipper. Not just dangled… that son of a bitch had the keyring shoved down his dick.
“Take it off!”
“Come get it!” he shook his feeble groin at her.
In one very coordinated move, Redhead swung her purse forward, up and cockward. Her aim was true. Goatee fell backwards, clutching his keyrung goods, and landed on the bar floor.
“Give them to me!”
“Here…” he croaked.
“Give them.”
“They are stuck! Oh my God… It’s swelling up!”
Everything was… an awful blue.
An hour later, against doctor’s orders, Redhead stood by goatee dude, insisting that she would not leave that scumbag’s side without her keys. Lubricants had failed to release the keys and in the end, pliers were called for and sterilized.
The doctor leveraged and applied force. He snipped. Simultaneously, Goatee let out a desperate howl and a gob of man goo shot out from his pent up loins.
Redhead reached forward and grabbed the lubed up keys with a pre-gloved hand.
“Fuck you.”
She turned to walk out and promptly slipped in his load on the floor, breaking her ankle in three places.
Yeah, it sucks. But it beats out the other drivel. I'd give you her website to compare, but I don't want to give her any traffic. Yeah, I'm a sore loser. Fuck you.
Ask HolyJuan: What Shall I Take in My Suitcase?
Dear HolyJuan,
What shall i take in my suitcase? I have been thinking about this for a while and was hoping you might be able to shed some light on the subject.
Please help.
Thanks.
Warmest Regards,
Larry
Dear Larry,
Who uses a suitcase these days? Are you 100 years old? Is it a steamer or a trunk?
I suggest you throw that suitcase out and use a trash bag. Trash bags are better than suitcases for several reasons.
1. Price = free
They already have trash bags at the airport in the bottoms of the trash cans. This allows you to pack at the airport while waiting for your flight instead of doing it at home. I suggest a double bagging so that people will think that you have money to blow on trash bags.
2. Flexibility
When asked if your bag fits into the bag size detector at the airport, you can cram your trashbag into the device, with clothes and toiletries oozing into ever crack and crevice, ensuring that your beanbag sized bag will make it as carry-on.
3. Speed
When you have a trashbag thrown over your shoulder, the TSA attendants at security assumes you work at the airport and will let you right through to the front of the line. When the metal detector goes off, just say, “Dustpan.”
4. Odor Protection
Stinky clothes or cheese from the Duty Free shop? Buy odor protection bags for your trip back. I suggest the twitsty-tie so that you can get into and out of your bag multiple times when you need a snack or to smell again if your clothes really stink. Man, I love my own stink.
5. Security
If you leave your bag on the floor, no one will pick it up. No one will report it as a bomb. No one will look inside to steal your shit. Even the cleaning people won't touch it because the union forbids them from EVER touching anything outside the trash bins. The only people you need to concern yourself with are the people, like me, who are looking to throw their stuff in a trash bag. When I see you at the airport, I’ll give you a thumbs-up.
So, Larry, toss that suitcase. When you look at a trash bag from now on, I want you to say, “This is My Suitcase.”
Love and respectfully,
HolyJuan
What shall i take in my suitcase? I have been thinking about this for a while and was hoping you might be able to shed some light on the subject.
Please help.
Thanks.
Warmest Regards,
Larry
Dear Larry,
Who uses a suitcase these days? Are you 100 years old? Is it a steamer or a trunk?
I suggest you throw that suitcase out and use a trash bag. Trash bags are better than suitcases for several reasons.
1. Price = free
They already have trash bags at the airport in the bottoms of the trash cans. This allows you to pack at the airport while waiting for your flight instead of doing it at home. I suggest a double bagging so that people will think that you have money to blow on trash bags.
2. Flexibility
When asked if your bag fits into the bag size detector at the airport, you can cram your trashbag into the device, with clothes and toiletries oozing into ever crack and crevice, ensuring that your beanbag sized bag will make it as carry-on.
3. Speed
When you have a trashbag thrown over your shoulder, the TSA attendants at security assumes you work at the airport and will let you right through to the front of the line. When the metal detector goes off, just say, “Dustpan.”
4. Odor Protection
Stinky clothes or cheese from the Duty Free shop? Buy odor protection bags for your trip back. I suggest the twitsty-tie so that you can get into and out of your bag multiple times when you need a snack or to smell again if your clothes really stink. Man, I love my own stink.
5. Security
If you leave your bag on the floor, no one will pick it up. No one will report it as a bomb. No one will look inside to steal your shit. Even the cleaning people won't touch it because the union forbids them from EVER touching anything outside the trash bins. The only people you need to concern yourself with are the people, like me, who are looking to throw their stuff in a trash bag. When I see you at the airport, I’ll give you a thumbs-up.
So, Larry, toss that suitcase. When you look at a trash bag from now on, I want you to say, “This is My Suitcase.”
Love and respectfully,
HolyJuan
20090727
Money Bag
I have a sum of money in this bag. First one to guess how much is in the bag gets the money.
To answer, you need to leave a comment with the guess and an e-mail address/twitter. You can also comment with a username if it is associated with an e-mail address. Any guess not associated with an e-mail address will be deleted.
One guess per person, please.
And no tricks! No mathematics or less than signs or formulas. Just the amount you think in US Dollars.
I’m not sure what the tax laws in your state are, but I am going to sneak around them when I send this to you by mail. Oh yeah, Haskckuhi, US residents only.
And yes, you are probably going to have to trust me about how much money is in the bag. It's written on the back side.
{Editor's Note - 7/28/09: It's less than $50.01 and more than $.01.}
To answer, you need to leave a comment with the guess and an e-mail address/twitter. You can also comment with a username if it is associated with an e-mail address. Any guess not associated with an e-mail address will be deleted.
One guess per person, please.
And no tricks! No mathematics or less than signs or formulas. Just the amount you think in US Dollars.
I’m not sure what the tax laws in your state are, but I am going to sneak around them when I send this to you by mail. Oh yeah, Haskckuhi, US residents only.
And yes, you are probably going to have to trust me about how much money is in the bag. It's written on the back side.
{Editor's Note - 7/28/09: It's less than $50.01 and more than $.01.}
20090726
My Homework
Russ and I have been friends since kindergarten. We rode the bus to school together for 12 years until he bought a car, which reminds me that I still owe him gas money. As kids, we would spend the night at each other’s houses or get dropped off by the bus after school to spend the afternoon together.
The most magical thing about Russ’ house was that his dad had a collection of Playboy magazines. Stacks of them. All kept in a very large bottom drawer of a huge filing cabinet. The drawer would have been big enough to hold the both of us if it wasn’t half full of magazines. If no one was at home, Russ and I would sneak a peek or two at the magazines and quickly hide them away when we heard a car coming up his, just long enough, gravel driveway. Russ was very careful about keeping his father’s secret a secret, so he didn’t like to take chances and we only took calculated looks in the drawer. I liked to take chances and it was a constant battle to keep me out of the garage.
