Fundamentalist Swimwear

Stephanie sent me an e-mail with a link to What a treat! Who knew that there was such a resource for my Fundamentalist swim needs!

Culotte Swimmer

Here’s the Culotte Swimmer on what looks to be that girl from “Full House.” It’s for the more active swimmer. Culotte roughly translates to "virgin until thirty-five."

Skirted Swimmer

The Skirted Swimmer looks to be a bit racier. Probably for the Louisiana Fundamentalists. You can make your own "Blossom" comments on this one. (I also like the girl running the dynamite wire from the abortion clinic on the WWJD pink spool.)

Extended Slimming Swimmer

Finally, the Extended Slimming Swimmer for hiding those naughty, naughty calves. Or for covering up the “dinner was late” bruises.

And we laugh at the Burka…

Which reminds me of… the Burkini!

Jesus cartoon phase

I am sorry for my recent Jesus cartoon phase. I can't seem to get the big guy out of my head.

Give me a few days to get out of this rut and I'll try to get back up to speed.

Thank you.



Jesus was a carpenter

Jesus at the company picnic

Jesus on a rollercoaster

The Snowball Fight

Here is an entry for Handsome Joe, though you all have my permission to take a peek.

Joe, remember this night? See below for a translation.

2/25 - 2/26/93
Tonight was snowball heaven. Joe hit the dude that crossed over to the South Side and I hit the guy with the hat and knocked it off. We saw 2 or 3 guys arrested. We hit cops and went sledding down Music Building Hill. Who is the girl with the braces? We had a good time. Where's your bra. (I think it was about Lil' Deb.)

I'll re-tell this story tomorrow once I collaborate with Handsome Joe.

Skinny Dipping on Both Coasts

I used to love to go skinny dipping. Usually with a drink in to get the inhabitation out. Usually with some girl I was after and sadly some other guys who were after the same girl. And usually in a dank pond or Lake Erie or both. In 1994, during the Perseid meteor shower, I dipped in the Atlantic Ocean just outside of Boston. No story there. I was in and out just to say that I had been in both the left and the right oceans. It was in 1992 while working in Alaska that I went skinny dipping in the Pacific Ocean and lived this story.

Taylor was a big guy. He was genetically large and worked out on top of that. I only saw him get red once and that was resolved quickly when the cause of the red left the bar at a faster than medium pace. Taylor worked with me in a salmon canning factory in Ketichikan, Alaska. Taylor’s job at the fish cannery was to pull the full carts of freshly steamed canned salmon out of the retort ovens. He’d push around a whole series of loaded carts like they were empty. Dude was big.

We were drinking on the barge one night after work. We drank on the barge every night and this was just another one of those nights. Taylor took a lot of vitamins and supplements and he was sharing his niacin with me. I took a few and washed them down with some beer. He said, “You might start to feel hot.” In about ten minutes I thought my skin was going to peel off. He laughed and said that was normal. I haven’t taken any niacin since. Later in the night when we were all a bit more drunk than normal, Taylor suggested we take a drive to the beach. Three of us said yes, which would make a total of four except that on the way out we grabbed one more. I forget her name, but she was the second best looking girl at the cannery and I drunkenly thought I had a chance. (Sue was the best looking girl. She won’t be mentioned again.)

Taylor had a late 70’s Suburban. He had driven in up the Al-Can from California. I’m pretty sure 25% of the Suburban is still on the Al-Can in bits and pieces. We all got in and drove about five miles to the beach. We had to wind down the South Tongass Highway to the end of the island. In route we mistakenly turned into an empty lot beside the road that Taylor thought was the gravel road to the beach. In that dirt lot was an abandoned car with doors. He spun back out, drove on and got to the end of the road which happened to be the beach.

The beach was actually sandy. I was expecting jagged edges and boulders. We drank beer and ran through the waves. With my shoes off, I could drag my bare feet thorough the sand and scare up the microbes that glow in the dark. Though I didn’t know the word at the time, it was a bit surreal. Which of course is the best time to go skinny dipping. I tried to talk 2nd best looking girl into stripping down, but she said no more than once. So I stripped down and ran in the waves thinking that others would follow. About fifteen feet into the water, the absolute cold snuck its way past the beer and leftover niacin and tickled the little bit of sense I had left. Squealing like a little girl or a twenty one year old boy with shriveled testicles, I splashed to the shore. In my earlier haste to strip down, my clothes ended up getting wet. At this point I realized that I was very, very cold from the water and the warm beer feeling from earlier was very, very replaced by the knowledge that it was only about sixty degrees out. I put on my wet clothes and ran to the Suburban.

More realizations were handed out when we started driving back and Taylor said the heater in the Suburban didn’t work. I forgot about 2nd best looking and curled up just trying to keep warm. Maybe I should have thought about niacin, but I didn’t have the opportunity with Taylor slamming his Suburban into the abandoned car. On the way back to the cannery, Taylor remembered the abandoned car in the huge dirt lot and decided to crash into it. He did several times and then things got fun. One of the guys jumped out and opened the driver’s side door. Taylor drove into it from behind at about 20 mph. It snapped off more than a lot. I got out of the back seat to watch the passenger side door get bent impossibly backwards, but not broken off. We three tried to push it into a slammable position, but it wouldn’t budge. Taylor nudged the mighty Suburban right on the door edge and tried a bit of horsepower on it. That didn’t do anything but shove the car, stiff wheels protesting, backwards. That gave Taylor a great idea. He positioned his truck front bumper to the front bumper of the abandoned car and pushed it backwards, faster and faster. At a point, all the wheels stopped resisting and started to roll. Taylor slammed on his breaks and the car flew solo across the road and slammed, with a satisfying, glass breaking crunch into some trees. I had forgotten I was cold.

This story ends with me remembering I was cold. Taylor had fucked up his transmission in all the pushing and destruction. He spent twenty minutes between the driver and passenger seat, drunkly fixing the problem as I regained my shivers. He drove in first gear all the way home. Standing in the barge showers, fully clothed, I thought to myself that at some point in my life I should go skinny dipping in the Atlantic Ocean. Hopefully during warmer weather. Possibly during a meteor shower.

Bolt meets windshield

Check out this photo from

Ouch. That made me want to look for other windshield debris:



Deer Face (it lived)

How much money do you have?

Greg brought me a Star Wars product catalog and started pointing out all the things he wanted. It would have been quicker for him to show me the things he did not want.

I said, “How much money do you have?”

He said, “More than a lot.”

I am going to use that phrase as much as possible.

Train Wreck

Train Wreck, originally uploaded by puzzlemaster.

We went out for Dave's Birthday last night. I did not plan my eating/drinking correctly and ended up bailing at the last minute instead of going into Skully's.

I stood across the street from Skully's and thought to myself, If I go in there, I'll be up until 3:00am and completely destroyed. So I turned around and got back in my car and went home.

DNA Bench with H2O

DNA Bench, originally uploaded by Informal Learning Experiences.

Here is a great example of when artistic design gets a slap in the face from real life interaction.

Or another way of saying it would be when an artist gets slapped with a lawsuit.

I also hate it when a perfectly good climbing surface is called art and rendered unclimbable.

What kind of company logo/mascot is this?

We saw this logo on the side of a company van today:

(image from

What the fuck is that! That rat has one hell of a robotic, claw appendage extending from its groin or it's humping a drain snake. Add the Jesus Fish on his sleeve and the Ohio State hat and you've got yourself one hell of a mascot.