One day after school, I went over to Russ’ house. We were supposed to do our homework, but we were keeping busy with video games. Russ’ mom came in and said that she was running off for a minute and that we should stay out of trouble as father would be home any minute. As soon as she left, I suggested we hit the drawer. Russ balked with the looming arrival of his father. I gave in.
Then I suggested we play hide and go seek.
I think I counted first to throw him off my plan. After finding him, he began to count and I ran off to the garage. I grabbed a flashlight and pulled open the huge drawer of goodness. I crawled in the drawer and with a bit of wiggling, pulled it shut.
Russ couldn’t find me for that twenty minutes of dimly lit heaven.
It was pretty hot in that drawer and I decided I should get out. Quick as can be I forced it open and shut it without a look back. I put the flashlight up and went inside to find Russ. I did not give up my hiding space. An hour later, mom came and picked me up. I couldn’t wait for my next visit.
That night, mom asked me if I had any homework. I remembered the worksheet in my back pocket that I was supposed to have completed at Russ’ house. I went to pull it out and it was gone. I thought I had left it at school. The next day at school the sheet wasn’t there and I got in trouble for not doing my homework.
I quickly forgot about the homework and was only reminded of it when Russ called me to say that the homework had been found by his father in the stash of Playboys. It had fallen out of my back pocket when I was squirming into/out of the drawer. My name was at the top of it. Russ’ dad yelled at Russ. Then in an odd turn of events, Russ’ mom yelled at Russ’ dad because she thought he had thrown all of those magazines out years ago.
Russ shared with me a very sad vision. One of his father out in the garage at night, working under a lamp, throwing out all the magazines from the drawer, stopping every so often to lovingly flip through one of them and then toss it in the bin with the rest.
Russ got in trouble. I got in trouble. Russ’ dad got in trouble. And the whole collection of playboys was thrown out.
But it was worth it. I can’t think of a more vivid memory from my youth. My neck bent up with my chin in my chest. Knees against the top of the drawer above me. Magazines an uneven surface beneath me. The sound of Russ’ feet shuffling through the garage as he hopelessly tried to find me. The very slight smell of paper mold and glue. The heat. And the weak yellow of the flashlight on the pink of the flesh. It’s all still there.
The most magical thing about Russ’ house was that his dad had a collection of Playboy magazines. Stacks of them. All kept in a very large bottom drawer of a huge filing cabinet. The drawer would have been big enough to hold the both of us if it wasn’t half full of magazines. If no one was at home, Russ and I would sneak a peek or two at the magazines and quickly hide them away when we heard a car coming up his, just long enough, gravel driveway. Russ was very careful about keeping his father’s secret a secret, so he didn’t like to take chances and we only took calculated looks in the drawer. I liked to take chances and it was a constant battle to keep me out of the garage.
One day after school, I went over to Russ’ house. We were supposed to do our homework, but we were keeping busy with video games. Russ’ mom came in and said that she was running off for a minute and that we should stay out of trouble as father would be home any minute. As soon as she left, I suggested we hit the drawer. Russ balked with the looming arrival of his father. I gave in.
Then I suggested we play hide and go seek.
I think I counted first to throw him off my plan. After finding him, he began to count and I ran off to the garage. I grabbed a flashlight and pulled open the huge drawer of goodness. I crawled in the drawer and with a bit of wiggling, pulled it shut.
Russ couldn’t find me for that twenty minutes of dimly lit heaven.
It was pretty hot in that drawer and I decided I should get out. Quick as can be I forced it open and shut it without a look back. I put the flashlight up and went inside to find Russ. I did not give up my hiding space. An hour later, mom came and picked me up. I couldn’t wait for my next visit.
That night, mom asked me if I had any homework. I remembered the worksheet in my back pocket that I was supposed to have completed at Russ’ house. I went to pull it out and it was gone. I thought I had left it at school. The next day at school the sheet wasn’t there and I got in trouble for not doing my homework.
I quickly forgot about the homework and was only reminded of it when Russ called me to say that the homework had been found by his father in the stash of Playboys. It had fallen out of my back pocket when I was squirming into/out of the drawer. My name was at the top of it. Russ’ dad yelled at Russ. Then in an odd turn of events, Russ’ mom yelled at Russ’ dad because she thought he had thrown all of those magazines out years ago.
Russ shared with me a very sad vision. One of his father out in the garage at night, working under a lamp, throwing out all the magazines from the drawer, stopping every so often to lovingly flip through one of them and then toss it in the bin with the rest.
Russ got in trouble. I got in trouble. Russ’ dad got in trouble. And the whole collection of playboys was thrown out.
But it was worth it. I can’t think of a more vivid memory from my youth. My neck bent up with my chin in my chest. Knees against the top of the drawer above me. Magazines an uneven surface beneath me. The sound of Russ’ feet shuffling through the garage as he hopelessly tried to find me. The very slight smell of paper mold and glue. The heat. And the weak yellow of the flashlight on the pink of the flesh. It’s all still there.
20090724
The REAL 13 Things Your Pizza Guy Won’t Tell You
I read an article on the 13 Things Your Pizza Guy Won't Tell You. They were pretty much bullshit. Here's a list of the REAL 13 things the pizza guy wont tell you:
1. The sauce really stings the open sore on his finger.
2. The cheese that misses the pizza and lands all over the place will make it back on top a pizza at some point in the night.
3. Pizza ain’t all he’s delivering.
4. The soap is still out in the employee bathroom.
5. If you do not tip him well, your next delivered three topping pizza will have four toppings.
6. He does wish you would come to the door topless.
7. The delivery guy is not en route and you are going to get the next thing that pops out of the oven.
8. It is hard to wipe a runny nose with the plastic gloves on, but he'll keep trying!
9. 30 minutes or less is a suggestion and not a goal
10. Long, scraggly hair is in. Hair nets are out.
11. Its hard to catch the flying disc of dough, but luckily the floor has enough flour on it to keep most of it from sticking.
12. Pizza guy is always very happy and he always seems to have red, bloodshot eyes.
13. You won’t believe some of the shit that will fit in the dough presser machine.
1. The sauce really stings the open sore on his finger.
2. The cheese that misses the pizza and lands all over the place will make it back on top a pizza at some point in the night.
3. Pizza ain’t all he’s delivering.
4. The soap is still out in the employee bathroom.
5. If you do not tip him well, your next delivered three topping pizza will have four toppings.
6. He does wish you would come to the door topless.
7. The delivery guy is not en route and you are going to get the next thing that pops out of the oven.
8. It is hard to wipe a runny nose with the plastic gloves on, but he'll keep trying!
9. 30 minutes or less is a suggestion and not a goal
10. Long, scraggly hair is in. Hair nets are out.
11. Its hard to catch the flying disc of dough, but luckily the floor has enough flour on it to keep most of it from sticking.