They are a plumbing company in Columbus Ohio called Swamp Rat. Next time I have a meat plug in the toilet during a Buckeyes game and I need some religion, I'm going to give them a call.

Verizon gets your consent by not getting your consent.

Verizon’s definition of “getting your consent” is not getting your consent and unless you un-give them the original assumption of consent, you have, in their eyes, given your full consent.

It’s garbage day and that means that I can go through the mailbox and have the garbage cans right there to throw away all the crap mail. As I was disposing of the chaff, I saw an envelope from Verizon that stank of sales offers. The only thing that kept if from the trash was the black lettering on the outside that mentioned “changes to your account.”

Inside the envelope was a brochure with the first section titled, “You privacy is important to us.” (See scan below. Click to enlarge.) In the brochure, it clearly states that, “The Federal Communications Commission requires that (Verizon) obtains your consent to (share Customer Proprietary Network Information.)" The Customer Proprietary Network Information (CPNI) is information “such as, quality, technical configuration, type, destination, location, and amount of the use of the telecommunications services you purchase.” It also says that CPNI isn’t my name, address to telephone number, but I don’t give a shit…

I’m pissed that their definition of “giving consent” is doing nothing. To not give consent, I have to call a number and “opt out” of my consent that I never gave. One of my favorite sayings is, "Silence means consent," but this seems out of line. The FCC requires they get my consent and damnit they should have to get it from me.

I just called and the automated system was painless to un-consent.

Maybe I have not been reading my Customer Agreements and perhaps this is commonplace, but it just stinks. If you are a Verizon customer and want to “opt out” of your assumption of consent, do so at 800-333-9956.

If any of you know why this is something I should be un-opting out of, please help me by explaining why.

Work Conversation by Two-Sack

Team member X: "Your computer is disgusting, and your keyboard is crusty."
Two-Sack: "You got something against DNA, a-hole?"
Team member Y: "And your touch pad is the worst."
Two-Sack: "That's my landing zone."

Hanging out at the water cooler

This photo is so wrong on so many levels. That is a plastic thumb hanging out of my shirt. I'm not sure what those stains are. That look on my face is awful.

Put them together and they make one hell of a photo.

Gay Man’s Book Day

I don’t think it comes as a surprise to any of you that I am gay. Super gay. Here’s how gay:

Miss Sally goes out about once a week with her friends. Once she leaves the house and the kids are in bed, John will come over and we watch a movie and eat pop corn. We call it “Gay Man’s Movie Night.” We like to discuss the movie and laugh (Borat} or be sad {The Life Aquatic} or wonder what all the hype was about {Knocked Up.}

A few weeks ago, John and I were at a bar after an Ohio State football game. There were a lot of hot girls there. Hot, drunk girls. John and I stood around on the edge of the dance floor and debated a number of logic points in Stephen Donaldson’s most recent book. A girl sauntered off the dance floor and completely unprovoked she said to us, “You are both pathetic.” She then turned back out on to the dance floor. We were stunned. And then we laughed. It was true. Gay Man’s Date Night.

Tomorrow, Stephen R. Donaldson’s next book is coming out. I re-arranged my meetings so that I would be done by 11:00am. John took the day off. We’ll meet at the Barnes and Nobel around noon and buy two copies of the book. I expect that we will cuddle up next to each other on a couch in the cafe and read the first 100 pages or so. Gay Man’s Book Day.

And that's how gay I am.

If you have any other date selections for us, please let us know.

And P.S.: Robert Jordan can suck Donaldson’s balls. Donaldson writes circles around that hack. That was your Gay Man’s Author Critique.

See anything wrong with this school crossing sign?

This was a school crossing sign I saw in Seville, Spain back in 1993. No photoshopping on my part. It's black and white because that's what you are 'sposed to take photos with in foreign countries.

Ad Placement... which are the conjoined twins?

I saw this news report about conjoined twins today. As I looked in the article I thought, "Those kids don't look like twins." As I watched, the photo flipped to an advertisement. Then I saw the real conjoined twins in the upper right hand corner. I waited until the ad cycled and took a screen shot.

Good Luck Miss Shelly!!

Good luck with your surgery Miss Shelly.

We'll be thinking of you.

Oh, and make sure you get everything they take out of you back in jars and labeled. I went in for a simple surgery and the surgeon removed three inches from my penis! Now, what am I supposed to do now that I only have eight inches?

Rock Star Parking vs Movie Star Parking

Let’s say you are driving out to a restaurant and as you prepare to circle the block 18 times looking for a parking spot, a space appears right in front of the restaurant. What kind of parking do you call that? My friend Erik calls it Rock Star Parking. I call it Movie Star parking. Who is right?

I am biased, but I will try to be fair.

Erik is wrong. I am right. It's called Movie Star Parking

Rock Star Parking implies that because Rock Stars are famous/popular that a spot in front of a destination will be reserved for them. Or that they are so important that people will make room for them. Or perhaps they are so special that the parking god (I believe her name is Vera) just makes a spot magically appear.

The flaw in Erik’s logic is that Rock Stars don’t drive themselves. They have their driver or an entourage that drop them off at the front door. Even more likely, Rock Stars are dropped of at back doors to avoid the types of people that might save them a parking spot in front.

I refer to good parking as Movie Star Parking because no one in the movies ever parks more than ten steps away from an entrance. A space always is open. There usually isn’t a meter. They don’t even need to parallel park as there are three open spaces so they can glide in. Sometimes the scene in the movie just cuts to them getting out of an already parked car.

It’s Movie Star parking. An open space in front of a destination. I’m right. Erik’s wrong. I'm sure you all can agree to that.

Stop being nice on the road

You know who you are. You woke up on time. You were able to leave a little bit early for work. Your favorite song was on the radio. You drive up to a four way stop just before another car across the way does. He wants to turn left. You have the right of way, but you wave a friendly, “Go ahead!”

Just quit it.

I had a similar incident happen to me this morning. I was on a side road, waiting to turn a dangerous left over four lanes of traffic. I do this often, so I know there is a pause in traffic once ever sixty seconds. I waited for the traffic to go by and a person on the opposite side of the road wanted to turn left on to the side street I was turning out of. I waited for him to turn, but he stopped. I looked over and he was waving for me to go. “Go ahead friend! You go first! I’m nice!!” I pointed at him through the windshield and yelled, “YOU GO.” He had the audacity to stare at me with a pissy little screwed up face as he turned and sped by.

There is a time and a place for niceness. The road is not one of those places. Follow the rules. Do not be nice.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting people drive really fast and cut off others in traffic. That’s just not being nice, that dangerous and assholey. Share the road, but don’t give it away.

I really just want people to follow the rules of the road. Sure it may mean that someone may sit at an intersection for a longer amount of time, but it also means that there will not be an accident when a wave or head bob is misinterpreted as a “I’m nice, you go first Oh shit there’s a car coming… Oops!”

There are situations where you can be polite in your car. Parking lots, the modern day Road Warrior setting, could use a bit of niceness. An accident scene, where everyone has to play nice and merge, deserves a bit of humanity. I don’t think there is anything anyone can do to fix what happens after a concert in the parking lot.

All I ask is this: Share the road. Be polite within the rules of the road. And quit trying to be nice, asshole.

Oh, one other thing... if you are the first one in the left turn lane, pull up and take control of the intersection. It's yours. Take it. Mainly because I am the fourth car back and really need to get to work.

Laminated List Week

It’s the first week of October and you know what that means! It’s UPDATE YOUR LAMINATED LIST week.

As you all know, a laminated list is the three famous people with whom you are allowed to have sex. If ever the opportunity presents itself, you and your partner agree that you have permission to have guilt free sex with the three people on that list.

Every year, during the first week of October, you are allowed to update the list.

So here is my list for 07’ – 08’…

1. Christina Ricci
2. Alyssa Milano (she’s back!)
3. Leelee Sobieski

Sarah Silverman has not made the cut, but she has until the end of this week to convince me.

Who’s on your list?

Gone fishing

Sharper Image screen shot - itme number 265456931987

Rejection (Number two)

I suppose that knowing you are being rejected is better than never hearing anything back from a publisher. I've sent out "The Power of Soup" to five publishers and have only heard back from two including this one:

This letter was sent on a half sheet of 8 1/2 x 11 paper. I've got to give it to them for telling me to go fuck off and helping the environment with using 50% less paper.

You have an interesting accent. Where are you from?

I was friends with a few illegal immigrants for a few months. These illegals were from England, so on the scale of illegals that people grind their teeth about, they were towards the acceptable end.

I was in Denver a few years back when the Californians were just starting to take over the real estate en mass. Right before I moved there, a friend of a friend gave me the name of a guy named Rob who lived in Denver and that I should get in contact with him if I wanted a drink. I wanted a drink, so I called Rob. Rob was very friendly and introduced me to his circle of friends. His circle included a couple of illegal aliens from England.

The one undocumented worker I hung out the most was a brick layer. I forget his name, so I’ll call him Mason. Mason had worked his way across the country. He would get a job at a construction site, give a fake social security number and claim 243 exemptions on his paycheck so that no taxes would be taken out. When Uncle Sam would come knocking, he’d run out the back door. He’d made it from New York to Colorado. Not bad. Mason was in a spot of trouble because he had fallen in love with one of Rob’s American female friends. Love means sticking around and hiding from the government. Love stinks.

We all got together in a bar one night with a large group of Rob’s friends. Two of Mason’s friends showed up as well. They were illegals from England who were working in Vail as midwives. How the hell do you get a job as a midwife when you don’t have residency? Oh well. I can just imagine her accent during the delivery, “Right luv, ya need ta push ‘arder if you wont that bah-bee ta come out. FUKIN' POOSH!”

I was smitten by one of the girls. She had a very think accent and thicker skin. She drank and drank. My two favorite qualities in a woman. She and I stood talking for a few minutes as I tried to pick her up with my endless charm. Another guy slid over and stood by listening in on our conversation, trying to harp in on my action. At some point, he found a pause to interject, “You have a very interesting accent. Where are you from?”

She turned to him and said plainly:

“Me mother’s cunt.”

The guy, though stiff with shock, rolled himself up into a very small ball and wobbled back across the room.

I fell even deeper into love.

But, she wanted nothing to do with me. I tried too hard. She found some other boy that night and I ended up with only this story.

I left Denver a few months later without ever hooking up with an illegal alien. I do not know if Mason stayed in love or continued his Westward run from Uncle Sam.

Morality Credits

Have you heard of carbon credits? We all generate pollution that is usually created through dirty, non-renewable energy. You can offset your bad energy usage by purchasing carbon credits. It’s a bogus way for us to all feel good about setting our air conditioner down to 68 degrees.

I’m not a smart man, but I know an opportunity when I see one. That’s why I am offering, for a small fee, Morality Credits.

Morality Credits can be purchased for a mere $10 per credit. In turn, I will then perform good deeds to combat your immoral acts and to add balance to the universal karma teeter-totter. This gives you the opportunity to sin and wake up in a back alley with a clear conscious.

Say for instance, you want to go out to the nudie bar. On the Morality Credits chart you will see that an hour in the nudie bar (with one lap dance per hour) will cost you two Morality Credits ($20). In turn, I will volunteer with Meals on Wheels for two hours to off set your sins.

If you want to cheat on your spouse, you’ll need to buy ten Morality Credits ($100.) In turn, I will help 320 old ladies to cross the street. Some of you may question, "How do we know you are committing good acts without any proof." That is a very good question which reminds me that doubting is a sin and costs two Morality Credits.

Morality Credits also works the other way. If you are the charitable type and volunteer your time or give money to a charity, I am offering Morality-Bucks, good for future-sins (Morality-Bucks expire one year after they are issued, though the good feelings last forever. Morality-Bucks are non-transferable. Do not taunt Morality-Bucks.) For every goody-two-shoes Morality-Bucks issued, I will do some sinful act to create balance in the universe. Many of you may think that I am double dipping into the sins by giving credit for future sin and then taking on some of the sin myself. That’s OK because we all know that good is better than evil and evil needs to try twice as hard.

You can buy individual Morality Credits for $10 or you can buy a set of 1000 for $200,000 and get 1000 free!

Here is a sample of sins and the necessary Morality Credits needed to balance out your sin.

Driving 10 MPH over the speed limit-----1 Morality Credit
Cheating on test-----1 Morality Credit
Cheating on girlfriend-----4 Morality Credits
Cheating on boyfriend-----20 Morality Credit (girls shouldn’t cheat)
Trip to nudie bar (one hour/one lap dance)-----2 Morality Credits
Drinking when you said you’d work late-----2 Morality Credits
Working late when you said you be drinkin’-----2 Morality-Bucks
Masturbating to Goat Porn-----1 Morality Credit
Sex with a goat-----1 Morality Credits plus 10 more for cheating

So you see, it is advantageous for you to clear your conscious and your wallet to keep the balance balanced.

Contact me at if you have a sin that needs an amount determined or if you need to purchase additional credits.

Happy 9th Anniversary

It was nine years ago today that Sally and I got married on Kiawah Island, South Carolina.

Happy Anniversary!

Randy Pausch

"It's not about how to achieve your dreams, it's about how to lead your life. If you lead your life the right way the Karma will take care of itself; the dreams will come to you."
-Randy Pausch

{Author's note: On July 24th, 2008, Randy Pausch passed away. Though he stressed that we should not mourn his passing, it is impossible to not feel that the Earth is sagging a bit lower in the sky today.}

Randy Pausch will probably be dead in as few as three months. Watch this news story on his final lecture at Carneige/Mellon.

And if that got your attention, you can watch the whole lecture by following the link on this page:

I have to hope that people learn about Randy and aspire to emulate him. It's a complete shame that the world and especially his family is losing him.

It’s Not Cheating If You...

Many people wonder if their actions outside of a relationship could be considered as cheating. I have developed a list of acceptable discrepancies. Check to see if you are a cheater or someone with a very good excuse.

It’s not cheating if you…

...get a handjob from a lesbian.

...have sex with a second cousin.

...get a blowjob in a different country. (And yes, Canada and Mexico are different counties. The District of Columbia is not, but close enough.)

...are being videotaped. (I'd call that auditioning.) for sex. (That's called a transaction.)

...are about to die or possibly may die in the next 14 days.

...have sex with a paraplegic.

...are stuck in an elevator. (Hitting the EMERGENCY STOP button does not count.)

...are about to do a threesome and your camera skills are lacking.

...the person is on your laminated list.

...the person is really, really famous, but not on your laminated list.

...have sex at a strip club (That never happens.)

...have sex with an ex-spouse.

...have sex with your next spouse.

...are taking one for the team.

...have sex with a dead person. (It's disgusting, but not cheating. Unless the dead person is a relative. That's sick and you are a cheater.)

I hope that helps!