12. Pizza guy is always very happy and he always seems to have red, bloodshot eyes.
13. You won’t believe some of the shit that will fit in the dough presser machine.
20090721
Win
Author's Note: Was chatting with Dave B last night and this video came up in conversation. I forgot how much I liked it. I might need help.
AmyD and Me
AmyD is awesome.
She and I went to school together for a couple years in Lancaster. She was a goofball and I was a doofus. She was a ball of fire that would someday turn into a wild, yet dedicated mom and I was a dweeb seed that would someday sprout into a jerkwad dad. She moved away and once the internet was invented, I would sometimes Google "girl gets head stuck in chair" hoping to find her.
A mutual friend brought us together and last week we had lunch over at the Surly Girl.
Let me tell you that I am in love with AmyD! Not in the get divorced kind of way. But rather that I really respect this girl because she is open, honest and true. She speaks her mind and she normally has to do so with her foot in her mouth. She's not perfect, but she is a perfectionist. She is cute as much as she is still goofy. Still that 7th grader at heart, right before you didn't have to worry about what people thought of you.
I am trying to convince her to illustrate a book I haven't written yet.
Here's her site: http://www.madebyamyd.com/ Check her out. Buy her stuff. Tell her I said hello.
She and I went to school together for a couple years in Lancaster. She was a goofball and I was a doofus. She was a ball of fire that would someday turn into a wild, yet dedicated mom and I was a dweeb seed that would someday sprout into a jerkwad dad. She moved away and once the internet was invented, I would sometimes Google "girl gets head stuck in chair" hoping to find her.
A mutual friend brought us together and last week we had lunch over at the Surly Girl.
Let me tell you that I am in love with AmyD! Not in the get divorced kind of way. But rather that I really respect this girl because she is open, honest and true. She speaks her mind and she normally has to do so with her foot in her mouth. She's not perfect, but she is a perfectionist. She is cute as much as she is still goofy. Still that 7th grader at heart, right before you didn't have to worry about what people thought of you.
I am trying to convince her to illustrate a book I haven't written yet.
Here's her site: http://www.madebyamyd.com/ Check her out. Buy her stuff. Tell her I said hello.
A belated thank you note from a Bitter White Republican Guy
Dear Holy Juan,
While belated, I wanted to send you a heartfelt thank you note for allowing me the experience of reading your blog. Your documentation of the work along 315 nearly brings me to tears and YOU Holy Juan were the one who broke the story on the sale of President Fords leg. Additionally, I dont mind telling you I would be a lesser person had you not brought the plight of the sugar packet to my attention. I will never use artificial sweetener again!
Holy Juan, you are an American treasure and your name will ring out forever with the likes of John Clancy, Walt Whitman and Perez Hilton. Reading your blog allows me to experience one of the all time greats, it feels just like my first trip to Neverland Ranch each time I log on.
Thank you Holy Juan, thank you for your greatness and sharing it with the world!
Very Respectfully,
Bitter White Republican Guy
p.s. Note that this thank you message is in email form, one of the approved thank you note formats and NOT a DM on Twitter which would violate your instructions.
While belated, I wanted to send you a heartfelt thank you note for allowing me the experience of reading your blog. Your documentation of the work along 315 nearly brings me to tears and YOU Holy Juan were the one who broke the story on the sale of President Fords leg. Additionally, I dont mind telling you I would be a lesser person had you not brought the plight of the sugar packet to my attention. I will never use artificial sweetener again!
Holy Juan, you are an American treasure and your name will ring out forever with the likes of John Clancy, Walt Whitman and Perez Hilton. Reading your blog allows me to experience one of the all time greats, it feels just like my first trip to Neverland Ranch each time I log on.
Thank you Holy Juan, thank you for your greatness and sharing it with the world!
Very Respectfully,
Bitter White Republican Guy
p.s. Note that this thank you message is in email form, one of the approved thank you note formats and NOT a DM on Twitter which would violate your instructions.
The Worst F’ing Children's Book In The World
I’m sure Aunt Lara laughed, nay, cackled to herself when she stuck the copy of 
“Splish Splash- A Book of Five Jigsaws” in amongst the other children's books she was giving to Sally and me. She probably pulled it out from the bottom of a well where she threw it years earlier after it was passed on to her by some other parent driven insane by its madness.
It’s a pretty book. And there are jigsaws on the inside! Five of them. It’s like buying one jigsaw and getting four extras with a book thrown in for good measure.
This book is pure evil. Innocent at first, but over time it begins to gnaw at your soul.
First off, once your kid figures out that there is more than one puzzle, they will take out the pieces to multiple puzzles and mix them up. This requires you to sort out the puzzle pieces by color and, well heck, even though the illustrator had at least 1.45 million colors to choose from, they chose to make two of the puzzles blue and two orange, so you have to carefully pick through and guess which puzzle they go to.
Once the pieces are separated, it’s time to build the puzzle. I’m sure your little genius has a photographic memory, but my kids are not that smart and require the puzzle box top to remember what the sleeping lion looked like. This devil’s tome decided to put the photos of the puzzles on the back of the book and for some reason my kids decided that they have to turn the book upside down to see the back which dumps all the pieces back on the floor.
Once we did figure out to just close the book to see the back, there seems to be a bit of a problem with the 16 puzzle pieces in that many of them fit quite nicely together, even though they are not supposed to. For an adult, this isn’t a problem. But it’s as complicated all get out to a kid.
Daddy - “Those pieces don’t belong together, Ann.”
Ann - “But they fit.”
Daddy- “The picture doesn’t match.”
Ann- “But it fits.”
Daddy- “You win. The lion’s ass is in his mouth.”
Sally- “What was that?”
Daddy- “The lion’s laugh comes from his mouth.”
Sally- “You are fired.”
Here is the biggest pain in the ass. Normal puzzles come in a box. You take the pieces out, build the puzzle and then throw them back in the box when it is time to clean up. These book puzzles come already put together, you take them apart, and then build them again to put them away. This is all well in good in a perfect world, but in my world, guests are coming over and we need to clean up the living room. If this book is out, it means that the pieces are all over the place. With a normal puzzle, we’d tear apart the 20% of the puzzle the kid built before he got bored and throw it in the box with the other pieces. With this book, the pieces don’t have a place to hide. The pieces cannot be crammed in between the pages and tucked away. You have to build the puzzles to put the book away. Well, first you have to sort the five different colors, then build them and you are completely screwed if you drop the thing on the ground and watch as five puzzles slide out and intermingle on the floor.
After spending ten minutes working together to sort and build, Sally and I decided to throw the book out. Then at the last second I stopped from pitching it in the bin and said, “Let’s save this and give it to your cousin once she has kids.”
So now the book waits.
“Splish Splash- A Book of Five Jigsaws” in amongst the other children's books she was giving to Sally and me. She probably pulled it out from the bottom of a well where she threw it years earlier after it was passed on to her by some other parent driven insane by its madness.It’s a pretty book. And there are jigsaws on the inside! Five of them. It’s like buying one jigsaw and getting four extras with a book thrown in for good measure.
This book is pure evil. Innocent at first, but over time it begins to gnaw at your soul.
First off, once your kid figures out that there is more than one puzzle, they will take out the pieces to multiple puzzles and mix them up. This requires you to sort out the puzzle pieces by color and, well heck, even though the illustrator had at least 1.45 million colors to choose from, they chose to make two of the puzzles blue and two orange, so you have to carefully pick through and guess which puzzle they go to.
Once the pieces are separated, it’s time to build the puzzle. I’m sure your little genius has a photographic memory, but my kids are not that smart and require the puzzle box top to remember what the sleeping lion looked like. This devil’s tome decided to put the photos of the puzzles on the back of the book and for some reason my kids decided that they have to turn the book upside down to see the back which dumps all the pieces back on the floor.
Once we did figure out to just close the book to see the back, there seems to be a bit of a problem with the 16 puzzle pieces in that many of them fit quite nicely together, even though they are not supposed to. For an adult, this isn’t a problem. But it’s as complicated all get out to a kid.
Daddy - “Those pieces don’t belong together, Ann.”
Ann - “But they fit.”
Daddy- “The picture doesn’t match.”
Ann- “But it fits.”
Daddy- “You win. The lion’s ass is in his mouth.”
Sally- “What was that?”
Daddy- “The lion’s laugh comes from his mouth.”
Sally- “You are fired.”
Here is the biggest pain in the ass. Normal puzzles come in a box. You take the pieces out, build the puzzle and then throw them back in the box when it is time to clean up. These book puzzles come already put together, you take them apart, and then build them again to put them away. This is all well in good in a perfect world, but in my world, guests are coming over and we need to clean up the living room. If this book is out, it means that the pieces are all over the place. With a normal puzzle, we’d tear apart the 20% of the puzzle the kid built before he got bored and throw it in the box with the other pieces. With this book, the pieces don’t have a place to hide. The pieces cannot be crammed in between the pages and tucked away. You have to build the puzzles to put the book away. Well, first you have to sort the five different colors, then build them and you are completely screwed if you drop the thing on the ground and watch as five puzzles slide out and intermingle on the floor.
After spending ten minutes working together to sort and build, Sally and I decided to throw the book out. Then at the last second I stopped from pitching it in the bin and said, “Let’s save this and give it to your cousin once she has kids.”
So now the book waits.
20090720
The letter I cannot send
Hello XXX,
I hope this letter finds you well and that you are having a good summer. Have you run any office chairs through parking lots and into walls recently?
All joking aside, I was very disappointed that you didn't drop us a thank you note for your time spent at XXXXXXXX. It is possible that it got lost in the mail. It might have even been filtered out by our SPAM software. If you did send one and we did not get it, I am sorry as I was very interested to see what kind of creative letter you would put together. We thought that, though disjointed and sometimes uncoordinated, we provided you with an great learning experience and that you would have shared your appreciation with us by discussing the migration pattern of the Albanian tuskless walrus.
But if you did not take the time to thank us for the opportunity, allow me to be the one person whom you think of every time you should write a thank you note. There are three types of thank you notes: the kind you send your aunt when she gives you a sweater, the kind where you write about an experience and thank the people involved for their time and then there is the thank you note that you do not send.
The second one discussing your experience would have been great.
We even would have settled for the Aunt Sweater one.
But instead we got the third one. And sadly, the third one is the most memorable.
Next time, drop a note or an e-mail to the people who take time out of their lives to try and help you out. Whether it's a job interview or a gift. Even if it is a teacher or a coach. A thank you note says a lot about the person who is being thanked, but it also says something about the person sending it.
If you did send one, I am truly sorry you had to read this and I am sad that I didn't get to see it.
And if you didn't... obviously I am very disappointed. Don't let it happen again.
Take care and good luck,
Doug
I hope this letter finds you well and that you are having a good summer. Have you run any office chairs through parking lots and into walls recently?
All joking aside, I was very disappointed that you didn't drop us a thank you note for your time spent at XXXXXXXX. It is possible that it got lost in the mail. It might have even been filtered out by our SPAM software. If you did send one and we did not get it, I am sorry as I was very interested to see what kind of creative letter you would put together. We thought that, though disjointed and sometimes uncoordinated, we provided you with an great learning experience and that you would have shared your appreciation with us by discussing the migration pattern of the Albanian tuskless walrus.
But if you did not take the time to thank us for the opportunity, allow me to be the one person whom you think of every time you should write a thank you note. There are three types of thank you notes: the kind you send your aunt when she gives you a sweater, the kind where you write about an experience and thank the people involved for their time and then there is the thank you note that you do not send.
The second one discussing your experience would have been great.
We even would have settled for the Aunt Sweater one.
But instead we got the third one. And sadly, the third one is the most memorable.
Next time, drop a note or an e-mail to the people who take time out of their lives to try and help you out. Whether it's a job interview or a gift. Even if it is a teacher or a coach. A thank you note says a lot about the person who is being thanked, but it also says something about the person sending it.
If you did send one, I am truly sorry you had to read this and I am sad that I didn't get to see it.
And if you didn't... obviously I am very disappointed. Don't let it happen again.
Take care and good luck,
Doug
20090719
Ask HolyJuan: Girlfriend annoys boyfriend with word misuse (now with sexist bonus)
Dear Holyjuan,
Throughout the entire course of our relationship together, my girlfriend has been misusing a particular word. At first it was kind of cute and no one seemed to notice, so I let it go. But, recently she has increased her use of the word and its starting to drive me crazy. I want to know how to get the most out of this small, but oh so important shift in the balance of power. Do I spring it on her right before dinner with her parents? Or maybe in front of other people so they think I am more intelligent? This delicate situation where the man is right and the woman is wrong, so rarely happens, I thought you would be the person to best advise me and men everywhere on how to finally "take her down a peg".
Sincerely,
Whipped and Wordy
Dear W & W,
The word is “taint” isn’t it? Every f’ing chick out there uses the word “taint” and they throw it around like they are “taint” experts or taintsperts. The word is CHODE folks. The chode is the area of the male body between the balls and the butthole. I’m not sure why people use the word taint except for the catchy phrase, “’Taint your balls and ‘taint your butt.”
Nevertheless, you are looking for a solution and I have one that I picked up from The Dog Whisperer: a choke collar. The next time you have dinner with her folks, present her with this gift. Call is a stainless steel necklace that represents your love for her. Make sure you mention that you paid extra for the attached leather strapette. Insist she put it on immediately and make sure you have a firm grip on the strap. With a flair, change the topic of conversation from Al Gore to parts of the body that rhyme with “faint.” As soon as she says “taint”, give the leash a jerk and say, “NO!” in a very commanding voice.
It is very important at this time that you do not correct her by saying “chode.” Just correct the bad behavior. She needs to correct herself. In this way, she will see you as the one guiding her and not forcing her.