Gap Commercial or HolyJuan is really gay

{Author's note: This video has been removed from YouTube, but I found a different version on some Russian web site. You'll have to click the link to get there as I fail at html.}

This commercial came out in 2004. I love the re-mix of the Kool and the Gang song.

Fresh Crop

It's that first few seconds, that beat... that's what makes me gay.

Here's the second version, just for shits and giggles.

Fresh Crop 2

Looks like you've got a bigger problem than back fire shooting out of your ass.

Obviously the worst kind of back pain is ass fire.

Jenn, Jen, Dave and I were eating lunch today when we noticed the Mansfield Newspaper on an adjacent table. What we really noticed was the above ad for people with back problems. Here is the whole ad. (Click to enlarge for a really good look.)

Now that's GREAT advertising.

Scam Baiting.... again

The following is a series of e-mails between myself and a Nigerian Scammer. To make things interesting, I had the scammer e-mail several different characters. The people you are about to encounter are as follows:

Ibrahim Griffis – the scammer
Frank Stein – original receiver of the e-mail; stomach cancer sufferer
Charles Handsey – Son of Frank, takes over the e-mail process in the middle
Dee Sknuts – business friend of Charles, sneaks the deal away from Charles

I switch back and forth between the participants who are e-mailing. To keep this as easy to read as possible, I will bold the “From: and “To:” within the e-mails. I’ll also edit the top bit to show “From” first. Anything in {brackets} is an editor's note. {Thanks to ILuvNUFC for the line code.}

From: Ibrahim Griffis
To: Frank Stein

Subject: From Ibrahim
Date: Sat, 14 Jul

Hello Dear,

It is my pleasure to contact you today after praying fervently in this order, for a business venture which I intend to establish in your country.{edited out blah blah scammer blah} Trunk Box that contains $9,000,000 (Nine Million United States Dollars) which he made with a security company for safe keeping in this very country. I have verified and confirmed the deposit to be intact. And he registered the box as an African Artwork belonging to his business associate abroad.

After the burial, my late father's family took possesion of all his properties {edited out blah blah scammer balh blah blah} deposited trunk box that contains the above mentioned amount which they are not aware of.

Yours Faithfully,


From: Frank Stein
To: Ibrahim Griffis

Subject: From Ibrahim
Date: Mon, 16 Jul 2007

Hello Mr. Griffis,

I have received your note and would be happy to assist you. Please let me know how I can help you.

Yours truly,
Frank Stein

From: Ibrahim Griffis
Subject: From Ibrahim

To: Frank Stein
Date: Tue, 17 Jul 2007

Dear Frank,

Thanks for your mail response. However I need you to understand that I had made up my mind to live and invest in your country, ever before contacting you. I believe I will be safe with you in your country. {edited out scammer blah blah blah} Lastly I want you to know that I have with me all the documents covering this deposit which was issued directly to my late father by the company on the day of deposit. Again I would love you to be reaching me through this my yahoo alternative email address. I am waiting to hear from you. Pls try and call me with this number +226 7635 4361, immediately you receives this mail so that we can discuss at length the position of things.

Thanks as I expect to hear from you soonest.

Yours Ibrahim.

From: Frank Stein
To: Ibrahim Griffis

Subject: From Ibrahim
Date: Tue, 17 Jul 2007

Dearest Griffis,

What an opportunity! I would love to help, but alas, I have just been diagnosed with Stomach Cancer this morning and do not have long to live on this Earth. The money might help to find a cure for me or to help pay for the Stomach Cancer Medicine, but probably not fast enough.

I have shared your information with my son, Charles Handsy, and he wants to help you. Please contact him at .

With luck and speed, this money might help us to cure this cancer.

Best of luck,

Frank Stein

From: Ibrahim Griffis
To: Frank Stein

Subject: From Ibrahim
Date: Tue, 17 Jul 2007 18:08:41 +0200

Dear Frank

If you wants your son to take your place in this matter then tell him to contact me ok, otherwise I will start looking for someone else. It is true that I needed your help but I am not desperate ok. I know I will find someone for sure even when you decline, there will be a way out because the will is already there. Anyway am so sorry for your ill health. May God help you to live because doctors are not God. God is the one that has the final say in your life not the doctors. Doctors do fail most times but God never fails.

Thanks as I pray and wish you quick recovery.

Yours Ibrahim
From: Charles Handsy
To: Frank Stein
CC: Ibrahim Griffis

Subject: Re: From Ibrahim
Date: Wed, 18 Jul 2007

Hello Dad,

Is this the guy you were talking about that needs your help? Have him e-mail me with the information. If I cannot help him, I'm sure my cousin Saul would. Saul just inherited that money from his Aunt. I'm hoping I can get my hands on some of that cash before he spends it all!



From : Frank Stein
To: Charles Handsy, Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 18


Please take over this job for me. I am so weak now. Contact Griffis at and ask him about the money.

It's getting cloudy in here... this may be the end. I go to sleep now.



From: Charles Handsy
To: Frank Stein, Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 18

Dad? Dad??

Are you OK? DAD!!!

Mr. Griffis, if you get ahold of my father, let me know! I do not
think he is well.

Thank you,

From: Ibrahim Griffis
To: Charles Handsy

Jul 18th

Dear Charles,

Thanks so much for accepting to help me out in this very matter. However I will be glad if you can call me on phone so that we discuss. I believe your father has given you some information regarding this matter.

Thanks as I expect your response urgently.

Yours Ibrahim.

From: Frank Stein
To: Charles Handsy, Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 18
Please son... as a final favor to me... help this man...

Do it for your father........




From: Charles Handsy
To: Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 19

Hello Mr. Griffis,

My father is in the hospital, but we hope he will get better soon.

Please let me know what information you shared with him.

He mentioned something about some money that you needed taken care of.
Is this an inheritance or something else?

Please let me know,


From Griffis Ibrahim
To: Charles Handsy

Jul 20

Dear Charles,

I think your father might have given you every information of my person and what I needed. But I want to tell you now to forward to me your full contact information so that I can forward them to the security company and at the same time introduce you to the company as the very business associate to my late father before you can contact them for the release of this trunk box that contained this $9,000,000.00USD to you. I want here now to call me on phone so that we can discuss.



From: Charles Handsy
To: Griffis

Jul 20

Mr Griffis,

I am a bit concerned about giving you my personal information at this
point. I do not know if this is a scam or not. Do you have a number
I can call?

I am willing to give out the following information so that you can see
that I would like to move forward with this deal:

Charles Handsy
Columbus, OH
Age 22
I work for Awake! Magazine

I promise you sir that I can be trusted, but that I also must trust you.

Thank you,


From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Charles Handsy

Jul 21

Dear Charles,
Thanks for your mail. Well my dear there are so many evil men and women in our world today. Since the existence of the world evil has always been there even from the very first begining but that does not mean that everybody is evil. No there are trusted people everywhere and that trust is what I have found in you. Pls put every fears behind you because I barely can hot a fly how much my fellow human beings. God forbid. Here is my number and I will be very happy to explain things for you on phone. +226 7607 2337. Pls just say that you will love to speak with Ibrahim. You know I am in a refugee camp. Pls you can only know that I am the one speaking if I say (IN GOD WE TRUST)

I will be waiting anxiously for your call.

Thanks for everything even as I know and believe that everything will soon be finalised successfully.

Yours Ibrahim.

From: Charles Handsy
To: Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 23

Hello Mr. Ibrahim,

I just tried to call you twice and it rings, but no body picks up. It
could also be a busy signal, the ring is very different.

I think it also may be that my phone will not call overseas.