In about six weeks, you will be able to remove the leash and just leave the collar on her. In this time, she will find herself not using the word “taint” and slowly beginning to freely say, “Chode.” I do not expect relapse, but if she does, reattach the leash and keep a rolled up newspaper around to give her some reinforcement on the nose.
You. Are. Welcome.
HJ
BONUS!
For the easily offended, I rewrote this entry so that the sexes of the two people were switched to cover up for my sexism.
Dear Holyjuan,
Throughout the entire course of our relationship together, my boyfriend has been misusing a particular word. At first it was kind of cute and no one seemed to notice, so I let it go. But, recently he has increased his use of the word and its starting to drive me crazy. I want to know how to get the most out of this small, but oh so important shift in the balance of power. Do I spring it on him right before dinner with his parents? Or maybe in front of other people so they think I am more intelligent? This delicate situation where the woman is right and the man is wrong, so rarely happens, I thought you would be the person to best advise me and women everywhere on how to finally "take him down a peg".
Sincerely,
Whipped and Wordy
Dear W & W,
The word is “taint” isn’t it? Every f’ing dude out there uses the word “taint” and they throw it around like they are “taint” experts or taintsperts. The word is CHODE folks. The chode is the area of the male body between the balls and the butthole. I’m not sure why people use the word taint except for the catchy phrase, “’Taint your balls and ‘taint your butt.”
Nevertheless, you are looking for a solution and I have one that I picked up from The Dog Whisperer: a choke collar. The next time you have dinner with his folks, present him with this gift. Call is a stainless steel necklace that represents your love for him. Make sure you mention that you paid extra for the attached leather strapette. Insist he put it on immediately and make sure you have a firm grip on the strap. With a flair, change the topic of conversation from Al Gore to parts of the body that rhyme with “faint.” As soon as he says “taint”, give the leash a jerk and say, “NO!” in a very commanding voice.
It is very important at this time that you do not correct him by saying “chode.” Just correct the bad behavior. He needs to correct himself. In this way, he will see you as the one guiding him and not forcing him.
In about six weeks, you will be able to remove the leash and just leave the collar on him. In this time, he will find himself not using the word “taint” and slowly beginning to freely say, “Chode.” I do not expect relapse, but if he does, reattach the leash and keep a rolled up newspaper around to give him some reinforcement on the nose.
You. Are. Welcome.
HJ
Throughout the entire course of our relationship together, my girlfriend has been misusing a particular word. At first it was kind of cute and no one seemed to notice, so I let it go. But, recently she has increased her use of the word and its starting to drive me crazy. I want to know how to get the most out of this small, but oh so important shift in the balance of power. Do I spring it on her right before dinner with her parents? Or maybe in front of other people so they think I am more intelligent? This delicate situation where the man is right and the woman is wrong, so rarely happens, I thought you would be the person to best advise me and men everywhere on how to finally "take her down a peg".
Sincerely,
Whipped and Wordy
Dear W & W,
The word is “taint” isn’t it? Every f’ing chick out there uses the word “taint” and they throw it around like they are “taint” experts or taintsperts. The word is CHODE folks. The chode is the area of the male body between the balls and the butthole. I’m not sure why people use the word taint except for the catchy phrase, “’Taint your balls and ‘taint your butt.”
Nevertheless, you are looking for a solution and I have one that I picked up from The Dog Whisperer: a choke collar. The next time you have dinner with her folks, present her with this gift. Call is a stainless steel necklace that represents your love for her. Make sure you mention that you paid extra for the attached leather strapette. Insist she put it on immediately and make sure you have a firm grip on the strap. With a flair, change the topic of conversation from Al Gore to parts of the body that rhyme with “faint.” As soon as she says “taint”, give the leash a jerk and say, “NO!” in a very commanding voice.
It is very important at this time that you do not correct her by saying “chode.” Just correct the bad behavior. She needs to correct herself. In this way, she will see you as the one guiding her and not forcing her.
In about six weeks, you will be able to remove the leash and just leave the collar on her. In this time, she will find herself not using the word “taint” and slowly beginning to freely say, “Chode.” I do not expect relapse, but if she does, reattach the leash and keep a rolled up newspaper around to give her some reinforcement on the nose.
You. Are. Welcome.
HJ
BONUS!
For the easily offended, I rewrote this entry so that the sexes of the two people were switched to cover up for my sexism.
Dear Holyjuan,
Throughout the entire course of our relationship together, my boyfriend has been misusing a particular word. At first it was kind of cute and no one seemed to notice, so I let it go. But, recently he has increased his use of the word and its starting to drive me crazy. I want to know how to get the most out of this small, but oh so important shift in the balance of power. Do I spring it on him right before dinner with his parents? Or maybe in front of other people so they think I am more intelligent? This delicate situation where the woman is right and the man is wrong, so rarely happens, I thought you would be the person to best advise me and women everywhere on how to finally "take him down a peg".
Sincerely,
Whipped and Wordy
Dear W & W,
The word is “taint” isn’t it? Every f’ing dude out there uses the word “taint” and they throw it around like they are “taint” experts or taintsperts. The word is CHODE folks. The chode is the area of the male body between the balls and the butthole. I’m not sure why people use the word taint except for the catchy phrase, “’Taint your balls and ‘taint your butt.”
Nevertheless, you are looking for a solution and I have one that I picked up from The Dog Whisperer: a choke collar. The next time you have dinner with his folks, present him with this gift. Call is a stainless steel necklace that represents your love for him. Make sure you mention that you paid extra for the attached leather strapette. Insist he put it on immediately and make sure you have a firm grip on the strap. With a flair, change the topic of conversation from Al Gore to parts of the body that rhyme with “faint.” As soon as he says “taint”, give the leash a jerk and say, “NO!” in a very commanding voice.
It is very important at this time that you do not correct him by saying “chode.” Just correct the bad behavior. He needs to correct himself. In this way, he will see you as the one guiding him and not forcing him.
In about six weeks, you will be able to remove the leash and just leave the collar on him. In this time, he will find himself not using the word “taint” and slowly beginning to freely say, “Chode.” I do not expect relapse, but if he does, reattach the leash and keep a rolled up newspaper around to give him some reinforcement on the nose.
You. Are. Welcome.
HJ
20090718
How to tell if a woman wants to have sex with you.
For many men, it is nearly impossible to tell when a woman wants to have sex with them. It is in a man's best interest to know the signs of when a woman wants to have sex, so that they don’t look foolish getting shut down and/or getting tasered.
So here is how you can tell when a woman wants to have sex with you:
She says, “I want to have sex with you.”
This is the surest and easiest way to find out. It also usually means that if she’s giving in this easy, it is because no one else will have sex with her or she wants to make babies. Before you engage in the act of love with Lazy Eye Susan or Tranny Janice, put on a condom and check to make she is not sleepwalking.
She says, “I don’t think I should have sex with you.”
Do not confuse this with, “No.” No means no and you should back off. “I don’t think I should have sex with you,” however, is a very tricky phrase because of the "don't think". The woman is saying this because she knows she probably shouldn’t have sex with you and is trying to talk herself out of it. What you should do is follow up with, “You are right… we should not have sex.” Be cool. As the night progresses and you play your cards right, she might change her mind. Or she may mace you.
She asks who you voted for
This question is very tricky and only has one right answer. If you say Obama, she’ll think you are patronizing her and going for the easy lay. If you say McCain, she’ll think you are pathetic and go into how Palin was demonized by the media. You should say, Ron Paul, because chicks dig guys who live dangerously or that are crazy and voting for Paul puts you in both categories.
She reveals her shaved status to you
If a woman, during normal conversation, mentions that she has a landing strip, a patch, an arrow, a Mr. Miagi banzai tree, a heart or a scorned falafel… it means that she wants you to be comfortable with it and to know what to look for on your journey to happy land. If she hands you a tick comb and a machete before you head down south, bail.
She sticks her tongue out at you
I’m not sure why women do this, but be assured that if a woman sticks her tongue out at you in a playful manner, you, my friend, are in luck. I’m not sure if it is the playfulness or the act of revealing a moist body part, but either way, you should make your move. Note, sometimes little girls stick their tongues out at people… The rule does not apply in these situations, idiot.
She invites you to her place
If a woman has class and self-dignity, she’ll couch the invite under the auspices of seeing the fabulous view from her bedroom, her new cute-as-a-button puppy or to drink some trendy, exotic tea. If she’s a dirty-girl-sure-thing or just doesn’t care about her reputation in the community, she’ll simply ask you to come home with her to test all the prime numbers on her Sleep Number Bed. Be extremely wary of any woman who asks you home to see her stamp collection or vast collection of power tools. Be extremely cautious of any chick who requests you to help with some light digging or to exfoliate her “ridged monkey” – you might end up being made into furniture.
She asks you to walk her to her car
You have to treat this one carefully. Sometimes, after a date or a night out with friends, a woman is just looking for someone to walk her to her car. But sometimes she is looking to cull you from the herd, to get you alone, so that she can then ask you back to her place. In rare "walk me to my car" instances, you can get a damsel in distress fuck if, by chance, her car battery is dead and you can give her a jump. You can exponentially increase your chances of success by getting to her car beforehand and disconnecting her battery. When you save the day with your jumper cables and freaky mechanical intuition, she will feel obligated to invite you to her place for a cup of coffee to thank you. After that, it’s up to you, sport.
Sure-Fire
If you’re not having any luck getting a girl to flash you any of the aforementioned green-light signals, perhaps you need to lower your standards. Below are a few sure-fire situations where a woman is almost guaranteed to have sex with you:
She’s 43 or older, divorced and it’s her birthday.
She gives you free video-booth tokens at the porno store.
She has the tell-tale DUI yellow license plates on her car (note that colors vary by state, do your homework).
Every time you order a rum and coke, she mouths the word, “coke,” and starts sniffling.
She has to keep closing one eye to see you clearly at the bar… and she only has one eye.
She has a nickname like Flash, Slick, Lucky, Fast n’ Easy or Ruby.
She weighs less than 80 pounds, has sores on her back and/or can’t stop coughing.
She’s from Jersey.
So here is how you can tell when a woman wants to have sex with you:
She says, “I want to have sex with you.”
This is the surest and easiest way to find out. It also usually means that if she’s giving in this easy, it is because no one else will have sex with her or she wants to make babies. Before you engage in the act of love with Lazy Eye Susan or Tranny Janice, put on a condom and check to make she is not sleepwalking.
She says, “I don’t think I should have sex with you.”
Do not confuse this with, “No.” No means no and you should back off. “I don’t think I should have sex with you,” however, is a very tricky phrase because of the "don't think". The woman is saying this because she knows she probably shouldn’t have sex with you and is trying to talk herself out of it. What you should do is follow up with, “You are right… we should not have sex.” Be cool. As the night progresses and you play your cards right, she might change her mind. Or she may mace you.
She asks who you voted for
This question is very tricky and only has one right answer. If you say Obama, she’ll think you are patronizing her and going for the easy lay. If you say McCain, she’ll think you are pathetic and go into how Palin was demonized by the media. You should say, Ron Paul, because chicks dig guys who live dangerously or that are crazy and voting for Paul puts you in both categories.
She reveals her shaved status to you
If a woman, during normal conversation, mentions that she has a landing strip, a patch, an arrow, a Mr. Miagi banzai tree, a heart or a scorned falafel… it means that she wants you to be comfortable with it and to know what to look for on your journey to happy land. If she hands you a tick comb and a machete before you head down south, bail.
She sticks her tongue out at you
I’m not sure why women do this, but be assured that if a woman sticks her tongue out at you in a playful manner, you, my friend, are in luck. I’m not sure if it is the playfulness or the act of revealing a moist body part, but either way, you should make your move. Note, sometimes little girls stick their tongues out at people… The rule does not apply in these situations, idiot.
She invites you to her place
If a woman has class and self-dignity, she’ll couch the invite under the auspices of seeing the fabulous view from her bedroom, her new cute-as-a-button puppy or to drink some trendy, exotic tea. If she’s a dirty-girl-sure-thing or just doesn’t care about her reputation in the community, she’ll simply ask you to come home with her to test all the prime numbers on her Sleep Number Bed. Be extremely wary of any woman who asks you home to see her stamp collection or vast collection of power tools. Be extremely cautious of any chick who requests you to help with some light digging or to exfoliate her “ridged monkey” – you might end up being made into furniture.
She asks you to walk her to her car
You have to treat this one carefully. Sometimes, after a date or a night out with friends, a woman is just looking for someone to walk her to her car. But sometimes she is looking to cull you from the herd, to get you alone, so that she can then ask you back to her place. In rare "walk me to my car" instances, you can get a damsel in distress fuck if, by chance, her car battery is dead and you can give her a jump. You can exponentially increase your chances of success by getting to her car beforehand and disconnecting her battery. When you save the day with your jumper cables and freaky mechanical intuition, she will feel obligated to invite you to her place for a cup of coffee to thank you. After that, it’s up to you, sport.
Sure-Fire
If you’re not having any luck getting a girl to flash you any of the aforementioned green-light signals, perhaps you need to lower your standards. Below are a few sure-fire situations where a woman is almost guaranteed to have sex with you:
She’s 43 or older, divorced and it’s her birthday.
She gives you free video-booth tokens at the porno store.
She has the tell-tale DUI yellow license plates on her car (note that colors vary by state, do your homework).
Every time you order a rum and coke, she mouths the word, “coke,” and starts sniffling.
She has to keep closing one eye to see you clearly at the bar… and she only has one eye.
She has a nickname like Flash, Slick, Lucky, Fast n’ Easy or Ruby.