My business partner Dee Sknuts has a phone that can call overseas.
(She is rich enough to afford such a phone.) Please forward the
number to her.

She can be contacted at

I NEED to be able to talk to you so that I can believe who you say you
are. Please forward your number as well as the best time to call.

For my fathers' health, please let us make this deal happen.


Charles Handsy


From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Charles Handsy

Jul 24

Dear Charles,

I am ready to contact any body. If you wish to let her into this matter then give her my number. You are such a funny fellow, you said you called me but I never noticed any sign of any call. That is strange.


Yours Ibrahim.

From: Charles Handsy
To: Dee Sknuts, Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 24

Hello Dee,

Here is the gentleman I was speaking about.

Please call him at +226 7635 4367 as soon as possible!!

Time is of the essence if we want to get my father the treatment at the hospital!! They have started the procedure, but only on good faith that we will be able to pay.

I hope to see you soon my sweet!


From Dee Sknuts
To: Charles Handsy, Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 24

Hello Charles,

I just tried to call. There was no answer. The ring is very odd. Must be one of those really backward countries.

Please make sure the number is right.

Please keep me up to date with your father's health.

Thanks Chuckie!



From: Charles Handsy
To: Dee Sknuts, Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 24

Mr Griffis,

Can you please double check the number and ensure it is correct? We
have both tried to call with no avail.

We are really in need of this money!!!

I have your number as +226 7635 4367 Is that a public phone at the
refugee camp? Is that why we are having a problem?

Please help,


{And now a voice from the past!}
From: Frank Stein
To: Charles Handsy, Dee Sknuts, Ibrahim Griffis

Jul 25


My health is failing, but even I can see that you have the phone number wrong.

Please get with Mr Griffis to get the right number.

Oh! The pain.



From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Charles Handsy

Jul 26)

The number is +22676354361. The last number is 1 not 7.


From: Charles Handsy
To: Dee Sknuts, Griffis Ibrahim

Jul 26

Ok Dee! Here is the number!!!


It looks like the first number is the letter "t" and 22676354361. The
last number is a 1. REPEAT the last number is a 1.

I think you have to dial the "t" for foreign calls.

Please call him as soon as possible!


From: Dee Snuts
To: Charles Handsy, Griffis Ibrahim

Jul 26

T? I've never heard of dialing a "t." That looks like a plus sign.

Are you sure it means to dial a t?


From Dee Snuts
To: Charles Handsy
CC: Griffis Ibrahim

date Jul 27, 2007 5:57 PM

Listen Charles... if this person Griffis is not going to help us then I am going to drop out of this deal. You can keep your half of the money. I can invest this $5000 some where else.

Please let me know if he is serious.


From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Jul 29

Hello Mr. Ibrahim,

I am separating my association from my partner Charles. I will help you, but please do not tell him that I am helping you. I am done with his foolishness and his "father's cancer." I actually think his father drinks too much. Did you know that he is a Jehovah's Witness? Those people sleep with their own children! Almost as bad as the Muslims.

E-mail me the information you need as soon as possible.

Thank you,


From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Dee Sknuts

Jul 30

Dear Dee,

Thanks anyway for your mail. The only way I can believe and trust your seriousness is for you to call me with this number +226 7635 4361. Once I receives your call and speaks with you at lenght thereby giving you every details concerning this matter.

I want you to know that I do not deal with unserious minded people in my life and that is why I never responded to all the mails you people has been sending. I have more serious things to do with my time rather than wasting it on internet while responding to foolish mails.

I was begining to bring someone else that will help me in this matter but let me see how serious you are. Let me just give you that benefit of doubt before looking for an alternative. For cry out loud business is not by force it is either you are in or out. You dont contemplate on how to treat an Emmergency.

Thanks for your understanding.

Yours Ibrahim.

From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Aug 1
Dear Griffis,

I am in complete agreement with you. Why don’t some people just get to the point? I hate when my time is wasted! If you have something to say, just say it. Don’t use up my precious time. If I had time to waste I'd be doing something else! Don’t people understand that I am a busy woman!! I have better things to do. If you want something done, you have to do it yourself. I cannot believe that people would waste my time with these "e-mails" and make me spend MY valuable time listening to them complain. If you have something to say... SAY IT! I cannot believe that in this day in age with technology that people think we can sit around on the porch like a bunch of porch sitting people and waste time! Enough of that!! If you have something to say, just say it. Don’t use up my precious time. If I had time to waste I'd be doing something else! Don’t people understand that I am a busy woman!! I have better things to do. If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

I am calling you right now.

I hope that Charles father DIES of stomach cancer. I never liked the guy. Did you know he was a Catholic?


From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Aug 2

I cannot seem to make the call. I do not know if I am dialing the number wrong or if I have the wrong international code or what. I am dialing 011+ 226 7635 4361It may also be that my internet phone does not allow me to call overseas.

Is there any way we can do this through the certified mail or over the internet?

You'd think the telephone people would be able to figure this out. Who do they think they are? Protestants?



From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Aug 4
I can see that you are not serious about this project. I have several other offers in my e-mail that I am going to track down. I'm sure THEY will be more helpful.

Good luck, Mr Griffis.


From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Aug 7
OK, I have called SIX times! Each time the phone will ring and ring. Do you not have a message service?

You'd think the phone company was being run by a bunch of red neck Arabs.

Get a hold of me as soon as possible.



From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Dee Sknuts

Aug 8
Dear Dee

Thanks for your mail and am sorry for the problems in getting me on phone as you may wish to know africans does not have good communication like your part of the world. Pls there is an urgent serious development. I had been ejected out of the camp because somebody implicated me in a case to which I know nothing whatsover about. Right now am roaming about the street, since the catholic where I had stayed for the past 4 days now has asked me to leave tonight. That is why I had not been able to respond to your mails since all these while.

Pls I will need $500 from you so that I can secure an accomodation in any local hotel around for the main time while we wait for the security company to release the trunk box that contained this money to you. Pls send the money to me directly on my name by western union money transfer GODWIN KEN GRIFFIS, CATHOLIC CATHEDRALE, OUAGADOUGOU BURKINA FASO. Meanwile I want you to send to me your full address and telephone numbers so that I can submit same to the security company and at the same time introduce you to the security company as the very business associate to my late father, while I shall be giving you the company's contact afterwards and I will also be directing you on how to contact the company in this regard. But pls be informed that there is nothing I can do unless you helps out with this money because I do not even have my transport fare to the security company's office which is very far away from where am been located now.

I will be waiting for your urgent respond to this my pleas.


Yours Ibrahim

From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Aug 9

I just checked the exchange rate. It says that 500 CFA Franc BCEAO (XOF) = 1.05088 US Dollar (USD).

You want me to send you 500 CFA Franc, but that only makes $1.05 in US dollars.

That does not seem like very much.

Are you sure you don’t need like 1000 CFA Franc?

Please let me know.

And damn that catholic for throwing you out on the street! Almost as bad as the Lutherans!


From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Dee Sknuts

Aug 10
I asked you to send me five hundred united states dollars. $500usd that is why what I said. Maybe you are just making fun of me anyway, otherwise when you see this sign, even a baby knows that this sign $ means dollars so you telling me all these is completely out of the question. When you wants to helps me then do if not tell me to look for someone else instead of suffering me this way, it will not be of any benefit to you at the end.
From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Aug 12
Are you calling me stupid? You are the one sleeping in the streets. You are the one living in a refugee camp. You are the one BEGGING me for money.