She weighs less than 80 pounds, has sores on her back and/or can’t stop coughing.
She’s from Jersey.
20090716
Greg and the Lorikeet
I love this photo:
I'm not sure if it's because of his tentative, stiff stance. Or that he's getting bigger.
Or it might be because of the pregnant guy with the goatee behind him. YIKES!
I'm not sure if it's because of his tentative, stiff stance. Or that he's getting bigger.
Or it might be because of the pregnant guy with the goatee behind him. YIKES!
Need Reassurance? Call (614) 429-4365
Do you need reassurance? Call (614) 429-4365 and get some.
Things are going to get better.
Things are going to get better.
20090715
El MacGyver
My buddy Keegan saw this handy road worker while passing through a road construction site in New Mexico.
I'm sure that if MacGyver were of Hispanic descent and stuck on a road construction site with nothing but a hard hat, a pizza box and a knife (and the obligatory duct tape), he'd do the same thing if the sun was in his eyes.
I'm sure that if MacGyver were of Hispanic descent and stuck on a road construction site with nothing but a hard hat, a pizza box and a knife (and the obligatory duct tape), he'd do the same thing if the sun was in his eyes.
20090714
Quart Percentage
I worked at a Baskin-Robbins store in Lancaster back in the late 80’s. The folks at Baskin-Robbins corporate thought that it would be interesting to have a contest to see which store could sell the most pre-pack quarts of ice cream and tied in 
monetary incentive to ensure that everyone was excited to participate. Our store manager Mike took the bait and set up an in-store contest with all the workers to see who could sell the most quarts.
At the time, I was working about 30-40 hours per week at the store. I would open at 9:00am and work until 5:00pm. I sold a shit load of quarts. Mike kept track of quart sales on a grid and updated it every few days. The entire staff went absolutely out of their way to suggest our customers purchase quarts instead of dipping. It was quite obnoxious.
It was easy to see on the chart that I was way in the lead on quart sales, but Mike had a final column which divided the number of quarts sold by the number of hours worked. When that percentage was factored in, I was in third place. I tried to argue that I worked the slow hours and that quantity should reign, but Mike would have none of that. So I redoubled my efforts and tried to outsell my hours.
In the end, I failed. One of the chicks who worked an average of five hours a week won. There was no prize for second place. Mike said to me, “Sorry, Doug. It’s all about percentages.”
But there was a caramel chocolate crunch lining to the cloud. Mike suggested that if our store won in the region, he would share the wealth. As Mike tallied up the numbers, he saw that we were way ahead in the region. Baskin-Robbins corporate was basing the winner on percentage increase in sales from the previous quarter. By Mike's math, our store was in the lead ahead of all the other stores due to the frenzied sales staff. There was no way we could lose.
Except that we did.
One other Baskin-Robbins store in the region had not sold any pre-packed quarts in the previous quarter. When they finally did sell a few quarts, the fine folks at Baskin-Robbins accounting set their calculators on fire trying to divide by zero. So instead they set the store’s previous quart sales at “1” and you can see that even if they only sold one other quart, their sales would have increased 100%. While our store's sales increased 65% over the quarter, the other store’s sales went up some ungodly percentage because they sold more than one quart. That store was awarded the win and our store was in a distant second place, but there was no prize for second place.
Sorry, Mike. It’s all about percentages.
{Author’s note: Damn right I made up most those numbers. I can’t remember those kind of details from that long ago. The numerical intent is solid. We did get fucked and I did have the most quart sales.}
monetary incentive to ensure that everyone was excited to participate. Our store manager Mike took the bait and set up an in-store contest with all the workers to see who could sell the most quarts. At the time, I was working about 30-40 hours per week at the store. I would open at 9:00am and work until 5:00pm. I sold a shit load of quarts. Mike kept track of quart sales on a grid and updated it every few days. The entire staff went absolutely out of their way to suggest our customers purchase quarts instead of dipping. It was quite obnoxious.
It was easy to see on the chart that I was way in the lead on quart sales, but Mike had a final column which divided the number of quarts sold by the number of hours worked. When that percentage was factored in, I was in third place. I tried to argue that I worked the slow hours and that quantity should reign, but Mike would have none of that. So I redoubled my efforts and tried to outsell my hours.
In the end, I failed. One of the chicks who worked an average of five hours a week won. There was no prize for second place. Mike said to me, “Sorry, Doug. It’s all about percentages.”
But there was a caramel chocolate crunch lining to the cloud. Mike suggested that if our store won in the region, he would share the wealth. As Mike tallied up the numbers, he saw that we were way ahead in the region. Baskin-Robbins corporate was basing the winner on percentage increase in sales from the previous quarter. By Mike's math, our store was in the lead ahead of all the other stores due to the frenzied sales staff. There was no way we could lose.
Except that we did.
One other Baskin-Robbins store in the region had not sold any pre-packed quarts in the previous quarter. When they finally did sell a few quarts, the fine folks at Baskin-Robbins accounting set their calculators on fire trying to divide by zero. So instead they set the store’s previous quart sales at “1” and you can see that even if they only sold one other quart, their sales would have increased 100%. While our store's sales increased 65% over the quarter, the other store’s sales went up some ungodly percentage because they sold more than one quart. That store was awarded the win and our store was in a distant second place, but there was no prize for second place.
Sorry, Mike. It’s all about percentages.
{Author’s note: Damn right I made up most those numbers. I can’t remember those kind of details from that long ago. The numerical intent is solid. We did get fucked and I did have the most quart sales.}
20090709
Franklin County to begin issuing subpoenas via Twitter
COLUMBUS, OH (HJ) – If you have ever had to issue or deliver a subpoena, you know what a hassle and expense it can be. In Columbus, OH, subpoena issuing by the County Sheriff’s department took up as much as 8% of officers’ time. With recent budget crackdowns, the county is looking into new ways to save money. One of those ways is to digitally serve subpoenas via the online social media site, Twitter.
Current county laws do not allow subpoenas to be e-mailed to a private computer. Subpoenas must be issued in a public forum. Because Twitter is a public entity, issuing subpoenas is legal and only takes a few minutes as opposed to days or sometimes weeks.
Franklin County began the process by digitizing the notary service. A digital notary can digitally affix their certificate to attest the execution of the document, as long as the constituent provides an on-line photo and bio to prove who they are. Currently, only Facebook.com and MySpace.com are being accepted as legal forms of on-line identity.
With the notary public’s digital stamp and full documents kept digitally in an online accessible database, the constituent can then have a third party, who has a Twitter account, issue the papers, online, in a public forum. The third party needs to ensure that the person to be subpoenaed has at least one follower. The “tweet” must include some legal jargon, the appearance date, the notary’s digital stamp or Twitter user name, and a link to the on-line documents.
Franklin County expects to save over $45,000 in 2009. The county has not yet created a clever way to put the words subpoena and Twitter together.
Current county laws do not allow subpoenas to be e-mailed to a private computer. Subpoenas must be issued in a public forum. Because Twitter is a public entity, issuing subpoenas is legal and only takes a few minutes as opposed to days or sometimes weeks.
Franklin County began the process by digitizing the notary service. A digital notary can digitally affix their certificate to attest the execution of the document, as long as the constituent provides an on-line photo and bio to prove who they are. Currently, only Facebook.com and MySpace.com are being accepted as legal forms of on-line identity.
With the notary public’s digital stamp and full documents kept digitally in an online accessible database, the constituent can then have a third party, who has a Twitter account, issue the papers, online, in a public forum. The third party needs to ensure that the person to be subpoenaed has at least one follower. The “tweet” must include some legal jargon, the appearance date, the notary’s digital stamp or Twitter user name, and a link to the on-line documents.
Franklin County expects to save over $45,000 in 2009. The county has not yet created a clever way to put the words subpoena and Twitter together.
Ask HolyJuan: How can I get more followers on Twitter?
Dear HolyJuan,
I am on Twitter, but I do not have very many followers. Why is that? Can you help me get more followers?
Yours truly,
@chicoktc
Dear Circle with an A in it chicoktc,
You have several problems, the first one being that you are using Twitter. Obviously you are well aware of that problem and seem to be at terms with it, so we will not discuss that issue.
Let’s look at the most obvious issue: your username. @chickoktc, broken down, obviously means "chic" (French for toast) "OK" (Oklahoma) and "TC" (the helicopter pilot from Magnum PI).
I’m not sure if this is secret code for something very gay or if it is a desperate cry for attention. Either way, people on Twitter don’t like things that are confusing or require a lot of thinking. I would suggest a name change to something that most Twitter people can understand like @selfabsorbedegotist or @lookatmenownownow or @someonefamousjustcommentedonmycomment.
Another issue I see is your profile photo.
By looking at your shirt, I can tell this photo is from the late 80’s, probably at Myrtle Beach. This is not working. Try taking a super close up photo of your eye. Make pouty lips, that one’s popular with the ladies. How about a photo of your cat? The last thing anyone wants to see is you in some normal pose that shows you exactly as you are. Make a statement and make it a false one. Or just post a photo of a hot chick in a bikini.
Here’s a biggie. Sometimes you speak in English, which is a lot more than can be said of many people on Twitter. But many other times, you start typing gibberish which looks to be some beaver language.
Cut that shit out! Twitter is an English word so you should stick with English or one of the many variants.
You also use some very angry language. Take this tweet: RIP MJ
How dare you! Michael Jackson is an icon and there is no need to rip the poor guy. Just let him rest in peace.
Wow. Looking at the people you follow… Abe Lincoln? The number 4? @THE_REAL_SHAQ? Come on, if he were real, why would he have to put “REAL” in front of his name? You’ve got to start following some actual real people like @homestarrunner @BillOReilly @HilaryClintonsSling. Try those for starters and see if maybe people will notice how cool you are and that you might be worth following. I do see you are following @holyjuan which is a start.
Or you could just do what everyone else does, which is to spam a ton of people and hope they follow you back seeing as they are pathetic people who have very few followers as well. Soon you’ll find yourself with 45,000 followers and a much, much better life.
So to sum up: change name, chick in a bikini, Magnum PI movie to be released in 2011, spam, and watch the beaver language.
You are welcome!
I am on Twitter, but I do not have very many followers. Why is that? Can you help me get more followers?
Yours truly,
@chicoktc
Dear Circle with an A in it chicoktc,
You have several problems, the first one being that you are using Twitter. Obviously you are well aware of that problem and seem to be at terms with it, so we will not discuss that issue.
Let’s look at the most obvious issue: your username. @chickoktc, broken down, obviously means "chic" (French for toast) "OK" (Oklahoma) and "TC" (the helicopter pilot from Magnum PI).
I’m not sure if this is secret code for something very gay or if it is a desperate cry for attention. Either way, people on Twitter don’t like things that are confusing or require a lot of thinking. I would suggest a name change to something that most Twitter people can understand like @selfabsorbedegotist or @lookatmenownownow or @someonefamousjustcommentedonmycomment.
Another issue I see is your profile photo.
By looking at your shirt, I can tell this photo is from the late 80’s, probably at Myrtle Beach. This is not working. Try taking a super close up photo of your eye. Make pouty lips, that one’s popular with the ladies. How about a photo of your cat? The last thing anyone wants to see is you in some normal pose that shows you exactly as you are. Make a statement and make it a false one. Or just post a photo of a hot chick in a bikini.
Here’s a biggie. Sometimes you speak in English, which is a lot more than can be said of many people on Twitter. But many other times, you start typing gibberish which looks to be some beaver language.
Cut that shit out! Twitter is an English word so you should stick with English or one of the many variants.
You also use some very angry language. Take this tweet: RIP MJ
How dare you! Michael Jackson is an icon and there is no need to rip the poor guy. Just let him rest in peace.
Wow. Looking at the people you follow… Abe Lincoln? The number 4? @THE_REAL_SHAQ? Come on, if he were real, why would he have to put “REAL” in front of his name? You’ve got to start following some actual real people like @homestarrunner @BillOReilly @HilaryClintonsSling. Try those for starters and see if maybe people will notice how cool you are and that you might be worth following. I do see you are following @holyjuan which is a start.
Or you could just do what everyone else does, which is to spam a ton of people and hope they follow you back seeing as they are pathetic people who have very few followers as well. Soon you’ll find yourself with 45,000 followers and a much, much better life.
So to sum up: change name, chick in a bikini, Magnum PI movie to be released in 2011, spam, and watch the beaver language.
You are welcome!
20090706
Rules for HoleyBoard
I learned about HoleyBoard in college from my Canton friends. There is a lot to be said about HoleyBoard, but I don't have time for it now. Let's just say that the best wedding gift that Miss Sally and I received was a set of HoleyBoards.
I did have time to touch up the rules for HoleyBoard. These rules are different from the standard rules that my Cleveland friends play by. We think they are much more competitive.
You can check out the Columbus version 1.4 here: http://docs.google.com/View?id=dc4msf36_3cwwp3qfh
The biggest differences include:
-going over 21 points subtracts total points gained that round from your starting score
-no ties
Greg is already a HoleyBoard champ, beating several of his cousins this weekend.
I did have time to touch up the rules for HoleyBoard. These rules are different from the standard rules that my Cleveland friends play by. We think they are much more competitive.
You can check out the Columbus version 1.4 here: http://docs.google.com/View?id=dc4msf36_3cwwp3qfh
The biggest differences include:
-going over 21 points subtracts total points gained that round from your starting score
-no ties
Greg is already a HoleyBoard champ, beating several of his cousins this weekend.
20090704
Doug Unshaven
I went four days without shaving. I think half a beard makes my head look smaller. Kinda.
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