I'm sorry that I did not understand what type of money you wanted. I am I supposed to know that you can spend US dollars in your country!! I can't spend your money in my country, how am I supposed to know that you can spend my money in your country!!

I have attached a photo of the $500 AMERICAN DOLLARS.

You want it? You better say you were sorry for calling be a baby.

The people at the money transfer office want a secret word as well. What secret word would you like to use that you can remember? Please do not make it a dirty word as I will be embarrassed.


{The "photo" of the money. I think there's actually about a hundred thousand dollars in that photo.}

From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Dee Sknuts

Aug 13
Thanks and am sincerely sorry ok. You can make this question and answer text like this:


Thanks so much as I will be waiting to hear from you soonest.

Yours Godwin

From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Aug 14

Hey Griffis,

I went to the Western Union office and they sent me home and said that you were a scammer! They said that people are getting scammed all the time.

I know you are different, but they said to make sure.

How can I be sure you are not a scammer? Can you send me a photo or id card?

I'd feel bad if I wasted all this time if you were lying to me.


From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Dee Sknuts

Aug 18

Am so sorry for keeping you waiting. I had been seriously sick for couple of days now. Well I am still not too good healthwise as at this moment but I struggled my way through to respond to your mail as well send you my photo.

Pls try and send me this money immediately without further requests as this will only worsen my situation healthwise hence I needed this money to buy some drugs urgently.

Thanks s much for everything.

Yours Ibrahim

{His photo. Is this Paris?}


From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Aug 26

It has been five days since I sent you the money and I hear nothing back from you?

You ARE a scammer! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you.

Damn you! Damn you to hell!

Signed for the last time,



From: Griffis Ibrahim
To: Dee Sknuts

Aug 28
You are very funny. Where is the information of the money you sent. I mean what is the question and answer text, and the control numbers. Honestly I do not understand a bit of what you are saying by calling me scammer. What an embarrasment all for the sake of the little assistance I needed from you. Quite unfortunate my dear.


From: Dee Sknuts
To: Griffis Ibrahim

Sep 2

Oh dear Mr. Griffis! I believe I have made a terrible mistake.

I deal with so many offers in Africa that I think I deposited your money in someone else's account!!

I am deeply sorry! You needed the Money Transfer Our code was:


Instead, I sent the money directly to a bank account under a different name. (See attached photo) I crossed out my person information, but you can clearly see I deposited $500 American United States of America United State Dollars into the account.

I am sorry! I am contacting that gentleman and seeing if he can forward the information to him. Here was my letter to him:

To whom it may concern:

"I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uhmmm, some people out there in our nation don't have maps and uh, I believe that our, I, education like such as uh, South Africa, and uh, the Iraq, everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uhhh, our education over here in the US should help the US, uh, should help South Africa, it should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future, for us."

Until then, do you still need the $500?


Dee Sknutz

{The document}

Sadly, that was my last communication with Mr. Griffis. I hope he made it out of the refugee camp. If I hear anything from him, I'll let you know.

What I learned during my first month at work

I just got back into the cubical work environment. My company is not as starchy as most corporate headache companies I’ve read about, but there is something to learn from working for a larger company. Here’s what I’ve figured out in my first month:

1. Cubicles are AWESOME
Do not believe anyone that says cubical life is horrible. I have 5.5 sq ft of privacy. I can hang whatever photos or knickknacks I want on to the beige, carpeted walls. If I scrunch up, bend just right and use my feet as a pillow, I can sleep under my desk for an afternoon nap. You can also throw a foam ball into the masses of walls and no one will ever know you did it.

2. Know where the first aid kit is
I’ve needed it twice. Once because I was fucking around with a razor sharp knife and the second time because I was imitating what I was doing the first time when I was fucking around with the razor sharp knife.

3. Take the Stairs
Our CEO is a big fan of taking the stairs. If you see him in the stairwell; bonus points. If you are getting on the elevator and he is getting off, ask him, “Is the short cut to the stairs?” or tell him that you are working on a MythBuster’s interactive exhibit and ask if he’s got a tape measure on him.

4. Saying “fuck” is bad
The word fuck travels through cubical walls and office doors. Cutting most of your finger off is not an excuse for cursing. The best you can do is stand up on your desk and say, “Hey! Watch the language,” and hope your VP is at lunch.

5. Having a blog is bad
A blog can be dangerous. Especially when it is mine. What may have helped to get you hired is now a liability. Be careful about writing things that may offend the bald guy in the office or posting photos of you doing dumb shit at the workplace. Do not write about how hot co-workers daughters are! Especially the CEO's. I mean smoking hot.

6. All the good sites are blocked
For years I heard friends lamenting about not being able to get their personal e-mail or visit their favorite website. I told them to suck it up and wait until they got home. Now it is different. I’d say that 50% of the sites I attempt to visit are blocked for some reason. Sure, I can look at the Google cache, but it’s such a pain. It’s not like I am trying to look at porn (mostly.) I’m sure there is a good reason why the sites are blocked, but I’m not about to question why for fear of being monitored. I’ve read about work-arounds to get Gmail or proxies to go to blocked sites, but it’s my first couple of weeks and I do not want the internet lecture just yet.

7. Lunch is a pain
I love to eat. I love to go out to lunch. So does everyone else. Everyone else cannot decide on one place to go to. Everyone else cannot fit in one car to go to lunch. Inevitably what happens is that three people are upset they were not told about lunch, two people couldn’t go at a certain time because of meetings, two other people didn’t like where we were going in the first place and one person predicted the food would be bad and was right. In the end, only one person is happy and that is because they ran into the CEO in the stairwell as they were going to the cafeteria to eat crappy lunch alone.

8. Steno pads are better than a Palm Pilot.
That is a half truth. I cannot get my palm to sync with our Groupwise mail system. I’m not sure if I don’t like Groupwise or if I just need to get used to it. It’s just hard to hold a PalmPilot and fake looking at a task list that isn’t there while playing solitaire when everyone at the meeting knows that Palm and Groupwise don’t mix. Now, if I could get on an internet site that had helpful software so that my Palm and Groupwise could talk, that would be great. Sadly, those sites are blocked.

9. Nametags are a crutch
We wear nametags at work. This is great when you are walking down the hall and need to say hello to someone. This is bad when you have to recall someone’s name at a meeting and are forced to describe them by what shirt their nametag was attached to. Hint: avoid the word cleavage when describing what the person looked like. Especially when it is a guy.

10. You are only the “new guy” for a very short time. Make a good impression.
Show up early – failed
Don’t be late to meetings- failed
Don’t make fun of your boss’ bald head - failed
Don’t get caught staring – failed
Don’t say fuck really loud – failed
Don’t make a “women are bad drivers” comment in front of your VP – failed
Keep whistling down to a minimum – failed
Don’t go out drinking and dancing at Skully’s your first week of work and then roll in at 9:04am the next day- Failed
Don’t do the above again tomorrow – Pre-failed

Brandon Dawson - Business Websites Made Easy with Joomla

Brandon Dawson will be making a presentation at Ohio Linux Fest called “Business Websites Made Easy with Joomla” Saturday, September 29, 2007 at the Greater Columbus Convention Center. (Directions)

Pre-register here, basic registration is free, All-Conference passes are just $65, and you get cool swag and goodies!

Topics he'll be covering:

  • E-Commerce
  • User Profiling

  • Generating Website Traffic

  • Sales Conversion

  • Making Money with editorial content or products

  • CPM, CPC, and CPA Advertising

  • SEO (Search Engine Optimization)

He’ll also be running a contest for two free copies of his forthcoming Packt Publishing Joomla Title, “Joomla! Cash“.

Phrases Women Use and Phrases Women Don't Use

My friend Stephanie likes to send me e-mails to remind me that I, as a male, am a simpleton and should just listen without provocation to what any woman says. Here is the list she sent me:

Phrases Women Use

Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!

Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)

That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome.

Whatever: Is a women's way of saying F**K YOU!

Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking "What's wrong?" For the woman's response refer to #3.

I would follow that list up with the following:

Phrases Women Don't Use

Yes you can: Women will never say this. Ever. Unless the man asks if he can give her a foot massage or shove his head up his own ass.

No thanks, one scoop is enough: Obvious. Works with most portions like slice, bowl or dozen.

I don’t understand: Women will instead say, “I understand” even if they don’t just so they don’t look like they are stupid. When the thing they don’t understand catches on fire, then they ask for help by screaming.

Would you like to have sex again?: More obvious

I like your friends: You won’t hear this unless she is hooking up with one of them.

I’ll buy: You might hear this one, but she really doesn’t mean it. Get out your wallet, champ.

I'll change the tire: It's not that they don't know how to, it's just that their jeans are so low that if they bend over they might misplace the tire iron down their crack. What they don’t realize is that just by bending over on the side of the road, 8 – 10 cars, Harleys and semis will stop and ask if she needs help.

This makes my ass look big: You might think you have heard this one before, but as a question in the form of "DOES this make my ass look big." Your response to either was probably the same and you are still not going to get any action.

Can my friend join in?: You'll never hear this one. Unless the friend is a dude and your role is to hold the camera.

Meeting Comment of the Day

Team Member X : “John, do you know how to insert a watermark into a PowerPoint?”

John: “No. But I know how to put a mushroom stamp on a hooker's face. Will that help?”

I've got it!

I was driving. Brett was in the passenger seat. Russ, with his always present cup of iced tea, and Woody were in the back seat. We were driving around and looking for girls. So basically we were just driving around. The car was Dodge 600ES. It had everything. Digital dashboard. Tape deck with auto play. Power windows. Power locks. It was a sedan, but it was stick shift. And it talked. From “Your door is ajar” to “Your oil pressure is low. Prompt service is required.” We called it The Spy Car.

I was third in line for the spy car so I got it around 1989. By then, a lot of the James Bond stuff had stopped working. Digital dash only came on in metric. Tape deck needed a pencil jammed in it to work. Power windows only worked ½ the time. Power locks only worked 1/6th of the time. The voice had stopped annoying us two year prior. But we still called it the Spy Car.

Brett had bottle rockets. This wasn’t unusual. As we drove around neighborhoods, he’d fire one out the window saying, “This is my last one.” Fifteen seconds later, “This is my last one.” I tried to roll up his window with the master controls, but they were not functioning on that day. We all shouted for him to quit, but he didn’t. He finally said, “This is my last one,” and he was right, though he didn’t know it at the time. As he went to poke the lit-fuse rocket out the window, it clipped the door frame and rebounded back into the car at his feet.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! (We all scrunched our bodies as far as physically possible from the passenger seat. I couldn’t see, but I’m sure Russ and Woody were clasping each other in a girlish hug of fear. It's also pretty tough to drive stick scrunched up in to a fetal ball. With neither of my feet on the pedals, the car started to shudder and jerk.)

Brett put his sneakers on top the rocket. “Don't worry! I've got it!” He shouted.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. CRACK!

The rocket shot up from under his feet and up the dash and in front of the glove compartment and it hit the ceiling and shot back down between the passenger seat and Brett’s back. Now wedged, the rocket blew pinkish fire on to the seat and Brett’s back. He leaned forward and the rocket shot off, disappearing somewhere in the car and, with a suggestion of muffled silence, exploded.

Even with all the windows open, the car was filled with acrid smoke. The car managed to stall to a stop. Everyone was bailing out of the car. I looked over and the passenger seat had a small oval of fire, eerily growing larger. I slapped it out with my hand. I quickly learned that burning passenger seat is comprised of fire and hot melty plastic that sticks to your hand and burns like napalm. Well, napalm jr.

While I was having a chemistry lesson in the front of the car, Russ was putting Brett’s shirt out. During this whole ordeal, Russ had managed not to spill his large cup of Baskin Robbins ice tea. As he exited the car, he saw that the back of Brett’s shirt was on fire. He calmly threw the entire contents of the cup on to Brett’s back, dousing the flames. Brett turned around and said, “Thanks for saving my life Russ.”

No, he didn't say that.

“Thanks for putting out my shirt that was on fire and on me at the same time.”

Not that either.

“Fucker! You ruined my shirt!”

See, Brett was wearing a one of a kind, Bowling Green, 1989 Doyt L. Perry Stadium Night Game t-shirt. Bowling Green University spent about $50,000 for huge portable lights to illuminate the football field and play a night game. Brett bought a shirt and he was very proud of it.

Brett was not aware of the fist sized hole burnt into the back of his shirt. He was also not aware of the fist sized 2nd degree burns on his back. In less than five minutes, he was very well aware of the burns. He’s got a scar there that he never gets to see.

I got out of the car and walked to the other side. We were all a bit shocked and forgot to beat the shit out of Brett. My car was sitting in the middle of a side street. Doors open with only the smell of the smoke left. I reached down a felt a pain in my ass region. I pulled my fingers back and there was blood on them. A quick inspection revealed that a chuck of my ass was gone. A small chuck by ass standards, but still. When Brett leaned forward in the car, the rocket must have shot over and between my ass and the car seat where it exploded. Inspection of the front seat revealed a little red stick poking out of a small blackened crater.

When we tallied up the losses it came out to:

One shirt (ruined, though I think he kept it)
One passenger seat top part (later covered in the taxi driver bead stuff)
One driver’s seat bottom part (matching taxi driver bead stuff)
One glass of ice tea
One pair of yellow shorts
Part of my ass

We got back in the car and drove to Monica’s house. Her mom patched Brett up and I used a lot of gauze and the white cloth tape in the privacy of the bathroom to patch myself up. We spent the rest of the afternoon swimming and thinking about what it would be like to have sex with Monica.

I told my folks a partial truth lie. Friends of friends (not our friends, honest) had been setting off fireworks and one ended up flying into the car. The perfect story. They didn’t believe it for a minute.

HolyJuan's Top Ten Movies

Here are my Top Ten movies in no particular order, except for number 11 which ended up in a three way tie for not making the top ten list.

Big Fish
The Matrix
The Royal Tennenbaums
Princess Bride
Say Anything
Blade Runner
The Shawshank Redemption
Raiders of the Lost Ark

And in a tie for eleventh:
Terminator 2, Rushmore and Life Aquatic

Bridge to Terabithia is a Sack of Ass

Miss Sally and I stayed in last night and watched “Bridge to Terabithia.”

*Please stop reading now. I’m not a reviewer and I am really not that intelligent. What I am about to say is going to be rantful and include a lot of swear words and it also might be unintelligible, even after editing. It will also include details and spoilers about the movie. If you plan to ever watch this debacle, stop reading now and check out some porn instead.*

What a fucking crock of horseshit. On at least three or four levels I am completely fucking pissed that Bridge to Terabithia was ever created. Damn you Mr. Director and your little buddies Mr. and Mr. Scriptwriter. Assholes.

Here are the basics:

-This movie was well reviewed and it takes a lot for a Fantasy movie to get good ratings.
-I’d seen the trailer for this film and it seemed very interesting. Again, Fantasy movies are usually pretty shitty.
-I want to have sex with Zooey Deschanel.
-I’ve got a soft spot in my heart for boy meets girl movies where there might be a Pit of Despair or similar.

That being said, I was tricked and deceived and screw you movie people.

First off, this “Fantasy” movie has about seven minutes of fantasy in it. There’s a mutated squirrel, a bunch of metal bugs and a troll. Oh! I forgot to mention the Shadow Lord who wisps in and out with a jingle of keys. Not once, except at the very, very end of the movie does the plot slip into a 100% fantasy world and by that point I was so pissed that I didn’t care. I think the credits actually start rolling over top the world. In the classic fantasy flick The Neverending Story, there was a small amount of time spent in the “real” world and a great amount of time spent in the “fantasy” world. “Bridge” is the exact OPPOSITE. I wouldn’t be so pissed except that the trailer for the film is 75% fantasy. As a matter of fact, if you watch the trailer, you’ve seen every bit of fantasy in the film.

THEY KILL OFF THE GIRL. Oh my god the just make her disappear. The cheapest shot in the movie business. (OK, this is based on the book, but you are allowed to change the story.) What really sucked was I was still waiting for the full immersion into the fantasy world when she winds up dead in the stream. What a load of crap. There was some incredible opportunity for her character to be “missing” and for him to fight his own demons to find her in the world. She could have been in a coma and he could have brought her back from the other side. But no. She’s dead. I was sad for half a second and then I was just angry. Assholes. Killing someone off is at the top of the list of BS movie tricks next to a writer not being able to figure out what their characters should say so they whisper it and the audience cannot hear it. (see Lost in Translation.)

But as I said, they make the girl lead character disappear. Really disappear. She is never in the movie again except for a fleeting moment at her wake where a flash of light shoots across the screen. The boy can’t find her in the fantasy world. They don’t even hint that it was her that laid the logs across the river. And in the end of the movie when we are finally shown the fantasy world, she is no where to be found. What a steamy heap of bullshit. There was some terrific opportunity for the audience to leave with a little bit of respect, but they just forgot about the audience in the eight million dollar CGI film ending with credits.

Zooey Deschanel does not get naked.

On top of all that, all the adult characters are unbelievable. Not a problem in most fantasy movies where you only see them for a minute. In this film, we have to watch them for ninety minutes. Uncaring mom. A farmer who doesn’t have anything more than a greenhouse. Two writer parents who were torn straight from Cliché Monthly Magazine. Bullies who only understand violence.

This film had a lot of opportunities to be inventive and outstanding. The two lead actors worked well before they killed 50% of them off. The “fantasy” world had so many possibilities. I love to see bullies get their comeuppance in clever ways and this movie failed at that as well. So many failings. So many fucking failings. Assholes. Breaking my heart for nothing.

I’m going to go watch Big Fish and cry like a little girl.

The INSERT key stinks

When I started my job, I received the standard desktop computer, monitor, keyboard and mouse.

As part of my regimen when starting a new job, I removed the INSERT key from the keyboard.


After INSERT removal

It popped right off and I keep it in my desk drawer for pranks and for when I have to replace it once I get fired.

I'm not really sure what purpose the INSERT button serves other than to screw me up when typing. With these sausage fingers of mine, when I go for the DELETE key, I sometimes slip over and hit the INSERT key. When Word goes into typeover mode, I'm usually eight to ten letters in before I notice. I immediately forget when the hell I was typing so I have to go in and UNDO until I get back to where I was in the first place. It's best just to get rid of the INSERT key.

The moral to this story is that on Wednesday, I came back to my desk after a meeting and this is what my keyboard looked like:

Freckled Jenn had bought me a gag gift while she was traveling and wanted to drop it off. I was not at my desk when she stopped by and she left it in the little keyboard nest I had created earlier.

It is a perfect fit. What's great is that the bottom of the PORNO key is flat (it's got an adhesive back that I have not peeled off) so that it does not trigger the INSERT mechanism. I can leave it there until I get fired.

Past Secret

Hi! Do you have a deep dark secret you'd like to tell but cannot because you fear retribution from your family, peers or neighbors?

Please let me tell your story. If you've got one, please e-mail me at

If you have a question for Ask HolyJuan, you can send it to that same address.

Bathroom Trickery

I poop. Sometimes at work. Sometimes it is pretty stinky.

My office is in a building where other guys use the bathroom too. Enough so that every other time I use the bathroom, there is a good chance that someone is going to be in there when I walk in or come in right as I am walking out. Our bathroom only has one pisser and one shitter so it is pretty close quarters in there.

Every guy in the building knows that there are other stinky poopy other in the building. When you find one, you mention it to your other guy buddies. They usually have a story about the stinky guy.

I do not want to be known as the stinky guy.

Sometimes after a night out with Shorty and a quick stop at White Castle, I am the stinky guy the next day. To combat this, I have a simple regiment.

If I walk in and someone is at the pisser, I act as if I am going into the stall just to pee. When they leave, I let loose and get the hell out. Chances are no one will be coming in as I am leaving. The next guy that walks in gets a surprise and can only place the blame on who he and his buddies think the stinky guy is.

If I walk in and the bathroom is empty, I try to get in and get out. If someone starts walking it, I move my feet as far as possible to the side so that they cannot see my shoes. Shoes are the dead giveaway. You’ll be walking down the hall and see a guy with brown loafers with the dangly things on them and realize he was the stinky guy from last week. I wear converse so I’m easily spotted. Keep quiet. Keep shoes far to the side. Wait till they leave. Wait thirty seconds. Run!

Now, here’s the tricky one. If I walk in and no one is in there, I drop trough and listen for guys walking in. If I finish before anyone walks in, odds suggest that someone will be coming in any second. I stand up, walk to the urinal and fake pee for a few seconds. If someone walks in to the cloud of retch, I can act as if I am just an innocent pisser who walked into an all ready polluted bathroom. You share a half second of silent sorrow with the guy who walked in, wash up and leave. Let him take the blame.

If you are the stinky guy, don’t even try this. We all ready know who you are. Please continue to take the blame for us other schmucks and continue to wear those awful brown loafers.

(And to you women who claim this article doesn't apply to you, you are wrong. If you have to poop, poop in the men's bathroom. Problem solved.)

Food shopping

I went shopping tonight. It was not the fun shopping where I meet Erik out for drinks first and then go shopping second. In the winter, you can shop first and then grab a drink with your car trunk acting as a refrigerator. In the summer, you have to shop after drinks or else the milk gets warm and goes the way of the cottage cheese. When I shop after drinks, Greg is more likely to get fruit roll-ups.

Tonight though, I just went shopping.

But I was reminded that when we were kids, mom did most of the shopping. We always had diverse meals and it seemed that we never got tired of what we were fed. On the same note, mom never bought anything fun.

We loved it when dad went shopping. He’d come home with frozen waffles and honey with the honeycomb still attached. You’d help bring the groceries in and there would be a frozen turkey in the middle of July. Beans in a plastic bag that you had to soak for twelve hours. Brown eggs. Spam. It was like the carnival except with the four food groups plus a mysterious new canned food group that was either La Choy or canned brown bread. (Yes, there is such a thing as canned brown bread.)

Now that I do most the shopping, I wonder if I am a Mom shopper or a Dad shopper.

I think I’ll head to Dad’s this weekend and take some photos of the pantry. I bet there is still food coloring from 1976 in there when we made the Bicentennial cookies. Right there next to the bag of beans and the Deviled Ham.